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crystxlclear · 3 years

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sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start.

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy.

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice.

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle.

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour.

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone.

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice.

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips.

“Damn right they were,” she insists.

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes.

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before.

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio.

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time.

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms.

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged.

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense.

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since.

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again.

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends.

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that?

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him.

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture.

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.”

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms.

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room.

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch.

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him.

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance.

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche.

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper.

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself.

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest.

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly.

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment.

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking.

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house.

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists.

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister.

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room.

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment.

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave.

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world.

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head.

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter.

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go.

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face.

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things.

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar.

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend.

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.”

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?”

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes.

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause.

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe Kimmy knows that.

Maybe Marcus knows that.

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though.

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.”

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry.

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them.

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe.

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of.

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them.

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down?

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?” She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.”

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.”

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other.

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike #sudden desire #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #the mentalist #original character #oc

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thepeacetea · 4 years

Text

Mistake of a Lifetime

I LIVE!!!!!!! Hey everyone! I don’t know what happened last month. It was like my brain shut down. It was the worst feeling ever. I just couldn’t write. Which was insanely frustrating. But I’m back and off of work for the next three week due to COVID-19. And since I’m not venturing into the outside world, hopefully I’ll be able to get more writing done!!! So thank you all for being patient with me. I honestly have absolutely no idea where this story came from, but enjoy my beauties. Warning, there is a tiny, little bit of swearing but nothing major. As always, if you have any questions or comments feel free to let me know. Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy!!! Peace!!!

Damian was frustrated. He couldn’t find that girl anywhere. He knew when he explained what he had done what he did that she would understand. His angel always did. She loved him too much to stay mad at him for long. Once she learned why, Damian knew that she would come back. That’s one of the reasons he loved her, she was so trusting and forgiving. No matter what he did, he knew she would welcome him back with open arms. But right now, he was irritated with his girlfriend. She hadn’t been in contact with any of the family in five months. No one knew where she was. Tim couldn’t even find her. It was as if she just disappeared. Which is what led him here, to what was hopefully the door of his best friend’s apartment. If anyone would know where Marinette was, it would be Jon.

Finding the apartment had been a slightly more difficult then Damian had first thought. Jon wasn’t one for covering his civilian tracts, usually allowing anyone, if they so wished, to track him down. But he had been strangely quiet the past few months. Superboy had also been absent from the hero scene. When Damian had inquired as to why, no one could supply a straight answer. Jon had spoken to his parents every few weeks to assure them that he was fine, but other then that, no one knew much.

The search for apartments rented out to a Jonathan Samuel Kent had turned up blank, as did all the other alias that Damian could think his best friend might possibly use. It eventually arrived at the point that Damian had run his handwriting through the data base to find a match for a signature. Eight states and eleven empty apartments later, Damian Wayne found himself climbing the squeaking steps to the apartment located above a little Chinese restaurant in the middle of Chinatown, San Francisco.

‘Honestly Jon, the other places where far better off then this,’ Damian muttered as he knocked on the door. The sound of scuffling followed by multiple items falling sparked a flicker of hope from the Wayne heir. Though he would never tell Jon this, Damian had missed his idiot of a friend.

“Buy too much at the market again? M, I told you, just get what we need for dinner tonight and we’ll get the rest tomor . . .” Jon said opening the door, the laughter that was oh so evident in his voice died the moment he saw who was at his door.

Damian watched as a wave of emotions filtered across his friend’s face. Surprise, confusion, and doubt where all understandable, at least in Damian’s opinion, but when Jon’s face finally settled on a mixture of anger and disgust, Damian grew confused and slightly irritated. He had not come all this way nor spent all that time looking for him to be received like that. Not by Kent, not by anyone.

“What are you doing here, Wayne?”

Now that caught him off guard. Damian could not, for the life of him, remember a single moment when Jon had referred to him, or anyone, by their last name. Ever.

“Tt, came looking for you. No one’s seen so much as a flutter of your cape in five month. The last time anyone heard from you was your parents, six weeks ago.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Now if there’s nothing else . . .” Jon said, closing the door, causing Damian to bit back a growl. He did not come all this way to get a door shut in his face.

“Actually, there is,” Damian countered, forcing the door back open as Jon sent a chilling glare his way, nearly causing him to laugh. If Kent thought he could scare Damian, the only blood son of Bruce Wayne, the Batman, with that poor excuse of a glare, he was in for a nasty surprise. “I need to know if you’ve seen my girlfriend?”

Damian was expecting many things, but none of them was the utterly disgusted scoff that came from the dark-haired young man as his face twisted into a scowl.

“Yeah. Two weeks ago. On tv. At the Wayne Gala. You remember, she was hanging off your arm like one of those rich people’s lapdogs. You know, the really yappy ones.” He said, something sparking in his eyes, though Damian couldn’t quiet place it.

“Not the Italian she-devil, you idiot. I mean Marinette.” Damian strained, actively using more force to push the door open as Jon was closing it. The disbelieving laugh that left the young half-kryptonian surprised Damian.

“Mar is not your girlfriend anymore, Wayne. Remember? YOU broke up with her five months ago. And then YOU announced that you were dating that – that – Rossi girl the next day on national tv.”

“Look Kent, all I want to know is if you know where she is or not, because I need to talk with her.” Damian ground out as he began to lose what little leverage he had on the door. The half second hesitation and slight dilation of Jon’s eyes was all Damian need to know whatever came out of his friend’s mouth was a lie.

“No.”

“You were always a terrible liar Kent.” Damian stated. Taking advantage to the slight surprise, Damian force the door open, stepping inside before the other man could react.

The apartment itself was rather small, though Damian was use to having far more space then needed. The apartment was an open floor concept. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a counter that extended from the wall, cutting the room in half. A worn couch was sitting in the middle of the main room with a small coffee table in front of it. A tv was pushed against the wall, a few open movie cases lay scattered across the stand with a gaming console tucked neatly underneath. A bookshelf was shoved into the far corner. A fallen stack of books lay by a beaded doorway that Damian could only assumed lead to a bedroom. A few pictures adorned the walls, though Jon drew Damian’s attention before he could get a chance to identify who was in them.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing? I didn’t invite you in! Get out!” Jon said, his voice raising an octave, jabbing his finger towards the door.

“And here I thought your mother taught you hospitality,” Damian countered, enjoying the growl his comment caused. “As for what I’m doing here, I already informed you why. I want to know where my angel is and I need you to tell me.”

“Never. Gonna. Happen! What makes you think you have any right to see her let alone call her ‘yours’?” Jon growled, actually growled, at Damian. Under any other circumstances, he would have been impressed that the cheerful, happy Kansas native sounded so . . . threatening in his questioning. But Damian was quickly reaching the end of his already short patience. Pinning the other man with a glare that would have made his father proud, Damian watched as the other subconsciously straightened to his full height.

“I’m bringing her back, where she belongs. The Rossi mission is over and I want my Angel back.”

For five seconds, Jon stood there, brows drawn together in confusion as his brain processed what was said. Five seconds where he could have been telling Damian where his girlfriend was, Jon just stood there.

“. . . what?”

“Lila Rossi held vital, insider information of a new program which my mother and Dr. Hugo Strange were developing. We needed the information, but more importantly, we needed Rossi to trust us. I, obviously, was the best candidate for the job. Father and the others helped plan and execute it. We have the information we need and the parties involved have been dealt with appropriately, including Rossi.”

“. . . all of this . . . everything . . . was for a mission?” Jon asked quietly, his voice calm as he bent his head, his bangs covering his eyes. Damian let a small smile slip. He knew Jon would understand, and once he told him where his angel was, she would too.

“Yes. Now I need to know where . . .” Damian began to say when the left side of his face erupted in pain as the sound of something breaking filled the air. Whether it was his jaw or the picture frames he landed against, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the time to figure out as he was hauled to his feet and slammed into the wall, his head smashing into an other picture. Once Damian’s vision cleared, confused emerald met rage filled electric blue.

“You mean to tell me, that everything, Every hatful word, Every cutting remark, Every. Single. Day! Marinette spent CRYING was for some GOD DAMN MISSION!?!” Jon yelled, pulling Damian closer as his eyes flashed back and forth between blue and red, and for the first time in a long time, Damian felt fear. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her!?!”

“It was a sacrifice necessary for the completion of the mission. Once she knows that, she’ll understand!” Damian shouted, defending himself. Everyone who knew agreed. The action was necessary for the mission. Without it, the whole mission would have been unnecessarily complicated. Even Clark and Diana had agreed, so why couldn’t Jon?

“Sacrifice? Is that what you think this was?” Jon hissed, eyes steadily changing from blue to solid red. “You broke her!”

“I didn’t . . .” Damian started to say before he was slammed against the wall again, causing the remaining pictures to fall, glass breaking on impact.

“SHUT UP!!!” Jon screamed. If it was possible, Damian saw his eyes fill with more rage then he had ever seen in one person, Jason included. “You know nothing! You broke her Wayne. She trusted you! After everything that happened to her, after being abandoned by so many others, she trusted you and you broke her! She gave her heart to YOU! Marinette gave you everything, only for you to turn around and throw her away like trash!”

“Jon,” Damian tried to say, but Jon wasn’t done.

“Do you know how I found her? After I found out you not only broke up with her but then decided to date the person that made her life a living hell, I spent six, SIX, hours looking for her. I finally found her on the roof where we first met her. She was just sitting there, on the edge, looking over the city. When she finally looked at me, her face was completely blank. No trace of emotion. The only real sign of life was how red and swollen her eyes were from crying. Do you want to know the first thing she said to me? ‘He left me.’ ‘He LEFT me!’” Jon snarled. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep her going after that. What it was like seeing her like that. Do you know what its like seeing someone who’s so full of life to just wilt in front of you. To see them lose everything that made them who they are.” Jon asked, his voice dropping in grief as his grip on Damian shirt loosened.

“Jon, I know. I hurt her. I know. That’s why I need to talk to her. I know my angel. Once I tell her, once I explain, everything will be fine.”

“No, Wayne. I don’t think you do know her.” Jon said, completely letting go of him as if he couldn’t stand touching him. “I know Mar better then my own mind at this point. She is the most trusting and kindest person you will ever meet, but even she has her limits.” He hissed, turning his back on his once friend, running his hands through his hair in anger and frustration.

All Damian could do was stare at the person, who had for the longest time, been his only friend. Steadying himself against the wall, the young Wayne looked down. Trying to gather his thoughts. To think of something to say when one of the picture frames caught his eye. Gingerly picking it up, Damian found himself looking through shattered glass at what appeared to be an ultra-sound photo sitting beside one the soon to be mother. Barely legible through the broken glass was Jon’s handwriting, ‘Mama and baby at eight months.’ The photo was dated three days ago. Damian couldn’t stop staring. There, through the shattered glass, stood HIS angel, her belly swollen to the point where it looked ready to burst, smiling at the camera.

What Damian was seeing wasn’t making sense. Eight months pregnant. They had broken up five months ago. He knew she had never slept with another guy before. Her first time had been with him. Once. Three months before they broke up. Eight months ago. She was pregnant. She was eight months pregnant.

His mind flashed to the last time he had seen her. The day he had ‘broken up’ with her. She had an appointment the day. A doctor’s appointment. She hadn’t been feeling well for the last few weeks. She had wanted to tell him something after the appointment. She had sounded so excited over the phone. She promised she’d tell him over dinner but he had gone first, telling her they were over. She had looked so heartbroken. So devastated. She never got a chance to tell him her news

Suddenly, the frame was torn from his hands but the damage had been done. He knew. Lifting his eyes, Damian met Jon’s gaze. Utter shock met panicked anger. For a few moment’s neither spoke. Neither man knew what say or how to react.

“Jon, I’m so sorry I’m back late! I distracted chatting with Aunty Liu and Grandpa Zhao wanted to know how the baby’s doing and then Mama Zhang wanted to give me some tea that’s suppose to help with my back pain an . . .” The sweet, sweet voice of his angel broke through the apartment before abruptly cutting off.

Damian’s whole body twisted toward the door faster then he thought possible. There, standing in the doorway, was the most beautiful sight Damian had ever seen. His angel, dressed in a soft, baby blue shirt that proudly displayed her heavily pregnant belly and black pant, stood completely frozen as her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes that he had missed so, so much, darted between the apartment and the two occupant.

Damian took a step forward, she instinctively took one back, panic blooming in her eyes.

“Beloved I . . .”

Damian never got father then that. As soon as he spoke, Marinette’s face drained of colour as she turned and bolted from the apartment as fast as a woman of her condition could. He raced to follow, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. That he would take care of her and their child. Their child! The very thought of his child sent an unbelievable wave of joy coursing through him! He was going to be a father! Damian was going to spoil his angel, his beloved, rotten. They would need to have one of the manor rooms renovated into a nursery. He would need to have someone take over his patrol for the next few month, his child and soon-to-be wife would need him and . . .

Both Damian’s train of thought and path was halted by the very painful grip on his arm. Fully ready to bite Jon’s head off, Damian was silenced by the red tinted glare his friend was giving him. He immediately notice how tense Jon was. He looked like he was ready for a fight, one that the kryptonian knew he would win.

“No. You are not going after her. The last thing Mar needs is this kind of stress this far in the pregnancy.”

“But . . .”

“I said no Wayne! Mar almost lost the baby once already. I am not going to allow her to go through that again! She can’t go through that again. I can’t handle going through that again!” Jon hissed, dropping his hold on Damian’s arm as he made a beeline for the stairs.

“Jon!” Damian yelled, hoping against hope that he would change his mind. That was his girlfriend and his child, damn it. He needed to be with them.

“No, Damian! Just . . . just go. You’ve done enough.” Jon shouted as he disappeared down the stairs.

Jon’s last comment caused the young heir to pause. He had done enough? He hadn’t been given a chance to fix what he had done. How could he have done enough? Sure, he had messed up royally, but he wanted to fix it. Why wouldn’t Jon let him fix it?

Pushing those questions aside, Damian ran down the stair, praying that he would at least catch a glimpse of his beloved. But the scene that met him as he burst into the street somehow drove Jon’s parting words home. There, braced against the wall of the building across from him, was Marinette. She was curled up as tightly as she physically could be, her face buried in Jon’s shirt as she let out the most heart wrenching sobs. Damian’s body refused to move as he watched Jon gently rock the mother of his child. His body refused to move as he watched the other man stroked her hair, promising to never leave her, whispering soft words of comfort to her as he planted butterfly kisses on her head. That he would always be there. That no one was going to hurt her. That she was safe.

Seconds turned into minutes before he could summon the strength to do what Jon had said. Casting one last look at his angel, his Marinette, Damian knew that taking that mission, that leaving her, had been the worst mistake of his life.

#maribat #daminette #jonette?#angst

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franstastic-ideas · 4 years

Text

Present Day, Present Time

Undertale - A few months after the barrier is broken, on Christmas day, Frisk gifts Sans with the Reset button as a sign of trust and goodwill between them, telling him it’s his now: to use, to keep, or to destroy. It’s his power now. It may be the best gift Sans has ever received. Sans finally feels like he can move forward.

And he can feel in his SOUL that he wants to move forward with Frisk.

Word Count: 20,603

@nuvex Surprise! I was your Secret Santa for the Gyftmas event! I’n so, so, SO sorry about the long, loooooong, delay! *hysterical sobbing*

Also, this counts as the season prompt for Fransweek, doesn’t it?

Credits for OCs go to @koiikun for Peter and Charlotte, @semisolidmind for Irene, Edgar and Elizabeth, @undertalepre2re for Daddy Longlegs, @eddieveneziano for Spinerette, and @lostmypotatoes for Ku-Mo

Webber and Julian belong to me.

Even prior to the breaking of the barrier, there were an immense number of things that Frisk wanted to experience alongside her monster friends after reaching the surface.

Going on picnics in the spring, trips to the beach during the summer, jumping in piles of leaves when autumn arrived, and playing in the snow when winter came, organizing ladies’ nights and sleepovers with the girls, celebrating one another’s birthdays...

But what she looked forward to most was spending Gyftmas with them.

As it turned out, the monsters celebrated their own wintertime holiday comparable to the surface world’s Christmas, or Hanukkah, or sometimes Kwanza. She had learned of this during her stay in Snowdin Town, a little village located in the snowy section of the Underground that was decorated as though the inhabitants celebrated Gyftmas every day. It was just September when she had first traversed into the town, but all the preparations for the occasion had already been made, completed by a towering tree adorned with an assortment of ornaments that served as the location’s centerpiece, along with plentiful piles of presents lying underneath bearing tags with the names of all the monsters who lived there.

She supposed even monsterkind wasn’t immune to the widespread seasonal phenomenon commonly referred to as ‘the Christmas creep’.

Frisk had fallen victim to it as well. The very instant that Sans, Papyrus, and then Undyne, followed by the rest of her new pals did the jimpity jumpity joodle, the limpity loppity leap (as her fishy friend would say) directly into her heart, her mind instantly began to drift towards thoughts of what she was going to give each of them when the month of December arrived. Though she certainly didn’t have much concerning funds at the time, Frisk was still a generous person by nature – there was little that made her happier than watching the expression of wonder and then delight that crossed the recipient’s face as they unwrapped and unboxed their gift.

Surface or no surface, Frisk was determined to spend the holiday season with her friends, even if it meant plunging into the depths of the Underground a second time with a fully loaded sack of presents slung over her shoulder to do so. Thankfully, it never came to that – with the assistance of Prince Asriel, the six SOULs of the previous fallen humans, and the added SOULS of every single monster in the Underground, the barrier was finally broken for good, so she and everyone else could reach the surface and get to celebrate their first Gyftmas above ground.

Yes, even Flowey – as much as he denied it, she knew that much of Asriel was still hiding behind the sour personality of that foul flower.

She wasn’t about to let one rotten apple hinder her or himself from enjoying a slice of the warm apple pie that was the wholesome found-family Gyftmas gathering she was doing her best to serve everyone.

Sans hadn’t exactly been thrilled with the idea of him partaking in the festivities, even though Frisk had thought that he shouldn’t even remember who Flowey was. She supposed that the negative impressions Flowey left on him in the RESETs of the past, prior to her gaining the power to turn back time from her floral friend, had somehow left a permanent imprint on the skeleton; similar to how Toriel inexplicably recalled that she preferred cinnamon over butterscotch, along with a plethora of other phantom memories the monsters she closely interacted with experienced throughout the courses of her subterranean adventure.

Flowey had been extremely reluctant to leave his previous spot in the empty Underground. He had stayed behind by choice, after all. However, the frequent offers she made during her continuous visits eventually wore him down, and he said he would go with her under one stipulation – that his true identity remained a secret between the two of them. She agreed to his terms, and Flowey allowed her to take him to the surface to join the rest of her companions – he even willingly climbed into the flowerpot she bought and brought just for him!

Frisk and Toriel shared dual custody of him - the kind goat lady apparently saw the good inside him that he so desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist, and decided to welcome him into her home whenever he wished to visit. Flowey unexpectedly took her up on the invitation, showing minimal resistance to the idea before accepting. Perhaps he missed his mother more than he initially thought.

This is what Frisk believed, and not without good reason. One Sunday afternoon just a few weeks ago, the queen of monsters invited the two over for tea and cookies. Everything had been relatively peaceful, nothing out of the ordinary – all until Toriel had wordlessly placed another one of the sweets on Flowey’s plate, unprompted.

The words ‘Thank you, mama’ had instinctively escaped his mouth before he could stop them. Toriel was touched at hearing that, no matter how accidental it may have been, feeling as though the usually bad-tempered little flower had finally warmed up to her.

But for him, it was excruciatingly painful. He was dead silent for the rest of the time spent in her company and swiftly requested to go home with Frisk once they finished their snacks. The sweet goat lady saw nothing wrong with his behavior, simply assuming that his little slip of the tongue had embarrassed him.

In actuality, the very instant Frisk stepped into her own home and locked the door behind them, Flowey had burst into a hysterical fit of tears, sobbing as he whispered ‘mama’ under his breath, over and over again before crying out, ‘I miss my mama!’.

After he had calmed down considerably, Frisk never once leaving his side the whole while, he once again asserted that he wasn’t going to tell Toriel or Asgore the truth. However, Flowey then said afterwards that, perhaps one day, he may. Just not now. He wasn’t ready yet, and he doubted they were either.

Frisk had been nothing but supportive, assuring Flowey that it was fine for him to take as long as he needed in sorting out his feelings towards the matter, to which he again stated as he so often had in the past that he had no feelings left anymore. That was a lie. A lie that the both of them obviously knew wasn’t true.

Someone with no emotions inside them wouldn’t show visible delight when biting into homemade cookies and pie, nor would they shriek with blatant terror when startled by a cheap jumpscare tactic in a poorly made horror flick during movie night every other Friday, or display signs of what could only be described as intense jealousy when their best and only friend is constantly being ‘stolen away’, from their perspective, by a lazy, ketchup-chugging, pun-spewing bag of bones.

Someone with nothing left to feel wouldn’t wail for his mother during a rare moment of vulnerability.

Frisk wholeheartedly enjoyed each and every second she spent in Flowey’s presence, much to the actually rather understandable perplexity of some of her other friends. She could state countless reasons as to why she would feel this way, but one of them was; hearing the sound of his voice made this big house of hers feel less empty.

Several weeks after gaining the official position of ambassador of monsterkind, Frisk had woken up to the unexpected surprise of receiving an expensive estate in a basically brand-new neighborhood. It was undoubtedly worth thousands, maybe even millions, and just staring at it made her feel as though she were glimpsing into a luxurious world she didn’t and never would belong in. She wanted to gently decline the deed, feeling as though she did nothing to deserve it, but as if anticipating this sort of response, the agent who escorted her to the place informed her that the fully-furnished house and the plot of land it stood on was meant to be a gift; purchased with the gold of not only the king and queen, but the funds of each and every single freed monster. They had unanimously come to the agreement to band together in a collective effort to provide her a better home than the one she had lived in prior.

To turn down such a thoughtful gesture after so much preparation had gone into even making it possible, such a thing would have been incomparably rude to do.

A few months later, and Frisk was still unsure of how they learned of her whereabouts, a dingy old apartment building several towns over located directly in the middle of an unsafe precinct where robberies and other crimes were regularly reported. But someone had discovered her secret, despite her dedicated efforts at dodging their numerous questions concerning the subject.

There had been a few occasions back then where, when returning from one of her hangouts with her monster friends, Frisk felt a similar sensation to being followed. She never did catch a glance at her pursuer during those times, but she supposed it didn’t really matter – not once did she ever feel as though she were in any danger when sensing the presence of this other person. Quite the opposite, in fact, as utterly insane as she knew it may have sounded.

Frisk chose not to mention the fact that she may or may not have been dealing with a mysterious stalker to her friends, since she had already worried them enough when they found out where she lived. What followed came countless offers for her to stay the night or even a few days in one of their residences, to which she always attempted to decline, not wanting to impose on her friends. But some of them, like Undyne, Toriel, Muffet, and unpredictably Sans, of all monsters, would not take ‘no’ for an answer. All of them felt as though they could finally put their fears to rest when she stepped out of that building that looked as though it were falling apart at the seams for the last time, and into her safe and cozy new home they had so lovingly furnished for the first.

Sans had surprisingly been the one to accompany her then, assisting her in gathering up what little belongings she owned to transport them to the house awaiting her. The reason why it had shocked her so much at the time was, the smiley skeleton was well renown as having a laid-back, lax nature; or as Undyne, his brother, and several regulars at Grillby’s would word it – lazy.

But that day, something about the skeleton she thought she knew was deadly serious. His expression seemed to frequently bounce between anticipation and dread, happily helping her with shoving clothes and other accessories into suitcases while also glancing around the area every few minutes with a chilling glare, as if daring some unseen enemy to reveal themselves to him. Even he had breathed a sigh of relief that day, once the task was done and over with.

And not long after that, Sans and Papyrus had managed to acquire an abode of their own as well – directly next to hers.

She had thought that with a vast new world to explore, all the monsters she had met and come to know would have eventually scattered across the globe as soon as the opportunity arose. And some of them did, but not any of her closest friends she had made on her adventure - they had decided to take up residence in this town, not ten miles away from the mountain they were imprisoned within. And even the ones that went elsewhere would eventually wander back on occasion, if only to say ‘hello’.

It didn’t make much sense to her, but when Frisk finally summoned the nerve to ask, all of them gave her the exact same answer,

“We just wanted to be close to you.”

And this claim of theirs must have been true, because when the time came for her to send out the Gyftmas party invitations, every single monster responded with a guarantee in some manner or another that they would be there.

But could she actually manage to squeeze the entirety of the monster population and then some under one roof, specifically hers?

Frisk was about to find out.

Some of them jokingly warned her when they discovered just how long the guest list was supposed to be that she was definitely going to regret this, that a celebration this grand scale was bound to bring the house down in the most literal definition imaginable (thanks, Sans). She held no doubts that the party was going to be chaotic, but she sincerely believed that what was to come would be a chaos of the beautiful sort.

This being proven to be correct was all that she really wanted for Gyftmas.

Even after telling them this, they were still going well out of their way to get her some sort of present for the festivity. Frisk believed the lavish house was enough to compensate for every single Gyftmas, birthday, and any other holiday that would come to pass for the remainder of her life, but no, the monsters demonstrated they could be just as determined as she was when it came to expressing their gratitude towards her for everything the human girl had done for them, in and out of the Underground.

Apparently, Undyne and Mettaton were even going so far as making some sort of competition out of who could give Frisk the best gift, and it was also apparently growing more and more intense between them each day as the date of the party approached. She hoped they didn’t expect her to play the role of judge in this silly contest of theirs, because she couldn’t possibly do that, ever – Frisk was certain that she would love both their gifts with equal enthusiasm. She additionally hoped they hadn’t gone overboard with the holiday shopping in their quest of earning her approval, because the two were well known to be mercilessly competitive and had a history of overspending according to their own friends and relatives.

Mettaton may be able to flaunt and throw around all the wealth that came from being a sensational star whenever he pleases, but that still doesn’t mean that he should, and Frisk felt that Undyne really needed to start investing her earnings in an emergency fund of some sort, because she’s already almost burned her house to a crisp while cooking a grand total of eight times since finding a place to live on the surface.

She’s going to need that money when the time eventually comes that Undyne does reduce it down to nothing more than smoking splinters and the very foundation it stands upon in one gigantic fiery explosion, and it was becoming more and more clear to Frisk that the fish woman’s house regularly being engulfed in flames was just one of those inevitable aspects of life that refused to change, in spite of her attempts...

That’s why after the second time it happened, Frisk jumped for getting the local and friendly fire department’s number on speed dial on both their phones. Undyne and the entire force were practically on a first name basis with each other at this point.

But Undyne refrained from ever cooking at other people’s houses, even when it was requested of her by some incredibly brave or very foolish SOUL with nothing to lose; she only did so at her own. That’s probably what upset Frisk the most – she was actively aware that her ventures in the culinary world were deadly in dual senses, and yet that didn’t seem to stop her in the slightest when it came to pursuing her passion. Frisk supposed there was something admirable to be found in that, somewhere...

And while it appeared that Undyne’s skills in the kitchen were getting worse and worse, Papyrus’s were only getting better, even without any comparison needed.

He improved so much, in fact, that Frisk asked him if he would like to be one of the head chefs in providing catering for her guests at the upcoming party, alongside Grillby, Muffet, and Toriel. He gratefully accepted the position with tears flowing from his sockets like geysers, picking her up in one swift motion and swinging her around and around until it nearly made her stomach turn. He promised her that this would be the best Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had, to which she reminded him that this would be the first Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had. If anything, this only spurred Papyrus to put even more passion into his own culinary studies, so his cuisines would be guaranteed to leave a good impression on her human taste buds.

Gyftmas, Christmas – though the two holidays were relatively the same in spirit, what Frisk had told him was not lacking in truth...

Even long before the date of their wintertime gathering, there was still plenty to do. She began her search for gifts almost as soon as the barrier had been broken, but the preparations for the gradually approaching party had commenced as briskly as the day after Halloween. Of course, there was also Thanksgiving to think about then; they came together at that time as well, at Toriel’s house, but the number of those attending had been much smaller than the total count that was to be present at Frisk’s party, since many monsters had chosen to celebrate the occasion with their respective families.

That was why the sheer amount of replies that she received in respondence to the invitations astounded her as much as it did.

But when the 25th finally came, Frisk couldn’t have been more pleased by the nothing short of massive turnout.

The guests began arriving as early as seven in the morning. The event didn’t even officially start until nine, but some of them had showed up early because they wanted an opportunity to talk with their beloved ambassador a bit before the celebration became too crowded and hectic to anymore.

She had woken up a few minutes after six that morning for some last-minute arrangements when Frisk spotted a familiar round skeletal face in the window of the house immediately across from her own. Hers and Sans’s bedrooms faced one another, the space between them not ten feet apart, and the two had carried out entire conversations from their respective windowsills before – fairly often, in truth.

Such a conversation occurred on the dawn of that special snowy morning, surprisingly. Frisk would have been willing to bet that she wouldn’t be seeing him around until after the start of the party a few hours later.

He grinned and tapped on the surface of the frosted and fogged over glass in swift succession with a single phalange before opening his window, silently urging her to do the same with her own. She did so, a gust of cool wintery air flowing into the room, and spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re up unexpectedly early today.”

“paps got me up and out of bed as soon as he realized the hours were in the a.m. and the date had changed.” Sans yawned, just barely managing to cover his mouth, then added, “and that was almost a few minutes after midnight, but about a whole gallon of warm milk later, and i got him to go back to sleep. honestly, that was probably the real gyftmas miracle – as beat as paps was, he denied it to the bitter end and tried to fight off the sleepies to his last ‘nyeh’.”

“That definitely sounds like something he would do.” The mental image of Papyrus suddenly yanking the shorter skeleton off his mattress and dragging Sans behind him down the stairs to the living room in the middle of the night was worth a chuckle, as exhausted as she knew Sans must be right now. “Was he trying to catch a peep at ‘Santa’ in action? Or should I say, ‘Sansta’?”

“nah. he hasn’t tried to capture santa since we were pretty much babybones.” He gave a sleepy chuckle.

“...Capture? ...Santa?” She uttered inquisitively with an arched eyebrow, but he didn’t provide her with any more details on that bizarre little response.

“gyftmas eve is the one night a year that paps makes an honest effort to go to bed early and get some real sleep, ‘cause he’s worried that santa will pass our house up if he doesn’t. but his excitement, his insomnia, and the anxiety over what he thinks will happen if he isn’t sleeping ironically keeps him awake. we go through this every year. i already mentioned the milk, but it took a whole pile and a few hours of bedtime stories to knock him out this one, though.”

“You’re probably already aware of this, Sans, but... you look really tired.” The dark circles under his sockets were a few shades darker, more prominent than usual, and as she said this, another long, deep yawn escaped his gaping maw. “You know, you could go back to bed and get some sleep yourself and just show up a while later, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t be disappointed with you if you decided to do that, really.”

“nah, nah. don’t worry about it. i’ll be fine, just fine, kid. the both of us ‘ll be there when we’re supposed to. actually, expect to see us at least half an hour earlier, since you know how paps likes to show up anywhere he goes fashionably ahead of time. my bro’s such a trendsetter... he’s light years ahead of the rest of us.” He waved off her concerns with a grin that appeared far happier and less weary than it probably should, but was unexpectedly followed by a pensive frown.

Sans grew silent and remained so for several passing moments; so silent that it began to make Frisk feel uncomfortable.

He always made a point of looking at the person he was speaking to, but he wasn’t doing that now. His attention wasn’t on her anymore – it was on practically everything but her, and that worrying little frown on his face only heightened the sense of concern that was washing over Frisk in waves after seeing it.

“...Sans? Is something wrong...?” She asked, a twinge of distress discernible in her quiet tone of voice.

She had to repeat herself twice before he would answer her.

“it’s just... about the party...” His front teeth gnawed on the bottom of his mouth, seeming only more perturbed as the seconds slowly passed by before another grin, wide and gleeful, almost to the extent of being manic, broke across his skull just as suddenly as the grimace had.

“i was just thinking about how loooong the drive’s gonna be to get there... it’ll be so long, i might actually get a full nine hours sleep on the way there.” He accomplished getting through the first two sentences with only a few snorts interspersed into his speech, but he was really struggling not to laugh through the second half - and by the tail end of the third sentence, he was failing miserably. “i mean, i think you have the right to live wherever it is you want, but why’d you have to go and move so far off, frisk? do you not want to see your ‘ol pal sansy as often anymore, is that it?”

“Sans, our houses are literally less than ten feet apart.” She giggled uncontrollably; his laughter was potently contagious.

“but it feels so far away in my SOUL!” He cried out dramatically, clutching the front of his shirt directly at the area of his chest as he fell to the carpet, on his knees.

“We’re talking to each other face to face from our windows! How much closer do you want us to be?!”

“until it’s impossible for us to get any closer.” He replied without a beat, his laughter dying down to a nervous chuckle as a soft blue blush slowly spread across his face.

“Wh-What...?” She stuttered dumbly.

“what?” He parroted immediately after; so immediate that Frisk was almost certain that she must have misheard or imagined what had preceded.

“...Sans, you goob. You really fooled me into thinking there was something horribly wrong! What you just did wasn’t in the Gyftmas spirit, Sans!”

“ok, ok, yeah, now that i think about it, that really was kinda mean of me.” He scratched the back of his skull with an awkward sheepish smile, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself. “...but it still made you laugh, though.”

“...Okay, I will admit that it was actually pretty funny... Especially that whole thing you do where you grossly exaggerate how far apart our houses are, despite us being next-door neighbors and all...” Frisk then made the valiant effort to appear stern in front of him. “But anymore jokes like that one today, and you’ll leave me with no choice but to take away your present privileges.”

“you... you got me something?” His droopy sockets widened, and the white spheres that served as his pupils enlarged to the extent that they almost looked like twin moons, his reaction all but suggesting that he was truly taken aback by the thought.

“Of course I did. Undyne may be my bestie, but you’re my bestest buddy.” She stated sincerely, but then smirked, a wicked idea manifesting without any warning. “Prepare yourself, because it’s on it’s way!”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, frisk...” That’s what he said, but he wasn’t exactly doing an excellent job at hiding his inner giddiness – it almost made her feel bad for what she was about to do. “...wait? you’re giving it to me now?”

“Yep! Whether you choose to close your eyes or not is up to you.”

“...‘kay. i’ll keep ‘em closed, since i think that’s what you want me to do. sansy ‘ll play along with the surprise, kiddo.” His sockets shut, but not a second later he cracked one open. “...you better not be about to throw a snowball at my face though, ‘cause that’s a declaration of war where i come from.”

“It’s not a snowball, so don’t worry.”

And it really wasn’t a snowball. But he was about to get a face full of something.

Frisk walked over to her nightstand to grab Sans’s present, unwrapped. She had meant to wrap it along with the rest of his gift, but this one had become misplaced, and thus it escaped getting packaged at the time. It was something small, in both size and value, but she was told by Toriel that Sans would appreciate it nonetheless.

It was time to test if that claim was true.

She stood in front of the window, taking in the sight of Sans standing there, his sockets closed and looking as though he were mere seconds away from actually falling asleep in that very spot while standing up. He was definitely nodding off though – it was time for a little wakeup call!

“Here it comes!” She yelled happily, hurling the object she held in her hand with all her might out the window; it sailed through the chilly air and the snow, crossing the few feet’s distance between them and towards him at top speed.

Her sudden shout caused his sockets to snap open, just at the exact right moment for whatever it was she had thrown to pelt him directly in the face.

“buh?!” He nearly spluttered in surprise.

It took a few more moments, as he was still somewhat paralyzed from the shock of it all, but as soon as he regained his bearings, Sans peeled off the offending object covering his eyes; it had felt soft when it collided with his skull, and he discovered that what struck him was in fact a pair of socks.

But not just any pair of socks. No, this particular pair was colored a dark gray, and that itself wasn’t too special, but on them he found images of little cheeseburgers scattered across the fabric. Something red was also oozing out from underneath the top buns of the patties, which was obviously meant to be ketchup. They looked just as though Grillby had decided to design clothing themed around his restaurant’s menu on the side, and Sans was loving it.

“these... these are amazing!”

Frisk knew that he would like them, but she never once thought that Sans, or anyone for that matter, would be so overjoyed to receive a pair of socks as a gift, especially as a Gyftmas present.

He was so pleased with them that he began kicking off his slippers posthaste and sat down on his bedroom floor to put them on. It was while he was doing this that Frisk took the opportunity to actually look at him, specifically his body, and even more specifically, his feet.

They... didn’t look like an actual skeleton’s feet. An actual skeleton as in a human skeleton, that is; which was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary at all for him, she had learned far prior to this point, really. She had been around him and Papyrus for so long now that she didn’t really question what they could do or shouldn’t be able to do as skeletons, but still, these aspects were no less jarring to her when she thought about it for longer than a few seconds.

His feet looked less skeletal, as contrary as that was, and more like a person’s with all the skin and the meat underneath still attached. The only thing even remotely skeletal about them was the fact that they were made out of bone. She wondered if his hands were also similar in shape. They were always out of sight, since he kept them covered with gloves or mittens or had them shoved in the pockets of his shorts or hoodie, so Frisk had never seen them before.

He must have caught her in the act of staring, because a few more moments of ogling later and she noticed he was grinning slyly in her direction.

“getting enough of an eyeful over there?” Sans asked with a wiggle of his eyebone(?), striking what one could consider to be a provocative pose as he slowly pulled the sock up and over his heel, never breaking eye contact with her as he did so.

“Oh, hush.” Her cheeks were turning a deep, flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the frigid air surrounding and flooding in through the wide-open window.

“...sweet mother of asgore!” Sans all of a sudden wheezed, startling her before he replied, nearly sobbing in his laughter as he pointed to his leg, “they’re kneesocks!”

“Kneesocks?!”

“you didn’t know?!”

“No!” Frisk insisted, then added embarrassedly, “...I guess I was so absorbed in the print that I didn’t pay attention to what kind they were when I bought them. I’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize – these are great.” Sans said as he eagerly tugged the other one up the length of his leg up to his patella.

“Sans the skeleton from Snowdin, you aren’t seriously going to wear those, are you?” She inquired with blatant disbelief evident in her expression and tone.

“you bet your burger i am. i’m gonna wear them at the party, and i’m patella-ing everyone that’ll listen where i got ‘em from.”

“Sans, why...?” She half-groaned, half-giggled to herself.

They shared a few more bad laughs together before a knock at the door interrupted them.

“sounds like the early birds are already dropping in.” Sans remarked as he leaned out the window, peering down below to see a few monsters waiting at Frisk’s front door. “paps is gonna be disappointed that he wasn’t the first to show up.”

“Tell him he’ll always come first place in my heart.” Frisk chuckled, already imagining the somewhat pouty expression on the taller skeleton’s face when he saw the other guests had beaten him to the Gyftmas punch, quite literally.

“heh, he’ll appreciate that. hey, just wanted to let you know, he an’ i got most of the cooking done last night before bed, and he’s finishing up the final touches on his part of the spread right now. it’ll be more than a bit of a pain in the tailbone to carry it all in a few dishes per trip, so...” He lifted a single phalange, the tip of it glowing a bright blue along with his left eye. “...i might have to put in some actual effort to pull this off.”

“Ohhh...! Sans is busting out the scary cyan magic eye!” She gasped, clapping her hands with delight. “And all for me and the sake of the party! I’m actually gonna see you use some magic!”

“you act like it’s such a big deal...” He scratched the back of his skull again, turning to the side so hopefully she wouldn’t notice the blush matching the color of his magic blooming in his cheeks.

Another knock interrupted their talk, much louder and more persistent than prior.

“...I better go answer that.”

“‘kay. see ya in a bit, kiddo.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Just a few hours later, and the party had already gone into full swing. The house was packed with guests at every turn, and it would only grow fuller as the day went on. Frisk fully expected the celebration to continue well into the late hours of the night, and she was more than alright with this.

She had received plenty of promises from certain higher profile monsters that they would be attending; the presence of Toriel and Asgore hadn’t surprised her in the slightest, despite their busy schedules that didn’t let up even during the holidays. But Mettaton? Frisk was quite honestly astonished when she saw the modelesque robot strut through the front door and directly into her living room wearing a long faux-fur coat and high-heeled snow boots, even though he shouldn’t be able to feel the frigid temperatures outside.

“Mettaton?!” She openly expressed her shock.

“The one and only.” He lowered his sunglasses, which were entirely inappropriate for this sort of snowy weather, and winked.

“I... I didn’t think you would make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss your little soirée for the world, darling!” He threw up his arms to sweep her into an unprecedented embrace. “Although... it was exceedingly difficult. It’s fortunate that you sent out the invitations in advance as you did, otherwise my fabulous self being present today would have been nothing short of impossible. Being a surface world star is glamorous and all, but... some of the producers I work with really do know how to get my gears grinding!”

“Well, I really am happy to see you here in person, Mettaton, and not on the television as expected.” She eagerly returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around his cold metallic body. “I know that I’m yours and everybody else’s ambassador, but I still can’t even begin to imagine how taxing your career can be sometimes. But remember that today is all about relaxing and spending time with the ones you love. Get some well-deserved rest for the moment and fill the Mettaton-shaped hole in our Mettaton-shaped hearts.”

“That’s right... That’s exactly what I came here today to do. To catch up with everyone else and hear what’s happening in their own lives, while mine’s been spent under the spotlight so much lately. I can’t afford to make the same mistake as I did last time...” His head whipped around the room as if searching for something, or rather someone. “Blooky? Will Blooky be arriving soon? Are they even coming?!”

“Don’t get your circuits in a twist just yet. Blooky’s already here – go look over in the corner of the other living room, where the music player is. I asked them to DJ for me today with the holiday compositions they compiled just for the occasion.”

Mettaton paused in his dramatics to listen, recognizing with apparent fondness in his features the soft tune that floated through the air well – ‘Ghouliday’, one of the first songs the cousins had wrote together when the two simultaneously became interested in music several years ago.

“That song of ours... it feels just like home...” He then took off in a sprint into the next room over, his arms waving around almost like limp noodles in a strong wind as he charged towards the ghost with the express purpose of defying all logic and laws of physics to wrap his beloved cousin in a hug. “BLOOKY! I missed you sooooo MUH-HUH-UUUUCH!!!”

“Waitwaitwaitwait!” She heard Napstablook utter as urgently as their soft voice would allow. “I’m holding punch!”

There was the sound of a crash, several people screaming and glass breaking, followed by a short beat before Mettaton timidly and uncharacteristically squeaked,

“...I’ll clean that up!”

So the party was going great.

The pile of presents underneath the tree was growing bigger and bigger with each additional guest that attended the Gyftmas gathering. A grand assortment of names were jotted down on the tags, but Frisk probably shouldn’t have been as taken aback as she was to find that a good number of them were addressed to her.

A scaly hand suddenly clapping over her shoulder brought the girl out of her thoughts and caused her to shriek in alarm.

“WHOA, hey!” Undyne retracted her hand as if she had been burnt, holding both of them up in a defensive stance. “Didn’t mean to scare ya like that, Frisk. ...You were looking a little spaced out there, so I thought I’d check up on ya.”

“Sorry for reacting like that. I was just thinking to myself... Looking at all these presents here, and so many of them for me, it made me realize how many friends I have now.”

“I still can’t believe you’re trying to fit basically the entire Underground under one roof... and YOUR roof! You had to of known that’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And to go ahead and do it anyway despite that, well, that takes some real guts, punk!”

“Mettaton said that he was going to clean up the mess he made, and I believe him.”

“Wait, what?” She blinked before letting out a cackle. “You mean the ol’ tin can’s already broke something?! I take it back – you’re either fearless, or just plain NUTS for even trying to pull this off! But hey, no matter how it goes, this is gonna be something for us all to remember and laugh about later!”

Her wide toothy grin then turned into a deep frown.

“...Seeing everybody here, with smiles on their faces, just happy to be alive and in each other’s company; it makes me feel kinda bad.”

“Why?” Frisk inquired, incredulous. “Why would what’s supposed to be the most wonderful day of the year make you feel that way? I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, but you seemed pretty fired up about today before...”

“Well, I feel guilty.” Undyne averted her gaze and tugged at her scarf absentmindedly. “Back when I first met you, I hated you and every other human; because I thought you hated us. And then, well, you and I, we ended up becoming besties! But... it’s moments like these, where we’re all together just having a good time here on the surface with you that makes me remember... what a horrible mistake I almost made.”

“Undyne, it’s all behind us.” Frisk reassured her, reaching up to place her own hand over her towering fishy friend’s shoulder with some struggling before settling on simply patting the sleeve of her arm. “You shouldn’t be thinking about that anymore – especially not today, of all days.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that, but... sometimes I still feel pretty lousy about it.” She wrapped Frisk into a tight, almost suffocating one-armed hug accompanied by an aggressive noogie. “I couldn’t have been more wrong then! I thought you were gonna destroy us all, and that I needed to protect everybody from you. But the truth was, what I needed to be doing was protecting YOU! You really are just like Papyrus sometimes - too darn NICE for your own good!”

“Oww! I appreciate the sentiments, but please don’t noogie the human!”

“See? That sounds JUST LIKE something he would say!”

“That’s because he did say it before. You know, that one time over the phone?”

“Oh yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Undyne ceased her relentless grinding of the knuckles against Frisk’s head for the moment to ponder and reminisce. “Ya know, sometimes that whole adventure you had Underground with us feels like it happened ages ago, and other times like it was just last week. Time is funny like that. ...Oh man. I’m starting to sound just like that old coot Gerson!”

“Stay with us, Undyne! You can’t go slipping away from us just yet!” Frisk teased, laughing at her mortified expression. “You’re still too young for the rocking chair and recollecting of yesteryears!”

“You’re right! I’ve gotta stop blathering on and on about what happened yesterday and focus on what’s happening TODAY! Make some new memories, YEAH!” A few nearby monsters turned her way, but otherwise her exclamation didn’t receive too much fanfare. “Hey, is Alphys here yet? I want her to open up my Gyftmas present to her ASAP!”

“No, she hasn’t gotten here just yet, but she did text me a few minutes ago saying she was on her way.” Undyne shuffled and stomped in place impatiently at this. “Oh, oh! You want to know what I got her?”

“Uh, yeah!” She enthusiastically exclaimed. “...Does it have anything to do with Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, though?”

“Actually, it does!”

“Aw, PLEASE don’t tell me we ended up getting her the exact same thing!”

“What did you get her, Undyne?” Frisk inquired, confident that her friend’s assumption was incorrect, but a sliver of nervousness was still present in her question.

“Well, you know how most of the anime out there is usually based off of those Japanese books with all the pictures in them that you gotta read backwards to understand anything that’s going on? Uh, I think they’re called mangoes? Manhwas? Maybe it was mandalas? No, wait, that still doesn’t sound right...” Before Frisk could correct her, she had already moved on. “Well anyway, she’s got some DVDs of the anime, but none of the books. So I did a lot of scouting on your human internet and found the whole set. But finding all of them together isn’t what took me so long, no – this set is special. They’re all signed. By the AUTHOR!”

“Alphys is gonna flip.” The reptilian monster was usually shy and soft-spoken in nature, but when talking about something she loved, Alphys could become momentarily unrestrained and speak freely about her hobbies and passions.

“That’s EXACTLY what I’m hoping she’ll do! I don’t even know how many hours I spent and how many online shopping websites I had to search through, and let’s not even get into how much money I had to shell out for the set after I FINALLY found it - but seeing her nerd out over something like that, it’ll all be SO worth it. I’d do it again five times and a bunch more if I got that kind of adorable reaction each time!”

“That’s so cute, it makes my heart hurt!”

“So, uh, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, Frisk, but... if we really DID get the same thing for her, mine’s GOTTA be the superior of the two. ...There’s no way we both got her a signed set of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie mangolios, did we?”

“No, fortunately we didn’t get her the same thing.” It was subtle, but the tension in Undyne’s expression eased at that. “Those DVDs of hers you mentioned? Well, I watched the series myself several years ago, and the ones she has aren’t complete. They’re from that old company that went out of business that used to hold the license; and not only did they do a horrendous job with the dubbing, but the episodes are out of order, some of them are even missing, and then the ones that weren’t cut were edited so badly that it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Really? I watched some of the episodes with Alphys before, and at the time I didn’t really notice anything too weird about ‘em. But now that you’ve told me all this stuff, I gotta say, there’s actually a whole lot of plotholes and a bunch of other things that didn’t make much to any sense in the story.”

“So this right here...” Frisk plucked a present from the ever-expanding pile, a sparkly tag with the name ‘Alphys’ written in pen stuck to the paper, and waved it around with a smile. “...Is the complete set. All fifty-two uncut episodes in their correct airing order on eight disks, with the additional viewing choice of a brand-new English dub or the original Japanese voice acting with subtitles.”

“Dang, I just realized... Alphys is gonna be so busy with this stuff we got her, she probably won’t have any time to hang out with either of us anymore!”

“Well, I can’t say anything about the books, but maybe we could make the viewing of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie a thing at Ladies’ Night from here on out?” Frisk suggested, believing that the rest of the girls might enjoy it; especially since they could actually follow the plot along without much trouble when watching this edition of the series.

But Undyne didn’t respond to her suggestion. No, the redhead was peering at something behind her, just over Frisk’s shoulder, with a slack-jawed expression. But before Frisk could even begin to ask her what was wrong, a shrill squeal erupted far too close to her ear, forcing her to turn around.

“Alphys!” Frisk shrieked herself, now knowing exactly why Undyne had seemed so distraught. “How much did you-” It was too late, she realized. “You... you heard everything, didn’t you?”

“So much for surprises...” Undyne grumbled sourly, crossing her arms.

However, Undyne’s prickly mood quickly faded when Alphys launched herself at her, flinging her arms around her neck and squeezing with all the appreciation she could convey as she practically screamed her gratitude towards them both.

“ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOUTHANKYOU...!!!!!” Alphys screeched with delight, her grip around Undyne’s neck becoming tighter and tighter to the point that even one of the strongest monsters in the Underground was having difficulty breathing.

“Alphie, you’re CHOKING me...!”

“Oh... OH! Sorry! I’m SO sorry!” She immediately detached herself from the fish lady, somewhat mortified but still giddy, and gave her a chance to regain her breath. “I just... I got so excited that I... I just couldn’t contain myself anymore!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to contain yourself for a while longer, now!” Undyne huffed, a look of faux scorn gracing her face. “Instead of doing the honorable thing and walking away when you had the chance to, you stood RIGHT THERE and heard everything that you weren’t supposed to; and once again, instead of WALKING AWAY and pretending you didn’t hear ANYTHING, you LET US KNOW you were there by calling attention to yourself with all your adorable squeaking and squealing!”

“I... I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise...”

“...I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just... I really wanted to WOW you, Alphie. And I’m sure Frisk here did too, what with how much she was hyping up your present from her.” Undyne then pointed a clawed finger at her. “HOWEVER, because the identity of your gifts have been revealed to you too early, you have to WAIT to open them – ONE HOUR for EVERY MINUTE that you spent standing there listening to us!”

“I stood here for about five minutes...” Alphys decided it was best to be honest with her, to avoid disappointing Undyne any further than she already had.

“Then you can open them at three.” She huffed in response, then peered down at Frisk, who was giving her a fixed stare accompanied by a tiny frown. “Don’t you give me that look! That’s what my mama made me do whenever I snooped around to see what I was getting for Gyftmas before I was supposed to! Heck, sometimes I screwed up with her so bad that I had to wait for DAYS after Gyftmas had passed! Don’t ask me how she always knew I snuck some peeks of the stash before she could get ‘em all wrapped - moms are just really good at finding out about that kind of stuff.”

“Aww...” Alphys pouted in a manner not unlike an upset child, and both Undyne and Frisk had to admit – seeing her like that really was precious.

“It’s just a few hours, Alphie.” Undyne playfully rolled her one good eye and began shoving her good-naturedly towards a group of guests that had gathered around the television. “Let’s go mingle some and then you’ll see the time will pass by before you even know it!”

Undyne hauled Alphys off in such a rush that Frisk had missed her opportunity to give the finned monster her own gift – she watched the couple for a moment, wondering if she should drop in on their ensuing chatter to deliver it, but it seemed they were having so much fun that she’d hate to interrupt. She supposed that Undyne could open hers later, alongside Alphys’s.

Shopping for Undyne had been a bit of a stumper, compared to some of the other monsters that she knew. Frisk’s first choice had been a replica sword, but then she recalled their frequent hangouts at her place and remembered that she had plenty of those – the human girl thought for some time that they had burned up in the fire, but Frisk learned shortly after visiting her new home on the surface that she braved the seemingly eternal flames which still engulfed her old house in the Underground and had gone back inside to rescue them. And aside from a few scuff marks, they were essentially in pristine shape.

Even though she was certain that her anime-obsessed friend would be more than thrilled to receive yet another oversized duplicate sword to add to her collection, Frisk felt that her Gyftmas present needed to be a bit more special. She wracked her brain for days on end, reviewing everything she knew about the powerful fish woman and former captain of the Royal Guard.

So, after much deliberation, Frisk decided that instead of giving her yet another replica for her to put on display...

She would get her a real one.

The only person she had spoken to concerning this idea was Sans (because Papyrus couldn’t keep a secret even for the sake of his own life, and Alphys couldn’t exactly be trusted with this top-secret information either because she became increasingly loose-lipped when excited to a certain extent), who unhesitantly informed her that while Undyne would be ecstatic, going through with it would be a grave mistake on her part.

Undyne was zealous, yes, and incredibly hot-blooded for a fish lady, but Frisk told him that she trusted her to be responsible with the bladed weapon.

“a move which will henceforth be known as ‘mistake number two’.” He had rung in with his opinion then.

But she honestly couldn’t think of anything else that would impress her as much as a genuine steel sword, so at the time Frisk had more or less told Sans to stuff it. She was hoping with all her might that Undyne would prove him wrong – otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from the smug skeleton.

Frisk was aware that someone who had the ability to summon spears made of magic from thin air would probably possess no real need for a sword, but the practicality of the present wasn’t really all that important in the first place – the only thing that truly mattered in the end was whether Undyne was happy or not with her gift.

And speaking of Sans, she quite literally bumped into him on her way to the kitchen. It seemed he just then finished putting all the dishes he and Papyrus prepared in their proper places on the various tables she had set up around the living room, because the faint glow of his magic was still visible in his left eye and she caught sight of a fading wisp of blue from his fingertips.

“‘ey, kiddo. where’s the fire at?” His hands reached out to steady her, their unexpected impact nearly knocking Frisk off her feet.

“It’s in the kitchen – I thought I’d check up on Grillby. He said there were still a few things left that he needed to involving some additions to the spread and asked to borrow mine so he could finish the job.”

“paps is really letting this new position as a ‘head chef’ get to his, uh, head.” He sighed, but it was an unmistakably satisfied one. “don’t get me wrong – i couldn’t be happier that he’s done nothing but improve since we’ve been on the surface; tickled to the bone even... but i gotta admit, paps can be kind of a bossy boots when he’s all absorbed in his cooking. he has this tendency to hover over anybody else with him when in the kitchen, and feels the need to input some well-meaning, but unrequested advice. so i hope he isn’t giving grillbz too bad of a time in there.”

“You told me that everything on the list of dishes he was responsible for was finished. If Papyrus finished everything he was supposed to, then why would he be in the kitchen?”

“to dispense some of his well-meaning advice.”

“...Oh. Well, I think Grillby might be able to handle it?” Sans didn’t seem so sure of her words, and neither did she herself honestly. “He seems like the type to work well even under pressure. From what I’ve seen, for someone made of flames, he’s pretty good at keeping a cool head.”

“yeah, maybe so, but even someone as chill as grillby has got to have an ignition point.” Sans did have a point there, Frisk mentally noted – and while they both knew that the flamesman would never blow up on Papyrus, the likelihood of him becoming tormented by the skeleton’s helpful intentions was quite high. “you said you were going to pop in and check on him? i’ll go with ya – i’ve gotta give grillby his gift anyway, so now’s as good a time as ever, i guess.”

“What did you get him?” Frisk asked, filled with curiosity.

“well, it’s not really much of a gyftmas present, but...” He shrugged, seeming somewhat ashamed. “i’m gonna finally pay off my tab with him, with interest. i think he’d probably appreciate that more than anything else i could’ve got him today.”

“You mean you still haven’t paid off that big bill you racked up in the Underground?” Frisk shook her head, but smiled all the same. “What I have for him isn’t anything material either, but I’m pinning my hopes on the possibility that it’ll be the sort of gift that’ll keep on giving in the long run.”

“it already sounds a lot better than what i have planned. so, don’t keep me in suspense, kiddo - what’s this spectacular gift of yours that’s supposed to keep on giving all year ‘round? it’s not a one-year membership to the jelly of the month club, is it?”

“No, and I caught that reference, Sans.” She giggled, and he swore the sound was almost like bells, if only to him. “Some of the monsters, like Grillby, I couldn’t think of anything to give them that I could wrap up in a box. So instead of something physical, I decided to make a present out of an act or service – I’ve made the arrangements for his restaurant to receive a much needed expansion in the near future, since I heard from him and a few other regulars that the building is getting sort of cramped, what with all the new customers he’s drawing in now.”

“aww, kiddo.” He cooed, “grillby ‘ll probably start crying soot when you drop the news on him. an upsized establishment is the best thing you ever could have thought up to give him. you’ve got me beat in that department - that’s way better than my idea.”

“Gyftmas isn’t a contest, Sans.” She gently chided him. “And I’m sure that Grillby will be more than happy to collect your overdue payments as a present. I’m willing to bet he most likely never thought he’d see a single piece of the gold that went into your meals, so at least it’s a guarantee you’ll be surprising him.”

“ouch.” He placed one hand over his ribcage, feigning hurt. “that was cold, frisk. real cold. you wanna know how cold that was? that was so cold, that i could step right through that front door and walk straight into that blizzard going on out there, and it’d still be a whole lot warmer than what you just said to me, your ol’ pal sansy.”

“i was just teasing you, funnybones.” She lightly slapped his arm, the touch more akin to a light tap as she laughed, “I knew you were always planning on paying him back. You always do. Grillby once told me you never did let him down before when it came to eventually clearing off your tabs, so he didn’t expect you to this time, either.”

“that grillby... what a guy.” Sans shook his head, almost pityingly.

When they entered the kitchen, they found Papyrus exactly where Sans expected him to be, standing behind the flamesman and leaning over his shoulder, closely scrutinizing his work as he chattered on and on in incomprehensible culinary jargon. Grillby’s reaction to this was subtle – to the casual observer, he would appear to be nothing but the very essence of calm. However, the slightly erratic flickering of the flames that composed his body made them aware that Grillby was steadily becoming increasingly distressed at the unwanted commentary and being so closely observed. If that alone hadn’t clearly sent the message across, then the near pleading look he gave the two when he took notice of their presence certainly would have.

“i got this.” The skeleton by Frisk’s side whispered. “‘ey, pap? what’re ya up to in here, slaving away in front of a stuffy hot stove, when there’s a party going on out there?”

“OH, HELLO BROTHER! AND A MERRY GYFTMAS TO OUR GRACIOUS HOSTESS TODAY, MY BEST HUMAN FRIEND, FRISK!” He greeted them cheerfully, then gestured to Grillby. “I WAS MERELY OFFERING MY VASTLY ENHANCED CULINARY EXPERTISE TO ONE OF OUR OTHER FELLOW CHEFS WHO IS IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!”

“i can see that you’ve been busy.” Sans stated simply, taking in the fire monster’s haggard appearance which Papyrus seemed to be oblivious to. “but pap, it looks like grillbz is about done here, and some of the peeps attending the skelly-bration have been asking about ya in the past half hour.”

It wasn’t a lie, either. At least five monsters had flagged him down on his way to the kitchen alone, questioning him on the whereabouts of his brother. Perhaps it was merely curiosity at work, as the brothers were rarely apart from one another for extended intervals, but the fact remained that several guests were expecting the appearance of the great Papyrus.

Sans wanted to rescue his good pal Grillby from the fate of being subjected to his younger brother’s backseat cooking, but he didn’t want to hurt Papyrus’s confidence or his pride in order to do so.

It was one of his fatal flaws – Sans showed difficulty in being honest with those he loved whenever something was amiss, so he would lie in order to spare their feelings. He held the uttermost purest of intentions, but Frisk had a premonition of sorts that this habit of his would one day return to bite him hard in the boney posterior, and the end result might not be as humorous as it sounded.

“UGH. THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE. JUST... ABOMINABLE!” Papyrus groaned, his disgusted reaction eliciting a snort from Sans. “...YOU SAY THAT THE PARTY GUESTS... ARE REQUESTING MY COMPANY?! WELL...! I’M TERRIBLY SORRY, GRILLBY, I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS MY REMORSE, BUT I MUST LEAVE THE REST OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE DONE IN YOUR CAPABLE HANDS!”

“That’s quite alright, Papyrus.” Grillby’s soft, whispery voice crackled, the relief it displayed only being discernible to the human and the shorter skeleton. “I can finish up the rest of the cooking just fine by myself – you go and enjoy yourself.”

Sans had cleverly played on the enjoyment Papyrus took out of being the center of several’s attention well – he had no difficulty in carting him out of the room and thus allowing the overstressed fire monster to complete his assigned task in relative peace.

Before they slipped out of the kitchen, Frisk left an envelope addressed to him on the counter where she was certain he would find it. Inside were papers, the documents detailing the renovations and additions that would be appended to his restaurant, and all that would be required of him in exchange is that he sign his name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page.

This is what Frisk murmured to Sans when he inquired over the contents of the mysterious parcel he had noticed she left behind for Grillby to discover.

“didn’t you want to watch him open it, though?”

“Yeah, I did, but... I thought that if he really did end up crying over it, then it might fluster him if he did that in front of you or me or Papyrus. This way, he can be as emotional as needed in his own privacy, and Grillby can find me later to talk about it if he wants to after he’s composed himself.”

“i’m sure he’d appreciate the consideration. pretty much anybody that’s known grillby for long enough is aware that it don’t take much for him to get worked up until he’s shedding soot all over everything. you’d think he’d be the stoic type, someone that isn’t easily moved, but that first impression couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“I think it’s wonderfully sweet. The world needs more caring and tenderhearted men like him. There are way too many aloof, dismissive, and severely emotionally stunted types out there already.”

“yeah?” Sans replied, his interest piqued – not that she picked up on anything unusual or out of sorts in his behavior.

Little did Frisk know, topics such as her preferences in men, specifically monster men, had been frequently occupying his thoughts as of late.

A spark of faint, barely there attraction had manifested following her befriending and hanging out with his brother. He made a valiant effort in forcing these feelings of his down as deeply as he could shove them, to the very bottom of his protesting SOUL. He tried to convince himself that such a thing between them would never work out by using various methods to psyche himself out of his budding crush.

She’s a human. She could still be dangerous. Monsters aren’t supposed to feel this way about humans. The other monsters would make fun of you. It will only end in tragedy. You’d put her in danger if anyone found out. She would never feel the same.

Such excuses was what he relied on to reign in his emerging urges, his desires to pursue a relationship of a romantic nature with her. But the more time he spent with her, the more he heard her laugh that was reminiscent of the chiming of bells at his jokes, his japes, and antics, the more he beheld her smile that shined brighter than the stars he loved so much, the more it became impossible to deny that he had fallen.

Fallen deeply and hopelessly in love.

He was constantly torn between handing out hints that pointed towards his sentiments and doing everything within his power to bury them from her sight. He didn’t want her to uncover his blossoming affections, yet he did want her to. Sans had never felt such a terrifying, yet thrilling sensation in his entire life.

Since he was made aware of his own feelings towards Frisk, there were only two things holding him back from participating in the games of love, presently. The first was the very real prospect that she may not share his feelings. The second, however...

“Papyrus, before either of you go wandering off anywhere, I need you and Sans to stay put for a moment – I’m going to get your Gyftmas gifts out from under the tree. I hope they haven’t been buried underneath the others up by now...”

Papyrus nearly squealed with jubilation and delight, gushing over her thoughtfulness as Sans for the second time that day was caught off-guard.

“you mean the socks weren’t my present?” He questioned, pointing to his legs which were covered up to his patella in tiny burgers and fries.

“Good gracious, how did I not notice that you were still wearing those things?” Frisk remarked, the second-hand embarrassment almost overwhelming.

“your guess is as good as mine, ‘cuz you really should of since you’re so short.”

“Oh hush.” She huffed, scurrying off for a few minutes before returning with two boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Once the boxes were in their respective hands, both noted that the presents were actually rather heavy in weight. They took the time to tilt their gifts from side to side, gently shaking them in front of her, just to tease Frisk a little before opening them. Sans felt the need to casually stick the bow that was on the box to the side of his skull, for whatever reason – this borderline bizarre action still elicited a laugh out of the girl all the same, much to his inner satisfaction.

Because that was a part of love – doing stupid and even irrational things just to make the one you loved happy.

Papyrus tore into his present first, and he couldn’t have been more captivated with what was inside.

“SANS, LOOK!” He proudly held up a thick book with several tabs sticking out of the pages; it was a book of recipes, to be precise. “‘101 WAYS TO PREPARE PERFECTLY PLEASING PASTA’! EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE EVER WISHED TO LEARN ABOUT SPAGHETTI IS CONTAINED WITHIN THE CONFINES OF THIS BOOK! I CAN AT LAST TOSS OUT THAT OUTDATED COPY WITH ALL THE FADED AND TORN BITS I FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND’S JUNKYARD!”

So that explained what was wrong with his spaghetti then, Frisk thought. Chunks of his previous cookbook were missing, and he must have tried to substitute ingredients and wing the rest of the recipe’s steps, with disastrous results.

...But that still didn’t quite explain why it wasn’t even remotely edible. Just what had he put inside the sauce?!

“so i guess that you’ll be telling that old book...” Sans started, the grin on his face spreading further.

“SANS, DON’T YOU DARE!”

“pasta-la vista.”

Papyrus’s entire body gave an almost violent jerk as a strangled wheezing sound escaped his throat – it was a laugh or a chortle of some sort, that much they were sure of, but he had done his best to suppress it.

“SANS... THAT PUN WAS EVEN WORSE THAN THE LAST!”

“nuh uh. you thought it was hilarious.” Sans calmly contended with a smirk. “don’t even try to deny it, paps. your reaction said more than words ever could.”

“...I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY OR HOW THAT HAPPENED. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED IT, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, BUT I STILL LAUGHED ANYWAY!”

“i know the answer to that – it’s because i’m the pun-niest skeleton that ever lived.”

“...THAT IS DEBATABLE.” Papyrus shot him an unamused glance. “NOW DON’T BONE-DOGGLE AROUND ANY FURTHER THAN NECESSARY – START UNWRAPPING YOUR OWN PRESENT AND SHOW ME WHAT FRISK GAVE YOU FOR GYFTMAS!”

“ok, patience, paps. don’t get your tibia in a twist.” He chuckled, tearing off the wrapping paper in one swift motion and gingerly opening the top flaps of the box to reveal... another book, even heftier than the last. He flipped through it, his sockets gradually widening as he viewed its divisions. “it’s... an astronomy book. star maps, pictures and scientific accounts of solar and lunar eclipses, statistics about the planets in the solar system...”

Questioning whether he appreciated it wasn’t at all necessary – his expression of wonderment spoke for itself. Sans was positively beaming, and the sight of him wholeheartedly enjoying her gift sent a series of warm fuzzies straight to her heart.

“thanks a bunch, but... you... you didn’t have to get me anything...” He was touched almost beyond words. “this must have cost a literal fortune...”

“Pish posh. Never you mind about the price.” She waved off his concern, only providing further proof to him that the astronomy book was indeed more expensive than she was letting on. “Seeing the look that’s on your face right now made it worth every cent.”

“aw geez, kiddo...” A bright blue blush crept onto and coated his cheeks once more - Frisk couldn’t quite say why, but she found the shade and color to be exceedingly cute.

Papyrus then plucked Frisk from her place off the floor and pressed her firmly against his chest, hugging her tightly as he thanked her. So tightly that breathing was becoming somewhat of a challenge while being subjected to his loving clasp. Sans squeezed his way into the embrace, finding some amount of enjoyment in watching Frisk struggle and squirm before interfering by tugging at the sleeve of the other skeleton’s sweater.

“bro, i know you mean well, but I think you might be squishing her.”

“Yes, please don’t squish the human...” She whined pitifully.

“OH! MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES, FRISK!” He released her posthaste, setting her down with evident care on her own two feet. “I SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOUR FRAGILE HUMAN BODY WASN’T PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FULLY WITHSTAND THE FORMIDABLE STRENGTH FROM THE POWERFUL PHYSIQUE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

“I’m fine, Papyrus. Just... give me a moment to catch my breath.”

She supposed his tendency of putting his all into everything, even something as natural as an embrace, was a trait that came about from his friendship with Undyne. The fish woman was in no definition of the word gentle, so even the simplest of gestures such as handshakes and hugs were elevated to an extreme level.

“So, I’ll... take that as a sign that you liked your gift?”

“YES! IMMENSELY SO!” Papyrus answered as he held the cookbook filled with pasta recipes up, almost proudly. “I PROMISE, FRISK, ONCE I PERFECT THIS RECIPE, YOU’LL HAVE THE MOST DELICIOUS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE, YOU CAN COUNT ON THAT!”

Several months ago, her insides would have twisted up in dread at that. But now, she could actually feel her stomach threatening to growl and the faintest traces of drool beginning to form at her mouth. She was genuinely looking forward to his dish to the point that Frisk wished she could eat it immediately, if not sooner.

Against her wishes, all these thoughts and talk of spaghetti spurred her stomach to indeed growl, and quite loudly at that. She could feel the air around them still, and both brothers were staring at her with expressions that could only be described as judgmental.

“you... you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, did you, kiddo?” Sans says after a long pause, almost accusingly.

“...No.” She admitted, seeing there was no sense in attempting to fib her way out of this one.

The once denizens of the Underground took food very seriously, if the vast array of cuisines Frisk came across during her journey were any indication. It seemed each monster she met had some sort of signature dish, such as Toriel’s butterscotch cinnamon pies, Sans’s hotdogs (or even more specifically, hotcats), Muffet’s spider doughnuts and cider, and of course Papyrus’s spaghetti.

Monsters took their mealtimes very seriously, and Frisk had just committed a terrible offense in their eyes, or rather eye sockets.

“FRISK, WHY WOULDN’T YOU EAT BREAKFAST THIS MORNING?” Papyrus questioned her mournfully, sounding betrayed. “IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!!!”

She had definitely upset him, Frisk realized – he had used three question marks when reprimanding her, something that was usually only reserved for him when he was at his utmost happiest.

“I... I didn’t have time to.”

“kiddo, you’re surrounded at every angle by food.” Sans gestured all around them at the tables, every inch of their surfaces covered by dishes filled with delicacies. “that’s, kind of the entire reason why you asked us all to bring something? so nobody would have to go hungry at this party? so, uh, tell me, frisk – what makes you think the host is exempt from that precaution, huh?”

“It’s not like I chose not to eat anything on purpose, I’ve just been busy.” She feebly defended herself, already aware that she was fighting a hopeless battle. “Making sure everybody’s happy, handing out gifts, that sort of stuff...”

Sans studied her for a moment, seeming to process her words carefully before craning his neck upwards to look at his brother.

“...pap? you don’t mind taking up the position of co-host, do you?”

“WOWIE, WOULD I EVER!”

“Wh-What?” Frisk blinked twice at them, confused beyond all reason. “What do you mean ‘co-host’?”

“it means exactly what is sounds like – pap is gonna take over some of your responsibilities so you can relax.”

“And I don’t get a say in this at all...?”

“nope.” “NOPE!”

Their replies were simultaneous, cheerful, and matter of fact, and before she knew it, Frisk felt the bony hand of Sans clamp around her own, tugging her away from the taller skeleton and towards the banquet.

“But-But I still have presents to deliver to their proper recipients!” She protested, Sans not slowing down in the slightest.

“YOUR CONCERNS ARE UNFOUNDED, FRISK! THE PRESENTS HAVE TAGS!”

“they’ve got tags, frisk.” Sans parroted, as if she had somehow not heard him. “don’t worry your pretty head; he’s got this.”

“Okay, if you say so...” She responded, not sounding convinced at all.

“trust me on this – papyrus is somebody that feels like he needs to be doing stuff constantly, all the time, and he likes being useful. while i do wish that he would sit down and smell the spaghetti from time to time, this is something good to him, and for him. paps being co-host and handing out presents will give him the chance to mingle, maybe make some friends, even. this’ll be like a whole other present, to him.”

“All of that does make a lot of sense, now that you’ve explained it...” Frisk conceded defeat to his logic. “...But that doesn’t mean that you have to pull me around just to show me the table spread. I’m the one that set up everything, remember? I know where the food is.”

“obviously, you don’t, since you haven’t eaten anything yet.” He shot back, and she stuck out her tongue at him childishly – he was just as immature, though, and flicked his own out as well.

Once they were at the table, he commenced piling the food onto two plates, one for her and one for himself. He then guided his human companion to one of the couches, one where not as many guests were gathered around so there was no danger of someone getting rowdy and spilling their food onto the floor.

The moment they were seated, before Frisk could even get comfortable, a tiny hotdog wrapped up in a croissant (otherwise known as pigs in a blanket, Sans’s own culinary contribution to the event) was shoved in front of her face, tapping insistently at her lips. She lightly shoved his arm away, but he was persistent.

“Sans, I know how to eat by myself. You don’t have to feed me!” She squawked as she continued batting at his hands, refusing to allow him to push the tiny sausage past her lips.

It was mostly out of a sense of paranoia of someone seeing them and getting the wrong idea. The last thing she needed was for someone to begin harassing the skeleton because someone mistakenly believed they were an item. Human-monster couples had become a thing remarkably quickly, but Frisk didn’t believe that Sans would ever be interested in pursuing a relationship with one, much less herself.

“well, you could of fooled me.” He snipped, and he used her shocked expression at that to his advantage, popping the pig in a blanket into her open mouth. “there, now doesn’t that taste good, baby?”

“...You’re making me seriously reconsider being a pacifist, Sans.” The girl warned him, but he knew it was all in good fun, wiping away the crumbs at her mouth as she chewed with his thumb before bringing another one to her lips.

She reached up to snatch the little hotdog from his fingers, causing him to pout exaggeratingly.

“Well, well, well... aren’t the two of you getting cozy~” A soft and sugary female voice remarked.

Frisk whirled her head around to find Muffet standing a few feet away, staring at them with the corners of her mouth curved up into a sweet but sly smile.

Out of all the monsters that could have caught the two of them like this, Muffet was by far not the worst, Frisk thought. She would definitely tease her over this, if not the both of them, but she wasn’t one to spread rumors around.

Sans, however, seemed to have no sense of shame and all and curled an arm around Frisk’s shoulders, pulling her closer to his side and flashing a grin that matched Muffet’s own. The two monsters shared a knowing gaze that made Frisk feel as though she were missing something here...

“Hey Muffet, did you come to chat?” She asked somewhat nervously, but the spider lady seemed to be fixed on what she had just witnessed.

“Oh, and what could be happening here? Did I step into a secret little romantic rendezvous between two lovers?”

Frisk nearly blanched, and even more distressingly bizarre was, Sans made no moves to deny her outlandish claims. The most he did was wiggle whatever constituted as his eyebrows at Muffet then turning around and doing the same with her. He then picked up another morsel from the platter between his two phalanges in an attempt to feed her again, as if she were some sort of small animal in need of treats.

“Hmm, that looks fun, dearie. Let me try!” And with that, Muffet plucked one of the pigs in a blanket off of Frisk’s plate herself and poked at the human’s lips with it.

“Muffet, no, not you too-mphh!” She was quickly silenced by the sausage being shoved into her mouth.

“Aww, what a sour expression.” Muffet cooed, reaching out to pinch Frisk’s cheek, tugging it around in different directions before releasing her hold.

Frisk made a solemn vow to herself, then and there – she was never going without eating breakfast again.

The price was just too much to pay.

When she turned her head upwards to look at Sans sitting next to her, all smug, she mentally noted that was probably the point of all this. Nevertheless, an important lesson was learned.

She snagged her plate from the skeleton and scooched as far away from him as possible, all the way to the other side of the couch. Sans, however, just moved as well, sidling right up next to her and slinging his arm around her shoulders once more.

“The two of you are adorable together~” Muffet giggled, taking her place on the couch at the space directly next to Sans. “I actually didn’t come over here just to torment you, dearie. I wanted to speak with you.”

“...About what?” Frisk questioned, suspiciously and with a hint of dread.

“Oh, nothing for you to be wearing such a grim expression. I encountered Papyrus a few minutes ago and he delivered your gift to me on your behalf – I came over here to thank you! An expansion for my bakery, to somehow arrange such a thing was incredibly... generous, of you.”

“I couldn’t think of a single other thing that might make you more happy.” Frisk confessed. “That was the best I could do.”

“Dearie, there isn’t a single other thing you could have given me that would have made me happier.” Muffet shook her head, her pigtails swaying from side to side. “I was elated to have that old building and make it into something of my own, you must believe me on that, but it was so very... cramped. And there was only so much I could do with that limited space, and thus only so much I could earn with the few resources I had available.”

Muffet frowned, her voice dwindling to nothing more than a murmur.

“...I am aware of what others say of me, I’ve heard their whispers; that I’m stingy and constantly demanding money, and perhaps that is true in a certain sense, but I behave so not for myself, but for all of them, my family.”

She gestured around the room, and Frisk could make out several members of the Arachnid family in the crowd. She hadn’t met any of them during her adventure underground, but Muffet was more than eager to introduce them to her after they had struck up a proper friendship and began spending an extended time in each other’s company. Frisk always knew that Muffet was so much more than a money-grubbing spider like some spoke of her as being, but now more than ever was Frisk made aware that she was simply a hard-working monster, toiling endlessly to provide for her family.

“I never once thought such a thing would ever leave my lips, but...” Muffet sighed blissfully, “your gift almost feels too generous. My one and only wish, every year when Gyftmas arrived, was for all of them to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never truly cared much about seeing the surface, if I’m being honest with myself, but ever since they began occupying it along with the rest of us, that’s all they’ve ever been – happier than I’ve ever seen them. And I have you to thank for it.”

Muffet was right – Frisk couldn’t exactly speak for how they may have behaved prior to the breaking of the barrier, but each and every member of her family seemed to be in high spirits whenever she saw them. And today, Gyftmas Day, was no different.

She could spot Irene, the big, buff tarantula, arm wrestling with Undyne, Alphys cheering her on along with several others while Irene was supported by several other spiders and monsters, and it appeared it was going to be a close match. Edgar, a short and rather shy male black widow, was cuddling with his human girlfriend Elizabeth on one of the other couches (fiancé, he frequently insisted, in spite of them only having known each other for a few months at most). Muffet’s father, Daddy Longlegs, who was also one of the higher up employees at Frisk’s office, seemed to be conversing with some other guests over by the punch bowl, the once tall and intimidating monster wearing a gentle smile on his face.

Ku-Mo, Muffet’s mysterious as much as beautiful relative from Japan, who had fled from the war and thus managed to escape the fate of being imprisoned in the Underground, had arrived with her human husband in tow, the two having been married in secret for several years already and were currently quietly enjoying each other’s company by the crackling fireplace. Julian the peacock spider, a dancer and a designer, was bickering endlessly with Mettaton who he often claimed to be his rival, as per usual during their encounters, but even that was far more lighthearted and less snide than the norm. Spinerette, his timid brown recluse wife, was watching from the sidelines, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible.

Charlotte and Peter, the twins of inexplicable origin (Muffet claimed the two just appeared before her several years ago, as if having manifested from thin air; no mother, father, nor any relative of the sort accompanying them, and the already massive arachnid family took both brother and sister in without any further questioning), were supposed to be eating together while watching television, but were spending more time tossing mini marshmallows from their cocoa at one other over little comments the other made more than anything. And Webber, Muffet’s first cousin and a tarantula/daddy longlegs hybrid, was busying himself with keeping the Annoying Dog preoccupied with pets so Papyrus wouldn’t freak out.

Watching them all like this, along with the others, it was exactly the sort of beautiful chaos that Frisk had wanted out of today.

Muffet then more or less pushed Sans to the side to envelop Frisk in a loving, six-armed embrace, holding onto her tightly like a lifeline.

“Seeing them like this, this is all I’ve ever wanted out of this life of mine. ...Everyone had to keep up appearances in the Underground, a jovial one; we all wore a smile, grinning and bearing it, but occasions such as these are the ones where I know for a fact that they’re genuine – real. I sleep so much better in my nest knowing they’re all so much happier this way.”

She held the human even closer towards her, if that was somehow possible.

“As far as I’m concerned, Frisk, you’re a member of the arachnid family as well. If you need anything, dearie, anything at all, then please keep in mind that you can come to me for whatever it may be.”

To say that Frisk felt touched by the sentiment would be the understatement of the century. Muffet had a strong sense of family, but didn’t befriend others easily. She spent so much of her time invested in keeping her own kind content that she simply had none left to spare on friendship, not until she left the Underground. Muffet always wore a mask of mystery, much like her relative Ku-Mo, giggling sweetly and deflecting questions about her own state of happiness in favor of focusing on her family’s.

She and Sans were very much the same in that regard – perhaps that was why the two were always so amicable towards each other. They had a mutual understanding.

“Dearie, I know it isn’t much; I’m certain that nothing I could possibly give you could ever properly repay for everything you’ve done for me and my family, but this is my gift to you.”

Muffet gently placed a medium sized box onto Frisk’s lap, light in weight and the wrapping paper covered in little cupcakes. It was so adorable that she hesitated for a moment to open it, but she could tell that despite her modesty when presenting it, Muffet was eager to see her reaction to its contents.

Inside the gift box was... a blanket. A silk blanket, and it appeared to be a handmade item. The blanket was as white as the fallen snow covering everything outside, and the fabric almost had its own sparkling quality to it as well. Every detail was intricate, so much so that staring at it for too long almost made Frisk’s head begin to spin. Muffet had told her that this present was nothing to get excited over, but the amount of effort that must have went into the weaving of this blanket warmed her to the very core.

“Muffet, it’s... it’s... beautiful!” She cried, holding it up for Sans to see, having crawled back up onto the couch sometime since the spider lady shoved him.

“I’m so happy to hear that, dearie!” And she could tell that what she said was genuine, Muffet’s features relaxing somewhat. “I wanted this one to be my greatest creation yet outside of the bakery business, but... I feel as though the pressure I placed on myself only caused me to make more mistakes. I believe I spent more time retracing my steps and fixing my blunders than actually weaving...”

“Well, the end result is breathtaking, and I mean that in the best of ways. Thank you so much!” Frisk praised her work as she carefully folded up the blanket, intending to place it on her bed once an opportunity to do so had made itself available.

“The blanket should be big enough for two. Perfect for cuddling.” Muffet giggled, then turned a pointed glare towards Sans as she stood up. “And Sans, dearie? If I discover that you’ve stained it with ketchup in the future, I’ll strangle you in your sleep~”

The spider lady then stepped away from the pair, in high spirits like the rest of her kin, leaving the two of them to process her words.

Frisk simply saw her suggestive behavior towards them as Muffet being, well, Muffet. Sans, meanwhile, must have taken what she said more to heart, because a deep blue blush had covered his entire face, but he was grinning shyly as he took the blanket from her, putting it inside the box it came in and setting it safely to the side before placing her plate of food from earlier onto her lap.

“eat the rest before it gets too cold to.” He ordered, seeming to have forgotten or at least pretended not to know that monster food didn’t cool down like human food did.

Nevertheless, she did what was asked of her, otherwise he might decide to feed her again in front of everybody.

“Sure, he clams up because of something silly that Muffet said, but when it comes to him shoveling food into my mouth, in public, that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest...” Frisk inwardly remarked, reflecting on the skeleton’s hypocrisy.

They finished their lunch a while later, idle chatter between the two eventually filling in the awkward silence that the spider lady had left behind. On each occasion it seemed to Sans that Frisk was done when her plate wasn’t empty, he prepared himself to feed her again, giving her plenty of warning beforehand to coax her into eating everything in front of her. He continued to do this until it was cleared, the human girl sending him a grumpy glare once she had, to which he responded by pinching her cheek.

“Jerkface.” That was the only thing she could think of to call him, as juvenile as she knew it was – he just smiled warmly at her.

“i love you too.” He immediately replied before turning all the way around, appearing to Frisk as though he suddenly found the wallpaper extremely fascinating.

“i can’t believe i just said that out loud, joking or not...” He thought, but the inner pride swelling in his ribcage for having finally said those sweet words that so often stirred inside his SOUL whenever he was with her won out over any shame and embarrassment he might have felt.

This sense of satisfaction didn’t last long, unfortunately for him, and soon his insecurities and fears took over once again.

Much to his relief, Toriel had made an appearance shortly after his little accidental declaration. Much to his chagrin, however, she came in the company of Flowey, otherwise dubbed by Sans as ‘that awful weed’.

Flowey looked none too happy to be here as well, and the tiny wool winter beanie the queen had knitted for him which rested on his topmost petal did little to brighten the overall mood he was emanating, much less the matching sweater he also wore or the bright red bow wrapped around his pot.

Frisk, on the contrary, thought he was adorable.

“Awww!” She nearly squealed when she caught sight of him, momentarily abandoning Sans to coo over his attire. “Looks like somebody came ready for Gyftmas!”

“Bah humbug.” He grumbled, but the faint blush that bloomed across his face didn’t escape her eye.

What also didn’t escape her observation was the object that dangled over the doorway, directly above them. A clever idea came to her.

“I apologize for his rudeness, my child.” Toriel gave her a sheepish smile. “He’s been in a sour mood all morning, I’m afraid.”

Frisk supposed that he would be. This was very likely the first Gyftmas he would be taking part in after several long years of being a flower. The last time he had a proper Gyftmas was probably when he was the Underground’s prince, Asriel, and that had been a long, long time ago.

“Well, if he’s gonna have that kind of attitude, then maybe I’ll just have to keep his present to myself until he learns better manners.” Frisk spoke as if he weren’t right there, but her tone was discernibly playful – he quickly perked up.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense!” He demanded as he impatiently wiggled his leaves, “Let me have it!”

“oh, i’m gonna let him have it, alright...” Sans muttered under his breath, but Frisk elbowed him in the ribs and told him to shush.

“Okay, but you have to close your eyes first!” The skeleton by her side raised a socket slightly at this, but said nothing, just stared at her inquisitively.

“...Oh, fine... fine...” Flowey conceded defeat to her whims, closing his cartoonishly beady eyes as instructed.

“And no peeking either!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” He insisted complainingly.

“Okay, now keep them shut...” She giggled, leaning in closer towards him, holding her breath before...

“Mwah!” She smooched the flower, right on the mouth. “Mistletoe kiss!”

“BLUH!!!” He sputtered, retreating backwards and staring at her with wild eyes, then began coughing, wheezing, and hacking as though he were dying. “Bleh! Bluh! Ptooey! Ugh...”

The two women watched his theatrics with an amused glee; meanwhile Sans was sulking a few feet away, mumbling unintelligibly to himself.

“ungrateful brat. would’a been over the moon if that’d been me...”

A few more moments of spitting and spluttering passed before Toriel chose to speak up over her son-flower’s dramatic display of disgust.

“Flowey, dear, you’ve made your point. That’s enough of that.” She chided him gently, placing a gentle paw over his head to give him a comforting pat.

His mother’s warm and familiar touch calmed him considerably, but he was most definitely still sour over the trick.

“And just what was that supposed to be?” He grumbled to Frisk, who was still smiling cheekily throughout the whole ordeal.

“Affection!” She replied cheerfully.

“Disgusting.”

“Well, if that’s how your attitude’s gonna be today, then I’m just gonna have to give this-” A small gift box with a bow appeared before his round beady eyes, which she had somehow procured from behind her back despite there being no evidence of it having been there before, “to someone else, then.”

His demeanor took an almost instantaneous shift; still displeased with her jokes, but far too eager to receive his gift to risk tempting Frisk’s patience with him, just in the unlikely but certainly possible case that she was actually serious about withholding his present privileges.

Satisfied with his compliance, Frisk then placed the tiny box in front of Flowey, resting on the rim of his pot. Before she could begin to question just how he was going to open it without any fingers, or even hands for that matter, he immediately tore into his gift, quite literally, with his teeth. He ripped off the bow first and foremost and flung it to the side, hitting Sans directly in the face – it couldn’t have possibly hurt him, but he complained nonetheless.

In just seconds, Flowey had stripped the box of all it’s wrappings and was free to lift the lid to the bare box lying underneath. Inside was... some sort of micro-sized controller, or that’s what it seemed to be to him and his observers.

“It’s a Flowey-sized game controller!” Frisk explained happily, confirming the identity of his gift. “I asked Alphys to make it for you, since she and I thought it wasn’t really fair that you’re always at a disadvantage whenever we play together.”

He stared down at the controller for the longest, then lifted it into his leaves with apparent wonder, taking a few moments to fiddle with the various buttons and other parts installed into it’s design. After a few seconds, a wide smile crossed his face – not one of his cruel, deranged ones, but a genuinely pleased and pleasant smile.

And that was all the thanks Frisk could have ever asked from the prince turned sentient plant.

Unfortunately, her friend Sans didn’t share the same thoughts.

“i didn’t hear a ‘thank you’...” He all but grumbled, both of his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.

“I’ll say it after I wipe the floor with you in Smash.” Flowey spoke matter-of-factly with a smug and satisfied smirk.

A dark shadow crossed his face, and the skeleton suddenly leaned towards him to whisper something, “...yoshi committed tax fraud.”

...and that was when Frisk and Toriel knew they had to step in before this escalated to an incident.

“HE DID NOT! STOP SPREADING YOUR LIES, SKELETON!!!” The buttercup more or less shrieked, struggling to free himself from his pot as Toriel quickly stepped several paces backwards.

“I’ll talk to you later, Toriel.” Frisk said swiftly, wrapping her arms around Sans’s middle and dragging him away before he could make the situation between him and Flowey worse than it already was.

“Can you go one day, one day without being a colossal butt?” She asked, already knowing the answer before he even opened his stupid mouth.

“nope.”

“See, I knew you were going to say that.” She sighed, more to herself than to him. “I didn’t even get the chance to give Toriel her gift, and all because you couldn’t play nice with Flowey for more than two seconds.”

“sure, blame your bestest pal, sansy.” His tone remained jovial though, despite the blatant accusation that was also present. “here, just gimme the gift and i’ll get pap to deliver it. no sweat.”

“But I wanted to see her face when she opened it...” Frisk whined, gazing down at the tiny box in her hand – inside was a snail shell pendant, the fragile mollusk casing cast in a layer of genuine rose gold on a matching delicate chain. “...And it’s all your fault.”

“ok, ok... even though you’re being all cute and pouty about it, i can tell that you’re really upset with me.” He snatched the box from her hand before she could react, handing it off to Papyrus with just as much speed before turning back to her. “so, let me make it up to you. c’mon, put on your coat and boots and let’s head outside.”

“Outside...?” She parroted, staring at the skeleton as though he had just spontaneously grown a second head. “Outside, as in, outside with all of that snow?”

“hey, the weather’s calmed down a bunch since we’ve been here. see? it’s just fluttering down, completely harmless. so going out there now would be more like standing under a shower of white confetti.”

He did have a point, Frisk acknowledged when she glanced out the window for herself. Aside from that, Sans seemed to be really eager about something, and while the probability of it being over a dumb, not to mention juvenile prank was extremely high, she enjoyed seeing him happy.

So, a few minutes later, the human girl had donned her winter apparel and headed out of the house with him, quietly leaving the party without a word to make their way into her frosted over backyard garden.

The pair sat on a bench in the middle of the area, directly in front of the frozen pond. Frisk had once pondered over purchasing some koi for it, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Just what does one do with the fish when winter came, anyway?

“Okay, Sans. I can tell you’re giddy, so don’t even try denying it – don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“impatient, much?” He chuckled, but there was a noticeable bead of sweat trailing down his skull despite the surrounding temperature, and it seemed as though he were concealing something from her sight from within the pocket of his hoodie.

He might have been able to hide the last thing from her, if only his hand hadn’t been fidgeting so much. It appeared that he was fumbling with the object, nervously running and drumming his phalanges over it every few seconds as if to ensure that it was still there. She had quite honestly never seen him like this, and it was both concerning to her, yet simultaneously fascinating.

“here we go, moment of truth.” He spoke after a long pause, almost more to himself than to her. “hold out your hand.”

At witnessing her hesitance, he assured her. “this isn’t some prank. i promise.”

And at his usage of the ‘p’ word – promise, any doubts she may have previously been holding onto had instantly been vanquished and Frisk readily held out her hand, waiting. After a moment more, a small box was then placed into her open palm.

“merry gyftmas, frisk...” Was all he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and could even be described as sweet.

She glanced over the box, surveying its size.

“...Is it a tiny whoopie cushion?”

“nooooo...” Sans snorted, shaking his head. “if you want to know what’s inside so bad, then why not just... open it?”

Deciding that she’d teased him for long enough, Frisk giggled softly, and gingerly lifted the lid to the box.

To see the contents of the box, she had to push aside some tissue paper concealing the identity of her gift, but once this was done, what was revealed to her was some sort of clear ball, a bit bigger than the larger marbles one would sometimes find in a set of the glass toys. And visible within the ball was a small flower. Not a faux flower made of silk or some other fabric, but a real one that had been preserved in resin, its color a striking bright blue, so radiant it was almost glowing, no, it was glowing...

It was an echo flower.

Undoubtedly the tiniest echo flower she had ever laid eyes on.

She gingerly lifted the preserved echo flower from its box, discovering a long silver chain was attached to it.

Sans had gotten her a necklace. She never, not once would have ever expected him to present her with jewelry – he just didn’t seem like that sort of guy.

That wasn’t to say that he was cheap with his gifts, no, far from it, in fact. But this gesture went so beyond the unexpected that Frisk was left speechless. She needed to say something, and soon, otherwise Sans will believe that he had failed in some shape or form when the reality was, this just may be one of the most precious items she had ever received.

“Sans... it’s not really something I condone, picking favorites, I mean, but...” She smiled, the sort of one that always sent the skeleton monster’s SOUL spinning, and held up the pendant with pride. “This is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve received today. It’s beautiful.”

“aww... you’re just saying that.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

“I am not!” She insisted, standing up. “And I’m going to put it on. Right now!”

“here, let me.” He immediately leapt to his own feet and took the necklace from her grasp, unfastening the chain before looping it around her neck.

Both of his arms were wrapped around her as he fumbled with the clasp, struggling to refasten the pendant. At least, that was what he led Frisk to believe. Even in their current position, he could have easily secured the two ends of the chain, if he so wished. But that wasn’t what he wished, so he didn’t – not yet.

To any passerby that may have witnessed the two, it would appear as though they were an embracing couple, and that’s precisely what Sans wanted to believe they were, even if only for this moment in time. He was too much of a coward, too filled with insecurity and doubt to hold her so tenderly against him in a more direct manner.

So, he would prolong this moment for as long as possible, or as long as Frisk would allow him to.

“hehe... silly thing just won’t... it’s like my phalanges are coated in butter.” He pretended to struggle with the two ends of the necklace’s chain once more. “just give me a few more seconds, frisk.”

She missed the near pleading tone present in the last line that he spoke.

“Maybe this would have been easier if you stood behind me instead...?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, not that he could see it – his head was resting on her shoulder so he could see what he was doing with the chain’s clasp.

“maybe, but i’ve got this.” He fumbled with it for a few seconds longer, then finally put a silent end to the charade, thus ending their impromptu embrace.

He took a step back and took in the sight of his handiwork – the echo flower pendant rested directly over her heart and SOUL, just where he wanted it to be.

“there’s something special about that echo flower, though. it isn’t just there to look pretty.” A fierce blue blush was slowly creeping and spreading up and across his skull. “you remember what they’re famous for, right? give it a little tap. might need two or three to work, but give it a try.”

“Sans... am I gonna hear the sound of one of your whoopie cushions if I do?”

“do i really seem like the sort of weirdo that would do that?” He inquired, and honestly, not only was it exactly something that he might do, it sounded like a hilarious idea, but he wasn’t about to ruin such a sentimental gesture with such a cheap prank.

“...Yes.”

“it’s not another whoopie cushion prank, frisk.” Then he quickly added, with a strong sense of sincerity in his voice. “it’s not any kind of prank at all.”

Satisfied with his reply, she did as he previously instructed and gave the pendant a few short and swift taps, then waited.

The flower, despite being trapped inside the glass, glowed just a bit brighter, then...

“take care of yourself, frisk... because someone really cares about you...”

She recognized and remembered those words well. She had heard them before, after all, towards the end of her journey in the Underground. He had spoken those very same words to her in New Home’s Judgement Hall, but there were two stark differences when comparing the sentence from then and now, one of them obviously being the use of her name, as he nor any other monster bore knowledge of the final fallen human’s name.

However, the intonation of the familiar phrase had changed as well – it was quieter, softer, fonder than when he said it in the past.

“...you’ve done so much for us, frisk.” Sans spoke after a meaningful pause. “...and you’re still doing things for us. you... you really care about us monsters. it’s undeniable. you’ve even accomplished the impossible – the barrier trapping us underground broke, and i know you had something to do with it, even if i’m still not completely sure how it was possible, or if the specifics are even really important now.”

He sat back down on the bench, patting the spot next to him and urging her to do the same.

“you just keep on making things better, turning our most insane of fantasies into reality in the present when a whole lot of us back then were so hopeless to the point that some of us were seriously considering... giving up. i just... i think about everything that you’ve done for us, every single day, sometimes even all day, ever since i met you, and, well... i just started to wonder; do you know how much you’re cared for?”

He let out a soft chuckle, closing his sockets and throwing all his inhibitions to the side.

“i know the others are grateful, but i still can’t speak for any of them. i’m just sans the skeleton, after all. but... if the question being asked is, ‘does sans the skeleton care about frisk the human, our ambassador, our savior?’ then the answer is, ‘yeah, he does’. frisk, when i said ‘someone really cares about you’, that someone was supposed to be me. i care about you. a whole lot. i guess you could even say i care a skele-ton. ...i’m just sorry it took me so long to say it, but that’s how i really feel. i just wanted you to know that.”

When he finally mustered the courage to face Frisk again, he was flustered to find her sniffling, nearly sobbing into her mittens.

“...i’m sorry. all that was really stupid, wasn’t it?” Sans somehow felt that her reaction was negative, and that it was his fault.

“No. No, no, no, no. No...” She choked out, but when she lifted the cloth-clad hand away from her mouth, he spotted a shaky smile on her lips. “That... That was... just so... I just... I don’t know what to say... Just give me a few minutes, I’m sorry...”

She managed to compose herself quickly enough, Sans patting her on the back and still feeling lousy for making her cry. Once all of her quaking and hiccupping had ceased, she gave the skeleton a look that he recognized as determined.

“Sans, I have one last gift for you.”

“one more?” He blinked owlishly. “frisk, you’re... you’re really spoiling me here.”

“This has been something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while, now. I just wasn’t sure when, or if it was even conceivable at all, but...”

“frisk, you aren’t making any sense.”

“Just... wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t return to the house like he thought she would. No, she stepped into the little shed about ten feet away from the bench, then returned a few seconds later holding a white package with a bright red ribbon resting on top. She gently placed the present into his waiting lap, then sat next to him again with a long, almost weary sigh.

“Open it.” She demanded, throwing Sans slightly off guard with how uncharacteristic it was of her to do so.

But Sans still felt the need to mess with her a little before he complied.

“is iiiiiiit...” He tilted the box left to right, then right to left, listening for any shifting noises inside. “...a pair of green shorts with purple-flower print?!”

“...You want a pair of Patrick Star’s trunks?”

“hey, i’d wear ‘em.”

“I have no doubt that you would.” She eyed those burger-covered monstrosities called kneesocks still covering his legs – Frisk almost couldn’t believe that he wore them to the party and was still wearing them; almost...

“okay, that’s enough fooling around.” He unraveled the ribbon with one swift tug, the lid to the box gone in the blink of an eye.

Sans peered inside the blackness of the box...

Reset...?

Those yellow letters stared back at him, that word and the sensation it brought, the thing he had learned to expect and fear through the horrific experience of being trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of mercy and violence by a being untouchable by time, was right before his very eye sockets.

His head whipped up to face Frisk, his grin gone and his expression eerily blank.

“It’s yours now.”

It took him ages to respond.

“.........wh-what?”

“It’s yours now. The RESET button? It’s yours.”

“...why did you think this would mean anything to me?” He spoke softly, sockets narrowing down to slits. “how did you know this would mean anything to me?”

“I knew giving you this would open up an endless plethora of questions...” Frisk sighed to herself resignedly. “Here’s the short answer: the previous owner told me.”

“the... previous... owner...” He repeated those words to himself, yet he still didn’t seem to understand them – his mind was fading to white.

“I had a suspicion, for a long while now, that this meant something to you. That you were... more aware than you let on at times. And he- they, confirmed it for me. This button... it’s caused you a lot of trauma and heartache, even if you can’t remember all of it. And perhaps that’s for the best, really. I don’t know everything myself, but... I’ve heard enough, and my imagination is more than enough to fill in the rest of the story for me, even if I don’t want it too.”

“papyrus... he... he died.” He whispered brokenly, holding his skull in his hands as he hunched forward. “over and over and over again. i can’t remember how or why, but i just know that he did. he shouldn’t be here now, a lot of us shouldn’t be here now, i probably shouldn’t be here now, alive, but i am. we all are...”

“Sans, there’s nothing in the world I can say or do to produce any proof that what I’m saying is the truth and force you to believe me, but I never hurt anyone. The damage was already done by the time I came along.”

“then who did it, huh? who killed my brother and everyone else?” Sans nearly spat, causing Frisk to flinch – what she didn’t know was, his spite wasn’t directed towards her at all; he was suspicious, yes, but...

“I... I can’t say. Because I made a promise that I wouldn’t. But... this person, they’re very sorry for what they did in the past now, in the present. They want to make amends, to atone, but don’t know how or even if such a thing could ever be possible. Once again, I have no proof that what I’m saying is the truth, but this, it was our idea. They agreed to it, Sans, that it was only fair for you, the one most affected by this, to be the one to gain ownership of it – the RESET button.”

“............”

“I’ll answer any questions that you may have, about the past timelines, to the best of my abilities. Just as long as they’re not about the previous owner. But I never hurt anyone, Sans.”

“......I know that.” He whispered.

“You do?” She replied, deadpan.

“i do. you don’t have to explain anything to me, frisk. i believe you.”

She had expected him to fire off at least a million questions a millisecond, to be subjected to an interrogation, maybe even a trial by fire (with Grillby serving as the fire), or something, but not... whatever this was.

Just... quiet acceptance that her word was the truth.

“look... this other person, the one that had the reset button before you, i already knew about ‘em before, frisk. it’s true that when i first met you, i thought you had something to do with the resets, and i was sorta right, but not in the way i first thought. that’s why... that’s why, sometimes, i wasn’t as helpful as i could have been, not as kind as i should’ve been. the resentment that i felt for something that was beyond my control but in someone else’s, there were occasions where i took it out on you. i couldn’t understand how you could just, hurt all of us like that, and then go right back to being friends with us, like nothing ever happened, reset or not.”

One of Sans’s skeletal hands reached up to cup her cheek, surprising her.

“but then the more time i spent with you, i realized that some things just didn’t add up. and now i know why – you never did hurt us. i was blaming you for something that was never your fault in the first place.”

“But you’re wrong about that, Sans – I did hurt you. I did use the RESET button. I never did hurt anyone in any of the timelines, but... you have to understand, Sans, it took me several tries to reach this ending.”

“that doesn’t matter now.” To Frisk’s immense shock, he actually smiled, not grinned, but smiled. “whatever you may or may not have done in the past, you’ve more than made up for it with everything you’ve done in this timeline.” He patted the side of the box containing the thing he once dreaded and loathed “...including this right here.”

“It’s your power now, Sans. At first, I considered destroying it and putting the pieces in the box as your gift. ...But then I thought that wasn’t fair to you, either. So it’s all up to you from this point onward. The decision of whether or not there’ll ever be another RESET rests all on your shoulders, because I’m satisfied with how everything’s turned out. Everyone’s happy now, and that’s all that ever mattered to me in the first place, alongside staying alive. I’m so sorry if my methods of achieving this result put you through any turmoil, though.”

“frisk, i understand and forgive you, but... this other person, though. they may be sorry, but you also have to understand that i can’t forgive them. not unless they apologize to my face for everything they put me, paps, and the others through – even if i am the only one that has any memory left, no matter how small it is, and can comprehend just what happened then.”

“They want to apologize to you, Sans. Desperately. They’re just... afraid to.”

“well, tell ‘em i’m ready to listen whenever they’re ready to start talking.”

“I’ll pass that on, Sans. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you will get an apology sooner or later.”

“frisk, i...” He spoke after another long moment of stillness between them, clutching the box tightly. “i just... you don’t even know how much this means to me...”

“You’re right. I don’t know, and maybe I never will, but... I can imagine. Imaging how much suffering you went through. And I won’t force you to talk about your experience, but if you ever want to, I’m here. I’ll listen.”

That’s when whatever was left of Sans’s stoic façade faded. Frisk held out her arms, anticipating such a reaction for the last few moments, and he immediately flung himself into her hold. He sobbed into her shoulder, every single emotion he had been repressing since he came to the conclusion that he was enclosed in a vicious cycle spanning across time-space was released. She was simultaneously the first and the last person Sans ever wanted to see him like this.

Frisk didn’t judge him for his outburst, no, she never would. His human was far too kind for that. She simply held him while he cried, stroking the back of his skull and patiently waited for the flow of tears to ebb, not caring in the slightest if they soaked her sweater. Several minutes passed like this, perhaps even hours, but Frisk never gave any indication that she wished to move. Eventually though, Sans did compose himself.

“oh... ohhhh gosh...” His words possessed a slight slur. “that was so embarrassing...”

“No, it wasn’t. You held all of that in for far too long.”

“um, speaking of holding things in, frisk...” He began, but much to his surprise, Frisk just huffed.

“Really, Sans? You’re going to make a fart joke after all this?”

“really, frisk?” He mocked, actually feeling somewhat offended. “is that all i am to you? a bag of misery borne of time-space-related trauma, barely together bones, and ill-timed fart jokes?”

“...Pretty much, yeah.” She replied after a beat, but her tone and expression clearly conveyed that she was joking. “In all seriousness, though, what was it that you wanted to say?”

“well... this is something that i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but didn’t, because, well... i thought there was no point in it since i thought i didn’t have a future. but, uh, now that i know i do, there’s, um, literally nothing stopping me now, except for myself, that is. i...” He took a deep, deep breath, then sputtered all at once, “ohgoshimactuallydoingthiswaitnoicantdothisohmygo-”

“Sans, don’t push yourself! It’s okay! Nobody’s forcing you to say anything!” Frisk almost panicked as she watched him choke and hyperventilate.

“no, frisk; this is something i’ve gotta do!” He insisted, hands fluttering over his ribcage and spasming in different directions – if she didn’t know any better, the girl would say he was doing a killer impression of Burgerpants...

Before she was forced to listen to Sans make any more chicken noises, the sound of what could only be described as peacocks screaming filled the air, along with the distinct crash of what was unmistakably the sound of a window shattering. The ‘peacocks’ were Mettaton and Julian screeching, and when Frisk turned her head in the direction of her house, she saw one long leg sticking out of the snow surrounded by a ring of glass.

“Frisk, darling! I’m SO, SO, SORRYYYYYYY!!!” The robot nearly wailed. “I’ll pay for the damages; I promise I will!”

“No, I’ll pay for the window! Agreeing to engage this fool in a dance contest was my idiotic idea in the first place!” Julian immediately added after, causing the two to squabble over who was more remorseful and who would get to repay their ambassador.

“Sans, this is gonna have to wait until later. I have to deal with this, apparently.” Frisk patted his shoulder then offered him a hand. “You coming?”

“nah, i think i’ll stay out here for a little while longer. maybe use some magic on these dark circles under my sockets, you know, so nobody knows i was bawling.”

“Okay, but if you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m coming back out to check on you.” Yet another crash, followed by several more screams permeated the once quiet winter air. She groaned, then gave her echo flower pendant a few flicks to trigger the message Sans had recorded. “I know they care too, but I wish they cared like you do. You never break any windows.”

“just because i haven’t doesn’t mean i won’t.” He grinned.

Frisk narrowed her eyes, causing him to snort at her expression.

“...Take some time to think about what you just said, with the screams of those two flamboyant idiots in there as your soundtrack.”

She stomped off towards the house, and as Sans watched her retreating figure, despite the cold around him, he was left with a feeling of warmth, contentment. His SOUL felt light and fluttery, fluffy as the falling snow.

He held the box closer towards himself, its contents something he once hated, but now loved – because it was given to him by the human he loved...

Sans felt another round of sniffles begin, but now he was crying for an entirely different reason – he felt happy.

“if i didn’t love her before... stars, i sure do now.”

#franstastic writes #frans #sans x frisk #undertale #sans #frisk #papyrus #toriel #flowey #undyne #alphys #mettaton #napstablook #muffet #the arachnid family #fransweek

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the-ship-maker-2 · 3 years

Text

This fic was based off the song "I hate u" by Simon Curtis and this takes place in the Every Rose Has Its Thorns (ERHIT) universe. This is a side fic and is by no means canon with the main story or with any future events in the story.

Tw: smut (but not the actual sex it's just very sexual and a lot of foreplay)

Tw: violence at the beginning.

ENJOY.

I hate him…

God, do I hate him…

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…

But that’s how it always happens, isn’t it?

Those were Tabby’s thoughts as she was being pinned up against a tree in the backyard with the man that she despised. Holding her wrists up, body pressed up against her and his knee adding pressure between her legs. He looked at her with a mixture of coldness, cruelness, and amusement with a hint of lust for the younger girl. Tabby, on the other hand, looked up at him directly in the eyes with the most hateful, defiant, spiteful, lustful look to date.

How did she get into this position? Well, let’s go back a few months ago.

It all started with a mission. Masky, Hoodie, Toby, and Tabby were all put on the same team. Since Tabby was only three days in, she was brand new. So, the Slenderman put her in a group with the most experience, so maybe she could learn something. The mission should take at least six months, and it was to infiltrate a school and capture someone whos been trying to get information on the Slenderman. That meant living like usual and all together.

That didn’t settle well for Tabby and Hoodie. Tabby already didn’t trust the three as far as she could throw them. And after a brutal argument with Hoodie about him manipulating her and digging her heels in farther and saying how she will do as she damn well pleases. She realized that they were never going to see eye to eye, and after an argument like that, she can only assume that there will be more to come, which means that this would be a long six months.

The arguments started as yelling matches. Being raised the way that she was, Tabby was taught to go for the throat and attack where it will hurt most in a fight, whether it was a physical or verbal fight. Tabby had her stepdad’s verbal abuse to thank for her sharp tongue and harsh wit. Therefore Tabby always had the last word. This did not settle well with Hoodie. He hated how a scrawny, bratty teenager always got the best of him. It was time for his retaliation.

Hoodie was twice Tabby’s size. So he was able to overpower her with brute strength alone. He didn’t care if she was a girl or the fact that she was a teenager. To him, the moment you join the proxies is the moment you become an adult and become fair game. That’s when the arguments got physical. Hoodie was always the first to snap, so to Tabby, it was a fair fight and game on. Tabby is not the one to go down without a fight. So she’s just as vicious of a fighter as he is. Tabby may be small, but she’ll give you a run for your money. Hoodie may have gotten a bloody nose, black eyes, bruised throat, and maybe a broken arm once. But it was Tabby who is either face-first to the floor with him straddling her with her hair being pulled up forcefully in a tight grip or her being pinned up to the wall by her throat with his entire body pressed up against her to keep her from moving.

Nevertheless Tabby showed no fear. She exhibited nothing but contempt, hatred, and spite with a subtle hint of arousal. She always waited for his next move. Was it death? Or was it something farther? She never knew. Hoodie never hurt her too bad nor made anymore potentially sexual advances. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he felt oddly aroused every time that happens. Just seeing her in a helpless state, under his mercy, while still having that defiant look to her? It was enough to drive him insane. He often had to go to the bathroom to ‘take care of himself’ after letting her go. He hated how the brat got him so riled up. It took him a little while to figure out that the little shit got aroused by that as well.

It wasn’t until he was training her for the first time while the other two were away that cemented it in. Which brings it up to present time. He was somehow always put in charge of babysitting Tabby, much to both of their dismays. Tabby running on nothing but pure emotion and spite attacked him first.

“Stupid girl,” he thought to himself.

It didn’t take long until she was face first in the dirt, with him straddling her from behind, and he suddenly pulled her hair up with a tight and painful force. Tabby gasped at the pain and for breath. He leaned down close to her soft spot, which was where her ear meets her neck.

“You wanna try that again?” he whispered to her.

Tabby had to bite back a moan as he accidentally ground up against her as he sat back up. She struggled to control her breathing.

“Fuck...you…” she spat out along with the dirt that was in her mouth.

That was all he needed to go right ahead. Hoodie raised an eyebrow and got off of her.

“Are you sure about that? Is that what you really want?” he stated, darkly moving towards her.

Tabby scrambled to get up and brush herself off before moving backward, trying to get away from him. Her eyes were wide in suspense, and he daresay a hint of fear. Her eyes quickly darted from one area to another, looking for a way out. But there wasn’t any. She let out a squeak; she felt her back hit the tree in the backyard that they’re in. The backyard was fenced in highly, so it was almost like they were secluded.

She was utterly alone.

Hoodie planned to take full advantage of that. God, she looked so cute, being in fear and having nowhere else to go. Completely helpless and at his mercy. He walked towards her with a dark predatory grin spreading across his face.

“What makes you say that?” she said shakily with defiance in her voice.

Hoodie moved with the speed of a viper. He had her wrists pinned up above her head, one knee between her thighs so she was on his and his entire body pressed against her. Tabby sucked in a breath.

“Oh, I think that you know perfectly well what I mean,” hissed Hoodie in his low voice. Tabby looked at him wide-eyed, clearly unsure where this was going.

“Always starting fights with me…,” he trailed off and lifted his hand to touch the top of Tabby’s head and moved down to the shape of her face. Tabby flinched at first before being surprised at his gentle touch.

“Always fighting back and never doing what you’re told....,” his voice lowered and became softer as he gently caressed her cheekbones before touching her lips, parting them with his thumb, and Tabby whimpered as she lightly bit down in submission. She looked down, embarrassed with her half-lidded eyes. She then let out a stifled moan as she tried to shift her position so she wouldn’t be as uncomfortable, but she wasn’t expecting to be so sensitive when she accidentally grind up his thigh and then slowly slid back down in a fruitless attempt. Hoodie had to bite back a groan at the beautiful sight before him. Tabby being completely helpless and under his control and her squirming around rubbing up in certain areas was not helping him out either. Hoodie was surprised at how submissive Tabby was; he expected more of a fight.

“Hm?” said Hoodie as he roughly grabbed Tabby’s chin, slightly squishing her cheeks together making her look at him.

“In my defense”, she said through squished cheeks and narrowed her undeniably lustful eyes,” you start shit with me...I just finish it.”

“Fair enough. But I think it’s time that you learn your place”, said Hoodie.

Hoodie crashed his lips into hers that he was most definitely bruising hers while adding more pressure between her legs. Tabby let out a moan of pain and pleasure; she ground up his thigh slowly, then feverishly. Hoodie couldn’t help but break his composure but moan into the makeout session at the building friction. He ran his hands all over her body harshly to bruise her and bit her as well, leaving marks. Tabby moaned again and whimpered. It was like she was forced to drink cup after cup of his contempt.

But then again, he was forced to drink cup after cup of hers as well.

Tabby decided to get even with him. With both of them running on lust, his grip on her arms became lackadaisical, so she managed to get one of her arms free. She grabbed what fistful of his hair that she could and bring him closer to her pressing her entire body against him and grinding up wherever she could to gain more friction for the both of them. She did it harshly to leave both of their bodies aching later. She bit at his lips to bruise them and draw blood. She left nail marks, bite marks, and scratch marks on wherever skin was exposed. That was sure to leave his skin raw later. They were both moaning messes with Tabbys growing ever so louder.

Then they heard the sound of a car pulling up and parking, with the classic noises of the car doors slamming and the beeping of the keys. Masky and Toby were home.

Hoodie pulled away and dropped her. Tabby let out a yelp as he dropped her.

“Hey, what the hell!”, said Tabby still on all fours.

“The boys are home. Do you really want them to see us like this?” asked Hoodie as if nothing happened.

Tabby shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought”, said Hoodie as he walked back towards the house.

"I hate you." She said in thought before running to catch up to them

“But now I know what you’re into, and that’s very useful to use against you”, said Hoodie as he looked over his shoulder at her with the most sadistic smile before disappearing into the house.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”, screamed Tabby but he couldn’t hear her.

She took a few minutes to get her breathing back to normal and to recompose herself before standing up and fixing herself.

"I hate you", she said in thought as she ran back into the house.

#tw smut #tw violence #original character #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #tabby #tabbyanderson #tabby 👏 fucking 👏 anderson #every rose has its thorn #ERHIT #side fic #brian thomas #hoodie #crp masky #tim wright #toby rogers #ticci toby #toby

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 3 years

Note

"Is it too much to ask for something great?" For whoever you'd like :)

There’s cursing in here. This is the continuation of my Newsies Life in the ER Series. You can catch up here. We check in on Albert and Finch in this one. There’s some swearing in this one.

January 19, 2021

It had been a hell of a year, since the first COVID case was discovered in the United States. It had been eight months since he saw his first case at the hospital. He was ready for a solid week off with no plans, other than a road trip, catching up on Netflix shows and hanging out with his husband.

He pushed back from the computer with a sigh, giving Spot a look. “Need anything before I leave?”

Spot grinned, shaking his head. “No, but enjoy your time off. I’m insanely jealous, by the way.”

“Your time is coming - two weeks then I’ll be the jealous one.” Albert grinned, watching a chart fly by on the desk. Looking up, he grinned at Plums who maneuvered into a chair. “How’s that baby girl of yours? Has she figured out what sleep is?”

Her and Jack had welcomed Adelin Charlotte Kelly back in July. She was welcomed by many honorary aunts and uncles. Her birth was one the ER wouldn’t forget for a really long time.

Plums sighed. “She loves to throw ragers between 1 and 3 am. She’s got the lungs of her father. Jack was up with her while I got to sleep blissfully while she screamed her head off.”

“Racer and I told you we would take her for a weekend if you want.” Spot reminded her, giving her a big grin. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Plums grinned, pursing her lips. “Let me talk with Jack and I’ll let you know. Just make sure you don’t work the next day after you have her. She loves her ragers.”

“Duly noted.” Spot grinned. “We love her and she will be fine. Al, what are you going to be doing on your vacation?”

Albert leaned back in the chair. “Finch and I are going on a road trip up to Cold Springs for a few days before lazily lying on the couch catching up on Netflix and trying out a few recipes Finch wants to try.”

“What’s up in Cold Springs? I’ve heard it’s gorgeous in the summer but won’t it be colder than here.” Plums looked over at him with an eyebrow raised.

Albert laughed, raising his own eyebrows, grinning. “Finch spent his childhood up in Cold Springs - he always talks about the cute town and little shops along with some great skiing. And, yes it’s cold up there but that’s what they make fireplaces and cozy blankets.”

Spot and Plums both rolled their eyes and laughed at Albert’s expression. “Thanks but we didn’t need to know that.”

“You asked.” Albert grinned. “Now if you don’t have anything for me, I’m heading out.”

They both yelled for him to have a great vacation before he headed to the locker room before clocking out. With a final wave, he headed out of the Emergency Room, heading to his Subaru. Unlocking the car, he threw his bag in the back before getting in.

The car ride home was quiet, him relaxing, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Pulling into the driveway, he sighed, getting out of the car, walking into the house. He heard the familiar jingle of Rex’s collar, kicking off his shoes before letting the black Lab out of his crate. The dog danced at his feet as he made his way over to the backdoor to let him out.

Making his way to the bedroom, he quickly changed out of the scrubs and into sweatpants and a hoodie. Making his way out to the living room, he let Rex back in, quickly changing his water bowl before collapsing onto the couch. Digging his phone out of his sweatpants, he aimlessly scrolled through his social media.

He felt Rex jump off the couch before starting to bark, causing Albert to look up, realizing that two hours had already passed. He heard the door open as Rex’s excited paws pad on the floor as Finch’s bag hit the hit. Albert smiled hearing Finch talk to Rex, reassuring him he was home for the night. “Hey you.”

Albert pushed himself off the couch, grinning at Finch as he made his way over to him. “Hey yourself. How was your day?”

“Good. It was good to wrap some things up before vacation.” Finch grinned, kissing him again. “How was yours?”

Albert shrugged, sitting back down on the couch. “Two gunshot wounds and a few stitches. Just an average day in life.”

“That’s your average day . . . not most Americans.” Finch grinned, laughing. “Have you been home long?”

He nodded. “Like two hours. Spot and Plums pushed me out telling me they’re jealous of us having a vacation.”

“Have you thought of dinner?” Finch asked, loosening his tie, giving his husband a look while cocking his eyebrow.

Albert had the decency to look a bit guilty. “No . . . I got caught up in a game with Racer and lost track of time.”

“Feel like anything in particular?” Finch asked, heading to the bedroom as he unbuttoned his shirt, giving Albert another look.

Albert threw his head back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling as he flipped through the possibilities for their dinner. Nothing sounds amazingly great to him so he figured he’d leave it up to Finch to decide. “Babe?”

Looking up, a wolfish smile crossed Albert’s face at how utterly gorgeous his husband was. Finch was dressed in ratty sweatpants and an old hoodie from their college days. “What’s up?”

“What do you want for dinner?” Finch joined him on the couch, lacing his fingers with his. “You alright, something seems off?”

Albert shrugged. “I don’t care what we do for dinner - nothing really sounds good. And all is good.”

“Uh huh . . .” Finch gave him a long look, squeezing his hand. “I’m ordering pizza for dinner then we’re going to have a long talk.”

Albert watched Finch pull out his phone, call their favorite pizza place before ordering their usual - a pepperoni pizza with breadsticks and a two liter of Pepsi. Hanging up the phone, Finch dropped it on the coffee table, looking at Finch. “I’m not going to bug you but what’s going on Albert?”

“What do you mean?” Al looked at Finch, biting his lip.

Finch sighed. “You’ve been quiet for the last couple of days and distant for a bit. I have been waiting for you to come to me but you haven’t said much outside of good morning, goodnight, and a text here and there. What’s bugging you, Albert?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking.” Albert started, biting his lip. “Have you thought about where you want our life to go and what you want out of it?”

“I want you and I want the life that we talked about in college.” Finch smiled. “The one that we were going to go on vacation with the destination picked by throwing a dart at a map. The one that we adopted a dog, hours spent on debating which one we wanted, only to go to the shelter to pick out Rex. The one that you come home and tell me about your hospital days and try to gross me out by talking about the goriness of the job. And the one that you're completely and utterly head over heels in love with me.”

Albert grinned, thinking back on the times they would sit under the stars and talk. He looked over at Finch, biting his lip. "Is it too much to ask for something great?"

The words were quiet as they left Albert’s mouth that it was difficult for Finch to hear. “Wanna say that again?”

“Is it too much to ask for something great?” Albert said louder as he looked down at their linked hands.

Finch faltered for a moment, not expecting those words to come out of his husband’s mouth. His mouth opened and closed for a second, not sure what to say to him. “You don’t have to say anything . . . just voicing the question.”

He looked at Albert, hurt across his face. “When did you stop telling me about your thoughts and ideas? One thing I’ve always prided myself in our relationship is how much you and I always talk and work things out that are bugging us.”

“We were talking about greatness at work. One of our docs is retiring and they were talking about how great his career was and how great he is walking away.” Albert started. “I’ve been thinking about how I can have something great. I love you and I love the life we’ve built. All I want is something great.”

“Babe.” Finch paused, shifting in the couch, squeezing his hand. “I think the life we have together is pretty great. I think it’s great that I get to come home to you, to Rex, and tell you about my day. I think it’s great that I can call you my husband and I know that you’re always going to be by my side and be there for me. What isn’t so great about what we have?”

Biting his lip, Albert shook his head. “Do you feel like there’s something we’re missing?”

“At this moment, no. I love our comfortable lifestyle, our jobs are great and we’re in a good spot.” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been thinking about adding kids to our life?”

A gasp escaped Albert’s mouth as a smile crossed his lips. “Only a few weeks. I see what Jack and Kat have with Addie and I’ve started thinking about us. We always talked about having kids but it didn’t become real until a few weeks ago.”

“We’ve been married for six months, Al. Do you want to add kids to our life so quickly?” Finch asked. “We can spoil Addie rotten for a bit longer . . .”

Sighing, Albert threw his head back against the couch. “I want kids but at times I feel like we’re being left behind. Race and Spot have been talking about kids as have Romeo and Specs. We’re not even at that point yet.”

“We’re also 26 years old.” Finch bit back, giving him a look. “Since when do we set our lives based on our friend’s lives and what they’re doing? I am starting to get the feeling that there’s something deeper going on Albert. Please just tell me.”

Unlacing his fingers from Finch’s, Albert tapped his knee. “Okay . . . don’t kill me when I tell you . . .”

“You can’t start a sentence like that, Albert.” Finch raised an eyebrow at him. He slid closer to Albert, pulling him into his arms. “Just tell me Albert, I’m really starting to worry.”

The doorbell interrupted them as Finch dropped a kiss on Albert’s head. Pushing off the couch, he retrieved the pizza, breadsticks, and the soda pop before dropping them on the coffee table. Finch took a deep breath, going into the kitchen to get two glasses of ice, paper plates, and napkins before dropping back onto the couch beside Albert. “Alright snugs, talk to me.”

Grabbing a slice of pizza and a breadstick, Albert relaxed on the couch with a sigh. “I had a doctor’s appointment a few days ago - just the annual physical. But there was something in my blood work that has my doctor concerned.”

“Concerned? What is it?” Dropping his plate onto the coffee table, shifting to look at Albert, Finch pursed his lips in concern.

“My white blood cell count was high.” Albert sighed, tears crowding his eyes. “But I feel fine and haven’t been sick lately. My doctor is running additional tests and I’m in a waiting period. What if it’s more serious?”

Pulling Albert into his arms, he ran his hand through his hair. “Thank you for telling me. What do you always tell your patients - don’t jump to conclusions. It could be that there’s something going on with your white blood cells that isn’t related to an illness.”

Pressing a kiss to Albert’s head, Finch sighed. “So you decided to bring up thinking about everything that you haven’t achieved yet to cover the fact that you’re potentially sick? Albert, I promised you, in sickness and in health that I will love you always. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah that wasn’t very smart of me.” Albert agreed, with a sad smile. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Finch ran his hand through his hair, chuckling. “How about next time you have news to deliver you just tell me? Yes, it may scare me but I’m not going to run; those vows and you mean too much to me.”

“Deal.” Holding out his hand, Albert smiled. “Do you want to continue our discussion of kids?”

Finch sighed. “How about we get through this hiccup in our lives first before we circle back to the kids front? We both know we want kids, that’s not even a question but the timing, we’re going to need to discuss that in more detail.”

Nodding, Albert smiled. “That sounds like a plan. We make a pretty good team.”

“We sure do.” Finch leaned over and kissed Albert. “I love you, snugs.”

“Love you too Finchie.”

Four Days Later

The door closed behind him as he kicked off his shoes. Walking into the kitchen, he placed the vase of flowers on the counter before looking around. The house was quiet as he peeked his head into the living room. Albert and Rex were curled up on the couch, both sound asleep causing Finch to grin brightly.

He walked into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a hoodie before walking out and kneeling next to the couch. He ran his hand through Rex’s fur as the dog looked up at Finch as his tail started thumping. Moving to run his hair through Albert’s hair, Finch grinned listening to Albert’s breath hitch as he peeked an eye open. “Hey.”

Finch’s smile widened at the grogginess of Albert’s voice. “Hey yourself. Long day?”

“Tough day. We lost a patient today.” Albert sighed. “I came home and cuddled with Rex and must’ve fallen asleep.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Finch lightly scratched Albert’s scalp, smiling hearing him sigh in contentment. “How was your day, Finchie?”

“I got an embarrassing bouquet of flowers but glad you got some good news about your tests.” Finch grinned. “Did you really need to send the flowers?”

Albert laughed, pushing himself into a seated position. “Yes, I could’ve called you and told you the news but thought you might like the flowers. I would’ve loved to see your face when they got delivered.”

Fishing his phone from his back pocket, Finch opened it tilting it for Albert to look at. “Ask and you shall receive. Amelia took a photo and sent it to me after the fact. Hey, Albie?”

“Yeah Finchie?” Albert looked up from the photo with a smile on his face.

“I’m really glad you’re going to be okay.” Finch smiled. “You just have to take an antibiotic, right? Nothing else?”

Albert smiled. “Just an antibiotic for a few days and a check up in three months. I’m okay, Finchie. But if you want, I’ll give Katherine the report and she can talk to you about it.”

“You’d let Katherine do that?” Finch asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Albie smiled and nodded. “If it gives you peace of mind, then yes, I’d let our friend do that. She’d tell you the same thing that I just told you. I’m going to be just fine, Finchie.”

Pulling him off the couch, Finch pulled him into his arms with a laugh before kissing him. “I love you Albie.”

“I love you too Finchie.” Albert laughed, pushing himself on his tiptoes to kiss Finch. “Now can we talk about kids?”

Laughing, Finch nodded, stilling Albert in their awkward dance. “We have all the time in the world but yes we can talk about kids, assuming you want to be a dad.”

“I was thinking a papa more like it but yes, I want to raise kids with you Patrick Cortes-DaSilva.” Albert kissed him with a passionate furish.

Finch chuckled. “And I want to raise kids with you too, Albert Cortes-DaSilva. I love you Albie.”

“And I you, Finchie forever and always.”

Thanks @cutesiewooren for sending this in!! Feedback will be amazing!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #life in the er newsies series #ask #prompt #newsies drabbles #drabble requests #RedFinch #writing #albert dasliva #Finch Cortes

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spiltscribbles · 4 years

Note

211 please! Any ship!

Notes: Thank you bubby! This actually helped me get out a slump lol, i really really hope you enjoy this fluffy mess and I would love to hear your thoughts!

A Reblog saves a life! | Send Me A Prompt

Annabeth is a fully fledged adult now, honest.

She subscribes to the New Yorker, listens to podcasts in the morning while getting ready for her crummy, right out of college internship in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in the city. She votes even in the primaries and remembers to reload her metro card before it’s out and has even got a God forsaken schedule that she relies on like a lifeline.

All this to say, Annabeth had really once thunk that becoming an adult meant your life turns stale and your days become monotonous. But that was before she began boarding with three literal definitions of spitfires in a Bushwick apartment way too small for four girls, and way to run down for the countless prank wars waged between them and the boys across the way.

Annabeth tries telling Piper this one Thursday afternoon while she’s loading her Nerf gun with the water balloons that Rachel’s preparing with such precision that it kinda terrifies Annabeth shitless, if she’s being frank.

“’s too late to surrender now Chase!” Piper bellows, cocking and then setting down the toy gun in a neat row for the next to be prepared. “It’s about honor now.”

“Honor?” Annabeth repeats in a voice that’s flat enough to cut.

“They’ve won the last two rounds Annabeth,” Rachel tells her, point blank as she ties the next water balloon to be passed off, alabaster skin freckled with paint like always when she comes back from one of her classes. “They’re getting too big headed over this.”

“Yesterday Leo offered to buy me a latte! The little fuck.”

Annabeth’s fair brows knit together, totally confused to Piper’s sudden flash of anger, but reckons that it would be impossible to understand the perceived slight even if she asked Piper to explain.

“You guys are off your rockers,” Annabeth informs them instead, flickers her gaze over to Hazel for some support from someone who is actually sane. She in turn only shrugs, endeared looking as she returns to her sketches.

“Et tu Brute?”

“it’s fun,” Hazel says in her southern drawl, which Annabeth once thought was sweet because it reminded her of venturing outdoors in the Virginia foothills when she was a tot. Though now Annabeth has decided that the accent is actually a ploy to make her sound welcoming for her pray before she killed them off. Knows it for a fact that she’s done it with that friend who visits enough that he’s practically living with the guys too, which obviously means he was roped into all this ridiculousness.

“You’re either with us or against us baby doll,” Piper winks Annabeth’s way, starts a new round of ammunition with Rachel. “This one’s for Mama Fisher in the stars!”

“Insane! Fucking insane! Annabeth repeats emphatically before storming out there apartment to grab the mail, suddenly feels accosted with unwelcome nerves when she steps into the elevator only to be met face to face with one of the aforementioned boys across the hall, the objectively good looking, but impossibly kind one. All ebony locks and crooked grins and eyes the color of sea glass.

Oh fuck.

“Annabeth,” he crows, positively gleeful sounding, which only makes it so her cheeks begin to redden, and her chest contracts.

“Percy, hey how’s it been.”

“Fine,” he says with a one armed shrug, begins scratching the back of his head sheepishly. And God fucking damn it, he doesn’t also get to be cute! That’s not fair! “You headed to work?”

“oh, ah yeah, I mean just for some overtime. We got commissioned for this new thing in Germany of all places, and they kinda need all hands on deck.”

He whistles, low and impressed.

“Why do I get the sense that they’d crumble without you?” He asks with a quirked brow.

“Because flattery is a great way to make friends,” Annabeth smirks, strolls out towards the back row of mail slots to get the inevitable pack of bills and adverts that’s waiting for them.

“Oy, I take offense to that Annabeth,” he sniffs, leans against the wall besides her, one leg crossed over the other, effortless in the whole CW pretty boy with a mysterious past shtick he’s got working for him. An even more hilarious thought on account to Annabeth knowing how his ma sends him a basket of homemade, blue cookies every Sunday afternoon, and that he spends most of his free time protesting for action against climate change with his best friend from literal childhood, a scruffy, adorable dork named Grover.

“Is that right?” She snorts as she shuffles through the letters, tosses away the offer for a free garden gnome from some Lady named Aunty Em, crams a coupon for a free panty from Victoria’s Secret into her bra, and texts the group chat for Rachel to pick up a letter from her dad and Hazel one from her older brother.

“Course,” Percy sulks, big eyes glittering a thousand shades of green that it kinda takes Annabeth’s breath away. “I thought we’ve been friends, at least for a while now.”

“You know what they say about assuming Perseus,” Annabeth snorts, hip checking him as she makes the track down to the nearest subway stop, at least a five minute walk. She totally is not utterly elated over the fact that he’s still walking besides her, dimpling down like there were no where else he’d rather be.

“You know I didn’t even think you could allude to curse words,” Percy guffaws, impossibly bright and impossibly real. “I thought you were too prim and proper for that sorta behavior.”

“Shut up seaweed brains,” Annabeth laughs, can’t help the smile that breaks her face in half whenever he’s around.

“No deadass Chase!” he defends, emphatic. “I even bet Jason that you were related to like Grace Kelly or some shit, that it’s like illegal in your familial bylines to present yourself as anything other than perfect in public.”

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Oh my God! You did it again! It’s like it’s Christmas!”

Faux aggrieved, Annabeth rolls back her head in exasperation, eyes alone definitely not enough to emote the proper level of feeling.

“Hey don’t blame me,” Percy raises his hands in concession. “You’re the one who refuses to have fun, like you were a forty year old lawyer.”

Annabeth hikes up her brows, affronted.

“i have fun!”

“Right,” Percy snorts. “I’m sorry babe but Friday night board games don’t count.”

“Those are fun Percy!” Annabeth argues.

“You wouldn’t know fun if it hit you in the face!” Percy insists, stopping outside the stairwell.

“And what? Pelleting one another with water balloons like we were Freshman’s in college again, that’s fun to you I suppose?” Annabeth charges, glare firmly set and weight slung to her left hip.

“Why yes Grandma, it is,” Percy tells her, words hugged in a playful cadence that really could entice anyone to commit a felony with him. The bastard.

“You are a prick,” Annabeth informs him waspishly.

“And you don’t always gotta be so stressed. I mean I respect the hustle Chase, but you’re allowed to just chill once in a while, let down your hair and all.”

“You couldn’t handle that,” she sniffs, pulls out her card to swipe. “If I actually tried me and the girls would ruin you fools.”

“Is that right?”

“Wipe the floor with you,” Annabeth assures.

“Well then, looking forwards to the challenge Chase,” Percy beams, softly tugs on her high pony before walking back to the apartments. It feels like a legion of butterflies are swarming down deep in Annabeth’s stomach over the small contact alone.

“Damn you Percy Jackson.”

“Remind me again why you’re helping? Hazel asks for the third time that Saturday morning as the four sum are crowded around the makeshift map Annabeth had sketched out for them to follow, fully determined now.

“Shh,” Piper swats at her arm, as if physically trying to shoo the question away. “Annabeth we don’t care as long as you explain the plan just one more time.”

“Slower,” Rachel tacks on, gnawing on her thumb nail nervously.

“Right, well just listen closer ladies, this is a one and done deal, okay?” She’s met by a chorus of nods before she repeats her game strategy, one where each girl takes one of the four main hotspots around the building, skulking in the shadows until the predicted guy ends up there, surprised and defenseless when met by the water balloons of doom.

“I’ve already casually told both Jason and Leo that my parents were throwing us a brunch up state, so they don’t even know that we’re here.”

“God Annabeth if I didn’t think it would ruin our friendship I’d kiss you right now,” Piper sighs dreamily.

“Focus that pretty little head McLean,” Annabeth instructs, elbowing her side caustically. “You’re position is by the gym, Jason always goes there Saturday afternoons cause he thinks it makes it alright for him to get plastered that night.”

“You’re fucking a nerd,” Rachel tells Piper and both Annabeth and Hazel can’t help but nod along.

“No judgment zone!” Piper demands petulantly.

“Whatever,” Annabeth waves her off. “Hazel you’ll be in the front, waiting for Frank to come visit, and Rachel you’ll be waiting in the garden area where Leo comes to build one of his freaky gadgets.”

“Totally, you can count on me babe.”

“And what about you Annabeth?” Hazel asks.

“I’ve got Jackson,” Annabeth tells her, tone mock grave as she cocks her own toy weapon determinedly.

“So sexy,” Piper marvels.

Their building rents out a corner on the bottom level to a small bistro with friendly smiles and tasty enough brew that it keeps them coming back. It’s where Annabeth and Percy had first met when he had moved in with the others nearly six months ago. It’s also the first place Annabeth heard his laughter, and where Percy listened when she went on a tirade about her crazy parents and their crazy expectations and how sometimes she just needed space away from all of it. It’s where Percy told her that his mother is the most important person in his world and how he thought he never cared what his father thought of him until he had to make a decision on what he’d major in, and of course he followed in Poseidon’s footsteps. It’s where they stayed up late trading stories about their complicated childhoods and dreams for their futures and the place that Annabeth knew for sure that if she let herself, she really could fall for Percy. For the candor in his brilliant eyes. For the pretty smile he sports for the sake of his loved ones over himself, and for the conviction in his beliefs.

Annabeth tries not thinking of any of that when she crouches down deeper in the dark nook behind one of the decorative plants as Percy gets up from his table, tossing out his latte and shouldering his work bag.

It’s now or never.

The moment Percy steps through the threshold Annabeth pounces up and aims. What she doesn’t expect is for him to keel over to block her, and instead of hitting his insanely chiseled pecks, the water balloon hits straight in his face. Close enough and hard enough that the water suddenly darkens to red, mixing with the blood pouring out his nose.

“Holy shit!” Percy cries, pinching his nostrils shut.

“Oh my God!” Annabeth yells, frantically grabs for a pile of napkins from the counter besides her— toppling over a mess of straws and sugar packets in her wake— and then dashes over to press them into his grasp. “I’m so so sorry! I didn’t in my wildest dreams imagine that would happen! I swear!”

Annabeth expects at least for Percy to bemoan the injury, but instead she’s answered by a frankly terrifying boom of cackles.

“Percy? Have you cracked? Did I knock your brains out permanently?”

“When you said you’d ruin us, I didn’t think you’d literally cause physical harm Chase,” Percy retorts, still fighting down bubbles of laughter.

“You’re manic,” she pouts, long suffering.

“And you’re terrifying.”

“Bet it works for you though,” she preens, can’t help but be boastful over the way a blush touches the tops of his cheeks.

“Talk about adding harm to humiliation,” Percy grouces.

“Poor baby,” Annabeth mock croons, thinks that today actually might turn out pretty amazing.

She brings him upstairs to properly clean off the blood from his face and to come up with the conditions with at least a temporary truce, definitely not so she can finally trade a totally thrilling snog with him in privacy.

“You drive a hard bargain Chase,” Percy tells her, settling into the sofa as Annabeth unfolds her game of monopoly for them, having proclaimed that it’s a perfect time for her to prove how much fun board games can be.

“Oh hush,” she cuffs him on the back of the head playfully. “You’re just mad I won.”

“More like you committed battery,” Percy contends, pouting moodily, is only consoled when Annabeth leans forwards to kiss him again.

“You looked pretty bleeding— Oh God! Did I just say that out loud?”

Percy dissolves into a peals of laughter once more, and Annabeth tries her damndest to melt into a puddle right on spot.

“I can’t believe I’m so into such a maniac,” Percy tells her, eyes and smile glittering.

“SO rude,” Annabeth sniffs, arms crossed against her chest.

“But accurate Chase.”

Annabeth doesn’t bother to argue anymore because Percy’s already slanted their lips against one another again, and he’s doing this insane thing with his tongue that it makes her toes curl.

Yeah, today turned out amazing indeed.

#Percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #percabeth #bellonnabelle #thanks so much my love #ily #i wrote this too quick and it's probs crap #i just got so excited i finally had an idea for something for the first time in a bit #SPILT INK

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leggomylino · 5 years

Text

Glasses | yandere!mafia!jaemin

Genre: yandere, mafia au, a bit fluffy(?), action, and ofc a sprinkle of comedy Pairing: yandere!mafia!jaemin x reader Word count: ~3.3k Warning(s): mild language (censored), mildly dark psychological themes, hinted suggestive content, violence, mentions of blood Song: Glasses by I.U. A/N: requests are open~ | Masterlist in BIO! | what else can I say except I hope you enjoy yeehaw <3

[10:34 pm]

You knew this was wrong. You’d known for the longest time now; but you didn’t want to.

It was too late, however. The moment you picked up the glasses, and tried them on for the first time...seeing things from an entirely new perspective, for what it really was, the reality of it all...seeing things through these lenses...it was time for it to stop.

You’d thought Jaemin was safe. That he was your shelter. That everything he was doing was for your benefit, for your protection.

It wasn’t. It was for his.

So tonight was the night you were doing it. Tonight was the night you were taking back what he stole from you.

“Such a good girl…” Jaemin cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. You’d gotten used enough to it by now, able to swallow down the shivers that previously would crawl up your spine and had one day caused you to lash out at the pretty-faced boy. Let’s just say that wasn’t your best day; you still winced in fear just thinking about the dark clouds that rolled over his face, how he’d treated you like you were an enemy to both him and yourself.

But that was all in the past, behind you now. Because today was the day you were finally going to make your escape...you’d be a caged bird no longer.

Jaemin was just finishing up his nightly routine of petting your face and admiring your features before heading off to bed, or whatever the heck it was he did at night. You waited patiently and quietly for him to finish before he turned out the light, tromping up the stairs.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered before closing the door. He waited a moment, but you didn’t say anything back to him.

This seemed to make him more than a little angry. “I said, good night, my love.”

“......”

He huffed under his breath, beginning to come back down. You sucked in yours, holding it a moment before squeaking out the words he wanted to hear, so he’d keep his distance.

“Good night! Good...Good night.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, the tone in his voice was enough as he mumbled more things under his breath, half-storming out of the room in a grumpy fuss. Whatever. You honestly didn’t care if you hurt his feelings or not. He was the one who’d kidnapped you; he was the one responsible for keeping you locked up in a 24 x 32 foot room, with a small attached bathroom and an actual pin for when you were “acting out” and “needed to be tamed.”

You shivered at the thought of the first time it’d happened...and all the other times as well.

But soon all of that would be a waking afterthought; not even, for tonight you were officially rising from six feet under to tell the world you were still alive and there was a crazy person on the loose, walking amongst them right under their noses.

Quickly you rose from your bed the moment you were sure the coast was clear and Jaemin was long gone for the evening, scurrying over to your bookshelf and opening the fourth book down, fifth one across to exactly page 312, where the rest of the book had been cut in (with safety scissors, which was no easy task) to reveal a small role of parchment paper you’d been saving from meals brought down to you daily, just tearing away bits and pieces and later taping them all together to be one long map of your escape plan. You laid it out on the desk, going over everything one last time before you burned the gosh darn...well, really, flushed it down the toilet.

Your eyes scanned the page carefully, taking in everything: the basement, the house layout, the surrounding streets. There was the tiniest slit of window that had been sealed off, but you’d just managed to climb on top of stacked objects about a week ago to peek out and catch a glimpse at a street sign not too far off, telling you that Jaemin had to live in a neighborhood on the corner.

Okay. Time to make sure your emergency survival pack was ready, taking with you as much evidence as you thought you’d need when you reported this situation to the police. You hurried to your bathroom, opening the small cabinet beneath the sink and pushed everything aside to reveal another small compartment, lifting the door and hauling out the bag you’d carried when Jaemin had first taken you.

You had no idea why he let you keep it, and only removed a few things inside it: a safety alarm, a keychain of pepper spray, and an actual decent pair of scissors from your pencil bag. Maybe he thought having things familiar around would help comfort you, so you could adjust faster.

How wrong he’d been, now that you were seeing clearly. Tonight, you were so out of here.

Thank goodness he’d never asked to see any of your stuff again. You were pretty sure he’d forgotten about it by now, given that you had to be coming up on your three month anniversary.

...Anniversary? Really, y/n? Ugh.

This wasn’t a holiday. You’d be celebrating the moment you busted out of this joint.

Strapping your bag around your bodice and tying one of Jaemin’s flannel shirts around your waist (as much as you hated doing so, it was necessary), you headed back to the desk, swiping the stuck-together pieces of parchment paper and with a satisfied reassuring nod to yourself, flushed them down the drain, saluting as they swirled down to thank them for their service to you. Because you really couldn’t have done any of this without them. Then you ran out of there and climbed up the stairs to the door you’d never seen the outside of.

You tried the door handle, just for the heck of it. Of course, not to your surprise, it was locked.

As expected. No biggie. Onto Phase Two. With a grunt you wrestled beneath all the junk in your bag to get out a few tied-together paperclips, jamming them into the—

...There was no lock. No keyhole. The handle was completely solid, gleaming back in the faintest trickle of moonlight from the cracked slit of sealed-off bulletproof window as if to mock you.

Son of a b*tch.

You wanted to scream. This was not happening...it wasn’t! Augh, now what?! Seriously, why you? How had you not noticed this before…?!?

The doorknob suddenly jiggled. You hadn’t heard any footsteps coming toward it.

Sh*t sh*t sh*t.

You turned around to run back down the stairs and fling yourself into bed, but it was too late. Jaemin already caught you standing there, suspiciously closer than you should have been and oddly out of place.

“Baby girl? What are you doing out of bed?”

“...” You gulped, trying to get your nerves under control. You were really starting to lose it here. “...I...I uh—“ ...Then you got an idea. You smiled kindly, turning back around to face him fully. “I wanted to see you. I missed you. I was...lonely.”

Ew. This was going to be hard to forgive yourself for later; especially since a small part of you still cared about him, still wanted to trust him.

Jaemin returned your smile, slipping the rest of the way in and closed the door behind him. “You were? Already?” He laughed. “Aw, Princess, it’s okay. I get lonely too sometimes, when I’m away from you. More like always.”

You took two steps back for every step forward he took, backing yourself into a corner at the foot of the stairs. He smiled down at you like a predator cornering it’s prey.

“Say, tell you what…” He swiped his tongue over his lips, and you got a bad feeling in your gut. “Since you’re obviously not very tired...how about we—“

“Jaemin!!”

You both looked up toward the sound. Jaemin didn’t say anything, merely glared in a half-startled, half-annoyed expression.

“Jaemin, where are you?” the voice continued to call. “There’s been an emergency at the last location. Hyuck and Jeno need you.”

“......” With a mumbling curse the man stomped his way back up the stairs, pausing midway to look down at you over his shoulder. “We’ll finish this later. I have some...business to attend to. Wait for me,” he added with a wink, before practically slamming the door shut.

Sheesh. That was a close call. Way to go, y/n.

Shaking your head at yourself you gazed around the room, observing your other options.

Except that there were none. You were completely, hopelessly, utterly—

Another door slammed shut from somewhere far off, causing the whole house to shake; and then, the basement door just...opened.

You couldn’t believe your luck. It was almost too easy, like some sort of dirty trick.

Unfortunately you were desperate, so it was just going to have to be a risk you were willing to take. You shimmied your way out of that door without a second thought.

Except once you stepped foot in the hall, you found yourself wishing you had of had second thoughts, because the halls were big. And long. And confusing. Everything looked the same, the halls never came to an end and were winding as heck, and you were quickly running out of time, patience, and energy.

And then someone you didn’t recognize turned around the corner.

It was a teenage boy with bright cherry-red hair. He had an innocent smile but a mischievous look in his eye, as if a cursory glance wasn’t enough to reveal all he was cracked up to be. He wore a nice-pressed stylish outfit that accented all his best features...which had to be just about every part of him. He was an insanely cute kid.

“Oh! Hi!” he greeted, rushing over to you.

Crap crap crap…

It was too late to make a run for it. You gave him your best innocent I’m totally lost smile.

“Hey…”

He beamed, but his face still managed to appear a little urgent. “Are you okay?! We’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

“For...For me…?”

It was honestly hard to find anything to say at all, given that the only person you’d had any contact with for the past three months was Jaemin. Seeing another living breathing human being in the flesh was giving you a bit of...culture shock, for lack of a better word.

The stranger nodded, then paused briefly to tilt his head to the side. “You are...y/n, aren’t you?”

“......”

Should you tell him the truth? You didn’t know. Jaemin had warned you about bad people in this world...which is why he insisted on locking you away, and when you’d refused, he took you by force...but…

But he had lied. He was a dirty, unbalance liar. And that was so three months ago…

“Y-Yes, I’m y/n.”

The boy smiled like a cunning fox. “Oh, thank goodness I found you, then. If you come with me, I can get you out of here. We have a car waiting out back.”

“A...car?”

“Yeah. You want to get out of here, don’t you?”

Of course you wanted out. How could you refuse? So in all your spite, you hastily took his hand, which he seemed a little apprehensive about holding back, and he led you through the winding halls and out the doorway.

The moment the night air hit your face for the first time, it took your breath away. It was so cool and refreshing, so liberating, you felt like you could swim around within the starry skies all night long, and the night after that, and the next one.

“Finally,” a raspy voice greeted from inside the vehicle. He pushed open the door, scooting back the next second to make room and help you inside.

A temperamental brown-haired man was tapping his thumbs anxiously against the wheel in the driver's seat, a freckled face boy slouched back next to him, scrolling through his phone.

An actual phone. You hadn’t seen one of those in...what felt like years.

“Hurry up,” the driver hissed, looking back anxiously over his shoulder and then toward the house. “Did anyone see you leaving?”

“Did you hear any gunshots?” the redhead shot back. Grumpy narrowed his eyes.

“Hey. Watch it. I was just asking.”

“Well quit doing that and just drive already. Don’t forget you promised me a swing.”

A swing? …

You were about to ask what the heck that was all about when suddenly there was a loud pop! outside, followed by another one, then more. Everybody ducked for cover, and the brunette up front hit the gas...but the car hardly went anywhere.

“Sh*t!” he cursed, yanking out a...was that a…?

He’d yanked out a gun. All of them did.

You suddenly found yourself longing for the security and dull lifestyle of the sunless basement.

“Get down!” the cherry boy ordered, shoving you to the floor of the van. You squeaked and did as told, though it’s not like you really had much say in the matter.

Grumpy growled, cocking his weapon and aiming it out the shattered window. “I thought you said no one saw you!” he hissed. Cherry sighed, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“I-I told you I didn’t see anyone! I cleared the entire house with Seungmin just like you asked!”

“Well you obviously did a terrible job! And Seungmin’s not even here, what are you talking about?!”

The younger boy sniffled, his voice cracking around the edges. “H-He hacked into the security cams...I--”

“Sheesh, lay off already Minho, this is his first time on the job.” The freckled boy spoke. He looked to be the most innocent of the bunch, yet sounded the most intimidating. “We all make mistakes our first time around--”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Minho barked. “You--”

“Hey!! Leave my partner alone!” ordered the shorter raspy-voiced one. “You’re the one that chose to park out here in the open like this!”

“We’re not in the open! Are you blind?! Do you not see all the damn trees outside?!?” He waved an overemphasized hand in the air, cursing as a bullet whizzed by and almost gave him a new piercing. He grumbled then, firing back a few rounds. “...I’m the one with the license, how many times do I have to tell you not to be a backseat driver?”

“Ugh, you’re such a killjoy...sh*t, we should have signed up for raiding the BTS hideout.” Raspy spoke to his partner. “Hyunjin and Jisung really got the better deal this time...”

His partner scoffed, shaking his head. “Agreed--”

The back windows exploded as a round of automatics blew up the glass, and the youngest redhead squeaked, throwing himself down and nearly dropping his gun.

Enough for you to grab it.

You don’t know what took over you in that second, but with little more than a fleeting thought you kicked once, twice, three times until the back doors flew open, throwing yourself out in the process. You heard the redhead screeching behind you, followed by shouts from the others as well, but you didn’t stop to look back or listen to what they had to say. You were getting out of here, for real this time.

But in your high of adrenaline you failed to realize it was a battlefield you were potentially throwing yourself in the middle of, and that was enough for your survival instincts to kick in and make you freeze, panic-stricken in both heart and mind.

Especially because in the next second, you found Jaemin standing right in front of you.

“Y/n!” he nearly yelled, out of breath and drenched in a layer of sweat. He was way more than a little angry this time. “What the hell are you doing out here?! How did you get outside?!?”

You didn’t have time for his stupid dumb questions, or to just be standing around like a target. Shakily, you rose the gun in your hand before you, gripping the cushioned handle tightly. You aimed it right at his heart.

Jaemin’s eyes went wide, then settled down to something subtle and almost lifeless, gray clouds forming on the horizon that casted a shadow over his face. He didn’t move an inch. “Y/n...put the gun down. Now.”

“......” You didn’t listen. Hesitantly, you released the safety. Jaemin flinched ever so slightly, though he tried to contain it.

“Y/n, please. I’m not going to hurt you. I only want what’s best for you. I warned you, didn’t I? That there were bad people in this world that were after you? ...They’re after me, really. They want me dead, y/n. And the best way for them to get under my skin is through you.”

“......” You’re hands were shaking more and more visibly at this point, to where you were barely able to keep the gun trained in one place-- it was everywhere, jumping from his face, his shoulder, his bicep. You swallowed hard, working relentlessly to keep the tears from pooling in your eyes and blinding you once again to the reality before you, putting you under a false lens of a made-up reality that Jaemin actually cared about you, that he was really safe, that he wanted what was best for you. A world he had crafted himself.

Do it, y/n. Just shoot already! He’s a liar! You can’t go back to being holed up in a basement for the rest of your life…!

A shot rang out that could be heard from miles away; it sounded distant, but in reality it was happening right in front of you.

Jaemin took a deep, ragged breath, lowering the smoking gun in his hand. A few seconds later you heard a body drop to the grassy wooded floor.

“MINHO!!!” Cherryboy screamed, tromps of footsteps filling up the back of your mind. You turned trembling hands and quivering lips behind you, where the one named Minho laid out on the ground, blood leaking from a wound on his chest. He coughed up more blood, cursing between each upheaval.

“I...sh*t, I’m fine...just...uhn…”

He fell over whilst trying to stand, and the other three boys were at his side in an instant, then soon surrounded by more men in similar attire to Jaemin’s. A brush of fingers wisped against your shoulder, and you nearly screeched as you whirled to face the present danger, wrapping your arms around yourself, the gun falling at your feet.

Except there wasn’t any danger to be found. It was only Jaemin.

Not scary, psychotic, manipulative Jaemin. The Jaemin you once knew a long time ago, the one with soft eyes and blurred edges and a fragile, caring heart.

He had been right. He really had only wanted what was best for you. For the both of you; because you knew, or now realized, that Jaemin had and always would be a part of you. Your roots were here, with him.

You cried. Sobbed uncontrollably until the tears refused to stop falling, and Jaemin caught each and everyone, holding you tightly and securely in his strong, sheltering arms.

“Hey...shhh...it’s okay, now,” he whispered, brushing back your hair as you cried. He tilted your face up to look at him after a few moments, once the bad people who’d almost taken you to probably another basement or who knows where had been hauled away, smiling down you agilely. “I told you, didn’t I? This world isn’t safe. Please, let me protect you. I want to take care of you.”

“......” With shaky breath you nodded, slowly, gently allowing yourself to be cradled back into that false reality you were now finding to be true.

He smiled and helped you back inside, through the kitchen and down the maze of halls towards the basement. As you walked, your arm brushed up against a pair of glasses that soon after fell off the counter, the lenses shattering to the floor.

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daydreamingfics · 4 years

Text

Anywhere Away With You | Hongjoong

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1,485

Inspiration: The photo of Hongjoong in the header looking like a complete boyfriend on an adventure, my own desire to be whisked away on a romantic trip, and the song ‘Anywhere’ by Rita Ora (lyrics are between the lines)

A week ago, you received an unexpected bouquet delivery, along with it was a plane ticket to Seoul. Hongjoong had a week off and wanted to spend the time with you. It had been six weeks since you two last saw one another in person. Six seemingly never-ending weeks. Given his profession and the fact that you resided in the US, the majority of your nine-month relationship had been spent apart. Facetime, texts, and phone calls being the sole lifeline of your long-distance love with the boy. Although the distance wasn’t ideal, Hongjoong always made sure to include you in every aspect of his life, which exponentially lessened the blow of being apart for such extended amounts of time.

On top of that, he always went out of his way to surprise you and provide you with life experiences that you’d only ever dreamed of. So when the boy vaguely explained that the entire week wouldn’t be spent in the dorms as you were made to believe, you didn’t question him. Not even when he placed a blindfold over your eyes and ushered you into an awaiting vehicle without so much as a hint to its final destination. The two of you made idle chatter, as the car weaved in and out of the streets of Seoul. Hongjoong opted for a chauffeured car, which only made you even more curious as to what he had in store.

Time flies by when the night is young Daylight shines on an undisclosed location, location

“Where are we going, Joonie? Can I have one hint, please?” you muttered almost inaudibly as an abundance of giggles overtook you. The butterflies rapidly increasing with each passing minute.

“All will be revealed soon, my love. Just relax, I got you.” Hongjoong affirmed as he reached for your hand and intertwined it with his own, resting them on his lap. You nodded and place your head upon the boy’s shoulder, causing him to snicker at the action before placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. Ten minutes or so had passed before the vehicle finally came to a halt. You squeezed the boys' hand in anticipation, which he reciprocated by pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You were still blindfolded as Hongjoong helped you exit the vehicle. The sound of what you believed to be an airplane overhead bringing forth more questions.

“Babe, was that an airplane? Are we at the airport? Are we flying somewhere?” you squealed as a fresh wave of excitement took over. Leave it up to Hongjoong to make you all giddy.

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Now here, put these in. I made a playlist, especially for you.” he replied sweetly before placing airpods in your ears, thus rendering both your sight and sound completely useless. You felt his arms grab ahold of your middle as he guided you. You weren’t exactly sure how much time had elapsed before Hongjoong finally removed the airpods and untied your blindfold, the sudden intrusion of light making you blink several times. As your surroundings came into focus, you realized that your previous suspicions were correct; you were on a plane. Your eyes bounced around the vessel in search of any sort of clues as to where you were headed, but there were none to be found. Oh, he was good. The boy chuckled beside you, earning a playful smack to his arm as you fixed your attention back on him. Though the anticipation was killing you, the fact that Hongjoong had found the time to plan something so elaborate with his insane schedule only caused your adoration for the man to skyrocket. Plus, he had even given you the window-seat, knowing that it was your favorite.

“You won’t find any clues, babe. It’s all a part of my expertly crafted plan. Just get comfy. We’ve got several hours of flying.” he stated with a toothy grin.

“Ugh, fine. But I get to pick the in-flight movie this time!” you declared as you maneuvered so that Hongjoong could nuzzle himself into your shoulder. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know that he was no doubt going to sleep, the boy could and would sleep anywhere. Wherever Hongjoong was whisking you away to was a reasonable distance away, as you lost track of how long you’d been in the air somewhere around hour six, or seven. When the in-flight movie and your cell were no longer enough to keep your mind preoccupied, you decided to join Hongjoong in dreamland. The thought of waking up to your surprise destination clouding your mind as you drifted off.

Offboarding the plane mirrored how you had onboard it, blindfolded listening to Hongjoong’s special playlist. You entered another vehicle and rode for about half an hour before it came to a stop.

“I’m going to remove the blindfold now, but keep your eyes closed until I say, okay?” Hongjoong voiced to which you nodded in reply. You did as instructed, letting him help you out of the vehicle and into the cool air. Was it nighttime? Being that you had been void of sight for the majority of the day, you had completely lost track of time and hadn’t even thought to check it while on the plane. Hongjoong draped a jacket over your shoulders then proceeded to maneuver your arms into its sleeves, the action earning an amused chuckle from you.

“You know I’m quite enjoying all of this dotting on me today. Maybe I should let you blindfold me more often.” you mused as Hongjoong leaned in and place a kiss to your lips. The unexpected action causing your heart to burst as you eagerly kissed him back. When the two of you finally pulled away to breathe, he used the moment to reach for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he began guiding you once more. He reminded you to keep your eyes closed a few more times along the way, before finally coming to a halt moments later. You had gone in what you believed to be an elevator, yet given the temperature, you still appeared to be outdoors.

Hongjoong placed your hand along a railing before positioning himself behind you. His arms wound firmly around your middle with his chin resting on your shoulder. He put a delicate kiss to your ear, snuggling you in as close as humanly possible before granting you permission to finally open your eyes.

“Open your eyes, Y/N,” Hongjoong whispered directly into your ear. As your eyes drifted open, you couldn’t believe the sight before you. Your breath hitched in your throat as an onslaught of tears threatened to spill from your pupils. Hongjoong had taken you to Paris. The sun had just begun to set over the city, and you were experiencing it all stood atop the twinkling mantle of the Eiffel Tower. The elevation giving you a breathtakingly hypnotic overview of the city as other illuminated monuments began to gradually flicker on. The Arc de Triomphe, Opéra Garnier, the Louvre, Notre Dame de Paris, all places that you had only ever seen in photographs were now right before your very eyes. The captivating moment bringing forth emotions that you’d never experienced. Hongjoong had made this all possible, your Hongjoong. You were speechless. Completely, and utterly at a loss for words. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that this is where he was taking you.

Just take me anywhere, take me anywhere Anywhere away with you

“Surprise! Are you happy, baby?” Hongjoong cooed as you shook your head feverishly, still too in shock to form any proper words.

“Y/N, I-I know that being with me is not ideal most days. I will never be able to replace the time that we lose when I’m away. But, you’ve been such a pillar of strength for me these past months. I’ll be the first to admit that the idea of being in a relationship with my lifestyle terrified me. Still does most days, but you make it so... easy. I will always fight for us and do my best to show you every single day, just how much you mean to me. Thank you for coming into my life. I love you so much, Y/N.” Hongjoong disclosed. The tender moment igniting the tears that had been on standby the moment you had opened your eyes.

Hongjoong spun you around, your back snug against the railing as he kissed you as if his life depended on it. Wrapped in Hongjoong’s arms, stood atop the Eiffel Tower in the afterglow of this heartfelt confession was a utopia. One in which you couldn’t wait to spend every moment living in with Hongjoong.

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colony22graphics · 4 years

Photo

❝Shine on, diamond.❞

◆ member since: nov. 22, 2013 ◆ longest character: alexander donovan ◆

@alexander-donovan, Well, here we go.

Rory, there's no way on earth I could possibly describe what you've done for this community. Aside from making it all in the first place, constructing the post-apocalyptic sandbox we all hold so dear, you also pay attention to how it's executed---from basic principles of operation and how we ought to respect each other as players, down to the smallest, weirdest headcanon. It matters to you---which I think is probably the best way to summarize your energy and wisdom, the Rory-ness of it all:

Things matter. People matter. Caring matters.

In a world where we're pretty damn used to moving from one diversion to the next at a moment's notice, you make something that's absolutely set apart by saying, resolutely and passionately, that what we do here really matters.

And you're right, to think that. If you need any further proof that you---Rory---matter, you can look at me writing this damn letter (and swearing every three sentences, sorry). But you in your extremely Ro way, said hey, six years fucking matters, and so do all the people we play with, so let’s get mushy on the main and tell them. And I can tell you to your face you're right and this was a stellar idea because... I do that now. Because of your influence, I'm a better person, one who does actually try and tell people what I think.

You challenge people to care, and to translate their caring into something others can recognize, and reciprocate. You’re never afraid to point out the importance of saying things and leaving a meaningful mark, becoming an active part of our community instead of staying in our own heads (as introverts on the internet are prone to doing).

You're also a hell of a writer, which is inspirational in itself, and I can’t leave that out of it. Your dedication to your characters, to their motivations and struggles, shines through in every post you make, and you don't let fear or insecurity take root or stop you from doing what you love. You know it's not about achieving perfection, but about collaboration and growth. The way we write is an exercise in discipline and embracing the joys of language, it's not meant to be fine art (though a lot of the stuff you come up with off the cuff blurs the line between the two on a regular basis.) It's really very rude how talented you are.

I won't talk too much more about you and me personally because you already know it pretty well, but I will mention that when I offered to help out with tech stuff, you don't even know how impossible being a full mod felt for me, at the time. I'd just come out of some rough experiences and was ready to never do that again. But over the years, you gave me steps that I could take only when I felt comfortable, and let me accept only the responsibility that I thought I could manage (though you always told me you knew I was more than capable of handling it). In a very real way, with your patience and understanding, you gave me back my confidence, and my willingness to be vulnerable. That's something I won't ever forget.

You have my respect and my friendship, always.

And dear lord, if Tumblr has managed not to self-destruct in the next five or ten years, I really hope we're still around doing this shit. No place I'd rather be.

Love you, Ro.

<3 Lottie.

(Oh, by the way, I took the liberty of adding something else, under the cut. I knew that I would never be able to cover everything, and that I’d run out of words, so I turned to others to fill in the gaps and maybe it’ll help convey it all a little more properly. Many thanks to everyone.) ❤

—- Happy Colony 6th Anniversary —-

RO, YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GIFT. I’m incredibly grateful all those years ago I saw that Bones bio and decided to join this crazy little family because that is exactly what you have created with the Colony: You have made a family. You have always been a pleasure to write with, a hard-working and careful admin, and now this second go-round I'm happy to call you a good friend. I wanted to mirror your sentiment on my anniversary post, it is amazing how time rewards our patience with this second meeting! I owe you a very real debt because thanks to this group when a friend let me down whilst I was on a different goddamn continent, thanks to you, I found Cassie there to help me out! The group is an extension of you: thoughtful, kind, emotional, and funny as hell. - Nicola

Rory, your dedication to the Colony (and previously Belvedere) astounds me every day. Writing with you is an absolute joy, thank you for all that you do for us!! - Cassie

RO HOLY COW!! It's insane to think of being part of something so wonderful for so long, I can't imagine how proud you must be to call this place home. I absolutely love writing with every character I've gotten to interact with, you approach your characters and this RPG with such a passion, it's always made getting to be part of it all the more special to me! To many years to come! - Molly

The things I admire most about you are your kindness, your compassion, your understanding and the way you always make the best of a situation. You've been nothing but welcoming and kind to me since I've had the privilege of joining this insanely talented and incredible group, and every day I am in awe of the love and care and detail you pour into the rpg. You have been so supportive over these past few months, every day I consider myself insanely lucky to have met you. I adore you and I'm so happy for you that you've come so far in your own personal journey, you truly do deserve all the happiness in the world. - Lou

Ro, you’re an absolutely wonderful mod and person. I’ve never met a more dedicated and creative mod in all my years on this website. You’re an astounding writer and creator who leaves me wanting to be better. You’re a wonderful person to write with and an even better friend. I love you and all the work you do for everyone in this group. Thank you for creating this fantastic place and starting this wonderful family. - Lee

Thanks for always being so open and welcoming! It's been such a blast writing with you. - Ren

Your commitment to this game and its players is absolutely next level, and it shines through in literally everything you do for us. I haven’t felt so at home and so comfortable in an RP in such a long time, possibly ever, and I know so much of that has to do with the amazing environment (both IC and OOC) you’ve spent such a long time painstakingly and lovingly cultivating. This RP wouldn't be the incredible space it is without such an incredible and dedicated team of mods. I hope you know how much I appreciate all you do, and how much I flippin' love ya! - Alex

Rory, you're a perfect admin and an amazing friend! You've always made me feel so welcome here, from day one, and my heart feels warm and fuzzy when I think of you. I utterly adore all your characters and your writing is just brilliant, it's always so much fun to brainstorm and write and plot with you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! - Ellie

When an rp has a lifespan of not just a year or two, but SIX FREAKIN YEARS, you must look to your leader. Ships don’t sail without a captain, and you have been the most loyal, loving, and adventurous captain to your crew. Congratulations on this amazing accomplishment, love. xoxo. - Amy

Rory, I just wanted to thank you for how welcome you've made me feel since I joined the group. It takes a special person to be an admin (dedicated, patient, and just a little bit weird), and the six years you've been running this group is a testament to how well you do it. You've got incredible creativity and passion, and I know I'm not the only one that feels so lucky to write with you in this world you've built. Congratulations on six years! Here's to many more. - Nick

RORUUUUU. I literally have no idea where my life would be now if I'd never met you. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you inspire me to be braver and stronger and more self-loving. Thank you for being my friend even after all these years. - Mika

I don’t think I can concisely put into words how much you mean to me, but I’ll try: we first met in 2012 and through all these years you’ve continually inspired me with your talent and hard work. You’re more than just an incredible friend, you’re an ICONIC leader that has the determination and talent to keep this group running for six amazing years (with the help of your equally talented and wonderful co-mod, naturally, wink wonk). The Colony is a family to me, and I think to all of us, even before it’s a writing group. It couldn’t be what it is today without someone as tirelessly understanding and creative at its helm. You’re an absolute gift, you’ve been there for me through thick and thin, and I’m grateful every day that I get to call you a friend. - Maddie

Ro, you have been so kind and amazing since day one! You have this astonishing energy and a kindness that honestly makes the colony feel like another home. You’re such a phenomenal writer, and have made this rp a community like no other. I can’t quite put into words how much I appreciate you, and how much effort you put into everything you do. You’re so talented and I feel incredibly lucky to say I’m a part of this community. Thank you for being you. xxx. - El

The Colony has been a living, breathing world in which to create, and the key piece - creativity - is embedded in your DNA. You aren't just an enthusiastic mod. In some aspects you are the Col. I know you want everyone to feel included and allowed to be inspired by the writing of others rather than hemmed in by rules and egos so many other groups have. Thank you for throwing all your characters at me when one of mine has some wild scheme. I've said before your writing is cinematic in its expression and it always challenges me to want to (try to) write on a higher level. I'm grateful to have you as a sounding board when I get stuck in the mud of my own self-doubt with writing. Thank you for just being a friend as well and letting me ramble too. It is impossible to sum up this wildest of rides out of all my writing adventures so, much love, as always. xx. - Cat

#col22graphics #alexander donovan #corbin ealy #teilo aisling #adrien bennett #felix turner #orson hurst #cr: lottie #cr: rory #6th year anniversary

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themadlostgirl · 5 years

Text

Not Dead Yet (Part 72)

*Visual storytelling!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: none

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

Peter sat in his Thinking Tree. The pipes resting in his hands. Every time he brought them up to his lips to play he dropped them back by his side.

It had been ten years since Y/N disappeared. They crawled by at a pace that made it feel even longer. Every year, every day just dragged on and on. Sometimes months would go by of him sitting around not talking to anyone.

He missed her. His Lost Girl.

He was so utterly bored without her around. He was also incredibly lonely. Some days he would wake up and wonder why she wasn’t asleep next to him before remembering she was gone. What he would give to just forget about her. Just for one day. To have one single day where she didn’t consume his every thought. Wondering where she was. What she was doing. If she was even…

He didn’t let his mind wander that far. To think about it would make it more real.

That’s how he ended up here. He had been strolling along Neverland when he came to his tree. Nothing different until he noticed the large knot in the trunk that hid the entrance to the underground cavern. He slid through and a wave of bittersweet memories hit him. He could practically hear her laugh echoing off the dirt walls.

The old rumpled bed with its pelts and furs thick with dust. Cobwebs had returned between every candle stub and wall torch. Sitting in the corner along with some other forgotten books of Y/N’s was the book simply titled: Neverland. He knew he shouldn’t have but he opened it and read through the entire thing. His entire life mapped out like a simple story. When he got to the part where Y/N entered the narrative his reading got slower. He didn’t even need to read the dialogue to know what had happened. The illustrations that portrayed perfect snapshots of their time together.

He stopped reading when it got to days before Y/N disappeared.

The pipes laid heavy on his hip. He didn’t need to have anymore reminders. He didn’t need to keep living through this pain. Peter had the perfect amnesia inducer right at his side. No matter how many times he gathered the courage to start playing and forget about Y/N and all their history he backed out. What if…

What if she does come back? What if it’s just another day or another week then she’s home? What if she is waiting for him to finally find her? What if…

What if...what if she is gone? What if he could wait another decade and she’d still be no closer to being back with him? What if there was no one waiting for him? What if she really was…

With an anger, or maybe an intense fear, Peter finally brought the pipes up to his lips and blew. The first note came clear and soft then it was gone. Something had dropped from the sky and knocked the pipes out of his hand.

Looking down he saw the source glinting on a branch below. “What in the world?” he muttered as he went to retrieve it.

Sitting there perfectly placed in the leaves of the branch was Y/N’s old pearl necklace. But how could it be here falling from the sky? Y/N had lost it years ago during the time she was speaking with the spinster women.

He gripped the pearl tightly. “No.” he whispered, “No, I’m not doing this.” He threw the necklace as far as he could. He started to search for his pipes and instead felt the pearl hit him on the top of his head.

“You cannot make me remember. You cannot just drop this into my life! You can’t!” He threw it again and again it returned to him.

He turned his face to the sky shouting. “I don’t want to remember! You hear me you old bats! I will not suffer through this anymore! She’s gone! Y/N is gone!”

He choked back a sob that threatened to escape. No. “I am not crying. I’m not!” he forced the words out but it didn’t stop the tears that pooled in his eyes. “It’s been ten years. Ten years and I have tried. I have searched everywhere and used all my power to find her but she cannot be found. There’s nothing to find. Why should I have to keep going through this when it will lead to nothing? Is this just another part of my curse? To have to bear the pain of knowing my Lost Girl, my Y/N, is gone?”

The pearl warmed in his hand. Peter looked down at it. His vision blurry through the tears that were now freely falling. It was pure white but in it he could swear he saw something. Maybe it was a trick of the light or his sanity finally cracking but for a moment he saw her. Y/N. Just for a moment her face passed along the smooth white pearl. Reason told him he was going insane. Another part of him believed though. They had brought this to him for a reason.

“Okay,” he ceded, “You win. No pipes, no forgetting. Y/N, my stupid, stubborn Lost Girl, is still out there. Somewhere. She’ll come home oneday. Till then I suppose it’s misery and loneliness and extreme worry for me. Is that what you wanted?”

The only response he got was the trees rustling in the wind. Peter stared down at the pearl necklace in his hand. It showed nothing now. Just white.

He brought it to his lips and whispered, “Y/N, I know you’re out there. You’re too stubborn to die. We both know that. Just...just know that I’m waiting for you. I’ll always be waiting for you. Goodnight, pet.”

~~~

I’m waiting for you. I’ll always be waiting for you.

This voice. I know this voice.

Goodnight, pet.

Pet? Pet. His precious pet.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Ugh!” I groaned as I was pulled from my dream. I slammed a fist down on the alarm clock.

What had that been about? I tried to close my eyes to go back but it was too late. I was awake and the dream was flitting away. As well as the voice. I couldn’t figure out from where but I felt like I knew that voice. It was so soothing to hear.

I wiped at my eyes to clear the sleep away and found them wet with tears. Why had I been crying? Was it the dream? I tried harder to remember what had been going on in my subconscious just moments before but it was nothing but a forgotten memory now. One thing was for sure this was gonna bug me for the rest of the day.

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

“He misses her.” Devin said as they glanced at Pan. It was the first time he had been in the camp in months.

“Misses her? Are you kidding? He never mentions her, doesn’t even acknowledge she was ever here.” Nick scoffed, “I would think he’d have forgotten her.”

“Oh no,” Devin sighed, “Haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“The sun hasn’t shone since she left.” He glanced at the cloudy sky, the always cloudy sky.

Nick stared up as well. “You think she’ll ever return?”

“She has to. This is her home.” After seventeen years though even Devin was starting to doubt they would ever see their sister again.

~~~

“Marigold?” I turned and saw Mayor Mills standing behind me.

“Ms.Mills, hello.” I turned my attention to the baby carrier at her side, “And who is this?”

“My son, Henry.”

“Well hello Henry, aren’t you just a handsome boy.”

“He is, isn’t he? I had a request for you.”

“Of course. What?”

“I heard you are the best babysitter in town. If that’s true then I could think of no one better to watch Henry while I’m at work.”

“Oh Ms.Mills I’d be happy to but I’m at school most of the day so I’d be pretty useless. The daycare is more than good enough to watch Henry for the day.”

“I know. He will be staying at the daycare for most the day. I would just need you to watch him if I am running late with work or have plans on the weekends. Is that alright?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Just give me enough notice and I’ll be there.”

“Perfect. What do you ask for your services?”

“Eight dollars an hour.”

“Sounds fair enough, young girl, busy life. Need some cash to spend for nights for yourself, hm?”

“Just saving up for my own car.” I tickled his chubby baby belly. He let out a small squeal of delight and grabbed my finger in his tiny fist. “I’m gonna have a lot of fun getting to know you, Henry.”

~~~

“I think we should tell Pan the truth.”

Felix looked across at Wendy.

“This is why you called me here?” he rolled his eyes and made to leave her makeshift house. He was wondering why she had gone through such trouble to get him here. Knowing it was about Y/N...he wasn’t wasting anymore time on this. “We’re not telling him.”

“Felix!” She cut him off. She may have been several inches shorter than him but stood unmoving and menacing between him and the door. “It’s been nearly twenty years since she left.”

“Yes. Twenty years we wouldn’t have had if she had stayed.” He tried to shove her out of the way but she had a dagger dipped in dreamshade poised right at his heart. It was probably a mistake to keep on training her after Y/N left. She was getting to be an actual threat.

He sighed and backed off. “Continue?”

“I know that this was the plan and it has worked. Which is why I think it’s safe to tell him now.”

“And why is that?”

“If he knows why we did it and tell him that she’s actually safe and alive then--”

“Then he’ll know we’re the reason she’s been missing all these years. I’m not putting my head on his chopping block because you’re feeling guilty.”

“But he deserves to know that she is alive at the very least! You see how morose he's been since she disappeared.”

“That is the point. If he's happy then he's dead.”

“But--”

“If I see you breathing a word of this to Pan then so help me I will kill you. This may be an island of make believe but this is no game, Wendy. All our lives, not just Pan’s are at stake. You best remember that.”

With that he left.

It gave him no joy to see his best friend in such a state but their survival was dependent on Pan alone. Y/N had been killing him and he was letting her. Felix knew why Pan allowed it. The idiot had to go and catch feelings for her and it created years of chaos, pain, and needless death. Felix was glad she was gone. The sky may be cloudy and the boys may be tense but these past almost twenty years have been the calmest Neverland has been in a long time.

Whether Pan liked it or not he needed this. The island needed this. A time for rest.

Still, Felix would be lying if he didn’t also count down the years until Y/N returned. When she returns home the island will wake and the fun can start again.

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#ouat #ouat peter pan #peter pan ouat #slowburn #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

The Black Swan

Chapter 14

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 6745

Chapter: 14/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon brings what he's found to the lake, and has a plan to fix it all.

Read on AO3

AN: Hey, so my essay has been kicking my ass. Editing this has been a nice break. Hope you guys like this :)

———————————————

Simon hopped off the dirt wall. Much to his surprise, and slight disappointment, Baz wasn’t there waiting for him. Instead, Baz was standing in front of the lake with his back to Simon. He was waving the wand like a conductor's baton, making water dance in slow streams in front of him. The swans on the lake were honking loudly in confusion.

“Calm down, all of you,” Baz said, exasperated but also amused. “It’s just some magic, you panicky little twits.” They kept honking, flapping their large white wings. “Gods, once again, I wish you all could actually understand me when I’m human.”

Simon’s heart was melting out of his chest and dribbling into his boots. He straightened his bag straps over both his shoulders and walked towards Baz. He put his arms around Baz’s waist, and after weeks of this, Baz didn’t even flinch when he did. He simply leaned his head back on Simon’s shoulder, sighing against his ear.

“Good evening, love,” he purred. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi,” Simon replied. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Working on water spells, I think I’m getting better.” He made a figure eight motion, and the water followed perfectly. It still wasn’t as smooth as his fire work but it was certainly improving. In almost three weeks, he was doing better than most first year mage students after six months. Simon was so damn proud.

He squeezed Baz’s waist. “You’re doing amazing.”

Baz turned his head and pressed his cool lips to Simon’s cheek. “Thank you, darling. How are you doing?”

Simon subtly gulped, and realised he was holding Baz a bit tighter without thinking. “Yeah, uh, actually, I have to talk to you about something...and we should probably sit down for it.”

The water in the air immediately dropped with a resounding splash. The swans squawked very angrily at Baz. Simon had no idea if swans could say curse words, but if they could, they’d probably sound like that. Baz was completely stiff in Simon’s embrace. He lowered his wand hand slowly, arm ramrod straight. Simon couldn’t see Baz’s face, but he had a feeling he looked very, very cold.

“Baz? What’s wrong?”

“Simon,” he said, voice like the most biting frost, “if you’re going to end this, I’d prefer you just get it over with.”

“What?! No, no!” He dashed in front of Baz. Heartbreakingly, Baz’s face was stone, completely neutral and unfeeling. Simon hated when Baz looked like this, like a complete statue. He cupped his sharp cheeks. “No, Baz, I’m not ending us. I promise, I’m not.” Baz still looked unconvinced. Simon held him tighter. “Baz, it’s...it’s about your family. I think I found out who they are, who you were, before here.”

Baz’s face went from stone to complete shock with a twinge of happiness. His free hand flew up to grip Simon’s arm a bit too tight. “Really? You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I promise. I make jokes but I wouldn’t joke about this, Baz.” They both chuckled, and Simon felt incredibly relieved. But...he still had to tell him. “You’re going to want to sit down though.”

Baz furrowed his brows. It was painfully adorable, but Simon couldn’t get distracted. “Okay, if you say so.”

They sat down together, simultaneously crossing their legs, knees touching. Simon put his rucksack in his lap. He took many deep breaths. Baz was looking at him very strangely, almost on this side of amused. Simon hoped he would still look at him like that after.

“So, uh,” Simon said, “I looked through the mage family records, but couldn’t find anything. But then I went to the back, and I-I found this weird room, and I found, well, this.”

Simon pulled the portrait out of his bag and shoved it at Baz. He was a bit taken aback, but still took the painting from him. He scanned over it carefully, analysing like Penny did with it too. Simon felt his palms get more sweaty with every passing second. But Baz didn’t shout or cry or anything. He just looked perplexed.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s a nice portrait. I’m not sure why you’re showing it to me though.”

Simon tried to suppress a groan. It wasn’t Baz’s fault. Simon hadn’t explained, but he wasn’t looking forward to doing it. He barely knew how to start. He leaned up on his knees, pointing at the people in the picture. “This is, uh, the royal family, before David and me. That’s actually Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch, the author you love.”

Baz’s lips quirked up. “Oh. It’s good to finally put a face to the admired name.”

“Y-Yeah. And that,” he moved his finger to the little boy, “is her son, her only child, Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. They both, uh, they died a long time ago.”

“Well, that’s morose. Still don’t know why you’re telling me about them. Or how they have anything to do with my family. Am I some distant cousin of royalty? That would be interesting.”

Simon took a very long, very deep breath. He needed to muster up every ounce of courage he had for this. Because he was scared, he was worried, he didn’t want Baz to be mad at him. But in the end, this wasn’t about him. This was about Baz. His future, his family, his escape from this hell. And he wanted to know he had people who missed him.

“Baz,” he said firmly, “I think you’re Prince Tyrannus.”

For a long, long moment, the only sound was the wind whistling in the trees and the swans softly paddling the water. Simon kept his eyes squeezed shut at first. He needed to centre himself, make sure he was calm before talked to Baz again. He had to be Baz’s rock in this insane storm. But once he was ready, he slowly opened his eyes, and looked at Baz. And well, Simon didn’t know what else he expected.

Baz looked completely, utterly, shellshocked. His face was frozen somewhere between bewilderment and horror. He gripped the frame so hard Simon feared he’d snap it in half under his incredible strength. Baz’s breathing became more and more shallow, as if his lungs were becoming smaller with every passing second. Simon almost reached out to touch him, but it felt like touching a wild bear, unpredictable and possibly deadly. He waited for Baz to speak first. It felt like Baz’s place to break the tension, when he was ready.

“Simon,” he finally whispered, “if this is the actual joke, it’s not very funny.”

“It’s not a joke!” Simon put a hand on his knee, bear danger be damned. He shouldn’t be afraid of Baz. “I’m serious, Baz. I think you wer- are Prince Tyrannus, son of Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch. Fuck think, actually, I know you are. I found stuff to prove it and shit. I mean, first of all, you look exactly like the prince. You’re bigger but you still look the same. You can see that, right?”

Baz’s eyes flicked up. They were narrowed, but still quivering slightly. “I suppose you have a point, but that’s not exactly objective fact. I hope you have some more solid proof. Otherwise, I'm not sure I can believe you.”

Simon nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course I do. Look, here.” He reached into his bag, and pulled out the first proclamation. “This is an announcement about the Queen and Prince’s deaths. They died in a fire, in 1002. You would’ve been five. Queen Natasha died, but you were taken. Like in the dreams, remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember. But this could just be a coincidence. You’ll need more than your dreams to convince me I’m a bloody dead prince, love.”

Simon smiled slightly. He was glad Penny had been with him to look for proof. "Yeah, I know. That’s why I have more.” He pulled out the other proclamation paper and put it Baz’s hand. “This is the announcement of the prince’s birth. This was released the day after he was born, so he has the same birthday as you. And see that symbol on the bottom of the page? Look familiar?”

Baz touched his silver chain where it peaked out of tunic collar. Just a small brush, but an acknowledgement all the same. “What is it?” he asked, voice very cautiously hopeful.

“It’s the crest of Tyrannus’ father’s family, the Grimms. And it’s on your necklace, Baz, along with the same birthday. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Baz twisted his mouth. Simon knew he was just thinking, but the movement was infinitely distracting and he needed to focus right now. “I suppose you have a point. But...you said this prince was dead. Last I checked, I’m not dead. Not physically anyway.”

Simon almost wanted to laugh. It was certainly extremely convenient how Baz’s train of thought followed their journey to find proof. Thank the Gods for Penny’s similar need for irrefutable proof.

He pulled the journal from the bag, the page he needed already bookmarked. “See, that’s the thing.” He flipped it open and pointed to the entry. “He may have been officially declared dead, but his body wasn’t actually found after the fire. These are the court physician’s notes. Because you were taken, not killed. No one knew though, since there was too much debris from the castle burning down. And Lord Grimm didn’t want to keep looking so they never realised the Prince’s- your body wasn’t there.”

Baz’s hands were shaking again as he held the journal. His mouth was pressed tight together. Simon knew that look. He had the same expression whenever he was trying to keep his feelings in check too.

“But,” Baz choked out, “why did he stop?”

Simon’s heart broke. Of course Baz felt abandoned, like he had his entire life. Simon put both his hand over Baz’s. The shaking subsided a bit. “Look at the journal, you can read it there. He was too grief stricken to keep looking. It must’ve been hard to keep his hopes up all the time and keep being disappointed. I-It was a big fire, there was a lot of stuff. And Lord Grimm, he couldn’t have known you were actually taken by some madman.”

“I know,” Baz whispered, carefully putting the book down next to him. “Still...it hurts...”

Simon immediately crawled into Baz’s lap and threw his arms around him, pressing Baz as tight against him as he could. Baz hugged his waist, burying his face in Simon’s shoulder. Simon felt tears wet his tunic. He didn’t say anything though, he just let Baz cry. It was the least he could do after dumping all this on him. And considering everything, it was a relief Baz wasn’t having a full on breakdown. Simon was just glad he was mostly alright.

“One question,” he mumbled into Simon’s shoulder, “if his- my name is Tyrannus, which is a stupid name by the way, why the fuck am I called Basil? Did the man make up a new name for me?”

“Funny story about that,” Simon chuckled. “I talked to Queen Natasha’s sister. She doesn’t like David or me, so it took a bit of convincing, but she told me something cool. Prince Tyrannus’ middle name? It was Basilton. Everyone in the castle called him that, or Basil for short.”

Baz arms somehow tightened even more. He let out a shaky breath. Simon slowly ran his fingers through Baz’s hair. He had a feeling it was finally settling in for Baz, just like Simon had felt it settle in for him; Baz was Prince Tyrannus. He was supposedly dead royalty, with a name, with a family.

“So,” Baz said, barely raising from Simon’s body, “my...my father...” He obviously struggled to get the word out, but found a way to do it anyway. “He’s still alive?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely. I see him at every council meeting.”

Baz pulled back a bit while still looking at the ground. “What’s...what’s he like?”

Simon tried to find a word to summarise Malcolm Grimm. A lot of them weren’t exactly positive. “He’s, uh, he’s...very...stern.”

Baz finally looked up a bit, his red and puffy eyes meeting Simon’s. “That’s not exactly encouraging, Snow.”

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “I know. It's just, he doesn’t like David that much, so he’s really cold in council meetings. He might actually be nice. I mean, I’m pretty sure he remarried and he’s had like, three or four more kids. So for their sake I hope he’s nice.”

Baz chuckled. “Well, I hope so too then.” He fiddled Simon’s trouser seam, rolling it between his long fingers. A nervous tic to distract himself. “So I’ve got siblings too?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. I didn’t connect it, but, yeah.” He grinned as broadly as he could, running a hand over Baz’s hair. “You’re a big brother.”

“Hm, that...sounds nice. And I have an aunt?”

“Yeah, Lady Fiona Pitch. She’s, uh, very forceful.”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem to have a high opinion of my family, Snow.”

Simon chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, it’s a good thing. She’s like, super strong and willful. She didn’t want to tell me Prince Tyrannus’ middle name at first because she didn’t want me dragging her nephew’s memory through the mud.”

“She thought you would?”

“She didn’t know for sure at first. She just wanted to protect her family.”

Baz’s mouth morphed into a tiny half smile. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. She’s fiery and sharp tongued. I think you two would get along.”

The smile got the tiniest bit wider. “That’s good.”

He kept fiddling with Simon’s trousers. Simon kept running his fingers through Baz’s silky hair. It had gotten long again. Maybe they should cut it, before tomorrow night. Before the Winter Ball. Because Simon had an idea, if Baz agreed to it, and Baz would want to look good.

Suddenly, Baz stopped fiddling, his entire body going stiff. Simon pushed himself back. Baz’s eyes were wide in what looked like shock and horror.

“Baz? Are you okay, love?”

“I’m a prince,” he said quietly. “I’m a fucking prince, heir to a throne. Fuck...”

Simon couldn’t help the little snort he made. The fact that Baz didn’t pinch his side or flick him showed Simon just how shocked he was. “It just hit you right now, huh?”

“Yeah. Holy shit, I’m supposed to be a king. That’s insane.”

Simon cupped the back of Baz’s neck, tilting his face up just enough so their eyes met. “Um, yeah, technically you are. But you don’t have to be though, if you don’t want to...”

Baz held his head higher, brows very firmly knitted together. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Snow.”

“Baz,” he sighed, “I of all people know how hard it can be to be a prince. I didn’t tell you this to put that burden on you. I-I just wanted you to know you had a family and people missed you, because that’s what you wanted. But you don’t have to be a prince or a king. I can break the curse and we can just, run away together. Or you can stay, and the Court will make you the crown prince instead of me, and one day you’ll be king. It’s up to you, love.”

“Wouldn’t King David come after you if we ran?”

Simon tenderly ran his thumbs under Baz’s grey eyes. “It would be worth the risk.”

Baz’s smile was small and his gaze was sparkling. He leaned into Simon’s hands, running his own fingers up and down Simon’s sides.

“I’m not sure what I should do, Snow.” he whispered. “My...my mother, I think she would’ve wanted me to take care of the throne after her, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. But you don’t have to-”

“I know, Snow, I know. I just...I’m probably not the person she hoped for me to be, who she wanted to be her heir. She was a brilliant ruler. At least she had brilliant ideas about ruling. She certainly would have wanted to raise and teach me herself. But instead, I’ve spent almost my entire life in a bloody lake, and for six years of it cursed. Would...would I even be a good king?”

It finally hit Simon. It wasn’t that Baz didn’t want to be king and carry on his dead mother’s legacy. He loved politics and economics and every weird finicky prince thing Simon found boring as shit. But he didn’t think he could. Baz was right in way, he probably wasn’t exactly the person his mother thought he would be. Simon had no idea who he would’ve been if Queen Natasha had raised him. But he knew who Baz was, right here, right now. And he needed Baz to know what he thought too.

“Baz,” he said softly, tucking a piece of black hair behind his pointed ear, “I think you’d be a good king. Way better than David, and definitely way better than me.”

“How much of a compliment is that?” he mumbled. Simon flicked his cheek while his lovely, caring companion snickered.

“I’m serious, though, Baz. I think you’d be a good king.”

His face didn’t exactly fall, but it became serious. He was examining Simon like he was one of his books, looking for meaning and understanding. “How do you know?”

Because you’re smart, he thought, and kind, and so unbelievably strong. You’d be able to see all the small details I miss. And you would treat the people so well. But the words got stuck in his throat, and he wasn’t sure the ever self deprecating Baz would believe him if he just said it. If there was another way...

Simon held Baz’s arms, still snug around his waist. “If you were king, what would you do if you needed the wheat, but the amount you needed wouldn’t leave enough for the people farming it?”

Baz’s face pinched together. It was adorable, and Simon had to actively stop himself from snogging him silly. “What is this? Some kind of riddle?”

Simon shook his head, hands moving to hold his shoulders. “No, just a question. Please answer it, love.”

Baz tilted his head to the side, lips sliding back and forth over each other. Once again, it was a struggle to not push him to the ground and snig him senseless. “Well,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t take that much to begin with. I’d tax a sustainable amount. And if I really needed more, I’d give the farmers funds to encourage them to till more arable land. But not enough it would destroy wild lands for animals. You should always protect nature. It’d be complicated and difficult, but it would be worth it to not harm the people. Queen Nata- ...my...my mother, she wrote that at the end of the day all a ruler really has is the faith of the common people. You break that, you lose your throne, and you’ll deserve it. So never harm them with your own ambitions.” Baz nervously met Simon’s eyes. “Does that make sense?”

Simon’s grin was involuntary and broad. He didn’t know exactly how Baz would answer, but he was more than happy with what he said. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense.” He pressed a firm kiss to his cheek, trailing his lips up to Baz’s ear, where he whispered words. “You would be an incredible king, Baz.”

“Really?” he asked, voice tiny but hopeful.

“Really. Trust me, I wouldn’t lie about this. Listen to yourself. I never would've thought of any of that, but you did. You would be fucking fantastic.

Baz let out a long breath, all the tension in his muscles thawing like ice. His forehead fell against Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s fingers were pressed to Baz’s neck, warm breath heating up his tunic.

“I think,” Baz said into the fabric, “I think I want to. Take back the throne, that is. I want to show I’m worthy of it. Well, I’ll try, and hopefully I am.”

“You’re sure that’s what you want?” Simon asked. “Not what you think your mother would want?”

Baz nodded. “Yeah. Honestly...I think it’s a bit of both. I want to prove I’m worthy of her legacy, but I also want to myself.” He pulled back, the tiniest smile playing on his mouth. “I’ve been reading about politics and philosophy for years, might as well put all of it to use. And I’ve been trapped here almost my whole life, unable to do anything. I could do a lot as a king, make a difference. I’d like that.”

Simon almost said that he could do a lot as anything. He didn’t have to be king. But it was obviously something Baz wanted to do. Simon didn’t fully get it, what with his experience as a prince, but he understood it was important to Baz, and that was all that mattered.

“Okay,” Simon said. “If that’s what you want, okay.”

Baz lifted his head sharply. “But wait,” he said, voice very nervous, “will...will you stay with me? If I become the crown prince? If not, fuck the throne, we’ll run fast and far and never look back. I’d rather have you than any crown or legacy.”

Every part of Simon’s body felt so incredibly warm. Like the sun was beating where his heart should be. He cupped Baz’s beautiful, perfect, sharp face and brought their mouths together. It was an incredibly soft kiss compared to most of their others. But kissing Baz was kissing Baz, and it was always amazing. When they pulled apart, Simon hugged Baz’s neck as tight as he could.

“I’ll stay,” he said against his ear. “I’ll stay with you, no matter what, Baz. Whether you’re a prince or a king or a swan, you’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

Baz let out a relieved sigh. He squeezed Simon so hard Simon struggled to breathe a bit. But he didn’t care. Fuck breathing. Baz was hugging him, that was all that mattered.

Eventually, they eased up, settling into a softer embrace. Simon shifted onto his knees to better look at Baz’s face. His black hair was disheveled from Simon running his hands through it, the area around his eyes was a little red and puffy. But he was smiling. And he looked damn gorgeous.

“Now that we’ve got that all sorted, my plan can work,” Simon said cheerily.

Baz looked confused, as he had many times tonight. “Plan? What plan? Should I be scared, Snow?”

Simon giggled, shaking his head. “Unless you’re scared of dancing again, then no.” Baz looked even more confused. Simon grabbed both his hands. “Tomorrow night, there’s going to be a huge ball at the castle. It’s a big event for the nobility, lots of people will be there. David wants to announce my...my engagement to my friend there.” Baz flinched, and Simon held his hands tighter. “But I’m not going to let him. Instead, you’re going to come, all dressed up and shit. And I’ll...do what Siegfried in Swan Lake was supposed to do, but do it right, and the curse will be broken. Then we’ll tell the whole court who you are. You can see your family and take back the crown.”

Baz took a few minutes to process all of it. His eyes moved back and forth across the air like he was reading. Soon, he slowly nodded. “Okay, okay, and what am I going to wear? My clothes aren't appropriate for a huge ball."

"Still got the solstice costume?" Baz nodded. "Then where that. Anyone asks where it's from, say it's bespoke."

Baz snorted, turning into a low chuckle. "Sure, they'll believe that. And what if my captor shows up? Here or at the ball?

"He only shows up here every few months, we should be fine. And if he's at the ball, I'll kick his arse."

Baz chuckled again, shaking his head. Simon hoped he actually believed him. "Alright, sure. And..." Baz took a deep breath. Simon watched his expand slowly, the muscles and sinew tensing and relaxing. Simon's anticipation rose in every one of those slow seconds. "You can definitely break the curse?

Huh? Simon thought. “I...don’t know what you mean. You’ve read the book, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve read it. I mean...” Baz cleared his throat and ran his thumb over the back of Simon’s hand. “You’re sure you’re, capable of breaking the curse? You...feel the way you have to in order to break it?”

It took Simon his own time to process Baz’s words. But slowly the revelation dawned on him. The nervous way Baz bit his lip, the flush covering his cheeks, how he was looking at the ground. Gods above, Simon couldn’t believe it. Did Baz not realise Simon loved him?

“Yes,” Simon blurted out, voice edging on annoyed, “yes I can! I really, really can.”

Baz eyes went wider. He was truly shocked “Really?”

Simon nodded so hard his hair flung back and forth. “Yeah, of course! I’ve never felt like this before you, like Siegfried. I absolutely I meet the curse criteria.”

“Oh,” Baz squeaked, cheeks flushing bright red. “Alright, that’s good to know.”

Baz’s voice was strained, nervous, and something finally clicked in Simon’s brain. His jaw fell open in shock. “Is that why you haven’t talked about the book since I gave it to you? You were scared I didn’t...care about you like that?” Baz shrugged, very pointedly looking at the grassy floor. Simon let out a breathy chuckle. “What, did me snogging you for three weeks and everything else before not fully convince you?”

“You can snog someone and come see them and not...feel that way about them,” he mumbled with red cheeks. Simon wanted to slap his feelings of worthlessness right out of of him. Or kiss them away. That would be good too.

“Well, I do. I mean, I just promised to stay with you forever for a damn good reason, Baz.” He pulled Baz’s face up and tapped their foreheads together. “Baz, I lo-”

Baz surged forward and covered Simon’s mouth with his, effectively cutting him off. Simon melted into it like always. His arms went limp on Baz's strong shoulders. And when Baz pulled back, Simon chased his lips, but Baz sadly kept him away with a light push of his chest.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” Baz whispered playfully. “But save the actual word for the ball. We don’t know exactly how the curse works. We may only have one shot, and we need the world to hear.”

Simon nodded. “Alright, yeah, you have a point. I’ll fucking shout it tomorrow night.”

Baz scoffed playfully. “I’m sure all the nobility will appreciate that.”

“Eh. I won’t be the prince for much long after. They won’t give a shit what I do.”

“You really don’t mind losing the title?”

Simon shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not. You know I hate it. I think being a prince’s, uh, whatever we are will be way easier. I can do whatever I want.”

Baz smirked devilishly. “Oh dear, what will the Lords think then?”

“What?” Simon leaned back, arms lazily draped on Baz’s shoulders, “worried I’ll reflect badly on you, Prince Tyrannus?”

Baz’s smirk immediately turned into an angry frown. But Simon didn’t think he was angry at him, because he wasn’t pushing Simon onto his arse and stomping away. Rather, he was holding his waist tighter. “No. And don’t you ever think that ever again.”

Simon was a bit taken aback, but the aggressive affection was very endearing in it’s own way. He smiled all the same as his heart beat pleasantly against his ribcage. “Okay, will do, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” Baz chuckled, head falling against Simon’s chest. “It feels weird.”

“You’ll have to get used it eventually, love.”

Baz rolled his eyes incredibly dramatically. “Yeah, but not yet. I’m still just Baz right now.”

Simon instantly leaned forward to press a hard, fast kiss to Baz’s cool lips. Baz barely had time to react before Simon pulled away again. “You’ll always be Baz to me, no matter how many people call you ‘your highness’”

Simon wasn’t sure how nice that was, or how much sense it made. Things that came out of his mouth tended to be just this side of nonsensical and usually unhelpful. But Baz grinned, and he pulled Simon by his tunic collar to kiss him again, more slowly this time, carefully winding his long fingers in his curls as he languidly took his mouth. So maybe Simon was helpful for once. That was a nice feeling. Kissing Baz was a better feeling though. It was better than anything.

Baz was the one who pulled away this time. He nuzzled Simon’s cheek with his long nose. “Just curious,” he said, “what would you have done if I didn’t want to take back the throne? Would we still have gone to that ball but then dashed off instead?”

Simon giggled, pressing himself closer to Baz’s comforting embrace. “No no. I, uh, I actually thought about stealing supplies, going to the town square, and shouting it to everyone there. Then we’d get on horses and ride as far as we could in one night.”

Honestly, Simon expected Baz to mock him for such a simplistic idea, or at least laugh at him for a moment. But he didn’t, because Baz was a constant, wonderful, ever renewing miracle. He just grinned and kissed Simon’s burning cheek. “That’s a great plan, love. I absolutely would’ve done that too.”

“Well, thank you,” Simon laughed. “The ball will be good too though, I promise. I mean, it’s going to be sort of boring, but it’ll be better with you there.”

“You really take me to the most wonderful places,” Baz drawled. He reached back and touched his own hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. “Say, think you could give me another haircut before my big debut? I liked it just at my neck.”

“Yeah, of course. What else would my dagger be for?”

“I have absolutely no clue.”

Simon pecked Baz’s annoyingly attractive smirk, then reluctantly released himself from his embrace. As he stumbled around behind Baz, he pulled his dagger from his boot, spinning it for dramatic effect. (Baz had taught him the value of dramatics.) Baz sat straight backed, hands perfectly placed in his lap. He was doing a very good statue impression. He’d fit in quite well at council meetings.

It was quiet as Simon cut Baz’s hair, just like the first time. Simon could hear the soft wind and lapping water. But now the air wasn’t filled with tension and awkwardness. Simon’s hands didn’t start off shaking as he sliced through Baz’s raven locks. Baz wasn’t stiff and pulling away from Simon. He leaned into Simon’s hand, hummed happily when their skin touched. And Simon took every opportunity to touch Baz again and again. They weren’t the anxiety riddled loners anymore. Almost four months later, and they were so much better.

With a final slice, Simon finished. It wasn’t perfectly even, but only a very scrutinizing eye would noticed. Baz looked great. Simon kissed his cheek, his temple, and his ear. He wanted to kiss Baz all night. Of course, that was when he let out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Aw,” Baz cooed, craning his head back, “you tired, Snow?”

“A bit,” he sighed. “But I’m fine.”

“No. You should sleep. We’ve both got a big night tomorrow.” He went to his feet and outstretched his long arm. One of the floating lights illuminated the back of his head. He looked like some sort of demigod or celestial being. Simon was simply in awe of him. “Come on, time for you to steal my bed again.”

Simon rolled his eyes but still took his hand, letting him be hoisted to his feet. “You’re the one offering.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He tugged Simon forward, making him stumble into Baz’s embrace. When twisted a piece of Simon’s hair between his fingers, he practically melted. “Like I’d ever complain about having you in my bed.”

All the words left Simon’s mouth and brain. He had been reduced to a blushy, lovesick mess of a man and he never wanted to be anything else ever again. Baz giggled, then leaned forward to peck Simon’s lips. It was short, and Simon almost pushed for a longer kiss, but he was tired. There would be lots of time for that afterwards. After the curse was finally broken. When Baz would finally be free.

They walked to the cottage hand in hand. Baz led Simon to his cot for what was hopefully the last time. Simon laid down, and Baz followed, though he also grabbed a large book to keep himself entertained while Simon slept. He sat with his back against the wall and patted the space next to him. Simon happily collapsed there, head on Baz’s thigh and arm across his lap. He felt sleep wash over like a tide on the beach. Baz rubbed his back, and Simon focused on that slow, comforting motion as he drifted off.

This would be his last time in this bed. But it certainly wouldn’t the last time he fell asleep with Baz right next to him.

———————————————

When Simon woke up, it wasn’t quite yet dawn, the sky a deep violet and edging towards orange, a few grey clouds beautifully illuminated in the distance. Simon looked at Baz with blurry eyes. But he could see Baz’s smiling down at him, and that was all that mattered.

“Morning,” Baz said wistfully.

“Morning,” Simon replied.

They spent a few of their precious minutes kissing. Baz made muttering comments about Simon’s terrible breath, but didn’t actually stop. Eventually, they had to get up though, and Baz let Simon use his arms to pull himself up. As they walked outside into the coming day, greeted by soft rumblings in the sky and swan honks, Baz suddenly stopped in the doorway. Simon unceremoniously knocked into him.

“Baz? What is it?” he asked, rubbing his aching nose.

“This is all I’ve known for so long,” Baz said quietly. “And...I don’t think I’m going to miss it. Is that weird? To not miss your home?”

Simon pressed his cheek to Baz’s bony shoulder, gripping his hand tight. “This isn’t your home, love. It’s your prison. Let it burn for all I care.”

Baz snorted. “You weren’t exactly a fan when I tried that.”

“Okay, you know what I mean, arsehole.” He squeezed his hand again. “By tonight, you’re going to be free of here. You’re going to have a huge castle and a big family and me all the time.”

“Yeah,” Baz sighed happily, leaning on the top of his head. “I’m looking forward to that.”

They collected all the books and papers in silence, putting them back in Simon’s rucksack. He slung it over his shoulder with ease, then turned back to Baz.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said and started rummaging into his trouser pocket. Soon he felt something metal graze his fingers. He pulled out the gold signet ring, etched with a sword insignia, and pressed it Baz’s palm. “Wear this to the ball tonight. Tell the guards I invited you and show them it. They’ll let you in, or at least tell me, then I’ll let you in, okay?”

Baz nodded, absentmindedly slipping in onto his left ring finger. Simon didn’t know if that was intentional, but his face flushed all the same. “Okay, will do.”

Simon could see the sunlight approaching from over Baz’s shoulder. Their time was almost up for now. As his heart broke, Simon kept reminding himself of that this was the last sunrise they had to worry about. He pulled Baz for one more kiss. It was deep and sure, just like his feelings for Baz. Simon reluctantly separated from him. Soon, he thought, soon he’ll be free, and we’ll stop having to say goodbye.

“It starts after sundown,” he whispered. “Head there right after you change.”

“Okay,” Baz replied.

“Wear the solstice costume?”

“Of course.”

“And make sure you have the ring.”

“Will do.”

“And-”

“Simon,” Baz chuckled, cupping his face delicately, “it’ll be alright. You can go. I’ll see you tonight.”

Simon took a deep, somewhat calming breath through his nose. His nerves were still sky high, but Baz’s voice helped. He always helped. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

They kissed once, twice, and a third time for good luck, then Simon finally walked to the edge of the root covered wall. He turned back to look at the lake one last time. It’s lush green grass, short trees, graceful swans, and glistening blue water. It was a beautiful place. But Simon wouldn’t miss it either. Because the best part of the lake was Baz. Soon Baz would be free, and every place with him would be just as beautiful.

Simon met Baz’s grey eyes one more time, grinned, and started climbing the wall for what he hoped would be the very last time.

———————————————

Baz watched Simon ascend the wall with a smile on his face. He watched until the barrier made him invisible. He sighed, fingers instinctively touching the gold ring. It was a comforting weight, reminding him of everything. The ball, his impending freedom, Simon’s love.

Baz had spent six years listening to people from afar, figuring them out and being unimpressed. None of them compared to Simon. Brave, kind, strong Simon. Baz knew he loved Simon almost since they met. His feelings were so intense he feared they would kill him. No matter how much he tried to fight it, they stayed. Baz knew it was impossible. Even that one near kiss at the festival felt unreal, just an impulsive mistake from Simon. And when Baz pushed him away he thought that was finally it. The end he expected came but destroyed him all the same. Then Simon kissed him, saved his life, told him he would find his family, and there was a little hope again. But Baz still couldn’t believe it was love. Friendly affection mixed with physical desire maybe, but not love. No one could ever fall in love someone as strange and damaged as him. No one could break his curse, and he was too much of a coward to bring it up.

Except Simon did love him. Simon, his brave, kind, strong prince was in love with him. What a charmed life Baz had.

He looked down at his hands. They were softly glowing, and he knew his time was approaching. One last time, then no more swan form, no more painful transformation, no more prison. He wouldn’t be the nameless cursed boy any longer. He’d be a prince, someday a king, with a father and siblings and an aunt and Simon. He would be making his late mother, his idol for his whole life, as proud as he could. He would make a difference.

Fate had a strange way of working out.

Baz slipped the ring off and put it in his trouser pocket. He started unlacing his tunic. The was glow increasing bit by bit. But he wasn’t scared for once.

“It’s the last time, just one more time,” he muttered, “then this will finally be over.”

“That’s what you think.”

A large, rough hand clamped over Baz’s mouth, and an arm grabbed his waist. He screamed, but he knew no sound got past the barrier. And every time he struggled the arm held him tighter. He looked down. The arm was dressed in a grey robe.

“So, you think you can escape, huh?” the man hissed, his voice unaltered for once. It was a deep, angry baritone. “And it’s because of Simon. Damn that boy, he’s more trouble than he’s worth. No matter though. He won’t be breaking your curse. I’ll make sure he never can. And you will be somewhere he can’t find you.”

Baz screamed again but it was hopeless. The shield blocked what little sound he made. The man’s hand around his waist pulled away, but the other hand kept Baz from fleeing. Frightened tears fell down his face but the man didn’t care. Something pointy tapped Baz’s temple twice, and then everything went black.

———————————————

AN: Uh-oh, that's not good. What ever shall happen? Also I hope my reasoning got across. I'm worried Baz wanting the throne is too OOC. In my mind though, this is an extension of Baz wanting to continue his mother's legacy. But he hasn't grown up with that legacy as something crushing and love stopping in this fic. It's something he can live up to. Plus he's been isolated and alone almost his entire life, feeling like his life doesn't mean anything, like he's been a ghost in the world. Being a king would let him have a say and do something. He can help people like Simon helped him. Could he do that without being king? Yeah. But he wants to be. He likes politics and philosophy and could like being king. Simon doesn't like any of that, and while he wants to help people, doesn't know how to do it as king like Baz. I hope that came across. I need to stop over explaining my writing lol. Any who, next chapter will be on Monday :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #fantasy au #the black swan #fluff #angst #mysnowbazfic

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