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cabensonsgirly · 3 years ago

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👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼

Alice Macray x Fem!reader

👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Wordcount: 2714👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼

👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼

It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.

There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.

It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.

The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.

Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.

You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.

To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.

You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.

“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.

“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”

You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”

“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“

“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.

You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”

Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”

She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”

You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.

One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.

She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.

One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.

“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”

She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”

Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”

“I love you too, Alice.”

You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.

“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”

There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.

You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.

You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.

#Alice macray #Alice macray imagine #Alice macray x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader

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whatifidontwanttobethesavior · 4 years ago

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Bonded

Cadmine slept fitfully the first night in her new home, her brow furrowed and face streaked with dried tears that had fallen from her eyes for a good while before she had finally given in to her body’s exhaustion. She had ached in more ways than one as her new husband had kissed her hand and instead of lying with her in the manner of which a man did with his wife, Vidmir had left her. He had told her she was tired, and that they had all of eternity for such things, but Cadmine hadn’t been able to help feeling a bit… disappointed? She knew that she should have been relieved, that most women would have been glad for the chance to rest properly after such a long day but before Cadmine knew it, she had broken down in tears. Her heart had ached inside of her chest, though whether it was from the beginnings of the change slowing it down or the fact that her husband had decided not to stay the night with her Cadmine couldn’t tell. It could also have easily been homesickness, having to sleep in a new place that she had never been to before or a yearning for her parents who had always bid her a good night before she’d gone to bed. She had stained the satin cover of the pillow beneath her head, the crimson material darkening even further beneath the wetness of her sadness. Eventually she had grown cold without Vidmir’s presence beside her and shifted on top of the covers, fighting with them until she had been able to squirm her way beneath them. It was warmer under the blankets and Cadmine had fallen asleep at last, her hair sticking to one cheek, her hand brought close to her face. She nuzzled against the flannel of her husband’s pajama sleeve, breathing in the scent of him and causing a fresh flood of crying to be released from her eyes as she felt a sudden yearning for his presence. She wasn’t sure why he had chosen to go elsewhere for the night. Even if he had decided that being with her physically wasn’t something they needed to do right away, she still would have felt better to have him lie beside her. The red room felt much larger, more empty, and a lot more foreboding without him there.

When Cadmine woke it was to the swish of curtains sliding across a rod and the smell of food. She stirred, rolling and rubbing at her eyes, her hair an absolute mess on her head she blinked, trying to take in her surroundings. She was confused momentarily, the place unfamiliar at first until she remembered. She had been married last night. This was the home of her husband, her home now, and this was the room he had given to her. The handmaiden, Gunhilde, had just opened the large velvet curtains, letting in the light of the moon, brightening up the dim settings. Cadmine knew that with the change her eyes would adjust in time so that she would be able to see much better with limited light but at the moment, she welcomed the addition. She was able to more clearly see the room now but even so, she could have done with a few more candles. Or some electric lighting but an old castle like this simply didn’t have such a thing.

“Good morning, my Lady.” Gunhilde greeted in Cadmine’s native tongue, the sound of her words reassuring to the young wife. Cadmine managed a small smile as she began to press back the blankets a bit, but Gunhilde rushed forward holding a bed tray to place over her lap instead. Fine china sat on the gleaming wooden surface, plain white pieces with simple golden rims. Cadmine stared down at her favorite breakfast, a simple piece of sourdough toast with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese and topped with thin apple slices. There were also scrambled eggs and some bacon off to one side, as well as a cup of what smelt like her favorite morning tea. “The Lord said you might be quite tired this morning and to not put you through any unneeded strain. I do hope your night went well, Lady Nezhdanov.”

Cadmine blinked, surprised for a moment as she registered her new name. She had heard it the night before of course, but it hadn’t quite clicked until now that her name was no longer the same as it had once been. She was a married woman and thus, had taken her husband’s surname as her own. How did one even go about spelling something like Nezhdanov? Cadmine would have to learn. Looking up from the tray across her lap, Cadmine’s eyes fell upon Gunhilde, looking all the world like almost every other handmaiden Cadmine had ever had. She wore the usual uniform of a dress and apron, stockings and good shoes made for working in, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. In a way, it was comforting for Cadmine and she felt her nerves easing a little bit, though her eyes flitted towards the door, wondering if her husband was awake yet.

“It was fine.” Cadmine stated simply, turning her attention back to Gunhilde. “Have you eaten? I’m not very partial to eggs if you’d like them.”

“Ah yes. Your parents said that, but the Lord wanted to make sure you got enough of your energy back. Neither of you will be able to partake in any blood except one another’s until after the change is complete, as is the tradition.”

“Oh, right...” Cadmine sighed, looking down at her tray again and noticing the severe lack of her usual blood slushie. It pale in comparison when she remembered the absolute ambrosia that was Vidmir’s blood though. She didn’t know if a slushie would satiate her ever again in the same manner of which it once had now that she knew what it was like to drink fresh from the vein of her husband. “Is he awake, do you know?”

“I’m afraid not. Master Lucero said he was not to be disturbed but you are welcome to do as you wish throughout the castle until you are ready to retire back to bed for the night.”

“Oh.” Cadmine felt a wave of disappointment wash over her, the realization that she probably wouldn’t be seeing Vidmir again until it was time for him to return to this bed. They would drink from one another again and then… what? Was he going to take her as his? Or perhaps he would decide upon that first so they still had enough energy for feeding left. The memory of his lips upon her neck the night before, the way his teeth had sunken into her flesh and then the pleasure that had forced away the pain of his venom. Just the thought of it had Cadmine’s cheeks heating with color, her thighs tightening beneath the red blankets. She had desired him and even now, as she pondered the idea of becoming one with her husband, Cadmine was both nervous and excited. Surely tonight. He had probably just been too exhausted from yesterday’s busyness to continue. And afterwards, he would stay with her. They could lie together, close in that way couples were supposed to. For now, she would simply have to be patient until he came for her.

“After you’ve eaten, I can help you dress and we can do whatever you please, my Lady.”

“Alright then.” Cadmine agreed. She lifted the toast and bit into it, relishing the familiar taste of her usual breakfast. She ate it down heartily, wanting to have plenty of strength for tonight, sipping at her tea. When she was finished, Gunhilde removed the tray and set it off to one side. She moved to the large wardrobe and tugged it open, revealing Cadmine’s usual assortment of dresses. They were pretty things, but very old fashioned if she was to be honest. However, she was still happy to see them at the moment. “May I have the green please? The light one. I do believe that is my favorite.”

Gunhilde appeased her, pulling the sage colored dress from the wardrobe on its hanger, lying it down on the bed. It took time and effort for Gunhilde to figure out how to help Cadmine dress and get into her wheelchair. Cadmine could do most of it on her own, though the many buttons down the back of her dress made things more difficult than they had to be. At least she didn’t have to deal with a rotten corset and back brace today. That had been demolished by her husband in the limo the night before. Her leg braces, however, were more familiar and easy to put on, not making her feel so confined and helping her stay upright easier when she stood up to get her dress down and then, sit in her chair. She leaned back into it with a sigh, letting Gunhilde do up her hair in it’s usual tight bun with a cover. When asked what she would like to do, Cadmine frowned and then shrugged, suggesting maybe they could go exploring a bit. The handmaiden agreed and rolled her out of her chambers, heading down a long hallway that was still more dimly lit than Cadmine would have liked. It was a good hall though and the thin wheels on her old chair moved easily along it, not catching like they tended to on most things.

“Gunhilde, may I go fast?” Cadmine asked after a moment, reaching down to grab at her wheels’ handrails. Gunhilde laughed.

“It’s your house, my Lady. Master Lucero said the Lord was very clear. You can do whatever you desire.”

Cadmine smiled at that and then pushed herself forward, using her arms to get herself going much more rapidly than before. She’d never been allowed to race about back home but it was something she did enjoy. Going slow had never been fun for Cadmine but there was always the worry that she’d fall out of her chair if she raced about. She couldn’t run, so it was the closest she could get. She released a bit of a laugh as she reached the end of the hallway and found herself in the main entrance hall full of paintings from last night. Gunhilde had picked up her own pace to keep up, holding her bun a bit to keep it in place but she had a smile on as well. She wasn’t all too much older than Cadmine to be honest, only in her early twenties. They ended up racing circles around the entrance hall for a bit, Cadmine only getting caught on a rug every now and then when she wasn’t careful and nearly sending herself toppling because her chair couldn’t handle it. Soon after though, they picked another hallway and started down it, intent on getting the lay of the land for now. Cadmine wanted to figure out where all the main rooms were so she wouldn’t get lost.

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rrrawrf-writes · 3 years ago

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what is it good for?

pt. 1 || pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4

Every day, more and more bad news poured in.

Mafvin had thought things were turned around when they regained Aelford; the siege was broken, his daughter rescued and returned to him. His son, fighting with the mage corps, was accounted for; he’d razed one of Eola’s key fortresses to the ground.

But then, somehow, things changed.

The Eolans pressed forward. They didn’t need Aelford - Boarcross was theirs, and they poured across it, flowing around Aelford like a stream around a boulder. Allspeak fell, and so did Chaserhorn. They cut off General Liya’s battalion during the winter, trapping them in the Dragonspine, and that very nearly killed off all of them.

Every day, come spring, his councillors came to Mafvin, begging him to put a stop to all of it.

“You have thrice the magic they do, Your Majesty -”

“Your father and grandfather both fought their own wars -”

“And both died in them,” Mafvin snapped back. The advisor, a general herself, scowled at him.

“I know.” He knew. Mafvin was the most powerful mage in existence. He’d built settlements in one day. He’d grown crops for the entire country during a drought. He’d built dams and redirected overflowing rivers to save villages, he’d grown entire forests, he’d summoned lethal storms and shooed them away. He knew that. “I will not use my magic to harm others.”

General Porrin hissed something perilously close to a curse against her king. “Sire, our soldiers are dying by the score. Your son is out there, fighting. Our common folk are being slaughtered -”

“Don’t lie to me,” Mafvin snapped. “The Eolans fight honorably.”

“They were not honorable in Aelford,” Porrin retorted. Mafvin clenched his jaw as the general continued. “You could put a stop to this, Your Majesty. We’re redirecting them. We have a dozen places we can lure them to and stage battle - all we need is you, sire, just you -”

“Get out,” Mafvin said flatly, and turned away.

---

He took refuge in the rear gardens, the ones that had once belonged to his mother. There, the gardeners had long stopped trying to curb the king’s enthusiasm. Instead, they left it to him and never stepped foot inside. A place where he could let his green magic run rampant. Trees grew, bloomed, bore fruit, and withered, all in a single winter’s day; the ground was always covered in clover or flowers or grass or bramble, depending on the king’s mood. Today, everything was overgrown. Thick vines smothered the walls and the trees had grown so large and close together that their thick foliage blocked out much of the light. Ivy and thick moss hung in sheets from their branches.

Dayehmon sighed as he stepped into the garden. The vines curled all over the ground obediently shifted away from his steps, which showed that Mafvin knew he was there, and was being polite, even if he didn’t realize it. “Eos,” Dayehmon said quietly, and the king looked up from where he sat in the dark thicket, his arms wrapped around his knees like a child hiding from his tutors. Dayehmon came to join him, though he remained on his feet, one hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword.

Mafvin sighed and flicked a leaf with disgust. “Are you here to tell me to fight, too?” he asked, defeated.

“Gods, all right,” he complained, taking the scone. He slouched back against the tree with a scowl and nibbled at the pastry. “Thank you, mother hen.”

“I’m here because it’s my shift,” Dayehmon said wryly. He leaned against a tree, heedless of the ivy that covered it. One tendril curled over his shoulder, winding down his arm like it was looking for attention. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Have you eaten,” Dayehmon repeated firmly, as if King Eos Mafvin of Cordel were a toddler pouting in a corner, and not the most powerful man alive. Mafvin tipped his head back to glare at Dayehmon, and was greeted with the guard shoving a scone into his face.

“You’re welcome.” Dayehmon crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on a scone of his own. They remained in comfortable silence for some time. Mafvin didn’t get enough of this companionship these days, not since this war began. He was close with much of his royal guard - but so many of them had been tapped to fight the Eolans, and instead Mafvin was brought new ones, young and bright-eyed and in awe of the man they were supposed to be guarding. Mafvin had stopped trying to break them out of their wonder and fear, and now he just sulked and let them watch from a distance. Eventually, they’d figure it out.

They’d realize he was a fool and a child and, if the muttering of his council was to be believed, a coward.

He ate the scone automatically, not tasting the sweetness despite the honey baked into it. Dayehmon had another waiting for him when he finished, and Mafvin sighed, taking it before his guard pinned him down and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Am I a coward, Tibur?” Mafvin asked, after a long moment. Dayehmon paused, looking down at him.

“I don’t think there is an answer to that question that will satisfy you, Eos,” he said finally. Mafvin scoffed.

“You can be honest,” he said, disgusted.

“I am.” Dayehmon straightened up off of the tree, carefully detangling the flowering ivy that still clung to his arm and draping it from the tree. “You’re the only one who knows that answer.”

Mafvin sighed, dropping his head back against the tree trunk. “The council thinks I am.”

“The council,” Dayehmon said flatly, “are sitting flat on their asses while they send the common folk off to war. Only three of them know what fighting’s like.”

“I’m sitting flat on my ass while I send the common folk off to war.”

Dayehmon hummed. “You are.”

Mafvin ran a hand over his face. “So you must think as little of me as you do of them.”

“Well, you’ve never called me a scarred son of a pig, so you’ve got that going for you,” Dayehmon pointed out good-naturedly. “I don’t think that little of you, Eos. Not that it matters. You are my king.”

“A king you have special dispensation to put down like a sick dog if ever you see fit,” Mafvin said dryly. Dayenmon smiled, one side of it pulled crooked by the three scars running down his cheek.

He held out a hand to Mafvin, who pulled himself to his feet with a sigh. “So. Our soldiers are going to war and being killed. That is their choice.”

Dayehmon snorted. “Now I think you’re a fool,” he said sharply. “We conscript our soldiers, Eos, you know that. Not all of them made that choice.”

Mafvin flinched, but Dayehmon was right. Mafvin had tried to overturn the conscription acts again and again, but the council refused to agree. He’d never fought in the army, they had argued. He’d never fought in the nearly constant wars against Eola, or had any idea what running a military was like. He clearly didn’t understand the necessity of conscription. He should stick to overseeing agriculture and logistics, and let his council and generals worry over such matters.

They’d said that for years, and now, they begged him to fight their war for them.

“I could end the fighting,” Mafvin said, looking down at his hands. “That’s what they all tell me. I could end it all. I could march into Eola and take Kydrei whenever I wish.”

“I suppose you could,” Dayehmon agreed. Mafvin continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“I could kill them all. It would be easy. Eola is pushing because they don’t fear me. They don’t fear me, because I’ve never brought my magic against them.” Mafvin paced, thick, tangled grass and weeds blossoming under each step, only to be trampled again when he turned in his little circle. Dayehmon reached up to pluck an apple off the tree above him, nestled among out-of-season flowers. “They believe my power is diminished if I leave the heart of the country - I suppose the council’s spies managed one good thing over the years,” he added dryly.

“More likely the soldiers believe that, and the generals have some idea of how to deal with you when they get here,” Dayehmon mused.

“I - I don’t want to kill anyone, Tibur.” Mafvin stopped to look at him, despair in his leaf-green eyes. “I’ve hurt enough people already. Vitalia bears the scars of my mistakes, I - I’ve sworn to do everything I can to avoid killing with my magic.”

Dayehmon eyed the apple. “And you’ve tried to end the wars.”

Mafvin gave a sharp laugh. “Not that it’s helped anything,” he said scornfully.

“But you’ve tried,” Dayehmon pressed. He gave a sigh of his own. “I don’t have an answer for you, Eos. They see you as a weapon. As magic incarnate, and nothing else. A means to an end. The same way they see the soldiers.”

Mafvin remained silent, staring into the cluster of trees. They groaned and creaked, though there was no wind to make them shifted so. The ground shuddered under his feet; a breeze picked up, rattling the tree branches and fluttering the moss and ivy.

Dayehmon watched him, and the restlessness of nature around the king; small lights winked on and off among the trees like fireflies in the middle of the day. He was sure Mafvin had no idea.

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” Dayehmon said, at last. “I think you have an impossible choice to make. They see your magic, but that’s all they see. I don’t have magic, just blood. I see what the soldiers would see. Death.”

Mafvin flinched at that, and looked down at his hands. He was rarely still, but he’d stayed in one place long enough that a vine crept up his legs, wrapping around his arm and flowering in his palm. Dayehmon scuffed his feet as he stepped over, placing a hand on Mafvin’s arm.

“There’s going to be death either way,” Dayehmon said quietly. “You have to decide whether the cost of action or inaction is worth the toll yourself.”

He gave Mafvin’s arm a comforting squeeze, then looked up as the gate to the gardens creaked open. A servant cleared her throat, bowed, and said, “Your Majesty, the Queen wishes to invite you for tea.”

---

Mafvin knew what side the queen had taken.

She’d been more involved with the council than ever during the war, speaking with them in meetings Mafvin was carefully not told about. They all feigned innocence when he asked why he wasn’t summoned. “We did, of course,” one councilor would say anxiously. “Perhaps the message was misplaced.”

The queen would widen her blue eyes and suggest, “We had assumed you’d be off on one of your jaunts anyway, my love.”

My love. They had never loved each other, and everyone knew it. Yet she always fell back to her pet names, her condescending terms of endearment. Even the children had long stopped believing there was any affection between them.

Of course, it wasn’t as if the council’s assumptions were unfounded. Mafvin hated council meetings, hated war meetings, hated anything where he had to sit still and focus for longer than ten minutes. He hated being king.

The queen’s gardens were neat and orderly, a sharp contrast to the sprawling mess that Mafvin’s magic shaped without thinking. He stepped out onto a perfectly manicured path of crushed white gravel - crystals, really, ones that he’d summoned from the earth himself to please her, and to burn off his magic one foggy autumn morning. Maybe he didn’t truly love her, but there was no reason not to try to please her.

At least, there used to be no reason.

She sat at a small iron-wrought table, one Mafvin had crafted after spending a month with the iron-smiths in the capital. Tea had been set out, and she looked up from the table with a smile when she heard his footsteps on the path.

“I hear,” she said, her voice as lyrical as a brook, “that my husband has decided to be a coward.”

Mafvin stopped short.

“Is that so,” he answered, his tone flat. The queen smiled at him and gestured to the other chair.

“Would you like to sit, or pace about like an unruly child, as you usually do?” she asked. Mafvin twitched his fingers, and the teapot poured for them both, one teacup floating towards him.

“Why do you want me to fight so badly?” he asked, deciding to just get straight to the point. “Hoping I’ll be killed, so you can take the throne?”

During the more pleasant days of their relationship, it would have been nothing more than a playful jab - she and Mafvin knew why they’d been married to each other. But now, there was a snide, sharp weight to the words. The queen stiffened, tilting her chin. Mafvin watched her as he sipped at his tea, and nearly apologized - but why should he, anyway? They’d never loved each other. It was merely tolerance.

“No,” she said, after too long a silence, her voice curt. “I want to end this war. Which I had thought was your goal, as well. You always say how tired you are of the fighting.”

“I was tired of the fighting long before this conflict ever began,” Mafvin snapped. He let go of the teacup, but it remained in place, with nothing but his magic to support it. “I was tired of the fighting when it was my grandfather who had the throne, and I was just learning what a sword was meant for. But you - all if you, the council, the damned country - you all kept pushing and poking at them, at the border, and now see where we are!”

“Here, with the Eolans knocking on our front door,” she retorted, “and the best man to stop them refusing to care for his people.

Mafvin sucked in an angry breath. The gravel shifted beneath his feet, and the teacup wavered next to him. “Do not,” he seethed, “accuse me of not caring. Everything I have done, I have done for my people.”

“Except keep them safe from those marauders,” the queen snapped back. “You see the news from the front before any of us. You hear what is coming on the winds, what the animals chatter about. You see the blood that soaks the Finns. Don’t pretend you’re keeping them safe with your inaction.”

Mafvin’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. The teacup trembled, and then some invisible force crushed it into perfect dust.

The tea never hit the ground, but instead swirled around, ridding itself of teacup fragments before it streamed through the air and back into the teapot. It was guided not by the king, but by his wife, her fingers directing the liquid back down the spout of the ceramic teapot.

Water. The most powerful water mage in the Eastern Quarter. ‘To nourish the green magic of the king,’ they’d proclaimed at the wedding ceremony, as if the entire court were pretending this was not a marriage to breed even more powerful mages than Mafvin himself.

She was as nourishing as seawater. Mafvin was more likely to drown in one of her storms, than to ever be bolstered.

“Eos,” she said flatly. “The Eolans tortured and killed the governor of Aelford, his family, and the people of his city. When they finally reach Finns, what do you think they will do then?”

She stood, her skirts not quite brushing the ground. “Will you let them march in? Will you raise your magic against them then? I suspect you will not, because of your fear and cowardice. You’ll leave the fighting to us.”

“And yet,” Mafvin returned, his voice sharp, “you are still here, my darling wife. You, who could bring the entire river Finns against them, or choke them with a fog. I don’t see you marching off to the front lines, with the mages you so happily conscripted. Why should I go while you stay behind, and drink your damned tea?”

The teapot rattled, cracks forming in the ceramic; the tea began to leak through in droplets, and then the entire thing exploded - and flash-froze just as quickly, leaving a chunk of iced ceramic and tea in the center of the little table.

The queen pursed her lips. Mafvin tried to feel smug, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to it. Goading her into losing control of her magic used to be a victory, but now he just felt empty and angry. They never loved each other, but at least they used to like each other. What had changed?

“I will do what is necessary,” the queen said, quietly savage. She gathered up her skirts and stalked past Mafvin, disappearing down the winding path back towards the castle.

He didn’t watch her leave, but remained there, staring at the frozen tea and broken ceramic until his vision blurred. He blinked once, twice, then wiped at his eyes.

The frozen liquid softened, swirling upwards and letting the shattered pieces of the teapot lower gently to the table. Mafvin stepped over, picking up the shards with his hands and his magic, trying to piece them back together. His result was a cracked vessel. He wasn’t exactly a potter, just like he wasn’t exactly an ironsmith, or a miner, or a soldier, or a king.

All the magic in the world, and Mafvin couldn’t fix any of this.

His wife’s voice floated back to him through the gardens. She wasn’t talking to him, but her beautiful voice always carried like a stream’s trickling.

“Ah, Vitalia!” The queen sounded bright and cheery as she greeted their eldest daughter. Mafvin barely heard Vitalia’s murmured reply, and the sound of a door opening. “Have you heard? We’re sending you to the Summer Palace, until this whole nasty business with the Eolans is settled.”

The queen’s voice faded as they walked inside. “You’ll be safe there, my dearest.”

#iwrite #mafvin #dayehmon #vitalia #ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

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petersasteria · 4 years ago

Text

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (9)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 closes the door and turns around to see Y/N and Harley on the floor on the living room with papers scattered everywhere. He smiles to himself while staring at them. Harrison starts to feel this weird feeling like they look like a family somehow. Harrison shakes the thought out of his head and walks towards them and joins them on the floor.

"So, what's all this?" He asks. He didn't understand them all, but if there's one thing he's sure about, it's all for the wedding. It kind of broke his heart because he's grown to like her since that day in the bookstore. He grabs one of the wedding magazines and flips through it.

"It's for the wedding. You said you'd help so yeah. I need help for the wedding dress." Y/N sighs in frustration. Harrison looks at her and furrows his eyebrows, "Why?"

Y/N looks at him and chuckles, "Because I'm getting married...? It's logical for a bride to wear a wedding dress at her wedding."

"Yeah, I know that." Harrison blushes. "But why do you need help with it?"

Y/N shrugs, "For opinions, I guess."

Harrison nods, "Okay but in my opinion, you shouldn't ask anyone about it. If you feel like a princess in the dress that you pick and if you really like it, anyone else's opinion isn't valid anymore. It's your wedding. Don't let anyone else decide for you or you won't be happy with it."

Y/N blushes and nods, "You know what? You're right. I'll follow what I want. Tom would want that." Harrison's heart drops at the mention of Tom but he didn't let it show.

Harley hears this but he pretends he doesn't. He doesn't want to ruin the moment between his parents despite them not knowing. Instead, he busies himself in flipping through the papers Y/N laid out that showed dresses for the bridesmaids, colors, centerpieces, and other stuff that are sketched.

"What else do you need?" Harley asks. Y/N hums and looks at her list, "Aside from the wedding dress, the centerpieces, I guess. I want it simple but elegant."

Harrison and Harley nods and begin to look through everything. Y/N helps too. They end up with top three centerpieces. Y/N loves all of them but she knows she should only pick one. "This is so difficult." Y/N sighs in frustration. "Let's take a break. Enough wedding planning."

"Are you sure? You only have four days left." Harley says. Y/N looks at him and ruffles up his hair and says, "I'm sure."

The three of them clean up in the living room and sit on the couch. They sit together in comfortable in silence when Harrison breaks it, "Harley can sing."

"Really? Let's hear it Harley!" Y/N says excitedly as he looks at the young boy.

"I don't have my guitar with me, though." Harley says shyly.

"You can do it in acapella." Harrison says. "I know you can. It's just me and Y/N here. Don't be scared." He reassures with a smile. Harley sighs and stands up from the couch and stands in front of them.

"Yay, Harley!!" Y/N cheers and claps.

Harley clears his throat and starts, "Just a small town girl. Livin' in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere."

Harley stops and says, "I'm sorry. I'm just really shy."

"But why? You weren't shy the other day when you say in front of people." Harrison frowns.

"My guitar gives me confidence." Harley confesses. "I'm sorry."

"Just a city boy. Born and raised in South Detroit. He took the midnight train going anywhere." Y/N sings with a smile.

"I didn't know you could sing!" Harley chuckles and looks at her in awe. Harrison looks at her in awe too.

"Aww, thanks. There's a lot of things you don't know about me." Y/N giggles and looks at Harrison. "Continue it. It's acapella night!"

Harrison chuckles, "Don't tell me I sound terrible, okay?"

"Okay. Now, sing!"

"A singer in a smokey room. The smell of wine and cheap perfume. For a smile they can share the night-" Harrison sings.

Y/N smiles and blends with him, "It goes on and on and on and on."

Harley grins at them and stands on the coffee table and points at them, "Strangers waiting up and down the boulevard. Their shadows searchin' in the night."

Harrison grabs the remote and sings, "Streetlight, people. Livin' just to find emotion." He points at Y/N.

Y/N snickers before continuing, "Hidin' somewhere in the night!"

"You nailed that high note!" Harley grins.

"Thanks!" Y/N giggles.

Harrison crouches down in front of Harley and says, "Hop on!" Harley immediately gets on his shoulders and continues the song, "Workin' hard to get my fill! Everybody wants a thrill! Payin' anything to roll the dice, just one more time."

"Some will win, some will lose." Harrison sings as he looks up at Harley.

"Some where born to sing the blues!" Y/N sings and takes the remote from Harrison. "Oh the movie never ends it goes on and on and on and on."

She starts running around the living room and Harrison chases her, "Hey, that's my makeshift mic! Give it back!"

Y/N runs fast and laughs, "Nope!"

"Get her!" Harley shouts and laughs and holds on to Harrison's hair.

"Careful with my hair, buddy. I don't want to be bald." Harrison jokes and runs around the living room to chase Y/N.

"Don't stop believin'. Hold on to that feelin'. Streetlight, people oh oh oh." Harley continues despite being in a fit of giggles.

"Don't stop believin'. Hold on to that feelin'." Harrison sings perfectly as Y/N stops to catch her breath.

"Streetlight, people, oh oh oh! Don't stop!" Y/N ends the song with a high note. Harley cheers and laughs, "We make a great group! I think we should make acapella night happen all the time. I can almost hear the music."

"Same here." Harrison chuckles and crouches down again so Harley could safely get down from his shoulders.

"You guys should sing some solos." Harley suggests. It's not just any suggestion, though. He has a plan. If he can get both Y/N and Harrison to sing individually, they'll fall in love. Besides, Harley thinks that Y/N and Harrison are slowly starting to have feelings for each other. And the best part? Harley doesn't doubt it one bit.

"I haven't done that in a while, to be honest." Y/N says.

"So does this mean you're not up for it?" Harrison smirks. Y/N looks at him and raises her eyebrow, "Who said I wasn't up for it? Of course I am! In fact, I already have a song."

"You go first, then." Harley giggles and sits on the couch. Harrison sits next to him and nods, "Go for it, Y/N."

"Fine." Y/N smirks. She looks around and sees a vase full of flowers. She immediately gets all of them and she grabs her suitcase and then she walks out the apartment. Harley and Harrison looks at each in confusion but they get surprised when Y/N suddenly opens the door, enters the apartment and sings, "Don't tell me not to live just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"

She closes the door and walks towards them, "Don't tell me not to fly, I simply got to. If someone takes a spill it's me," she points to herself using the flowers before pointing to Harrison and Harley, "And not you! Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?"

"I'll march my band out. I'll beat my drum and if I'm fanned out," Y/N lets go of her suitcase and sits down on the coffee table and looks at Harrison, "Your turn at bat, sir. At least I didn't fake it. Hat, sir. I guess I didn't make it."

Y/N looks at Harley and smiles, "But whether I'm the rose of sheer perfection," She walks towards Harley and boops his nose, "a freckle on the nose of life's complexion,"

She quickly turns to Harrison and cups his face and stares into his eyes, "The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye."

She pulls away and sits back down on the coffee table, "I gotta fly once, I gotta try once. Only can die once, right, sir? Ooh, life is juicy. Juicy and you see I gotta have my bite, sir. Get ready for me, love, 'cause I'm a comer."

She quickly stands up and stands on the coffee table, "I simply gotta march my heart's a drummer! Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"

She slowly gets down the coffee table, "I'm gonna live and live now. Get what I want I know how. One roll for the whole show BANG!"

She points at the doorbell, "One throw, that bell will go CLANG! Eye on the target and WHAM! One shot, one gun shot, and BAM!"

She looks at the two boys and smirks, "Hey, Mr. Arnstein. Here I am!"

"She's really good, don't you think?" Harley whispers in Harrison's ear. Harrison just nods, though. He's in too much awe listening and watching Y/N sing her heart out. Harley smiles to himself as he watches Y/N again. His plan was working!

"Get ready for me, love, 'cause I'm a comer! I simply gotta march my heart's a drummer! Nobody, no, nobody-" Y/N takes a deep breath for the climax of the song. "Is gonna rain on my parade!!"

Harley and Harrison cheer and clap for her and Y/N bows, "Thank you! Thank you!"

They all laugh. Harley points at her things, "Why did you need flowers and a suitcase?"

"Darling, they're my props! Barbra Streisand did it in 'Funny Girl' and it seemed appropriate." Y/N shrugs and chuckles. "Your turn, Harrison! I wanna see what you come up with."

"Mine doesn't involve flowers and a suitcase. Also, I'll only sing a short part." Harrison chuckles and stands up in front of them. Y/N puts the flowers back and settles her suitcase next to the couch before sitting next to Harley.

"You can start now, Harrison." Harley says with a smile. He forgot what it feels like to hang out with his parents. You know, just the three of them.

"Oh my god. I'm shy. I don't really sing for anyone." Harrison laughs nervously.

"Aww, c'mon. We literally sang together a while ago." Y/N says.

"Yeah but we were a group. I haven't sung on my own unless I'm in the shower, but I'll give it a shot!" Harrison smiles and clears his throat. "I can't fight this feeling any longer and yet I'm still afraid to let it flow. What started out as friendship has grown stronger, I only wish I had the strength to let it show."

Harley's no love expert, but based on the lyrics and how Harrison is looking at Y/N, Harley knows that the song is reflecting how Harrison currently feels. 'Geez, dad really falls in love fast.' Harley thinks to himself.

"And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night and I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..." Harrison smiles.

"'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I've started fighting for. Even if I have to crawl upon your floor, come crashing through your door. Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore ooooh." Harrison ends the song and smiles. Harley and Y/N cheer for him. Then Harley yawns.

"Ouch. Was I boring?" Harrison jokes.

Harley shakes his head, "'M just tired, I guess."

"Same here. It's not easy being a performer." Y/N flips her hair as they all laugh.

"Let's get ready for bed, then." Harrison smiles and carries Harley to the room with Y/N following behind them.

All of them take turns in the bathroom to get ready. After that, Harrison tucks Harley in and Y/N leaves him a glass of water on his bedside table. Harley notices this and smiles at the thought of his mom, Y/N.

"What're you smiling about?" Y/N smiles at him. Harley looks at her and shakes his head, "Nothing. I-It's just that my mum does the same thing. Sometimes, she'll leave a glass of milk. She said she does that in case I wake up in the middle of the night because of thirst."

"Really? I do the same thing!" Y/N grins. Harley chuckles and yawns. Y/N looks at Harrison and says, "Someone's sleepy."

"I know right." Harrison chuckles. He glances at Harley who's already asleep. He and Y/N looks at each and they get out of the room.

"So, how are you so good with kids?" Y/N asks Harrison on the way to the kitchen. She prepares a snack for both of them while Harrison prepares the beverages.

Harrison shrugs, "It's natural, I guess. You were great, by the way. Where'd you learn how to sing like that?"

"It's natural, I guess." Y/N smirks.

"What's your job again?" Harrison asks.

"I'm an interior designer." Y/N tells him and hands him a sandwich. "Thanks." Harrison mumbles.

"Why aren't you in theater? You belong there. I mean, based from what I've seen."

"I won't lie, I've thought about it, but I realized that I don't picture myself doing it for years you know? It's just not for everyone." Y/N smiles at him and he smiles back. Both of them subconsciously lean in but they immediately pull back.

"Um, it's getting late." Y/N chuckles nervously.

"Y-Yeah, you're right." Harrison says. "Good night."

Y/N nods and says, "Good night."

"Amadis, your watch has been blinking like crazy!" Saint Christopher says as he eats his sandwich.

"Check it." Saint Thomas Aquinas encourages. Amadis sighs and checks his watch and smiles at everything he's reading.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘/𝐍 𝐘/𝐋/𝐍 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘/𝐍 𝐘/𝐋/𝐍 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.

Whatever Harley's doing back in London, it seems to be working and Amadis is absolutely living for it.

* * * *

-not proofread- im sorry sksks but i love this chapter tho

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @silencetheslaves @imeanlifesabitshit @joyleenl @hjoficrecs @myblueleatherbag @poguesholland @harryismysunflower @justanothermarvelmaniac @lonikje @lizzyosterfield @itstaskeen @ilarbu

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @perspectiveparker @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @chloecreatesfictions @holland-styles @halfblood-princess-505-deactiva @spidey-reids-2003 @herbatkazmiloscia

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years ago

Text

Jan 19th, Tuesday 18:08

„What would you like to drink?“

Jens went over towards the kitchen, followed by cautious feet behind him, as he tried to recount what Lies had bought on the weekend.

„We don’t have a lot of alcohol,“ the boy went on, „but I think we have some beer and there should be an opened red wine from Saturday, if I’m not mistaken.“ He opened the fridge, scanning the items, while his finger tapped across the cold frame of the door he hold onto. „Other than that, orange or apple juice, and like icetea or water.“

„Water will do, and some of the wine. We don’t want it to go to waste, right?“

„Of course not.“ Jens replied, grabbing said bottles to carry them over to the table. He took a deep breath. He closed the fridge. Jens was incredibly nervous. Had been for hours today. It just had gotten worse, once the doorbell had rung five minutes ago.

His father stood by the set table, tall and sturdier than Jens had remembered him to be. Still the man had the same face, the same wandering eyes, that constantly seemed to examine everything it could catch. Hendrik was older, his hair giving in to grey strands that fell into his face again and again, only to be tugged behind the ear.

His father looked lost in this house. Familiar and yet an intruder in the home, his mom had created for her and her three children. The image was off, tilted and skrewed.

„If she isn’t down in a couple minutes, I’ll go up myself. Seriously, ever since she started playing Mario Maker 2 with Olivia last week, she had barely done anything else.“ Jens complained, brushing off the slight discomfort, because what else was there to talk about. Everything he wanted to say, was too much, too personal to bring up over dinner. He’d ask his father to stay a little longer, once Lotte would be in bed.

„I’m trying hard to keep it in, but I remember another eight-year-old, who refused to put his gameboy away for anything but to sleep. Throwing a tantrum whenever it was gone.“

Hendrik laughed, his eyes crinkled in kindness despite the jab at his son’s expense. Jens felt the awkwardness rise to his cheeks, while he grinned back at the man across of him. He had a point, Jens guessed.

„Do you still need help with anything?

„No. It’s in the oven to keep warm. Just waiting for Lotte.“ Jens explained and waved off the kind offer, that fell completely short in Jens’s eyes. He also viewed his father to be more a guest than a member of this family. A person who just dropped by as it was convinient. „You can already sit down, though, if you want.“

If Jens was honest with himself, he would have loved to despise his father and scream at the ease of the situation they found themselves in. It went against what Jens would consider to be the normal reaction. He shouldn’t be smiling with a man who choose his work over his children.

But all these late night talks with his mom had somehow helped to accept it.

Jens still felt anger, still felt the abondoment and sadness that came with his father’s leave.

He wondered if he should sit here at this table with the man, who even after everything made Jens more serene to know to have around than not. His heart was torn by the duality of his fellings.

„How long have you been on sea this time? And where have you beenin the first place?“ Jens asked, for a lack of a better topic. He also was curious to be a child again and marvel at all the things his father had heard and seen.

„It was the first part of an artic expedition along the Greenlandic coast. I was on this big icebreaker, crushing through the tall waves and large ice floes. Enwrapped in total darkness for the last couple of weeks. Any second spend in a night that never ended. But the stars on cloudless hours were fantastic to see. And the northern lights, I certainly have photographs with me to show you. I’ve seen them before, but it had been years and it completely captivated me again to see the colours dance across the black sky. Absolutely worth giving up the sun for a while.“

His father poured himself some wine and some more for his son, who had just brought them glasses to fill. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy at least a little bit of gentle drunkness. At least enough to hopefully drown out the faint panic at the conversation ahead of them later that night.

„However, that were just the last three month. I was on a submarine before then. That lasted over the whole summer. I was assisting an old colleague of mine. He is from Irkutsk north of Mongolia in Russia. One of the most brilliant people I had the fortune to meet. He is studying deep sea creatures. And it allowed me to refresh some of my russian. So I obviously took six month of intensive deep diving lessons to further my skills and got my fitness up to be able to go with him. I can hardly put in words how humbling and how extremly frightening the whole experience was. Dangerous to be under so much weight of water and the pressure pounding in on the vessel. No light, only low rumble. Eery.“

His father’s pitch dropped as he spoke. It caught Jens to listen in to every word with intent.

„There was like this gripping loneliness at the bottom of the ocean. We just had each other in an environment that would be lethal for us to be in. Just narrow rooms and halles, wrapped in equipment. I am so grateful to have accepted to go. For a month we even had someone of the BBC with us to film some footage for a documentary.“

And there he was. Hendrik Stoffels. Always something to say, and show, and explain, and ponder over. Eager to get a grasp on the vastness of the sea and the depth of the water beneath him.

Sometimes Jens found himself wishing to be as passionate about anything in his life, like his father was about the marine wildlife and his adventurous expeditions.

It was hard to hate someone, who has found so much happiness and love outside of traditional metrics. Hendrik hadn’t wanted to settle down and he hadn’t wanted fame nor monetary success. He wanted to explore, Jens’s mom had told him. That was what fullfilled his father, and Jens would be lying if he said he didn’t yearned to figure out what would make him feel like that too.

„Lotte.“ Hendrik proclaimed bright, ripping Jens out of his thoughts, as the girl appeared next to them to take her usual seat.

She had the switch with her, but the screen was dark and she had placed it next to her plate. Her eyes were stuck on the strange man, she had no recollection of. She had been two when Hendrik had left, who could hold that against her. This man may as well be a random person Jens had picked up on the street.

„My god, Jens had grown, but you, you actually turned into an actual human being.“ Their father chuckled, his gaze transfixed on the girl in wonder. One day a toddler and the next an eight-year-old child. The six years almost non-existent, Jens guessed by the look in their father’s expression.

His words hold the same sentiment that he had brought against Jens on the doorstep into the house. When it had taken Hendrik a long minute to process to have found a young man in the place of his son he had left behind.

If Jens would be asked, he’d say, that for once his father had been rendered speechless.

„Shall we eat?“ His father went on, when Jens had been to busy with his thoughts to pay attention to the reason they had met in the first place.

„Yes!“ Lotte loudly declared, already wiping the napkin off of her plate.

„One sec.“ Jens replied amused, before he turned to get the baking dish out of the oven.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

#week 13 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #hendrik #there in the end

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songfell-ut · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 10, one month in!

Man, I might actually finish this. Link here and @lostmypotatoes remains great.

This one mostly features Frisk having enough of everyone’s shit.

When Sans had composed himself enough to leave the wallpaper behind, he found Dr. Serif double-checking the paperwork while Frisk rustled around in her dressing room. As soon as she emerged in her black dress, the doctor said, "I have a request, Sans. When you escort Snowdrake home, I'd like you to stay in human form. Two monsters going anywhere without an owner will attract too much attention, especially near the border, and we should see whether your disguise can fool another monster. Do you think you can masquerade as a human who is using Sans' magic?"

Sans didn't like the idea – in fact, he completely hated it – but he was in the mood to think before he spoke, and the more he did, the more it made sense. "Yeah, I guess. If I told 'im who I was, he'd probably think I'd been brainwashed or somethin'. Everyone would be weird about it when I got home."

"Exactly." The royal sorcerer rolled the papers back up and placed the scroll on the edge of the table. "Does Sans need to bring the deed to the house with him in case he's questioned, my lady?"

"No, I've written a note and put my seal on it. Here's a map with the house marked, and I also have an insignia he can carry." The priestess went to a little nook by the fireplace, glanced at herself in the mirror, and opened a drawer full of odds and ends. "Where is...ah." Frisk pulled out a leather armband. "This will identify you as the High Priestess' personal agent. I don't use it often, but anyone you speak to should recognize it."

Sans had retrieved his silver chain from the bedroom. He looped it around his neck, put the smaller items in his overcoat, and accepted the armband, admiring the patterns of tiny white and red crystals worked into the leather. "Spiffy. So, if anyone asks me who I am an' where I'm takin' Snowdrake, I can tell 'em to shove it?"

"You will not tell anyone to shove it." He winced at her tone—yep, she was still mad at him. "Furthermore, please remember your fortune. No matter what happens, unless it is absolutely the only way to keep yourself and Snowdrake safe, I don't want you to kill anyone." She swept an errant lock of hair behind her ear, voice softening. "Please, Sans."

The boss monster's SOUL fluttered. He looked down at the armband, which was more of a wristband at his human size. "Fine," he said, trying to sound careless. "I'll talk first, only kill 'em if they really, really bug me."

"Sans!" He'd forgotten that Frisk had the lungs to roar like a miniature hurricane. "Do you care about anything but yourself and what you want to do? If you kill anyone and you cannot come back here and look me in the eye to tell me why it was necessary, I don't want you to come back at all! Do you understand?!"

Sans was speechless. As her echoes bounced off the corners of the room, he not only couldn't think of what to say, it felt like the magic comprising his vocal cords had evaporated.

Into the silence fell the sound of someone rapping on the double doors. Frisk whipped on her veil and headdress, allowing the bemused Dr. Serif to get up and admit two armed guards.

Between the men drooped a birdlike, half-grown monster roughly four feet tall, ice forming on the chains around its neck and feet. Without preamble, the priestess snapped her fingers at the guards and said, "Remove his bonds. Now."

The shorter guard coughed as Snowdrake shrank further back. "He is secured with the commonest type of lock. Your Ladyship will doubtless possess the key already," the guard mumbled.

Though her features were obscured by the veil, the High Priestess' body language was so expressive of absolute wrath that the men swallowed and gripped their weapons tighter. Without turning her head, she said to Sans in measured, glacial tones, "Get rid of those chains."

"As milady wishes," Sans said cheerfully, raising his left hand. The guards didn't notice the red mist surrounding the collar or shackles, but they did see the metal burst into fragments; the men nearly wet themselves as the rest of the chains fell off the startled drake.

"Leave us," ordered Frisk, and they were happy to obey, one pausing to grab the scroll and the other nearly running out the doors ahead of him.

Snowdrake's beak fluttered open, but he shut it and cringed as Frisk reached for his neck. "That's Sans' magic," whispered the young monster. "How'd you get him?"

Frisk placed her hand on his head, feeling him tremble. "He's unharmed, and he's given us his magic in order to help return you to the Underground." She brushed the last few links off his feathery neck, trying to avoid the half-healed scabs where the collar had rubbed him raw. "I am not your new owner, Snowdrake. You're going to be free."

The ice monster's eyes darted between her and the two men. "Yes, my lady," he said woodenly.

The poor kid. Sans knew exactly what it was like to be at a human witch's mercy and having to hear that kind of crap. Only the knowledge that she wasn't lying and Snowdrake would be home soon kept Sans from dropping the disguise right then and there.

"My guard will escort you as close as he can to the entrance to the Underground," Frisk told Snowdrake, then looked at Sans. "You shouldn't have trouble, but if you run into poachers, I'm giving you full authority to protect yourselves through non-lethal means. Is that understood?"

Sans nodded. To his surprise, Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "I think you had better take this as well. Consider it repayment." He produced yet another brooch from his robe, this one large and faintly pink. Sans wondered irritably how many of them he still had. "If you use this to supplement the magic you already possess, you can make the journey in a few easy stages. Pace yourself, and do not hurry back." He sat down as Sans put the brooch away. "Several people in the plot against Her Eminence have already been detained. We will maintain a watch in case anyone else involved decides to strike before they're discovered, and I will personally check on her throughout the day."

"Indeed," said Frisk. "Please take your time."

Holy shit, that hurt. The boss monster plunged his hands into his pockets to avoid breaking anything. "Breakfast should be here in a moment," the priestess went on, "and as soon as you've—" Right on cue, there was another knock at the door. "—both eaten, we'll pack something for you to take with you."

Sans tried to catch her eye, but she went back to the office as the servant unloaded the trolley. Snowdrake made no move to eat until Sans put a plate down and told him, "Go for it," at which the ice monster almost literally dove in. There was no telling the last time he'd had enough to eat, so Sans didn't ask, letting Snowdrake devour nearly everything and gulp down all the milk.

Fortunately, there was a bundle of apples and sandwiches sitting on the bottom of the trolley, along with three flasks of water and one of cider. "I ordered extra provisions. You'll need to keep your strength up," said Dr. Serif, waving away Sans' muttered thanks. He checked that Snowdrake was done, then called, "They're leaving, my lady."

Frisk reemerged, still veiled. "The best of luck to you both," she said.

Sans picked up the bundle, tucking it under his arm. "Sure, boss. See you when I get back." He jerked his head at Snowdrake, who was peering up at him, eyes half closed. "C'mon." Sans shouldered the doors open for the smaller monster to trudge through; a second later, the guard outside made a squeaky sound that indicated Sans had teleported them away.

The priestess sank into a chair, shoulders slumping as she pulled off her headdress. Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "You look as though you need more rest, Your Eminence. Unless, of course, you'd like to talk about your—"

"No. Thank you," she said, loud and sharp. Frisk picked up a fresh stack of letters, sorting them into different piles according to the wax seals or lack thereof. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and I'll be very dull company for the next several hours. I'm sure you also have a great deal of work to do—have you started drafting your proposed specifications for the first set of solar arrays?"

"Yes, my lady. In fact, I've scheduled a meeting later this morning with several of my colleagues to discuss the matter. I'll be back this afternoon, but if you need anything at all in the meantime..."

"Thank you," she said again, a little more calmly. "I also must thank you for your help earlier with Sans. Did you figure out why he was acting so strange? I can't believe he grabbed me like that! I don't know what he could have been thinking."

The doctor made a wry face at her back. "I'm not sure how it happened, my lady. I don't believe he intended to become inebriated, but that is certainly what he was." He paused. "I will also keep you apprised of developments in Fernand's interrogation. Your Eminence will be glad to know that Lord Owen has been cleared of suspicion, more than adequately."

Frisk looked daggers at him. "Has he?"

"Indeed," he said gravely. "The moment his friend was arrested, Lord Owen volunteered to answer questions under hypnosis. He was tested beforehand for any magic with which he might have resisted or subverted the procedure, which ensured his answers were completely truthful. He is guiltless, and can offer no further information."

She nodded, returning to the next stack of letters. Why did she feel just the tiniest bit disappointed?

It was no use pretending. In her too-honest, very tired mind, she knew exactly why: it would've been the ideal excuse to reject him and find another suitor for her "adequate" future. It wasn't at all nice, but facts were facts. No matter how much she wanted to be married, having Luke as a husband would be like sleeping with her brother!

So, that just left...who?

The doctor coughed theatrically. "Before I go, my lady..."

Something made Frisk look up at him. Dr. Serif gave her a brief smile, and said with unusual delicacy, "With no intrusion intended or opinion attached, I beg that you inform me if and when you wish to safely dispose of your box. Whatever may be inside it, I assume there is magic involved, and throwing it away without the proper precautions may have consequences."

Frisk picked up an envelope and hissed between her teeth as she felt the paper slice her thumb. "I understand, Doctor. Good day to you."

He half-smiled. "And to you, my lady." When she looked up a moment later, he was already gone.

If Frisk had ever had a more miserable day as High Priestess, she didn't want to remember when. She hadn't just been trying to get rid of the royal sorcerer; she really did have a pile of mail to get through. The only attention she paid to the proposals was to make a stack of rejects, maybes, and actual prospects. Then she threw the maybes into the reject pile. Then she had to literally grab her own wrist to keep from dumping the entire basket into the fireplace—if she was destined to either marry Lord Owen or hop right into bed with someone unmarriageable, why bother wading through any of these?

A small, flat package at the bottom of the stack puzzled her until she opened it and several bookmarks fell out. Right: she'd ordered them when Sans got after her one time too many for her uncouth reading habits. She could fold all the pages she wanted today, Frisk tried to tell herself, but it just made her wish he was here to tell her to leaf them alone or mark his words. When she got another paper cut, she started to ask him to heal it for her, only to realize she was speaking to an empty room. She had to make do by washing her hands and applying tiny bits of ointment that came right off when she picked up more envelopes.

Just before lunch, Frisk told herself she'd earned a break and went in to flop on the enormous bed. Would Sans be back tonight? If he wasn't back by evening, should she go ahead and sleep in here, knowing he could come back inexplicably drunk and try to cuddle her again?

...She couldn't shake the idea. Technically, she should be scared at the idea of a ten-foot monster with no inhibitions invading her space when she was most vulnerable, but...she wasn't. Not remotely. In fact, her imagination was running with it so fast that she couldn't catch up, much less stop it. Frisk actually had to remind herself that Sans was a skeleton, only for her self to remind her that there were approximately two hundred creative ways around that particular deficit. Ah, well. It was all stupid, harmless tired-brain fantasy about someone she was comfortable with, not as if she was going to marry him or anything...

This was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours, and she was still furious with him, but she missed Sans so much that she could barely function.

There was another knock, and the priestess scowled as she got up to put on her veil and answer the outside door. To her surprise, it was Luke, holding a tiny velvet jewelry pouch out to her. "Good morning, Your Eminence," he said as she pasted on a smile. "Forgive my intrusion, but I came to return this in person."

Frisk opened the drawstrings and pulled out her pearl bracelet, the one he'd removed so the parrot wouldn't destroy it. "Oh. Thank you," she said automatically. Luke waited for more, and she glanced behind her. "I am sorry, Lord Owen, but you've caught me in the middle of decanting. The fumes will be potentially harmful once the mixture has heated, so..."

"It's quite all right. I didn't intend a long visit," he assured her. "I wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look over the contact information I forwarded to you."

Thank God she had found his note in her mail, or else she wouldn't have remembered the farmland at all. "Yes, I have, thank you," she replied. "I'll send your broker an inquiry with the name of my banker. Shall I inform you when I hear back from her?"

"If it's quite convenient, yes, please." The young lord shuffled his feet, as if he was suddenly uncomfortable about something. "Fr—Your Eminence, may I ask if any of the rumors about the All Souls festival are accurate?"

The guard at her door had been doubled, and she couldn't help noticing how both of them were waiting to hear her answer. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Owen, but I don't know what you're talking about. I have no time for ridiculous gossip," she almost snapped.

"Yes, of course, of course. I'm the one who must beg forgiveness. I'm sure you would never..." Her stare intensified, and he hastened to say, "The last reason I've trespassed on your time is that I am preparing to visit St. Brigid's. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. May I tell Mathilda that you've been well?"

"Absolutely!" Frisk knew this was where she was supposed to ask how his sister was doing in general, how her studies were going, etc. etc., and pass along all sorts of loving messages. But somehow, with her blood still humming and her potential husband right in front of her, and Sans not there to see, she had just one thought: "Could you give her something from me?"

"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly. "What is it?"

Frisk nodded, stepped forward and gave him a quick, decisive hug, careful to get her arms all the way around him before she stepped back. "Please excuse me," she said, "but I haven't seen Mathilda since Christmas, and I miss her very much. I hope you understand."

"Uh..." Luke blinked hard. "Yes, my lady. I'll see her and give her...that. Thank very much, and a good day to you." He bowed vigorously and turned on his heel, speed-walking down the hall in flustered elation.

Ignoring the guards' smirks, the High Priestess went back inside and slammed the doors, removing her veil again. She knew she should be embarrassed or at least care what they were going to say about her, but really, half the city was probably placing bets on who she'd be sleeping with in however many days or hours, so what was one brief embrace?

It was nothing. That was what she'd felt, anyway. Part of her was surprised at her own cold-heartedness, but Frisk knew what had happened when she hugged Sans, and she was certain that no matter how long she snuggled up to Luke, it wouldn't feel remotely similar; if he had put his arm around her, it would've just annoyed her. At least she had eliminated any remaining doubt: Luke could offer her pleasant company, and that was all. Not warmth, or real companionship, or gentleness, laughter, intellectual stimulation, literal attraction...

There went her imagination again. The workroom was still cold from however long Sans had had the windows open, but she had to pick up some papers to fan herself. It was quite a relief when lunch arrived and she could eat Sans' portion to make up for missing breakfast, then retire to the bedroom.

Having spent so much of her early life on her own, Frisk had been shocked when she came to St. Brigid's and discovered that even in a convent, the primary occupation of adolescent girls seemed to be talking about boys, or sex, or any combination thereof. She understood now that they had had very little else to talk or think about, and that being in a strict religious environment meant that there were no other outlets for their perfectly normal teenage curiosity, but those first few months had been eye-opening, to say the least.

To their credit, the sisters were aware of this and knew very well that after the lights went out in the dormitory, the girls would stuff their pillows under their covers to create a laughable illusion of being in bed, crawl to the center of the floor, and whisper to each other until they forgot themselves and laughed too loud at something, which was the cue for the proctor on duty to shout "BED" and send them flying back to their cots. It was probably also why everyone had to undergo a comprehensive sexual education course when they turned fourteen, and of course, the girls who could tell penis jokes for literal hours on end felt quite differently about the matter when an eighty-year-old priestess was passing out textbooks with full-color drawings and scientific labels.

In short, Frisk knew exactly what she was feeling and why. She'd never had the nerve to try anything when she was sleeping in an open room with dozens of other girls and young women, but once she moved into these chambers and found she had nearly unlimited privacy, she had finally availed herself of the opportunity to ignore the Church's teachings on self-exploration. Then she had availed herself of the opportunity a lot, figuring that it was harming no one whatsoever, and that she wouldn't have been given those parts if she wasn't meant to use them. But she hadn't done it since Sans arrived, especially not when they were in the same bed.

Sans was not here now, and she wasted no time, pausing only to throw a quilt over herself before she moved her skirt aside and worked her hand into place. She'd never done this in the middle of the day before, but that added a little excitement; what if she was to take down the barrier against teleportation, and he happened to get back right as she was in the middle of it? That would be just awful. Would he even recognize what she was doing, or would he just—

Another knock. Another fecking knock on the outside door as she was getting this close, and she wanted to burn down the entire castle. Frisk kicked the quilt off, pulled her clothes back into place, and stomped over to her veil and circlet before she threw the doors open. This had better be worth the interruption!

Over an hour later, she came back to her rooms with her cluster of guards and, given the general trajectory of the day thus far, was not surprised to find Dr. Serif waiting next to a stack of crates. "Good afternoon," he said. "It seems as if the items you've ordered for your apprenticeship have arrived. Would you like some assistance putting them away?"

Frisk looked at them, and at him, but she could barely speak. "I am overtired, Doctor," she mumbled. "I would appreciate your help, and then I need to rest."

"Of course." The royal scientist opened the double doors and directed the guards to bring the boxes inside while she went to the bathroom to remove her veil and compose herself for a few minutes. It didn't work, but it was long enough for the guards to put everything away and leave, so she only had to worry about the doctor when she emerged.

One look at her was enough. He didn't ask if she was all right, just moved aside a respectful distance as she sat down to check the inventory sheet. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"No, thank you," she said, voice cracking.

"I understand." The doctor removed the lid from a long box of seedlings and began filling a vial at the sink. "They've found the guard responsible for leaving your door unattended and allowing the assassin into your room. It seems he is affiliated with a local group pushing to decriminalize the retrieval of monsters from the no-man's-land. It should be a valuable link in uncovering more conspirators."

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it," Frisk said politely, mind still buzzing.

Dr. Serif tipped some water into each seed-bed. "If he avoids detours or anything else he is not supposed to do, Sans should be back late this evening. Don't be alarmed if he takes longer, though. I could easily see him deciding to rush back and overextending himself. He can sleep at your house tonight if need be."

The only sound was water running into the vial and being trickled onto the tiny plants. The doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. "If I may, High Priestess. Please don't go there to wait for him or try to meet him. He should—"

"Get out!"

When the doctor had obediently made himself scarce, Frisk threw her veil on the floor, stormed into the bedroom, and flung herself on the bed for a good, long cry, or at least a long one. It wasn't Dr. Serif's fault that he'd happened to visit right as she was returning from a talk with her father. She hadn't been so angry or humiliated in a long time—of all the people to drag her away from her private time to lecture her about maintaining a good reputation and not sleeping around, why the hell did he think he had the right to do it, especially based on a single stupid rumor? It'd been all she could do not to scream at him that he'd spent his youth screwing his way through most of the kingdom, left her to be neglected almost to death for ten years, and only taken an interest in any of his damn-near-orphans when his second wife died in childbirth and the midwives told him the baby might not survive! How dare he?!

The final nail in the coffin came a few hours later, when she'd finally pulled herself together enough to start writing replies to everything that needed replying to. After many more paper cuts, Frisk was almost done when she heard a knock that she hoped, for the other person's sake, was her dinner.

It was, but it was also another messenger. At least this one wasn't there to take her anywhere, merely to tell her that His Holiness had furnished the records she requested, handing over a folder roughly two inches thick.

Frisk probably should have been glad she could peruse the list of enslaved monsters without Sans hovering over her shoulder, and she was; it was just hard to be happy about much of anything when she was reading all the names and descriptions—she'd felt strongly enough about it when she wasn't remembering how completely beaten Snowdrake had looked, and wondering how many other monsters must be in similar or worse circumstances at that very moment. Her duty now was to go through the list of owners and judge which were probably the absolute worst, and organize inspections as quickly and stealthily as possible.

It all went back to her stupid fortunes. She'd half-purposely led Luke on, and her father had made it very clear that he expected her to make the respectable choice, the hypocritical old goat. The problem was that it was what everyone would expect of her; in the wee hours of the morning, it had felt daring and romantic to contemplate a future where she had a child with a not-husband, but the reality was that it would probably ruin her life, just like her mother's. Frisk was more confused than ever: how could she change the world and free monsters if she did something so socially unacceptable that no one would probably ever speak to her again? But she'd also have new parents and a huge family...how?!

Even if Sans had been a complete idiot at the fortune-teller's table, she wished more than ever that he was here to talk to. Damn Dr. Serif for reading her thoughts so easily. There was still the brooch he'd given her a couple nights ago, but she wanted to save it for a real emergency; besides, it wasn't as if she could do much to help Sans if he simply needed to rest before coming back to the castle...assuming he was coming back.

Frisk shook herself. There was no reason to believe that at all! She had to think more constructively. Wasn't there some way to communicate w—ah, yes, he was able to speak to Papyrus in dreams. She had joined him fairly easily the time she'd tried it. If she took down that barrier again...

...then the child could get in. But Sans wasn't here. Could it make her hurt him in a dream?

That was when Frisk officially gave up on thinking, or working, or doing anything else for the day. It was already after sunset, so she folded up the registry, instructed the guards not to let anyone disturb her unless something was actively on fire, and went to run a bath. Her mind didn't clear much, but it did help relax her, even if she was still too tense to pick up where she'd left off with herself. She put on her fuzziest nightgown, whisked the barrier away and built up a fire in the bedroom, then made a warm nest of blankets and settled herself to sleep, leaving her mind cautiously open.

She woke a little as the bed creaked beside her. She grumbled under her breath and turned away from him, pulling the covers up.

Undeterred, he ducked beneath the covers and draped himself over her side. His hard, smooth fingers caught on her hair as he pushed it out of the way to nuzzle her neck. It was a good start, but he must have been tipsy: she yelped as his nasal bone jabbed her. "sorry," he murmured.

That should've been that; she graciously permitted him to stroke her hair as an apology, and settled back down to sleep.

She should have known better when he started petting her back and down her side, and then rubbed her leg, knowing very well that she'd sleepily turn toward him so he could pet the other one, too. Then came a soft, warm touch on her neck, his hands sliding under her nightshirt, and her nightshirt creeping up as he eased his weight onto her.

"Really?" she tried to ask, but his mouth was in the way, and he easily caught the hand she brought up to push him off, spreading his fingers to interlace them with hers.

He would have stopped if she'd insisted. She didn't. She—

Someone was in her office.

Frisk was not afraid. She was done. She got out of bed with an ache in her groin and murderous resolve in her heart, moving silently through the bedroom and the dark workroom. There was no light showing under the office door, but she could feel ripples through the barrier over her safe as someone dug into the floor around it. With no restraint or remorse, she yanked open the doors and slammed a multi-layered barrier into the room, catching the would-be thief by surprise.

Whoever it was, they were unnaturally strong and agile, nearly catching the edge to squeeze through as it sealed itself off. But it was no use: fueled by angry determination, the barrier snapped shut into a golden sphere, trapping the person inside. The intruder struck at it several times with terrific force, but Frisk held firm until the figure staggered, then fell to its knees, wheezing.

Only then did Frisk click her tongue, dropping the layer that prevented air from getting in, and strengthening the layer that suppressed magic. "Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to explain yourself," she snarled.

A gulping breath. "Please, my lady—"

Frisk was so startled that her concentration wavered. The figure took the opportunity to hit the barrier again, and she promptly cut its air off, waiting several seconds before she allowed any back in. The priestess came forward and peered inside. "...Doctor?"

In the barrier's glow, she could see quite well, and though she knew she had him contained, Frisk felt a twinge of fear. It had sounded exactly like the royal sorcerer, but this was not Dr. Serif. It was a monster, a skeleton with a long, eerie face, much more smooth and hollow-looking than Sans or Papyrus. As it straightened, its arms stayed hidden in the folds of its long, ragged black coat, and several disembodied skeletal hands floated over its shoulders. "The man who speaks in hands," she said to herself. No wonder they were supposed to beware him!

The monster's brow creased. "The man who speaks in hands?" he repeated in Dr. Serif's whispery voice. "How very poetic." Cough. "May I ask where you—"

"You may not!" The barrier constricted, nearly brushing the top of his skull. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The skeleton visibly struggled to answer, and finally croaked, "My name is W.D. Gaster. I am a monster who has been posing as a human in order to maintain my post as the royal sorcerer." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Young lady, what...what is this?"

Frisk sat down on the couch, which had been moved aside to expose the safe. "I assume you mean the fact that you can't lie to me while you're in there. I'm not much good at truth spells, but I figured out how to incorporate one into a barrier, which I am very good at. I just don't use it very often." On some level, she wasn't surprised that Dr. Serif had been hiding something like this, but she was still afraid—had any of his help or kindness been real, or was it all for some unknown, sinister purpose? Would he try to eliminate her now that she knew what he was?

Gaster was staring at her. Above him, both pairs of hands started a slow clap. "I am extremely impressed, Your Eminence. I am also very apprehensive. As a monster, I cannot match your determination, which means you have me at a complete disadvantage. I must commend you."

The priestess was gratified, but knew better than to drop her guard; she could feel him subtly testing the weave and span of the barrier with unseen hands. "Stop that," she snapped, and he did, tilting his head to concede defeat. "Were you trying to steal my box?"

"Of course," he said. "I infer that it contains your memories, and it is now common knowledge that the future of this world hinges on what you do with it."

Frisk controlled another stab of anger, though she couldn't stop the barrier from popping and snapping like a bonfire. "And you thought you would...what? Dispose of it without asking me?"

"I don't know exactly what I was thinking," Gaster confessed. "I succumbed to intellectual curiosity as to what distilled memories look like, and whether I could view them without disturbing the physical medium. What I would do with them would depend on their contents."

The barrier was now eye-wateringly bright. "You broke into my rooms when Sans wasn't here, damaged my property, and woke me up from a very good dream because you thought you knew better than me what I should do with my life?! How dare you! How dare all of you try to decide this for me?"

"You are completely correct, my lady, and I apologize wholeheartedly." The monster placed his hand on his chest and bowed from the waist. "I swear that I will not presume to meddle any further."

It sounded sincere, but the old priestess who'd helped her develop this technique had been very emphatic: if someone promised something while under a truth spell, there was nothing to stop them from breaking it once the spell ended. "Why are you here?" she asked. "What are your intentions?"

He managed a chuckle. "As I truthfully told your apprentice earlier today, that is a large question." The monster's hands folded into pairs. "I do not believe you will derive any benefit from my entire story, and that most of it will unnecessarily disturb you. May I tell you as much as I sincerely believe will benefit you, and omit that which is not necessary?"

Frisk bit her lip. "I'd prefer to be the judge of that. Answer me, please: what are your intentions towards me, and Sans, and this kingdom in general?"

Gaster didn't reply. Frisk felt him trying to use some kind of magic similar to Sans' to slip out of the barrier, and she gave one sharp whistle; the skeleton's hand went to his throat as his magic dissolved and the air started to thin again. "Please, stop!" he rasped.

The priestess did so, feeling a tiny bit guilty. That rush of anger was starting to fade, but she knew she couldn't let him manipulate her into letting him go before she was ready. The fact that he had been manipulating her up till now was more than enough to steady her resolve. She crossed her arms and stared him down in silence.

A hand came up to massage Gaster's temple. "All right. I...do not intend to harm anyone. I came here solely as an observer, and have only remained for this length of time in order to rectify my errors." He sighed. "As is so often the case, every attempt I make only compounds the problem, and yet I cannot seem to stop."

Frisk shook her head. "I don't want vagueness or lies by omission, Dr. Gaster. Where did you come from, and on whose behalf are you observing us?"

"I came from a place similar to this one. I lived inside Mt. Ebott, which contained the Underground, home to monsters such as Sans, Papyrus, King Asgore, Queen Toriel...to my knowledge, every living monster I knew currently resides here as well."

The priestess' mouth fell open. "How...?"

He made an impatient sound. "As I said, the majority of this information is not necessary to impart. You can do nothing with the knowledge of another Underground, except for the one or two details that are relevant to you and Sans, which I will tell you if you agree to trust me that you do not need the rest. Do we have a deal?"

She exhaled. "Fine. What are you doing here now? Are you gathering information to bring back to your Underground?"

"I dearly wish that this was the case, young lady, but no. I was expelled from my home in an accident, and I no longer exist there. I have been wandering ever since, looking for another place I might settle into." Another sigh. "I know now that it was not only a vain hope, but a dangerous one."

"Dangerous? How so?"

He grimaced. "I found out the hard way, of course. I thought I was doing the right thing when I transplanted a certain monster from a dangerous environment to a safer one where he was needed. I did not know that the danger would follow."

Frisk's skin prickled. "What do you mean? Please start making more sense."

"Very well. To start at the beginning, I must tell you I am not the first W.D. Gaster to have lived in this kingdom or its Underground. Many, many years ago, when I happened upon this place, I went looking for the first item on my checklist: myself. Unfortunately, when I found him, I discovered that your Gaster was easily one of the cruelest I have seen. He conducted horrific experiments on defenseless subjects, both humans and monsters, and he created new life purely to torment it."

The chill increased as Gaster's face darkened. "I was skilled enough to observe him unseen, and his actions disgusted me. I should have left, but when I saw him murder one of his 'sons,' I grew so angry that I could not stop myself. I killed this world's Gaster, and I tried to save his other creation, but it was too late. I broke my policy of noninterference without any real benefit to anyone." He sat down inside the barrier. "Imagine my surprise when I checked the rest of the laboratory and discovered one copy of the younger skeleton ready to awaken, hardly more than a baby. There was no sign that any other creations had survived. I now had a decision to make."

"The 'younger' skeleton? You don't mean—"

"Yes. He created Sans and Papyrus, and he killed them, knowing he could replace them at any time."

The priestess had to fight the urge to be sick all over the office floor. "Couldn't you have taken his place and tried to undo the damage he caused?"

"That was a definite option, and I was tempted. But this is not my home, and I did not want to stay for much longer. I believe I made the correct choice in that respect."

Now she understood why he hadn't wanted to tell her this. Too late; she had to hear the rest of the story.

"It was quite the dilemma. I could not leave Papyrus on his own, nor could I stay here to raise him, or take him with me. He was too young, and I did not know what might happen if I brought him into another place with another Papyrus. But there was no Sans here to care for him. So..." He closed his eyes, pulling the slashes taut. "I made another well-intentioned mistake."

There was a very long pause. "There are certain variations of time and place that I have seen more frequently than others," he said slowly. "The most tragic is where a very sorrowful and angry SOUL becomes warped into a force of absolute destruction, essentially a demon, and it finds a vessel to connect it to the physical world." His eyes opened. "It kills everything, Frisk. Every monster in the Underground, every human above, until there is nothing left. But the force itself does not die. It finds another place to destroy. And another. And another. The child you have seen in your nightmares is here because it cannot bear the fact that in one place, at one time, there was one monster it failed to exterminate. It has come here looking for him."

All the hairs on Frisk's body were standing straight up. "What exactly happened?"

"I found a place where a Sans stood ready to meet the child on its way to murder Asgore and leave the Underground. He had made a promise not to harm any fallen humans, and that promise bound him until it was too late. As always, he was still going to fight it, knowing that it was futile." Gaster looked at his hands, studying the holes in the palms. "I did not speak to him, or even let him see me. I approached him from behind, rendered him unconscious, and transported him here. I had checked Snowdin and saw that the house in which they usually reside was empty, so I brought them both there, left a supply of food and money, and allowed them to live as usual."

"...But...but doesn't he—"

"This world's practice of memory excision is not a good one, in my opinion, but it gave me the idea to try to...adjust him. I did not remove his memories to save for later if he chose to revisit them: I destroyed them entirely. As far as he or anyone else knows, he has always lived here with his little brother." Gaster looked back up at her. "I wanted to give him a second chance in a place where the demon did not exist, and where circumstances were not likely to replicate its creation. I knew that he might have nightmares as echoes of his past experiences, or even glimpses of other lives, but I had no conception that the child itself would stalk him all the way here."

The barrier wavered. Gaster did not move as Frisk shook herself and hummed it back to full strength. She'd have to process all of this information properly later. For now, next question... "Why did you become the royal sorcerer? Didn't you want to leave as soon as you knew they'd be safe?"

"I did, but I came back periodically to check on them. All seemed well until one visit where I discovered that a group of humans had just visited on a diplomatic mission that ended in violent catastrophe. Imagine my surprise when I examined Dr. Alphys' records and discovered that the Sans I rescued had become a boss monster through imperfectly understood means. It was one of the most anomalous variations in his growth that I have ever observed, and it absolutely fascinated me."

His tone was a little too rapturous for her tastes. "You disguised yourself as a human and became the royal sorcerer to keep a closer eye on Sans?" she asked warily.

"Oh, no, my dear young lady. I did so in order to keep a closer eye on you." Frisk started as the skeleton slowly got to his feet. "In order to affect physical matter, even something as tenuous as a monster's body, the demon must find a host. In the course of observing Sans and his brother, I became convinced that the child was trying to reach him, but it could not attach itself to any of the monsters. Through various means, I eventually tracked it to you, just as you were being considered as a replacement for the murdered High Priestess. Not only did I feel the need to protect Sans from a danger he no longer recalled, I became curious about you."

"In what way?" Frisk couldn't help rubbing her eyes. "Why did it choose me?"

Gaster smiled thinly. "At the risk of threatening you or, even worse, stating the obvious," he said in a different tone, "I would guess that a barrier of this strength and complexity requires a great deal of power, and you are not going to be able to maintain it much longer. I will only be at your mercy for another few minutes at most, after which I could make a serious attempt to break out and potentially injure one or both of us." He took a step forward. "I propose instead that I tell you more about Sans while you still know I am being truthful, and then you release me."

He was right. "If I release you, will you attack me or take any other malicious action against me, now or in the future?" Frisk asked carefully.

"I do not intend you or Sans any type of harm whatsoever, Frisk, now or in the future. I bear you no malice, though I admittedly find being caught in this fashion very irksome."

Frisk would have to be content with that. "Done. What do you want to tell me?"

"That you did not give Sans the opportunity to apologize for his conduct at the festival or the morning after, and you said something fairly cruel before he left. I thought I made it clear that he is not stable and you must be careful how you handle him."

It took a second to recall how she'd told Sans to take his time, and his expression after she did. "I'm not his mother," she argued. "I'm sorry I hurt his feelings, and I'll apologize when he gets back, but even you said I shouldn't be held responsible for his behavior. He's been fairly good at keeping his temper, all things considered."

"He's been good at keeping his temper around you," Gaster said severely. "Did you know that monsters can see the condition of a living monster or human SOUL? I have been monitoring Sans for a long time, as you now know, and soon after he became a boss monster, his SOUL began to darken at a remarkable rate. It was natural for him to accrue EXP as he fought humans to protect his kin, but it is extremely unusual for a single monster to develop such a taste for violence when the rest of the Underground remains unaffected."

Frisk didn't know what EXP was, but she could guess, and time was running short. "What are you saying, Doctor?" she snapped.

"I am saying that I do not know exactly why he is the way he is, and I don't only mean his metamorphosis into a boss monster. No matter what kind of magic he was subjected to, and however his LV grows, it cannot explain why Sans is so very angry. It's so ingrained that it feels deliberate, which I don't understand. Is it vestigial regret from his first life? A heretofore unknown side effect of the accident that spurred his transformation? All I know is that when he was listening to your song yesterday morning, I saw him let go of his accumulated rage for the very first time. When I took another look, it seemed as though several layers of that filth have been sloughed off his SOUL since he came here, though far more remains."

The priestess flushed. It was flattering to think she could affect him that much, but...

Gaster must have seen her skepticism. He sighed so mightily that his entire body settled to the floor, as if he simply couldn't keep himself upright. "You can't seriously—you can." He drew himself back up to his full height. "You may still be hurt by having been previously abandoned by those you cared for, young lady, but what do you need to hear before you understand the current situation? That Sans is deeply in love with you? That he behaved so stupidly at the fortune-teller because he was beside himself with jealousy? That any apprehensions you may have about him deciding not to come back here are laughable at best, and you are the only one who can make him want to return to a happier state of mind and avert the possibility of him hurting innocent people?"

Frisk had specifically been taught not to do what she did next: spring to her feet and bring her fist straight down on the barrier, shattering it like paper-thin glass. "However you got in here without alerting the guards, or waking them," she added darkly, "please see yourself out the same way. Good night, Dr. Gaster!"

In the sudden blackness, his eyes showed as two tiny pinpricks, one yellow and one blue. Frisk made herself meet his terrible gaze and point at the door, and he chuckled appreciatively. "Good night, High Priestess," he murmured. There was a rush of shadow, then an empty room.

The priestess could barely move or think. She felt her knees bend and her hand grope around the space where Gaster had been tunneling into the safe. She removed the barrier, picked up the box, put the barrier back up, got to her feet. Back to the bedroom, another barrier up on the door, and a collapse into bed, pulling the blankets around her. Too tired and too troubled to remember where she had left off...what would she see the next time she dreamed?

More importantly, where was Sans?

She was walking over an expanse of sand and scrubby trees that she had never seen before but somehow knew was the no-man's-land, closer to the Underground than to human territory. Her head turned at the sound of men screaming, far off to her left. In the fading light, she saw flickers of magic, a bigger flash, and a sound more awful than screams: silence.

Not total silence. As she approached, Frisk heard a familiar chuckle, but not in a familiar way. This was not a skeleton pleased with his own stupid puns or laughing at her rage when he beat her at chess five times in a row. This was someone standing amidst a pile of broken human corpses, surveying his handiwork and enjoying it.

For a terrified moment, Frisk thought Sans was doing this in the present, or had just done it, and she wanted to scream at him—but no, he was wearing the ragged canvas garments she'd first seen him in, not the wool and linen ones she had given him. If this had ever happened – which felt likely – then he was dreaming of a time more distant than the past twenty-four hours.

She was only about fifty yards away, but he didn't seem to notice her. She tried to call out to him, only for her voice to get stuck as she looked again at the human bodies he was stepping over like rocks in his path. Gaster had been right. Sans really was capable of this, wasn't he? He wasn't the gentle, protective, sometimes-somewhat-sweet-natured skeleton she'd grown fond of. He was a killer.

No. He was gentle and sometimes somewhat sweet, and he was a killer. Frisk couldn't fall into the trap of believing that only one side of him existed, or that only one was "real"; people didn't work that way. She had to talk to the one she knew—he was there, too!

Sans was trudging away. Remembering what Gaster had said, Frisk took a big breath and whistled at him over the empty expanse, using a few bars from this morning's song—she'd often seen him stop what he was doing to listen to it.

Sure enough, he paused. He turned, and his orange eyes focused on her. The flames dimmed just a little. "Frisk?" Sans came closer, skirting the pile of bodies. "'sat really you?"

The priestess held out her hands. Sans reached out to touch her fingers, then recoiled—his hand was spattered with blood. "What are you doin' here?" he asked, voice rougher than usual. "Ya don't wanna see this!"

"No, I don't. But I wanted to see you," she said.

Sans blinked at her. He jerked his head for her to follow him, moving until the grim scene was out of her line of sight. Then he sat down, plunging his hands into the sand to scrub the blood off. "Yer an idiot. Why'd you come after me? I thought ya wanted me t'take my time gettin' back."

Frisk winced. She really had hurt his feelings. "I'm so sorry I said that. I missed you today."

The boss monster swallowed hard. "Fine. Ya saw me." He shook sand off his metacarpals, aiming it away from her. "Look, 'm sorry, too. I embarrassed the crap outta ya at the stupid festival, and I..." He shrugged elaborately. "I dunno what the hell I was doin' yesterday mornin', but whatever happened, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Sans." Frisk folded her hands behind her back. "Did Snowdrake arrive safely?"

"Yeah. I only saw one nosy neighbor lady at the house, an' I played nice 'n let 'er see the note. She left us alone after that. Didn't see anyone else till we got close enough to the Underground t'let 'im go. Poor little bastard kept thinkin' it was some kinda trick." The skeleton brushed more sand off his femur. "I ran inta some poachers on my way back t'the city, but they didn' have any monsters with 'em, an' they just told me to get lost, so I did."

Frisk smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Sans made his usual noises, which just made her smile wider. "How was yer first day off from babysittin' me?" he asked crossly. "Good?"

"It sucked," she said, deadpan, and he snorted. "Seriously, Sans, it was awful. Everyone's heard of my fortunes already, and my father, who has had at least fifteen children that we're aware of, gave me a talking-to about my sexual mores."

The skeleton's eyes were fully alight. "Yer kiddin'. Ya haven't even done anythin'!"

There was the tiniest pause, and lest he add "...Right?" and force her to kill him, Frisk said, "Right. It just reminded me that if I open the box and end up having a child on my own, I'll be an unwed mother. Among humans, that makes you a complete outcast. I wish we were more like monsters, I really do."

Sans was very quiet, in a way that put Frisk on edge. "But, of course," she said with forced optimism, "if I don't open it, I'll get married and be completely boring and respectable for another fifty or sixty years, and just have to live with the fact that I chose not to let monsters go free." Her throat was closing up yet again, and she shook her head. "Why do I have to decide this, Sans? I'm used to being under pressure, but not like this! What am I supposed to do?!"

The boss monster edged closer as she sniffled. "Ya know what you should do?" he asked.

"What?!" It came out nearly as a shriek. "What should I do, Sans? Tell me!"

Sans remained sitting, watching her quietly as she scrubbed her face on her sleeve. "I think you should make a decision an' go for it insteada tormentin' yerself like this. Whatever ya wanna do, it'll turn out t'be the right thing. An' fer what it's worth..." He fidgeted, scowling at the ground. "Whether ya pick the bird guy or...someone else, if ya ever need help, I'll do whatever I can. Heavy lifting, beatin' people up, dumb jokes, whatever. So...quit whinin' and pick somethin'. Flip a coin if ya need to. Just stop hurtin' yerself. Okay?"

Frisk's heart stood still. She looked at him in such a way that he sat back warily. "What? What'd I say?"

"Don't say anything," she said, advancing on him. "And don't get up yet."

"Hey, hey, lady, this's a dream, remember? Ya can't touch m—"

Sans lapsed into stunned silence as Frisk's arms went around his neck and her cheek rested on his clavicle. She leaned her full weight on him and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry to ambush you again," she said into the space between his ribs. "I just needed to see something." It was the same as before, a wonderfully tingly feeling in her chest that spread through her body until she wondered what'd happen if she moved away too fast. Frisk sighed again, trying to work up the willpower to let go. Somehow, he wasn't as uncomfortable as she would've thought, as if there was a very thin layer of something padding his bony exterior. It just made it harder to—

Sans' arms came up to hold her against him, as he had the previous morning, and neither of them cared that they were so big, they overlapped over her back. His cheekbone rested against her head, careful not to be too heavy. "Whaddya do with yer hair?" he muttered.

It was...not what she'd expected him to say. "Can you elaborate, please?" she muttered back.

"I dunno what smells are what. I think the longer I stay human, the more human-ish stuff I can do, like smell, 'n feel stuff I touch." His phalanges moved softly through her hair. "This doesn't make any sense. Yer not s'posed to be able t'interact with anyone in a dream 'less ya went ta sleep in the same room or somethin'."

"I don't know about you, Sans, but I'm sick of thinking." Frisk stared at a spot of drying blood on the ground behind him. "In fact, you're right. I'm done thinking about this." She squeezed him gently, though she knew she could use all her strength and he'd barely feel it. "Let me go, please. It's time for me to get some real sleep."

"...Nuh-uh."

Frisk laughed. "It's vanilla," she said over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Sans was absently petting her hair again. "Wha's vanilla?"

It was so nice that she wanted to fall asleep right there, somehow. When was the last time she'd felt this secure? "It's...my hair. I don't use a lot of expensive lotions, but I'll splurge on anything scented with vanilla. Do you like it?"

"Mm. 'snot as bad as most of the stuff I've smelled so far."

The priestess smiled, then reached up to touch his skull. He tensed as her fingertips encountered the wide, smooth expanse of bone. It was warmer than she'd expected, almost velvety—probably from magic, she figured. "I'm very tired, Sans, and I've used almost all of my magic already. Can you please let me go now?"

He wouldn't. The last shred of doubt in her mind disappeared, and in a surge of determination, Frisk ducked free of his arms, moving out of his reach. "I'll see you soon," she told him. "Tomorrow?"

"Uh." Sans had the oddest look on his face. It reminded her of when she'd cleaned the fork for him at their first face-to-face meeting in the bedroom. "I dunno. I might be drunk again when I wake up. It kinda feels like it."

Frisk gave a long, theatric sigh. "If you are, please sleep it off before you come back. We've gotten in the supplies I ordered, and I don't need you eating the plants or something ridiculous." She stepped back further. "Good night, Sans."

"Night," he said inaudibly, and she left.

The guards outside Frisk's doors admitted Dr. Serif after breakfast, then settled in to wait for the royal sorcerer to leave, after which they could properly nap. His morning visits were usually an hour or so, in their experience.

This time, after only five or so minutes, the doors banged open, and one guard dropped his halberd. "I wish to be very clear, Doctor," the High Priestess said, voice pitched to carry down the hall. "Do not open it, do not attempt or allow anyone to attempt to open it, and do not keep it for any reason. I want it destroyed. Will you please do so as soon as possible?"

"Of course,Your Eminence." To the guards' astonishment, the normally imperturbable doctor was frowning, and took the little rosewood box with obvious reluctance. "Good day to you."

The priestess shut the doors without another word. The guards stared at Dr. Serif, who was now scowling full-force at the box. With a glance at the doors and none at all at the two men, the doctor tried to pry the lid open, only to drop it as the box sizzled at him. "How did she put a barrier inside it?" he said to no one.

The guards could barely wait till he was gone to whisper to each other, "She threw it away! I knew she wouldn't—" "Oh, bull shit, you said she'd get knocked up by this time next w—" "No I didn't! I—"

Slam went the doors. Frisk glared at one, then the other, and waited the count of five before she slowly pulled them shut.

#songfell whoo lemme at the next one

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askdoloresmoore · 4 years ago

Text

I got this wonderful list from @hyunsu-jung

Original Post: here!

Not that anyone cares,but I thought this would be fun!!

Character's Name: Dolores Moore

Part I: Let's Start at the Beginning...

1. What's your name?

"Mrs.Dolores Moore"

2. Give me your full name...

*sighs* "Dolores Lily Moore "

3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

"The only nickname that comes to mind , at the moment, is what mr. Brown, my uncle if you will,calls me. He seems really keen on calling me Dolly, no matter how annoying I find the subject. "

4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

"I am quite certain that I am a human. Although I must inquire..What exactly is an alien?"

5. Where were you born?

"I was born on a small farm outside the town of Blackwater, WE"

6. I see. And that would make your age...?

"25 to be exact "

7. Okay, now...are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

"I would like to consider my self a good guy. Although that matter is quite subjective ,don't you think?"

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself...

8. How would you describe your personality?

"I consider myself quite kind-hearted and patient "

9. Would you say you're someone who can handle pressure?

"It depends on the day. Although on most days I must say I cannot."

10. Do you like to read?

"Oh yes, quite! It's one of my favourite pastimes, alongside drawing "

11. Favorite color?

"It would have to be blue, particularly the lighter shades "

12. Do you get along with others?

"I'm quite the easygoing person , I believe. "

13. Do you have any enemies?

"Not that I'm aware of"

14. How about friends?

"I used to have, back east, but I'm quite certain they must have forgotten me by now."

15. Are you patient?

"Yes,as I mentioned. I believe it to be one of my greatest qualities. "

Part III: Hypothetically...

16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

"Any creature? Well I'm aware that my answer might be quite dull and somewhat predictable but I would like to be a cat. They always fascinated me and when I was a child I used to envy their neatness. There was this one time when I was little, when I..." mrs. Moore pauses and composes herself. " I must apologise for going off topic "

17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

"While I'm not aware of any enemies, if a supposed one gave me a compliment, I would certainly politely accept it, even though it would be completely surprising for me."

18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

"Even though that would be unlikely, given that they are high society women, I would let them know I was offended "

19. If you could change anything about yourself...

"One thing that I would change about myself, given the opportunity, would be my submissive nature. I find that aspect of me quite annoying sometimes. I think it hinders my advance as a person."

20. About your home...

"I've had several during my life, so I'll give a brief description of all of them. My childhood home was a beautiful farmhouse in California. I remember the beautiful golden hue , the sunset would give the wheat fields my parents had. My husband's house in New York, is a stunning manor,so big that I used to get lost in when I first got there. Lastly my current residence is a two story cottage my uncle, mr. Brown and some workers he hired built. While it is nowhere near my last residence in size, I've grown to love it. It is still in the process of being decorated though. "

Part IV: Now We Get Personal

21. What're your parents like?

"My parents... Well they both were great people. Caring, loving and very much in love with each other till the end. "

22. Do you have any siblings?

" I guess I can say I had. My brother...My poor brother John. He has been missing for some time now."

23. What's your occupation?

"At the moment I do not work. Although I have been a housemaid in the past."

24. I see, that's a good job to have. Do you like it?

" I did not enjoy being a housemaid at all."

25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

"No , not at the moment... "

26. Married/Engaged/Other?

*Dolore's eyes water a little at the sound of this question*

" I was married, yes. To a lovely man, John Moore. "

27 If yes, how did you meet?

" I used to work as a housemaid at his estate. We fell in love and the rest is history. "

28. Tell us your biggest secret.

"I'm sorry but I dont think it's quite appropriate to admit something like that."

29. Your worst fear? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to.

" I am very afraid of losing what family I have left."

30. Favorite food?

" it is more of a dessert than a food, but I am very fond of apple pies"

30. Favorite drink?

" That would be chilled champagne, without a doubt."

31. Tell us one thing you're the most proud of.

"I guess my hat pin collection "

32. Something embarrassing? You don't have to answer this one, either.

" Well.." she hesitates, thinking " I believe it's rather embarrassing that I am afraid of the dark!"

33. If you didn't answer Questions 29 and/or 33, tell me why.

" I did answer, so I guess I do not have to answer this one!"

34. Is that a good reason?

" and this one neither "

Part VI: Closing

35. Are you satisfied with your life?

"Truly I cannot say. Sometimes I think I've lived life to the fullest, other times I think my life is living me, if that makes sense."

36. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

"I do believe I should finish my embroidery project sometime!!"

37. Any hobbies?

"I must saythat I enjoy riding. I've been riding since childhood and ,although not perfect, I try to do it as often as possible. That and listening to any stories my unclehas to share about lawmen. These people always fascinated me. "

38. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It's alright, you can tell me...

" I wished for my husband and brother to be here with me"

39. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

" I guess it can be seen as selfish, given the fact that wherever they are now, it can't be worse than this Earth. "

40. Have you been honest with these questions?

" Yes, an improper amount. "

41. Your personal quote?

"Perhaps it is our imperfections that make us perfect for one another "- Jane Austen. "

42. Do you like change?

"Even though I'm reluctant to pursue it at first, I do like change when it comes."

43. What's your most valued possession?

* Dolores rummages through her bag*

" This pocket watch . It belonged to my father."

44. Anything else you feel like sharing?

"Nothing comes to mind , at the moment. "

50. Last question! How do you feel?

" I must say this has been a quite enjoyable experience for me, so I must confess I feel delighted!"

#oc: dolores #rdo oc #red dead online #rdo #red dead redemption #western #western rp #i guess?#anyway here have an interview of her #if anybody cares #victorian #victorian rp

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littlesliceofmarvel · 5 years ago

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That’s My Sister

Request: Imagine request of being Tony's sister who is sarcastic brilliant way &who is a scientist who almost always has her head in a book when she isn't working or making fun of Tony and Steve develops a crush on her which Natasha and Bucky make fun of him for & want him to confess. And the reader get kidnapped & the Avengers go to save her since they have grown to love her, only to find out she saved herself since she is trained fighter & everyone is impressed but she's like 'i told you i was badass'?

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Steve

A/N: It’s long, but like, Stark reader is the best, what can I say?

“You know, you really don’t need to doll me up, Nat,” you rolled your eyes at your red-haired best friend who was trying her best to do your makeup for one of your brother’s infamous Stark parties. You were pretty much opposite to your brother in every possible way. He was an extrovert in every sense of the term, and was constantly looking for an excuse to be around as many people as possible. You, on the other hand, loved nothing more than sitting on the couch, a good movie on the screen and a blanket keeping you warm. You loved your brother to no end, but sometimes he could be much.

“I mean, I don’t because you’re naturally gorgeous, but let me do it,” she smirked at you, placing a little bit of blush on your cheeks, looking a little proud of the work she did on your face.

“I don’t even want to go,” you whined, sulking your shoulders slightly.

Natasha grinned at you, “Come on, don’t be boring, I need you as my wing-woman.”

You laughed, turning to face her, “You don’t need a wing-woman if you know he’s already interested in you,” she blushed slightly at your comment. Nat and Bruce had been getting close lately and you saw how much of a positive toll it was taking on the woman who had a hard exterior, softening her up quite a bit. She instantly became mushy and cute around him, and it made you so happy to see your best friend like that.

“Whatever, let’s go,” she grinned, standing up, adjusting her silver knee length dress, pushing up her curls slightly before you stood up as well, checking yourself out in the mirror. Your hair was straightened and the black dress you wore really changed up your appearance from your usual jeans and t-shirt look.

The two of you made your way to the top floor of the building, already slightly overwhelmed by the loud music and the amount of bodies surrounding you wherever you went.

“Hey, you decided to get your butt out of sweatpants and actually be around people,” Tony’s voice sounded from behind you, making you spin around and face your brother.

“Hey, you decided to be a narcissist again and invite people over to make you feel better about yourself,” you smirked as he looked slightly taken aback, lowering his sunglasses even though we were indoors. At night.

“I don’t need your bullying at my party, (y/n),” Tony shrugged, walking away as you rolled your eyes, hearing a chuckle from beside you. You turned around and came face to face with Steve, who held a smile on his face.

“You know, we’d need your around more when Tony starts being too much to handle, you seem to be the only one who can knock him down a notch,” the blond grinned at you, making you chuckle slightly.

“I’d love to be around to deflate his ego every now and then,” you looked over your shoulder at your brother, who you did love dearly, but your little bickering contests with him were the best.

“It’s the first time I see you at one of these parties, what changed your mind about coming this time?” Steve asked, his eyes scanning over your face. If you were being honest, he made you a little nervous. Not in a bad way, but because he was so gorgeous and slightly intimidating. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue, and they really pierced right into yours when he talked to you.

“I’m Nat’s wing-woman, but she disappeared as soon as we walked in the doors, so I’m kind of useless,” you shrugged and Steve laughed, eyes scanning the room for the red head.

“Well, I’m glad you showed up,” Steve smiled down at you, making your heart jump slightly.

The rest of the evening went alright, you didn’t stay too late, but you enjoyed the time you spent with Steve. The two of you talked about quite a bit and got the chance to bond over small things like history and your passion of the outdoors. You had become close to Steve in your time of moving back to New York four months ago, and you were glad that the two of you hit it off so well. You had Natasha, of course, and you loved her to bits, but being around Steve was such a sense of comfort. He was honestly part of the reason you attended that party in the first place, and now, two days later, you still thought back to the way he seemed to not notice anyone else in the room when the two of you spoke.

You were cut out of your thoughts when voices were heard down the hall of the tower as you sat on the couch, reading your favorite book for the hundredth time. One by one, the team piled in after returning from a day long mission, all looking slightly beat up but in good spirits, which gave you the feeling that things went right.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re in the same position as when we left?” Tony sassed at you, putting his sunglasses down on the table as Steve, Nat, Clint, Bucky and Bruce walked in, all grabbing something to drink.

“I wish I could say you look the same, but you look like you got your ass kicked, Iron Man,” you responded, looking back down to your book as you heard a low chuckle from a couple of the Avengers.

“Hey, um, (y/n), I could use your help for a quick second, actually, if you don’t mind,” Bruce smiled at you and you tilted your head to the side. You hadn’t been around Bruce all that much except for if you worked in the lab together. You had helped him improve some of the team’s technology and equipment, and it was something you loved doing.

You stuck your bookmark in your place and closed your book, placing it on the coffee table and throwing the blanket off of you, getting off of the couch and shooting Steve a smile as you passed him, following Bruce to the lab. When you stepped in, he explained to you that he needed your help with his ‘stress-relieving potion’ which he called it. You had developed something for Bruce when the team was away once because he had trouble controlling his emotions to keep the Hulk at bay.

“I’m running low, so I was wondering if you could re mix some up for me,” he smiled shyly and you smiled, nodding your head. He sat down at a computer and got to work on something as you gathered what you needed, sitting down at a large table and slowly putting things together, the ingredients mixing together to form a liquid in which Bruce injected himself with when he needed to calm down.

THIRD PERSON POV

"Well, I’m going to shower,” a grumpy Clint stated once he finished his glass of whiskey, his celebratory drink. The rest of the team agreed and one by one, they fled the kitchen, leaving Nat, Buck and Steve standing around decently bruised up. Steve filled up another glass of water, chugging it instantly as Nat chuckled at something Bucky said, the two looking over at him

“What?” Steve questioned, placing his glass down on the marble counter louder than intended.

“Nothing,” Bucky said, hiding his face in his hair slightly to avoid the captain’s gaze.

“C’mon, guys,” He pressed and Nat rolled her eyes.

“Bucky asked me if I thought you were going to take (y/n) out to dinner tonight to celebrate our mission, but I found that funny because you’re a coward,” she shrugged, picking up an apple off the counter. Steve could feel his face heat up but he didn’t show it, keeping his face neutral.

“Really? First of all, I’m not a coward,” Steve stated matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes on the smirking assassins.

“You totally are,” Bucky laughed.

“Am not,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his back against the counter behind him.

“Then ask her out,” Nat shrugged, biting into the apple and looking over at the super soldier.

Steve had liked Stark’s sister for quite a while, but never made a move on her because of all the self-doubt and trouble he was filled it, wanting to keep that away from her. He also didn’t want to fight Tony. Again.

“No,” Steve protested, shaking his head. Of course he wanted to ask her out, more than anything. But to him, she was way out of his league and he feared losing her friendship if he crossed some sort of boundary. He didn’t want to ruin anything.

“Coward,” Nat pointed out, proud she proved a point.

“Fine,” Steve surprised himself by saying, his heart picking up it’s pace, “I’ll ask her out.”

YOUR POV

You were caught off guard when a hand was placed on you shoulder, causing you to jump and almost knock your beaker over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Steve’s voice said softly.

You shook your head, “No, no, it’s alright,” you looked up at him and noticed a dark bruise under his chin and a decent sized cut above his eyebrow. He noticed you looking and gave you a smile to say ‘it’s alright.’

“So, what are you working on?” he nodded his head in the direction of the beaker you were working on, making you turn your attention back to it as well.

“Oh, um, I developed this serum for Banner to help keep his cool, I’m just topping it off,” you smiled, turning back to add a couple more drops to your mixture.

“How did you discover that?” he seemed genuinely interested, making you smirk, not taking your eye off of what you were doing.

“I know my chemicals and how they affect the body, so I figured it was worth a shot,” you turned back to face him and he nodded.

“She’s trying to be like her brother, obviously,” Tony’s voice broke your little moment with Steve as you turned to face him, noticing he also seemed pretty beat up. A black eye laid over the left side of his face as a busted lip made him grimace after speaking.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one trying to be like me, I am the smarter one and the bigger badass, after all,” you smirked at your brother, causing him to squint his eyes at you.

“You only think that becau-”

He was cut off by the sound of gunshots firing through the building. Steve’s arm swung around you as the two of you ducked down, knocking the serum over, making you slightly upset. More gunshots were heard as the two men rushed out of the room to follow where the action was taking place. Bruce rushed over to you, eyes wide.

“You need to get out of here,” he shouted, eyebrows furrowed as he too ran out of the room. Your heartbeat picked up speed as this was your first time being thrown into a position of danger like this. You crawled along the floor, shots getting louder. You scurried, trying to find a place to hide. The windows of the lab shattered, causing you to freeze.

“That’s the one, take her,” a voice spoke with an accent and before you could do anything, you felt hands grab your ankles and drag you across the floor. You felt the broken glass cutting you all over your body as you tried to kick your way out of this man’s grasp. His face had a mask on and his grip was incredibly strong, making you panic even more than you already were.

Another man came up and lifted you by your shoulders, throwing a bag over your head and pulling you off the ground and over his shoulder. You lifted your knee and hit him in the stomach, causing him to kneel over slightly as you threw your balance to your upper body, causing you to tumble off of him and land on a piece of glass, feeling it slice through your thigh. You groaned and tried to lift yourself up, but before you knew it, you had been hit over the head and your vision went black.

Your eyes fought to open, your head pounding like crazy. You could feel the bruises forming on your body as you regained consciousness, realizing you had no idea where you were. You noticed the brick walls around you seemed to be falling apart, the cement floor covered in gross stains, making you feel like you were in some sort of abandoned factory. The smell of mold filled your nose and you held back a gag.

“Ah, she’s awake,” the same voice that threw a bag over your head spoke, causing you to spin your head and face the man behind the mask. Dark greasy hair and dark brown eyes caught your attention and you recognized his face from a picture Fury had showed the team about the mission they just went on.

“Yeah, I am, thanks for knocking me out,” you smiled sarcastically, fed up with the situation. You weren’t going to let these men know how nervous you were, wondering if your brother and the team were looking for you at the moment.

“You have your brother’s sass,” he spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice, making you grimace at his enjoyment of the situation.

Another blond man came up behind you and unstrapped your arms from the chair. You immediately felt the blood rush back to your fingers as you rubbed your wrists, dark bruises lining your skin.

“So, mind telling me what this is about, fellas?” You questioned, not wanting to dance around with the two greasy men in front of you.

The blond man laughed, “We don’t want you, we want your brother, we know he’ll come after you, and we want revenge.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh, “Wow, of course, Tony’s the guy everyone wants but no one gets. You guys won’t get what you want, you’re a bunch of nobodies.”

Clearly, that comment pissed them off and you received a punch to the stomach, causing you to lean over and groan, struggling to catch your breath as you looked down, noticing the dark red patch of blood on your thigh from the glass, the feeling making you nauseous. You realized these guys only wanted to get to Tony and were clearly focused on waiting for his arrival, so you figured you were going to take a risk.

“Fine, if that’s how we’re going to do it, let’s do it,” you stood up off the chair and the two guys started launching themselves at you. You kneed the dark haired man in the stomach, elbowing the blond in the face as he came up behind you. You grabbed the gun from the blond one as he leaned back to hold his face, blood starting to trickle down from his nose. You turned to face the other man again, putting your hands behind his head and pulling his face down to meet your knee, grabbing hold of the gun and pulling the trigger, shooting him in the foot to which he let out a loud cry.

The blond grabbed you by the neck and leaned you over to deliver a blow to your face, but you twisted yourself around and grabbed him by the gross hair, pulling his head back, causing him to release his chokehold. You took the opportunity to kick him in a private area, taking the gun and pulling the trigger once again, hitting him in the abdomen as blood gushed out, resulting in him falling over on the ground with a painful yell.

You turned your attention back to the other and fired the weapon once again, hitting him in the stomach. Your arms shook slightly from the backfire, but you looked down at the two men, bleeding out on the ground as the smell of iron replaced the smell of the mold.

“See, no one gets to him,” you shrugged and opened the firearm, dropping the remaining bullets, kicking them away and walking up behind the blond, the only one still conscious, and knocked him over the head with it, knocking him out cold. You dropped the gun and turned back to the large metal door on the other side of the room, and it was forcefully kicked down and you relaxed immediately when you noticed Nat and Tony enter the room, eyes wide.

“Took you guys long enough,” you shrugged, walking over to Tony who engulfed you in a massive hug, pulling away and freaking out when seeing the blood on your body.

“How... the hell,” Nat stuttered looking behind you at the two men on the ground, covered in blood. You gave her a wink as the rest of the team rushed in, sighing in relief when they noticed you safe and sound. You smiled at them, shrugging when they asked how you managed to fight these two men off.

“I told you I was a badass,” you winked at Tony who only nodded in response, eyes still wide.

“That’s my sister!”

The team helped you walk out of the building and you reached an emergency vehicle, letting them help you out with your wounds. Now that your adrenaline started wearing off, you were in a decent amount of pain and you were waiting for the drugs to kick in. You sat there alone until Steve walked over, taking a seat next to you, looking clearly flustered.

“Ok, I know this is a horrible time to do this considering the situation, but I need to ask you something,” Steve asked, sitting next to you at the edge of the ambulance as a nurse bandaged your leg up.

“I have these feelings for you, and after today it made me realize that there’s a chance I could lose you, and I was worried sick and I want to protect you, and I just... want to know if you’d like to go for dinner sometime?” Steve rambled on, making you break out into a blush, trying to keep your heart calm.

“Of course, I’d love to.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #captain america #captain america imagines #captain america imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #marvel #avengers #marvel imagines #avengers imagines #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #captain america one shot #captain america x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark imagines

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komahinasecretexchange · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Just As Scripted

Author: @ShatterGlassCeilings / @ask-the-sakamaki

For: @namsuuuuuuu

Rating/Warnings: None

Prompt: Marriage Proposal

Author’s notes: N/A

Hajime walked into his cabin with his hands filled with everything he needed to devise his plans. After spending the last month getting opinions from all of his friends, he finally pulled himself together and decided that it was finally time to pop the question. First things first, making Nagito’s favorite dish from scratch.

Upon returning to Jabberwock island, it sunk in that that would be his home for the rest of time. He’d be stuck here with most of his classmates, left to do as they pleased. The thought was scary, if he was honest. He knew because of the catastrophe that much needed to be rebuilt and his home before all this madness was no longer waiting for him, but he missed it. There was still so much he wanted to see and do.

“Hajime?” He jumped, whipping around to see Nagito walked up to him. He waved his prosthetic hand with a little smile. “It’s time to get off the boat.”

He could suddenly feel his feet again, helping him stand on the sturdy wood deck. His arms tingled as he moved them after being locked for so long. There was a beat of silence as Hajime stared out at Jabberwock, then to Nagito. He watched as Nagito held out his good hand for him, his small smile unwavering as he waited for Hajime to grab ahold of him.

It was then he realised he wasn’t really afraid. He wasn’t terrified of staying on the island, nor was he scared of Nagito like he was after the first trial in the simulation. He wasn’t a new person entirely. Everyone was relatively the same in their own way, but they had all grown from where they used to be. This Nagito was different, but so familiar in all the ways he craved that it didn’t take him long to hold his hand, returning the smile.

The rest of his uncertainty vanished as they stepped off the boat. He felt his hand be squeezed as the boat began to sail away into the distance. The sun was beginning to set, and the stars began to peak out from behind the clouds in no time. He dared to sneak a glance at Nagito, who was staring up at the sky with wide eyes, as if he’d never have this sight and experience again.

Hajime made a note to himself to take him out again soon. To knock on his door in the night and take him by his hand and guide him to the beach. He’d lay out a blanket and they’d lie in silence and stare out at the stars until the rolling breeze off the sea chilled them to the bone. Then he’d bundle up the blanket and drape it around their shoulders before navigating them in the dark back to the hotel. Share a goodbye at Nagito’s doorstep, then head back to his own room with a goofy smile on his lips.

He wasn’t afraid of what he lost. What was waiting for him, his home, his sanctuary- it was all right here.

“The boat arrived,” Nagito called as he entered the room. Hajime looked up from where he was digging through his bags, watching as his boyfriend set a few bags down at the door. He immediately went over to greet him, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the lips.

“You asked for things this time?” Hajime asked as he stared at Nagito’s haul. With every boat, they were allowed to fill out a paper of things they wanted or needed. Usually it would come in the next shipment, unless it was something that was ridiculous to begin with. Ibuki once asked for a drummer, and it’s been a year and she hasn’t gotten a response yet.

Nagito never filled out a paper, so Hajime took it upon himself to ask for things for him when he wasn’t in need of materials for building. It was usually just a request for a book or thicker clothes if Komaeda seemed to be getting sicker. Then he’d have to sneak it into Nagito’s stuff and pray he didn’t notice and panic about how he didn’t deserve so much kindness. Nagito’s self deprecating behavior was still a work in progress.

“I did,” Nagito hummed, “but don’t look. It’s private.”

Hajime held his hands up and stepped away. “You have your space.”

Nagito laughed. “So, are you going to be working with Soda today? I was thinking that while you are out working hard that I could make you your favorite.”

Hajime’s heart stopped momentarily. “Oh. Uh, actually, I was going to cook tonight.”

“It’s okay, I can do it.” Nagito gave him another smile, eyes fluttered closed before they opened, looking to his bags. A clear hint at some of the bags contents. “I got lessons from Teruteru and I don’t want to forget what he taught me. I need to do it right away.”

“I got advice from him too…” Hajime frowned, not wanting to relent. If he let himself wait another day, he could lose his nerve entirely. If things didn’t go as he planned for the last month, no matter how small it was, he’d flounder and ruin the proposal. Then again, when Nagito had his mind on something, he tended to get his way, either through his luck or cunning. He had to hold his ground or settle this. “The kitchen is big enough, I guess. We could both use it to cook, but it will be a little weird to both be making dinner, right?”

“Good point, you can help me cook then and save yours for tomorrow!” Nagito grinned, clapping his hands together. Hajime gave him a look before snagging his bags off the floor.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I had an inkling.” Nagito picked up his bags as well and began to head to the kitchen. Hajime followed, closing the door behind himself. The walk was peaceful since everyone was off doing their own thing. He was glad the kitchen was empty and all the dishes were washed so he didn’t have to waste time getting set up. Nagito took the other side of the kitchen before beginning to unpack his things. “What are you making?”

“Chicken yakisoba, what about you?” Hajime asked.

“Omurice.” Hajime smiled at his response. He used to make that all the time when he was in school and his parents were too busy to cook for him.

What was meant to be a thirty minute recipe ended up taking an hour. He should have read through his written out recipe, but he was eager to get started. Nagito wasn’t doing much better, as he had to restart two times already because his food somehow started on fire. Hajime wasn’t sure Nagito even knew how that happened. One moment he’d turn to check his recipe, the next he’d be staring at a pan completely engulfed in flames.

“Oh.”

He dropped the pan on top of the other one and ran it under cold water.

Hajime stifled a laugh as Nagito started up again, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the new mix, as if daring it to start acting up. “Do you need help?”

Nagito was silent. He didn’t look up from his pan, but Hajime could see the pout on his lips. Making his way to the other side of the kitchen, he stood beside Nagito. He then noticed the sugar around the bottom of the pan. It must have been mistaken for salt for the last few pans when the flames began. He sighed a little, remembering Teruteru drilling in his head the differences in the containers between the salt and the sugar. He might have forgotten to tell Nagito with how much he hounded Hajime for it.

He wrapped his arms around Nagito’s waist and rested his cheek on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it if there’s another fire.”

“What about your food?”

“It’s got to cook a bit longer, but otherwise I’m done.” Nagito nodded, leaning back into Hajime’s touch. “Do you want to eat away from the hotel?”

“That’d be nice. Let’s go somewhere quiet, like the beach.” Hinata’s nose scrunched. That’s not exactly what he had in mind, more in favor for taking Nagito to his favorite place, the library. He already had his plan set up in there too… Going to the beach wouldn’t be an option.

“Why not the library? I got another book from the ship I want you to read.”

“You don’t want to eat in a dusty library, right? The weather is so nice outside today.”

“We can always eat on our way there.”

“I prefer to sit down for my meals.” Liar. Hajime always saw him walking around with a sandwich or apple while deep in thought. He didn’t understand why Nagito was being so difficult today. They usually were rather harmonious, except for petty things that were resolved within the hour. Neither seemed to be in sync with each other today.

Maybe he was timing this wrong and needed to pull back from his plan after all. Fate was probably clubbing him with hints that the stars weren’t in position and it was best that he just followed along with Nagito and toss his plan in the gutter.

His arms tightened around Nagito’s waist. That wasn’t going to happen.

“We can eat here then. Less trouble since we won’t be carrying our dishes back later.”

Once they were finished, they sat down in silence and began to eat their meals. While his favorite food tasted wonderful, it didn’t wipe away the crummy expression settled on his face as he thought of how this night was going exactly the way he didn’t want it to. Nagito didn’t look too much happier, poking at his food and staring at his plate with a little frown on his lips, forgetting to hold his usual cheery demeanor from being too lost in thought. Hajime set his fork down.

“Does it not taste good?” Hajime scratched his neck. “I’m sorry. I never made a dish like this before. I will try again some other time for you.”

“It’s great!” Nagito gave him a dazzling smile, scooping up some food with his fork. “I really appreciate you making this for lowly scum like me”

“You aren’t scum,” Hajime scowled, shaking his head. He put his fork down and held out his hand, waiting until Nagito offered his own with a confused expression on his face. Hajime leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Komaeda’s knuckles, eyes scanning the other’s expression to get a view of the pink that dusted Nagito’s cheeks. “I wish you’d stop saying that stuff and see yourself how I see you.”

Nagito smiled, saying nothing over anything else ill of himself ready to tumble out of his lips. Hajime heard them all the time. He wished his partner was never plagued with such thoughts.

He watched as Nagito leaned forward. The sunset outside gave light that reflected off of Nagito’s grey eyes like he was ethereal beauty. He is. His lips twitched up into a smile, one that resembled the one Hajime saw long ago when he woke up on the beach during the start of the killing game. Of course, he was the only one with memories of the game almost perfectly intact. He wondered if Nagito remembered how they met and how warm Hajime felt when he helped him up from the sand. He hoped he remembered only the beginning of the party, when Nagito dragged him into a goofy dance because of Ibuki’s hounding for everyone to start dancing. He knew Nagito didn’t remember the end of the party, thank god, but he wished there was some way to preserve the good memories.

“Come with me to the beach,” Nagito whispered. Hajime felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t let Nagito miss anymore good memories.

“I want you to come to the library with me,” Hajime replied, “please.”

Nagito pulled his hand away and gathered his plate. The food was half eaten, which wasn’t a shock. He never got enough to eat, even though Hajime insisted getting more nutrients would help him feel better. “Thank you for the meal, Hajime. But I have something to do. I’ll see you tonight… so long as you won’t be working?”

Hajime had finished all he wanted to do today yesterday. He wanted to ensure he had the whole night with Nagito without having to rush off to finish something for the Future Foundation in the morning or having to make sure all his friends were still doing okay. He gave Nagito a nod before his partner left him in the dining hall with his half eaten plate of food.

Though he was no longer hungry, he continued to eat. He had a feeling he sat there for at least thirty minutes before the plate was clear and he felt no fuller than before. With a small sigh, he picked his plate up and took it to the sink. Nagito had washed his things before leaving, so he followed suit so Teruteru wouldn’t be upset with any mess they had left. As he headed out of the hotel, he began to walk to the library. There was much to clean up, especially since this no longer seemed like the perfect time to propose. He couldn’t do it when they couldn’t seem to agree on anything. Maybe it was the world’s way of saying that they weren’t as perfect as he thought. They must have things to work on, but that was alright. It will happen one day, even if he needs to wait a little longer than he expected.

He paused when he reached the bridge to the center island. Before heading across, he spared a glance toward the beach and caught the sight of flames. Not a wildfire, but small flickering lights. He tried to poke his head around to get a better view from afar, but he didn’t spot anyone down there.

“Nagito?” He called, stepping toward the beach. He climbed over a small dune and headed down to where the candles were decorating the sand in a circle, with a gap wide enough to enter without worry of getting burned. Inside the circle was a pale wooden board that was a few inches off the ground. It was wide too, maybe around eight feet in diameter and four inches from the big candles blazing. On top of the board was red specks. Hajime hesitantly crouched down and poked one. To his relief, it wasn’t like the red specks he witnessed in the killing game. It was rose petals.

Nagito set this up? Hajime smiled and stood, looking out at the darkened sky and the gentle waves of the ocean. It was beautiful. How did he manage to get the board out with his bad hand? Had he gotten help while Hajime was getting assistance in the library with Sonia and Chiaki?

Hajime’s heart beat fast in his chest as he thought of his partner. He just wanted to make good memories too. Nagito wanted to do something romantic, and Hajime was so absorbed in what he wanted to do that he didn’t want to consider it.

Stepping off the platform, Hajime went running toward the hotel to apologize. He struggled to make his way through the sand with tennis shoes, but managed to not fall. Once he got to the path, he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Nagito step off the bridge from the main island, clutching something to his chest. Their eyes met.

Hajime ran over to Nagito, noticing the closer he got that the item Nagito was holding was the book he had gotten for him from the boat that morning. He stumbled to a stop right before Nagito, pants escaping his lips. “Did you do that?”

Nagito smiled a little, looking to the beach. He nodded and Hajime could see his eyes had become glossy. “I went to the library to apologize for being so stubborn and stupind… and I saw what you did there.”

He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his green jacket. “I didn’t expect someone to ever do something like that for me… It was so beautiful, it must have took you so long.”

“I could say the same,” Hajime replied with a small laugh, sparing another glance to the beach.

They both were quiet for a moment, Nagito attempting to calm down the emotions swirling inside him and Hajime trying to decide if it was as good a time as any. He cleared his throat and reached forward, brushing some stray strands of white hair from Nagito’s face. “Did you look at the book I got you yet?”

“No.” Nagito shook his head. “I rushed right over to see you since you weren’t in the library.”

“Do you want to check it out?”

Nagito sniffled, then pulled the book away. He brushed his robotic hand over the cover, smiling at the words he saw at the front. Fairy Tales. It wasn’t Nagito’s favorite thing to read, Hajime knew that. He loved learning and rarely read stories unless they were written in the old days. The type of literature that was assigned for class in highschool english classes. That’s why he knew Nagito wouldn’t mind that he wouldn’t be able to actually ready through the book.

He watched as the robotic hand tried to open the book to a random page, but was stopped when he touched the edges of the pages. It was stiff, each piece forced together. Nagito frowned, looking back up to Hajime with a confused look.

Hajime shrugged, averting his eyes. “I thought you always read books cover to cover.”

Nagito smiled, shaking his head as he grabbed the thick front cover and pushed it open. Instead of being greeted by the front page, usually only the title of the book and authors, he was greeted to hallowed pages to make a square in the center. Inside was a velvety material that held up a silver ring in the center. The center of the ring had holes in it, the design like a tangle of vines. It reminded him of the spirals of the old books Nagito would carry from the library to their home to read at night. When he saw it in the catalogs he flipped through a few months ago, he knew that was the one he needed to give Nagito.

“Hajime,” Nagito whispered as he stared at the ring inside. His eyes welled with tears once more and Hajime resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. Instead, he waited until Nagito shifted to rest the book into his robotic hand.

“Will you marry me?”

Nagito tried to hide the large smile twitching onto his lips as he nodded. “Y-Yes, I… yes.”

Hajime took the ring from the box and carefully slid the ring onto Nagito’s good hand, happy to see it looked perfect. It appeared as though it was always meant to be there. He smiled as Nagito dropped the hollowed book in favor of pulling Hajime into a strong hug, happy giggles leaving his lips at the sudden spike of joy.

“I-It’s stupid, it’s really stupid,” Nagito laughed as he pulled away finally. Tears stained his cheeks, which were red and puffy as he fished a hand into his coat and pulled out a small box. Hajime’s heart was caught in his throat as his fiance opened the box to reveal a silver ring. It had two lines on it as a design, and between the two the surface was slightly raised. It was simple, but it still took Hajime’s breath away. “And I guess I already know your answer too.”

Hajime laughed and let Nagito place the ring on his finger. “You do.”

#fanfiction #komahina #komahina secret exchange

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yourholidaymom · 4 years ago

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Your Holiday Mom: Peg

To hear Peg read her letter to you, click here!

My Dear Holiday Child,

You can thank your agender sibling for this letter; I wouldn’t have found this website on my own. We read all the letters last year and I was struck by the number of you that needed a mom. I am overjoyed that they thought I’d be a good Holiday Mom. I understand that you feel like this holiday season will not seem to be as warm and loving as a Hallmark card. Let me let you in on a secret ~ Hallmark cards aren’t real and parents can be stupid and ignorant. We may come across like we have all the answers when, in reality, we may not even know the questions. But we can also be loving, caring and accepting. I am very happy that you have chosen to join our family.

Tensions can rise in any family this time of year. We all have high expectations that may fall flat or hurt us. Please just hold on, it does get better. When things get tough, please remind yourself that it will pass. Your grandmother always told me that “it’ll be alright” and I’d get angry with her “how do you know” and she say that she just knew. I have to admit, that she was right, it did get better.

Please forgive me – I don’t always use the correct pronoun. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t recognized for who you are. It just means that speech patterns can be difficult to change and I’m trying. Also, I’m a hugger. I try to be aware of when you’ve had enough but sometimes I can’t tell. I just love you so much that I can’t let go. If we’re going to be honest, I’m also a cryer.

If you can, please find a little piece in your heart to allow me to comfort you. I’ll bring you some hot chocolate or tea and maybe a few cookies. Do you like homemade chocolate chip ones? We could sit on your bed and not say anything. We could talk about the music you like or the book you just read ~ you are still reading a lot, right? It’s been so long and I’m curious to see how you’ve grown and changed. I so wish that we were sitting together as you read this letter. I would take you in my arms and hold you. I know that you don’t always like it, but I’ll hold you in a loving embrace until you pull away. You’re safe here. I’ll respect your boundaries.

Of all the holidays, Thanksgiving is my favorite. I love to cook many different kinds of vegetables, bake bread and get the house smelling of a huge turkey dinner. I used to love the way my mom set the table. I try to do it as well as her but she had that decorating, artistic flair that passed over me to my children and you. She’s been gone for two years now and I still miss her. If you see me get emotional while I’m cooking it’s because I’m missing my mom. Thank you for asking about her, and for the way you ask if there is anything you can do to help with dinner. You are so polite! It’s nice to have an extra set of hands in the kitchen. No, I don’t think that it’s odd how much you like mashed potatoes, and now you know how to make them without any lumps! Remember when we went apple picking this fall and I made some applesauce and put it in a mason jar? We’ll open one up and have it with dinner. I don’t know why I make so much food, but we’ll have leftovers for a few days. Turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce and stuffing. Turkey and vegetable soup. Does it get any better than that? It’s time to dim the lights, light the candles and turn on Pandora for some classical music (I know, Spotify is better but I’m stuck on Pandora, what can I say?)

I love when we all finally sit down at the table and I ask everyone to tell me what they are thankful for this year. Your dad will mumble something extraordinary, your siblings will roll their eyes at me, yet say something heartwarming and meaningful. I am looking forward to hearing what you are thankful for this year. What am I thankful for? That’s easy, this year I’m thankful for you. You’ve come into my life and stolen my heart. It’s time to say grace.

We’ll all hold hands and recite the prayer that my family has said for generations. OK, well, your dad and I will say the prayer and the kids will just look blankly at me because they don’t believe in religion anymore and holding hands is just an excuse for squeezing each others hands too tightly, maybe you feel the same way? Well, it’s ok because we’re all in this together. UGH, I hate having milk bottles on the table but they always end up there. I prefer to drink sparkling cider in fancy champagne glasses but one glass is enough because it is too sweet. So it’s time to eat, and eat. I hope you brought your appetite. Yes, first course is always fruit salad, then a regular salad, then all the vegetables and turkey. After dinner we can just hang out for a bit. I’ll always ask if someone wants to play cribbage or some other table game. Don’t worry, no one ever wants too so don’t feel bad about saying no. Someday someone is going to surprise me and say yes. We’ll relax for awhile, call relatives and wish them a happy Thanksgiving. Maybe you’ll go upstairs and listen to music and digest this huge meal. Then it’s on to the pies. I didn’t know you’d never made one before and yours came out great! I love the design you made with the extra dough.

I am so thankful for you. I love you for being you ~ your creativity, the clothes you wear, the way you style your hair, and your opinions. You have amazing strength and insight. I am proud of you too. You are a wondrous person and deserve to be loved, respected, listened to, acknowledged and so much more. You are beautiful inside and out. This would be a better world if more people were like you. I just hope that someday soon you will appreciate you and much as I do.

Please be gentle with yourself. You are the only you that I have. What I hope for you this holiday season is that you know that you are loved and supported for who you are. I am thankful that you were born and came into my life. Please take some time to find a little peace during the holidays, however that may look to you. I will think of you and say a little prayer whenever I have a piece of apple pie!

With all my love, Your Holiday Mom Peg

** This year we are reprising your favorite letters. The original post date of this letter was Nov 26, 2015.

Your Holiday Mom: Peg was originally published on Your Holiday Mom

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crying-gay-tears · 5 years ago

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Closing the Distance

The view from the top of the world tree was Gon’s favorite sight to behold. Well, one of his favorites. If he was being honest, his favorite involved a shy smile, a faint blush, and a pair of cat like eyes the color of the night sky. But the view now, 1784 meters above a bustling city full of travelers, was a close second.

The sky around him was growing dim, the sun sinking behind the clouds on the horizon.

It had been a year since Gon last sat atop this tree. He wasn’t sure why he ventured back here now, he just got a feeling in his gut, and he had learned by now to follow that feeling when it arose.

So here he was, eating an apple and reflecting on the last year of his life as twilight blue slowly replaced the bright orange in the sky.

It had been quite a year. He traveled with Ging for about 6 months. Those months passed by in a flash until one day Gon woke up to a note from his father saying that he had some business to attend to /alone/, but that their paths were sure to cross again one day.

Gon split the latter half of the year between resting on Whale Island with Mito-San, and training with Bisky. There were also frequent trips to visit friends, of course. He had gone to see Kite, Shoot and Knuckle, Leorio, and even Mr. Wing and Zushi. The one friend he hadn’t yet met up with was also the person he wanted to see the most.

It had been a full year since he had last seen Killua. They’d corresponded often enough through texts and the occasional phone call. Gon even sent postcards from each new place he had visited with his dad, but Killua wasn’t the best pen pal.

It made Gon sad in a way he couldn’t quite describe, but he cherished the communication he was able to have with his friend, and if he was being honest, he understood the cold distance.

They made up before parting at the world tree a year ago, but so much had been left unsaid. Gon knew his own selfish recklessness had caused damage, but he wasn’t sure how to fix it; and with Ging precariously waiting on him, he didn’t have the time to fix it anyway. He knew Killua understood this, but it didn’t mean that things were 100% okay between them. Gon let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumped. By now the sky was blue-black, all traces of the day vanished. He supposed he should head down, make his way to the city square and get a room at the inn for the night. Maybe tomorrow he would just pick a place randomly and travel to it. Exploring usually made him feel better. /then why did he still feel bad after a year of doing just that?/

Another sigh. He shook his head to clear it and stood up when a flash in the distance caught his eye. He squinted at the horizon. The flash lit the sky once more. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, but it seemed so familiar... His heart skipped a beat. He knew that flash. He had seen it before, a little over a year ago. Another flash of blue-white light cut across the sky in the distance. Without another thought Gon squeezed his eyes shut, slipped into Zetsu, and began his descent.

Killua let out a half hearted yawn as he linked his fingers behind his head and walked towards the door. Alluka lie asleep in her bed by the window, exhausted from another long day of traveling. Killua figured he would use this time to blow off some steam, so he was headed to the clearing he saw on their way in, about a mile away from the inn they were staying at for the night.

The night air was cool and there was a slight breeze tousling Killua’s silver locks as he walked. He still wasn’t sure exactly why they were here or where they were going to be headed tomorrow, and his own uncertainty was irritating him.

He always had a plan and usually a few backup plans in mind, but for some reason getting to this small city full of travelers today was about as far as his mind would let him think through.

He and Alluka had spent the last year moving from place to place, seeing all that the world had to offer. They both spent far too long locked away at the Zoldyck estate, so the freedom of open ended and spontaneous travel was exactly what they both needed.

It had been an amazing year, but the former assassin still felt like something was missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, or maybe he could but it just hurt a bit too much to think about.

Memories of the last time he had been in this city danced through his head. Feelings of lingering grief, sadness, and joy mingled as a familiar face smiled in his mind’s eye. Spikes of raven hair, golden eyes finally open and shining again after being shut for so long... Killua shook his head and let out a sigh. He had reached the clearing and it was time to have some fun.

Letting his eyes fall shut, he took a deep breath and focused his nen. Almost instantly he felt a tingle of electricity run up his spine and down through his arms and legs. The air around him was humming with energy as he bolted across the clearing. It felt so good to be running. When he quickly made it across, he dashed back again, leaving charred grass in his wake. A few times back and forth and he was already bored of the small space. He wished he had more room to really run and let loose. Maybe their next stop should be somewhere with a heavy forrest.

Now standing in the center of the field, he focused his nen in his hands and tossed a ball of lightning up into the air, watching it pop, sending small sparks raining down. He repeated this for a while, running laps and then launching bolts of electricity. Welp. He supposed it was time to head back, this was about as entertaining as it was going to get.

It was now pitch black outside, so he decided he’d run back to the inn allowing his nen to illuminate the way. He charged up before turning on his heel. Just as he was about to launch himself forward, he heard a rustle in the bushes behind him.

Before he could react, he felt a body thump against him and arms wrap around his back. Without a thought, Killua let out a wave of electricity and twirled around, flinging the other person to the ground. He steadied his footing and prepared himself for a fight.

Electricity crackled around his body, lighting the area around him enough to actually see the person now standing up in front of him.

“G-gon?!” His mouth dropped open, jaw completely slack.

“Killua!!” The other boy’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he stepped closer to his friend.

Killua released his nen and took a step forward as well. “How—W-What are you doing here?? I didn’t even sense your presence. Why would you sneak up on me like that?? I almost kicked your ass!”

Gon let out a giggle. “I saw you turn to leave just as I got here and I didn’t want to miss you! I was sitting at the top of the world tree when I noticed some flashes of lightning. I was hoping it might be you, and it was!” Gon reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Can-can I give you a real hug now?”

Killua’s eyes were wide as saucers as his body moved forward of its own accord. Gon was here. Right in front of him, now wrapping him up in a bear hug. It was all he could do to remain standing, his legs suddenly felt like jello.

Standing in his friend’s embrace was a strange and familiar feeling. He was suddenly overwhelmed by comfort and warmth. He somehow felt /whole/ again, like a last missing puzzle piece had finally been put in its rightful place.

Gon had gotten taller, they were almost the same height now, and his arms were strong and toned. He still smelled exactly how Killua remembered, like earth and sunshine.

Killua’s chest felt tight and his blood was pounding in his ears. How was this happening? After all this time, their reunion was a chance meeting in the middle of the night? And what was Gon doing here, of all places? Hell, he didn’t even know what /he/ was doing here himself. Had they both somehow just been pulled to this city by some invisible force, drawing them together? And what now? Were they just supposed to act like everything was normal? Like the last year hadn’t passed by and like distance hadn’t grown between them? There was so much that was left unsaid, and Killua almost preferred it that way. It was easier than facing the hurt feelings and old wounds that never healed properly.

He stood there, body completely still as his mind and heart both raced and fought a war with each other.

He felt Gon squeeze him, tight yet gentle, and then felt warm breath at his ear.

“I’ve missed you so much, Killua.”

That was it. He couldn’t take this anymore. Killua’s nerves felt like live wires and before he knew what he was doing, he shoved Gon off of him with all his might.

The boy fell to the ground with a harsh thud several feet away. Killua flinched at the sound, but didn’t move.

This was all too much. Seeing Gon, feeling him, after all this time, and with no warning. Conflicting thoughts and emotions were clouding his brain. He was overjoyed that his friend was in front of him, but he couldn’t shake the way his heart ached just as it had a year ago when they split at the world tree.

He had so much he needed to say to Gon, but he didn’t know where to start, and he wasn’t sure it would even make him feel better. His heart sank down to his stomach.

He wanted to run far away, but something kept him rooted to the spot as his friend grunted and shakily pulled himself up from the ground.

Gon took a step forward “Killua, what the-“

“Don’t move! Just stay away. I-I can’t be near you right now.”

Gon took another step forward. “Killua, can we just talk for a moment...”

“No! I said stay back, Gon.”

Killua didn’t know what he was saying or doing, he just wanted his chest to stop hurting. Sparks began to fill the space around him and the air buzzed with electricity as his Nen charged around his body.

A silence fell between them.

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.”

Before Killua had a chance to ask what the other boy meant, an orange glow had already enveloped Gon’s form.

“Gon. What are you doing?”

“You won’t talk to me, so let’s fight. If you win, I’ll leave. You don’t have to talk to me or see me ever again. If I win, you have to talk to me.”

“G-Gon, are you crazy? I’m not gonna fight you, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Says the one who just shoved me! I meant what I said, so fight me Killua!”

Killua couldn’t believe what he had just heard. How could he fight Gon? What if they really hurt each other? What if he won? He knew Gon would stand by his word, and did he really never want to see his best friend again? And what if Gon won? Was he prepared to lay everything out like that? All of the frustration and sadness. Would he even be able to get it all out? He couldn’t decide which outcome was worse.

“Well, Killua? Are you going to make a move? Or are you too afraid to fight me?”

Killua could see the sly smile spreading on Gon’s face. Welp. There was no other choice.

“You wish!” He hollered before dashing forward, right fist extended and aiming for the tan boy’s face.

He braced his arm for impact in vain as Gon shot out of the way in a flash.

Woah. When had he gotten so fast?

A smile crept onto Killua’s face as he came to a halt and turned to face Gon again, now standing about three feet to his left.

“Missed me!” Gon giggled, tongue poking out.

“Baka, don’t let your guard down!” He launched a kick in Gon’s direction.

Gon crossed his arms and blocked the foot flying at his stomach, staggering back a few inches. He focused his nen in his first. “I hope you don’t mind a round of Rock, Paper, Scissors!” he teased, thrusting his first into Killua’s side.

Killua gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. When had Gon gotten this strong? A bit irritated now, Killua decided to stop fooling around. “I always beat you at that, remember? What makes you think this is any different?” He sneered before launching himself forward and then slicing a line through the air with his leg. This time, the kick landed. Gon was knocked back a few feet before collapsing onto the grass.

He stood quickly and grounded his footing. Before he could focus enough to throw another punch, Killua was sending another kick his way. With a deep breath, he channeled his nen in his arms and caught Killua’s leg. Instead of just blocking, this time he gripped the boy’s ankle and used it to sling him in a semi circle. He released mid spin, sending the former assassin flying.

Now Killua was downright /pissed/

He quickly stood and darted forward, charging a ball of electricity in the palm of his hand and then launching it at Gon. The other boy quickly ducked, narrowly avoiding it.

The raven haired boy charged forward suddenly, both fists glowing orange. Killua didn’t have time to react before one of them was colliding with the underside of his jaw. He flew into the air, landing on his hands and knees.

He felt some blood drip down his chin from a busted lip. Standing up, he let out a low growl as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “What the fuck Gon?!”

Gon, already poised to throw another punch dropped his arm, a confused look on his face. “Huh?”

“You busted my lip!”

“We’re fighting, Killua! Did you think I was just going to let you win?”

“This whole thing is stupid! We shouldn’t be fighting at all!”

“Are you just saying that because you’re mad that I’m winning?” Gon smirked.

Killua, now livid, ground his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re so selfish Gon! Making me fight just because you want to talk. I don’t want to fight you! Did you ever stop to think about that? You’re forcing me to do this and in the end if I fight my best and beat your ass I’ll feel bad and you’ll never speak to me again? But if I take it easy on you, I get my own ass beat and have to talk to you? Fuck you Gon! You can’t just make people do whatever you want!”

Gon was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth in a tight line. “Killua, I just...I just needed you to talk to me! Ever since we went our separate ways, we haven’t been the same. You never wanted to meet up, you hardly responded when I sent letters and post cards. It’s like you didn’t care at all! So when I finally saw you, here of all places, after all this time, I couldn’t just let you walk away again!”

Killua just shook his head. “There you go again, like everything is about you!” He lunged forward, connecting a punch with Gon’s cheek. “I’m tired of spending all my time following behind you, making sure you’re okay and cleaning up the messes you make!” He threw another punch, this time hitting Gon square in the stomach. “What about ME? Do you even care how I feel?” He pulled his fist back and sent it flying forward again, this time Gon caught it.

They stood for a moment, Gon’s hand wrapped around Killua’s fist, holding his arm in place, their expressions both pained.

“I-of course I care! I care so much, Killua! A-and I’m so sorry! For what happened last year. I /was/ being selfish. And reckless. I didn’t stop to think about you or what I was doing. All I could think about was Kite, losing his life because of me! I had to avenge him and I let my anger blind me. I was broken, and nothing else was going to fix me-“

“FIX YOU?! You killed yourself Gon!”

Killua tore his hand away and kicked Gon in the side, knocking him to the ground.

“If I hadn’t been there to pull you out of that place and if I hadn’t gotten Alluka to heal you, you’d be DEAD! And then what? What was I supposed to do without you? Without my best friend?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing the past year!”

Silence fell over them. Tears stained Gon’s cheeks and Killua’s eyes sparkled with tears he refused to let fall.

Gon stood on wobbly legs, arms wrapping around his stomach.

“You saved me, Killua. You’ve always been there helping me and I’ll never be able to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Killua scoffed, Gon winced.

“But if you’re not in my life, I won’t even get the chance to try! You’re my best friend, Killua. Having you just ignore me is worse than being dead!”

With that, Gon launched himself forward, knocking Killua onto the ground and then falling down on top of him. The silver haired boy struggled underneath him, but he locked his arms and legs around him and wouldn’t let him up.

After a few moments of struggling, Killua let his body go limp under Gon’s weight. Tears were finally streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Both boys let themselves cry, the sounds of labored breathing and broken sobs filled the space around them.

“I thought I lost you, Gon. For days I didn’t know if I’d be able to get Alluka to you, or if her power would even work. It felt like you were already gone. I guess I wasn’t able to stop feeling that way, even after it all turned out okay. And even through that sadness and then relief, I was still so /angry/ with you.”

“You’re allowed to be upset. I’m so sorry Killua. I just wanted the chance to try and make it better.”

Gon wiped his eyes and looked down at Killua. Warm honey met midnight blue and they stayed like that, just staring at each other for who knows how long.

The silence between them was comfortable now, and seemed to say so much. Killua understood what Gon had gone through and why he did what he did. He always had. Still, it was nice to hear a real apology. To be able to get how he felt off his chest.

Gon now understood the distance Killua was keeping between them. It pained him to know just how deeply he had hurt his friend. He had always had an idea of how much damage was done, but finally hearing it was strangely a relief. Now, if he was lucky enough to be given the chance, he could make it all up to him.

“Killua?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I-can we, maybe travel together again? I-It doesn’t have to be forever. Maybe just for a while! I’m happy with any time you’ll give me.”

Killua’s face was calm and hard to read.

“We were supposed to stay together before. But you ran off on your own to fight, like you didn’t even want me there...”

“I did! But I guess I also didn’t. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt because of me.”

Killua laughed monotonously.

“Gon, leaving me behind hurt me. You throwing your life away hurt me.”

Gon’s face fell. “I understand.”

He rolled off of Killua, landing in the grass next to him. Staring up at the sky, tears blurring his vision as the stars twinkled above them.

“If it helps you to know, I always want you with me.” He sniffled a bit and tangled his fingers in the grass.

Killua turned his head to stare at the boy. His profile against the night sky was just as he remembered.

“When I was traveling with Ging, I missed you so much. So many amazing adventures and each one of them just made me wish you were there to see it all, too.”

Killua was thankful for the darkness concealing the blush now spreading across his cheeks.

“I-I know what you mean.”

Gon instantly perked up, turning his head to face his friend. “You do?” The hope in his voice made Killua’s heart skip a beat.

“Alluka and I have been traveling all over, and each new place just made me think of how much you would’ve loved to be there.”

Killua threw his arm over his face to hide it. “It...never felt quite right without you, Gon.”

An unusually long pause made Killua curious. He peeked out from under his arm and was met with Gon perched on his elbows and beaming down at him.

Killua groaned. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Gon’s smile widened as he spoke “It’s just nice to know you missed me like I missed you, Killua.”

“Y-yeah.” His cheeks were on fire now and he hoped Gon wouldn’t notice.

He did, but didn’t say anything. Choosing instead to just admire the pale boy, finally beside him again.

The pair laid in the grass for a while, just staring up at the sky, and stealing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They shared stories of their adventures over the past year, gradually working together to close the distance that had formed between them. Before long, the moon began to set, making way for the sunrise that wasn’t far off.

Killua moved to sit up, and Gon felt his stomach sink. Their perfect bubble was about to burst.

Killua stood, brushing the dirt and grass off of his clothes. “Better head back now, before Alluka wakes up.”

Gon tried to hide the sadness in his voice. “Right, she’d be so worried if she woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Well, aren’t you coming?” He asked, offering his hand to Gon.

“I-what?”

“Gon, we’ve gotta get a move on. Alluka wakes up with the sunrise. It’s actually kind of annoying sometimes, I never get to sleep in. And we have to figure out where we’re going today. I hadn’t planned that far ahead yet.”

Gon’s smile was brighter than the sun now peaking over the horizon. He grabbed Killua’s hand and stood up before yanking the boy into another hug. This time, Killua hugged back.

When they pulled apart, Gon had a curious look on his face.

Killua quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I was just thinking, it’s not like you to not have a plan.”

“Yeah, well, I guess...maybe I was just waiting for you. We can decide where we go together.”

Gon reached down and squeezed his friend’s hand. “As long as we’re together, anywhere sounds good to me!”

“You’re so embarrassing” Killua grumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of this head. Gon just smiled and hummed as they turned in the direction of the inn and started walking.

“Killua?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for letting me be by your side again. This time I promise I won’t leave.”

Killua’s cheeks were rosy as a smile swept across his face. “You should really be thanking me for letting you win the fight. Race you to the inn!” He shot forward in a flash.

Gon let out a hearty laugh and for the first time in so long, he followed behind his friend.

#mine #fic #killugon #gon #gon freccs #killuaxgon #killua #killua zoldyck #hunter x hunter #hxh #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #killugon fic #reunion

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sweetheart-minnie · 4 years ago

Text

On The Top Of A Ferris Wheel || Minzel

Summary: Minnie convinces Marzel to go on the Ferris Wheel with her during the Fall Carnival

Trigger Warnings: None this is purrree

@marzelsoto

MINNIE

Minnie had pulled all the stops necessary to get Marzel to go to the carnival. She had the day off and wanted to enjoy the carnival but not alone. Of course, she could be with Peri but she didn't want to be a third wheel between her and her boyfriend, so she dragged Marzel.

"Ever got on a ferris wheel before?" She asked all while enjoying a huge thing of cotton candy she had gotten herself.

MARZEL

Marzel wasn’t intending on going to the carnival, his sister had suggested that he go but he hadn’t really had a need or a want to. Somehow though with a pouting Minnie in front of him he agreed and now here he was in front of a giant wheel and apple cider in his hands.

“I haven’t. How does it even work?” Marzel questioned trying to figure it out though for a moment he forgot that was something a human would know.

MINNIE

Aw, Marzel had never enjoyed a ferris wheel ride. Minnie didn’t know why she found that so endearing, but she did. She was also glad to be the one to introduce him to what was practically a Fall tradition in Swynlake.

Minnie was sure that there wasn’t an old timer in town who has not ridden the Ferris Wheel during the annual Fall Carnival.

“You’ll love it then! The first ride is always the best one, so you see those seats there.” The brunette freed one of her hands so that she was able to point at the seats on the ferris wheel.

“We’ll be sitting on one of those and the Ferris Wheel takes a slow spin completely around, stopping pretty frequently to unload and reload. The best is when we are stopped at the top because you get a beautiful view of town from there, especially if you can catch the sun setting.”

MARZEL

Marzel followed her hand to look over the ‘ferris wheel’ it looked precarious if he was to be honest. How could anything be safely built in the span of a few days and then be taken apart and removed just as easily.

But he was also intrigued. And so many people seemed to enjoy it so really what was there for him to fear?

Hopefully nothing.

“Well we may not get the setting sun but I imagine it will still be a nice view?” Marzel stated simply still amazed and worried about the ferris wheel as they moved to line up. “By the way can I try a little bit of your cotton candy?”

MINNIE

“It’ll be great. The sky is clear and there isn’t a hint of rain. It’s perfect even if the sun isn’t setting yet. I always love going on the ferris wheel. I didn’t get to go on it last year. I volunteered to help with the setup of the festival and then had to go to work that night for a twelve hour shift.”

It had been a switch Minnie had agreed to for Lily, so that her friend could come spend some time at the carnival with a date. Honestly, how was she to say no to that?

“Super glad that isn’t the case this year.”

She perked. She had the entire night off and was just as happy that she wasn’t going to have to get on the ferris wheel alone. Sure, the view was beautiful either way, but it was always better when she wasn’t seeing it alone.

Plus, she always liked spending time with Marzel.

Smiling, Minnie inched her cotton candy closer to Marzel. “Of course. It tastes great. How’s your apple cider?”

MARZEL

Marzel wasn’t even that surprised. Minnie worked too much and that was a simple fact that he already knew very well. But Marzel wasn’t about to let her duck away for a shift unless it was an absolute emergency.

Until then they just needed to enjoy themselves at the very least.

Reaching out Marzel took a piece of the sugar, too nervous to have bought one himself without trying it. It was so cloyingly sweet he couldn’t help grimace a little. “I think I prefer the cider to that.”

MINNIE

Minnie couldn’t help but to laugh even though she had tried very hard to keep it in, really she did. She hid her face with her cotton candy until she finished laughing.

“I’m so sorry but your face was priceless.”

It had been cute how it had gotten all wrinkled and taken aback. It wasn’t an expression Minnie was used to seeing in Marzel. He was always so serious, in this brooding type of way that Minnie had grown fond of. It was nice to see this side.

“You didn’t like it? Maybe I should have warned you that it’s very sweet.”

MARZEL

Marzel blushed, the tips of his ears completely red as he lifted his hand to hide his cheeks. A human should have known. He should have been aware and yet for a moment he had been truly surprised at the taste and hadn’t even tried to mask it.

“I know it’s called spun sugar but I don’t know what I was expecting. If I was expecting anything else.” Marzel admitted slowly. “I don’t think I like sweet things all that much.”

MINNIE

Normally, Minnie was the one who always ended up blushing because it was just so easy to get her to blush, but seeing it now on Marzel was a nice refreshing switch, although she kept that thought to herself.

Instead, she laughed a little more giving Marzel a mock studied look before concluding with a nod of her head.

“You know, I can see that. I would peg you for a no sugar or cream in your coffee type of guy just straight black. Whereas with me I welcome loading my coffee in all the cream and sugar. Never try any of the pastries I eat at Hatter’s if you can’t handle this cotton candy.”

MARZEL

Marzel had to look away from Minnie, the laughter and everything too much that he wasn’t going to be able to stop the blood rushing to his face. “I do prefer it more bitter than sweet.” But Marzel also drank more tea than he did coffee and tea had a lot more flavour to it.

“Perhaps this is how you survive all the shifts that you work?” Marzel questioned as they were ushered onto the ride and Marzel threw out his now empty cider.

And he paid careful attention to see how to buckle up correctly.

MINNIE

“How did I know.”

Minnie teased, popping a little more of her cotton candy into her mouth before she followed Marzel in the ferris wheel seat. She too made sure to buckle up correctly, not that she was thinking that anything bad was going to happen during the ride, but one never knew.

And they did live in Swynlake after all.

“And absolutely.” She admitted with no shame at all. “It’s my secret weapon. One coffee before starting the shift and another one once the shift ends. If the shift is really, really, bad then I go for a third cup in the middle of my shift for a pick me up. Coffee is a life saver.”

Ever wanted to make Minnie’s day? Just bring her coffee while at work.

“Any hospital worker that tells you otherwise is lying.”

MARZEL

Maybe Marzel was too forthcoming, maybe he was too obvious. Maybe Minnie paid more attention then he gave her credit for. Maybe Marzel should have been creating boundaries instead of saying yes and coming out here with her.

“I’m afraid you’re the only one I know so you could lie to me and I would have no choice but to believe you.” Then again he was sure Minnie could tell him anything and he would still believe it.

Creak went the wheel as it started to bring them higher.

MINNIE

“Well, you’re in luck then because I am a horrid liar.”

Not that Minnie would lie to Marzel, she never felt the need to do so. It was probably one of the many reasons she enjoyed spending time with him. She never felt like she had to be anybody else around him. He took her as she was even with every shaken head at her hectic schedule and sad inability to say no.

“I ramble when I lie, like embarrassingly so, so you would know right away if I was. I literally cannot get away with anything.”

She rambled when she was nervous too and whenever she got worried.

“I’m also an emotional eater, like when I’m angry I like to stuff popcorn while venting. I ate a whole bag and a half of popcorn once while angry, not one of my proudest moments if I’m honest.”

The ferris wheel took off and Minnie’s eyes shifted a moment to look through the open space of the ferris cart. In a few they’ll both be able to see the whole of Swynlake and Minnie was super excited for that.

MARZEL

There was an innocence to Minnie, the inability to lie but the fact that she didn’t mind. The fact that she owned that. It was kind of adorable...for a human. It was a reason he trusted her so much at this point. Even holding himself back he had found himself trusting her.

Hence being trapped in this machine that he didn’t understand.

It was shakier than expected but maybe he was just more sensitive to the motion and as he glanced over the edge Marzel immediately wished he hadn’t. He was used to being below sea level or on the ground.

“T-that’s higher than ex-pected.” And damn his voice stuttered too.

MINNIE

There was a shakiness to Marzel’s voice that was very foreign to Minnie’s ears. In fact, she was pretty sure it was something she hasn’t heard out of him. Marzel always held a strong air of confidence to him.

He knew who he was, knew what he believed, was always solid.

And maybe this was the wrong reaction, but Minnie was smiling. It was by no means at his expense, but here she was learning these little hidden pieces of Marzel. They were those pieces that were kept tucked away, the ones everyone had but never wanted to admit. She was given the chance to peek in and see.

These weren’t thoughts Minnie should be dwelling and so she pushed them aside and carefully moved herself so that she was sitting beside Marzel.

Minnie hoped that the close presence would bring some ease. “This is about as high as we get. You’ll be seeing the cotton candy stand very soon.” She teased.

MARZEL

Marzel knew that Minnie had slipped over though his eyes had stayed focus on the ground. How did people like to be up this high and look at it. He had taken a plane here of course but he hadn’t needed to see any of it. He hadn’t even really thought about it and now there was no way to ignore it.

With both their hands on the seat Marzel didn’t even think before he had reached out taking Minnie’s in his own.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Marzel questioned turning his attention to her and trying to ignore the passing ground.

MINNIE

Marzel placed his hand on her’s and Minnie didn’t know how to react, or maybe she did because she didn’t take her hand away. Truth be told, she didn’t want to. Marzel holding her hand felt comfortable, it felt warm, like it was supposed to be there fitting perfectly well with her own.

Minnie could hear her own heart picking up in pace within her chest, the sound drumming hard against her ear drums. She was probably making this more than what it was and if she didn’t stop all these thoughts there would be a burning red coating her cheeks soon.

This is why they say not to have feelings for your friends. It blurred the lines and made it messy. It was why the brunette was always constantly denying it.

Marzel turned to look at Minnie now, a smile lining her lips. “Maybe just a little.” She admitted with a playful teasing air. “You don’t have to look out of the carriage.” The brunette gave his hand a small gentle squeeze. “It’ll help if you don’t.”

MARZEL

Minnie had squeezed his hand and for the first time Marzel realized he had grabbed onto her hand. He shouldn’t have done that but he found that he didn’t really care that he had. The ever present thought that Minnie was a mundus human was not at the forefront of his mind.

His fear was. But at the same time it was this kind girl in front of him as well.

This wasn’t like what it was with Adella either, he had jumped into that head first without even meaning to. Before he could say no he was in water he had never navigated before.

But here it was soft, the slow ever presence of gentle waves coaxing a shy fish out before showering him with sunlight. That’s what Minnie’s laughter and smile had accomplished, even as it inched toward sunset she offered a gentle warmth.

Marzel didn’t want to lose that, and he wasn’t sure at what point he had become determined to keep her friendship in his life. From the walks home or the slow experience of new things on both their side. Or re-experience for Minnie.

“That would mean I would be focusing on you for the rest of the ride, Would it not?” Marzel questioned lightly, carefully, an attempt to now send a school of fish fluttering away at the sudden sound.

MINNIE

Minnie’s cheeks began to glow a burning red and she wasn’t sure how much was showing through the strands of her hair. For once her hair wasn’t up in a bun where it typically lived because of work. Still she could feel the warmth of her cheeks and she wasn’t even touching them.

Her heart was still raising and Minnie could have sworn that it had even picked up more in pace.

She felt like a fidgeting school girl who had this massive crush but didn’t know what to do with it. Her nerves were all tangled and she felt like mush. All of this because of a question that was asked of her, just one simple question. She wasn’t sure how she was not a physical jittery mess on her seat right now, but that wasn’t something the brunette cared for pondering at the moment.

Not that she could’ve even if she tried, her head was literally firing in every single direction. It was a mess.

“I guess that would.” Minnie was still smiling and had she leaned in closer? She felt like she was closer or the carriage had somehow grown smaller in size around her. “I don’t think that would be such a terrible thing.”

MARZEL

Marzel had quickly forgotten about the potential to plunging to his death when he found himself focusing on Minnie. Her eyes seemed to grow in size and he couldn’t help focusing just on her. She drew in his full attention and Marzel had nothing to spare anyone else and he could only be thankful that no one else was here at the current moment.

He would surely be ignoring them if that was the case.

Reaching with his free hand Marzel gently placed it onto her cheek his thumb running across her cheek. “Is this alright?”

MINNIE

Minnie’s heart was beating so loud she wondered if Marzel could hear it. She wondered if the pad of his thumb could feel the deep heat emitting from her cheek. His touch felt so gentle against her skin, soft, welcoming and warm.

It was something she could get used to.

It was something Minnie wanted to get used to. She wanted this, all of this. All the little moments she could share with Marzel no matter how small or simple. She wanted him around, wanted him to hold her or for her to curl herself snuggled against his chest where she could hear the steadiness of his heart beating. All the walks home she wanted her hands in his and she even wanted all those wrinkled faces he made whenever he tasted something sweet.

Truth be told, she has wanted all of it for a while but she always denied it, and when Marzel began dating Adella she had pushed it away even further, suffocating it all down. It felt like everything was busting open now.

And oddly enough, it wasn’t all bunched nerves and skittish energy anymore, she felt calm and at ease. Being with Marzel always felt so comfortable and right.

Minnie’s smile grew softer as she nodded her head. “I’m not opposed to it.”

MARZEL

Marzel hadn’t planned on getting this far, part of him wanted to run far and fast. To not look back and hide. There was part of him that didn’t want this. To attempt to give his heart to another all the while fighting with some of his most basic instincts.

But the thing was there was more to that then when he had first come to Swynlake. His hatred had lessened, his anger had started to mellow. He was around more good humans than bad ones and he didn’t mind being around some of them.

It wasn’t hard with these realizations to lean closer and it wasn’t hard at all for Marzel to set his forehead against her, sharing the air between them with bated breath before he leaned in gently to steal a kiss.

MINNIE

It felt like an eternity, that in-between moment, that small window of time that was probably only a few measly seconds in real time, it still felt like forever. Even if Minnie was perfectly happy right where she was, getting lost in Marzel’s eyes, the space between them almost non-existent.

That was the thing though, she was so wonderfully close, so temptingly close that Minnie was debating just leaning right in. Screw blurred lines, as far as she was concerned, that line was hopped, skipped, jumped right on over already.

But Marzel had beat her to it and when his lips had touched hers, it made every little second of that eternity worth it.

His kiss was tender, gentle, and sweet. It was the kind of the kiss that made butterflies go all wild in one’s stomach and would steal the breath right out of the lungs. It was everything Minnie never even allowed herself the chance to think up because she thought this was something that would never happen.

Minne inched in even closer, her free hand moving so that it gently wrapped itself around the nape of Marzel’s neck. She didn’t care if the ferris wheel was ascending, descending or whatever the hell else, even if it would stop right this very second and show everyone this current scene, she wanted this moment. She figured if everything went to hell in a hand basket after this, she at least wanted this memory to have and keep safely tucked away for herself.

MARZEL

Marzel's hand moved from Minnie's cheek to her chin. It wasnt as if she was going anywhere but that didnt mean that he wanted to let go of this breath of fresh air.

It was silly how much he had fought this very idea. That he had struggled with it. The memories of his knighthood screamed that he was an idiot for wasting time and the memories of his pod and Valentino screamed at him for being an idiot.

He leaned into the former for the time being.

Minnie was gentle as she was kind. Soft as she was patient. Each breath shared between them was a warm summer's breath and he loved each moment.

Pulling away Marzel only had a moment to admire Minnie before the ride stopped at the bottom and voices urged them to usher off. With pink cheeks Marzel stood and offered his hand to Minnie.

MINNIE

Their carriage came to a full stop more suddenly than Minnie had expected, but then again she had stopped paying attention a long time ago. She was actually sort of upset that it had come to an end because that meant that she had to reluctantly pull away from the kiss that she was very happily enjoying.

Minnie let out a brief bubble of a laugh, skin flushed, and a smile glowing on her features as she got up as asked, happily taking Marzel’s offered hand. They stepped out of the carriage, Minnie tucking herself by Marzel’s arm as the pair of them walked away from the vicinity of the ferris wheel.

The brunette knew she could suggest doing something else in the carnival, play like they hadn’t just shared a kiss on top of a ferris wheel, but that wasn’t Minnie now was it?

She needed to say something if not she would get stuck in her own head and well her head space sometimes was not the best place to get stuck in, so Minnie stopped the both of them from walking and turned to look at Marzel. She was still holding his hand, and could suddenly hear the rapid beating of her heart all over again.

“I like you.”

She paused, taking a breath in because she just admitted out loud the one thing she had been suffocated down for so long. “I mean not like a friend, not that you’re a bad friend because you are definitely not a bad friend at all by any means whatsoever.” It was part of the reason she had stood quiet so long she didn’t want to lose Marzel all together because of her feelings.

“But as more than a friend.”

MARZEL

Marzel wasn’t quite sure what words needed to be said, or could be said. He had kissed Minnie and now they were holding hands but that didn’t mean that Marzel wanted to let her go. He held her close to him just incase the crowds wanted to pull them apart.

But he heard her voice and quickly tuned in.

Stopping them close to another food stand Marzel nodded. “I like you too. More than a friend.” Marzel offered gently. “I’m not quite sure what to do with this information though.”

MINNIE

Minnie found herself smiling upon hearing that Marzel had liked her too. In all honesty, she didn’t know what to expect after she had just admitted to her own feelings. She didn’t know what Marzel would end up saying. For all she knew he could have felt the complete opposite of how she felt.

Her chest had been fluttering a mile a minute waiting to find out what he would say.

But now Minnie was glowing as she took a step closer to Marzel and gently squeezed his hand.

“We don’t have to figure that out just yet. We can figure out as we go.”

There wasn’t a need for everything to be rushed in Minnie’s mind. She was more than perfectly content with just being able to have Marzel close and spend time with him.

“But for right now, we can enjoy some more carnival fun?”

#marzelsoto #bdrpmarzel #minzel #on the top of a ferris wheel

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another-blog-bites-the-dust · 6 years ago

Text

A kind of magic.

Summary: Roger discovers something about you...and his daughter.

Warnings: some angst, little bit suggestive at some points, swearing

A/N: Just some cute magical Roger fluff for y'all. Blocks of italic text are flashbacks! I hope you enjoy! 💖

You stood patiently waiting for the school bell to ring, it was approaching three o'clock one sunny afternoon. Roger was at the studio so you said you would pick up your daughter up and walk home. Surely enough, a few minutes after the bell rang, she emerged. You smiled and waved but she had a somber expression on her face and tightly clutched the straps of her backpack while avoiding your gaze. "Bea?" You softly spoke and crouched down to her level. You and Roger barely called her by her actual name- Beatrix. You mainly called her Bea or Trixie. He said it was an odd- yet beautiful- name when you initially suggested it, but it was an ode to your family heritage. 'She who brings happiness' and 'blessed' were the meanings behind it. Her middle name was Willow after the mystical origins of the tree. "Is everything alright, petal?" She shook her head no and remained quiet. You sighed and wiped away a tear on her cheek. "Sweetheart, you need to talk to me so I can help you. Tell me what's the matter."

She sighed loudly, Bea was a very dramatic five year old- you blamed her father for that part of her personality. "Something happened..." she trailed off.

You raised a brow "Something like what?" She remained silent and you grew suspicious. "Beatrix Willow Taylor- tell me what happened."

“My fingers!" She groaned and raised her arms before letting them fall. "My pencil snapped and I wished for it to be sharp again and then my fingers went all tingly. Then my pencil was sharp mummy!" She whispered. You blinked and swallowed hard at her revelation.

You knew this day might come. You were dreading it. You couldn't let Bea see you upset or worried because that would just make her feel worse. You smiled and held her arms "We'll go to grannies house before heading home. I can tell you what happened there, okay?" She nodded and you picked her up with a small groan. She had grown so fast, Roger constantly says that it feels like he just blinks and she's grown a foot. She was so like Roger in many ways...and yet she inherited a huge part of you. Bea and Roger were as thick as thieves- the best of friends as well as Father and daughter. God, how the hell would Roger react? It would change everything.

It was easy enough for you to hide your abilities but a five year old?! You'd have your work cut out keeping something like away from your husband. You turned your head and smiled "Do you know why you're called Beatrix Willow?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Well, they hold a very special meaning. A magical one." You grinned and Bea smiled.

"Magic how?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Well the willow tree is believed to have magical powers, and Beatrix is-"

"Was..." you looked up and saw your mother standing there with her arms crossed over her chest "A very powerful witch." She glared at you slightly. You looked down at the ground when she did. "Hello my little pumpkin!" Your mother grinned at Bea and held out her arms for a hug. You put Bea down and she ran over to your mother who effortlessly picked her up. "I'm guessing something happened. Did it?" She questioned you and you nodded with a passive expression. "Then you better come in."

You sighed and followed your mother, already bracing yourself for her lecturing. "Bea, you thirsty?" You asked and she nodded. "Why don't you see if granny has any juice in the fridge?" Bea scampered off, skipping to the kitchen.

You looked to your mother who had a smug smile on her face. "I told you this would happen..."

"I thought I would have more time." You grit out.

You mother leaned forward and poured you some nettle tea that was on the table. "You were around her age when you found your powers." She was being far too nonchalant about the whole situation.

"Yeah but Bea is a half witch! I thought I'd have more time to prepare!" You groaned.

"Her abilities will hit her- and you- when you least expect it. Since she's a half witch her powers will be dearly compensated so her magic will be a little erratic, especially as she's adjusting to her powers." She looked at you with a scrunched nose and cocky smirk. "You should have contemplated marrying a warlock."

You rolled your eyes "Lets not get into this again. I'd rather focus on Bea right now." She nodded and said something that sounded like ‘of course’. It came out as a murmur. Your mother was disappointed that you married Roger. A mortal. A regular human being. But he was utterly extraordinary in your eyes. When he played drums it was like he possessed magical powers he was so talented. You sighed and took a sip of tea, staring off into space. "It feels like it was just yesterday Roger and I were bathing her in the kitchen sink..." you softly grinned at the memory.

"Why are there flowers in the sink with Trixie?" Roger let out an amused snort.

"It's good luck!" You grinned and gently bopped Bea's nose with your finger, making her bubbly giggle.

"You believe lots of shit," he leaned over the counter and moved forward to kiss Bea on the forehead.

"You're right...you told me you were nine inches and I believed you." You smirked and Roger gasped, covering Bea's ears.

"You can't talk that way in front of our child!"

You laughed and flicked Roger with water "She can't understand us! Plus you just swore!" Roger playfully rolled his eyes and hugged you from behind, whispering 'my girls' in your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and looking at the little baby in the sink with an adoring smile.

Bea came in with a juice box and sat down next to you, breaking you from your trance. You looked up to your mother and silently asked her for a little help. "Beatrix," she was the only one that used her actual given name. "There's something special about you. About all of us."

Before your mother could delve deep into the history of witchcraft and terrify your daughter, you intervened. "Do you remember the book we read? The Wizard of Oz?" Bea nodded and your mother let out an unamused grunt at your reference, but it was the best way to help Bea understand. "There was a witch, Glinda. And she has powers, doesn't she?"

"I remember! I liked her dress!" Bea grinned from ear to ear before something inside her clicked. "Am I like her?" She softly asked with innocent eyes.

"Kinda, yeah." You nodded with a reassuring grin. "But dad isn't. He doesn't know that we have powers. We can't let him know about them." You warned. "I'll help you manage them, you don't have to be scared." You gave her a side hug and Bea seemed to have brightened up from when you picked her up at the school gates.

Your mother stood up and brushed herself off "Roger will be home soon, Y/N. You best be off." You nodded, with a tight smile. "Beatrix, my little pumpkin," she kneeled down and held her with a smile on her face. She also had tears in her eyes. You knew this was a huge deal for your mother. You were an only child and as Bea was your mothers only grandchild, knowing she had powers overwhelmed her. She was happy and worried at the same time- as were you. "Just because you're different- it doesn't make you any less magical."

"Thanks granny," she hugged her. When Bea pulled back, your mother made a toffee apple appear in her hand and the little girl gasped in amazement.

"Can I do that mum?!" She asked, full of hope.

"Most definitely not." You sent you mother a small, annoyed glare. If Bea found out she could conjure sweets that would be all she would do. "I'll see you later mum."

"Remember to use Merlin! He'll help!" She reminded.

"I'm not relying on the help of a cat." You deadpanned. That cat was a salty, sarcastic pain in the ass.

Your mother waved her hand and blew a raspberry. "He is more than a cat! I know you think it's nonsense but Beatrix will be able to confide in him!" You were hit with another memory. Nonsense. You could remember Roger using that word when you had found one of Bea's dolls she thought she lost when the band was over. The three year old was a sobbing mess, Roger hugged her tightly as John tried his best to console the poor girl by telling jokes all while you rummaged through her room, eventually finding it down the side of her bed.

"You found it!" She gasped and clutched onto the doll for dear life. "How did you do it?!"

"Magic!" You grinned and tickled her sides.

You could hear Roger sigh "Y/N, don't fill her head with nonsense..."

"Magic isn't nonsense, Roger!" You let go of Bea and playfully poked Roger's arm. If only he knew the whole story...

Brian chuckled "Yeah Rog! Don't be boring! But, to be honest, you're bound to be like that since you're a dad now. As soon as Y/N popped that baby out of her va-" you sent Brian a deadly glare and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yeah..." he drawled out "As soon as Trixie arrived you automatically became a boring old dad."

"Thanks Bri."

"Y/N!" You flinched at your mothers voice "Use the cat!" You loudly sighed and stuck a thumb up. Your mother rolled her eyes at your attitude. "Perhaps it's finally time to tell him!" Your mother called out with an adamant smirk mixed in with her voice and you stopped in your tracks before barging out the door.

•••

Roger had Bea resting against him, she was in her pyjamas and was drifting off to sleep. "I think I'm going to put this one to bed." He quietly spoke and you nodded. Roger hated waking her up, it was like waking up a bear. "Trixie, wake up." He gently shook her and she opened her eyes with a sleepy groan. "Bedtime."

"Can you put me to bed, mummy?" She tiredly asked and Roger feigned offence.

"Oh so mummy is better at tucking you in and giving you a story than I am?" Roger tickled the little girl who wriggled and giggled in his hold. He pressed his lips to her bare arm and blew a raspberry, making her laugh even louder.

"Don't get her too excited!" You chuckled and then groaned when Bea jumped into the safety of your arms. You got a shock from her, an indication that her powers almost were exposed. You made a note of that- the more giggly and excited she got her powers would kick in. "Okay, bedtime! Say goodnight!" Roger leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams cheeky monkey," Roger grinned.

"I'm not a cheeky monkey!" Bea laughed and pointed at Roger "You're a cheeky monkey!"

"Oh no I'm not!" He dramatically protested.

"Oh yes you are!" Bea said back.

"Alright! Enough!" You butt in before your living room turned into a pantomime stage. You stood up with Bea clinging onto you "Say goodnight! Property!"

"Goodnight dad, I love you!" Bea blew him a kiss and Roger pretend to catch it.

You looked at the spawn of Satan in the corner of your living room licking his paws. You motioned him to follow you and with a soft - almost begrudging- meow, he did. Merlin followed you into Bea's bedroom, you put her into bed and turned on her nightlight. "Okay, petal, no story tonight..." you looked at the cat who was curled up beside he young girl. She was the only person in the house he liked. "Do you fingers still feel tingly?"

Bea looked at them "A little...I don't feel very tired anymore."

You nodded with a sigh- a common side effect with discovering powers from within. "I thought you might say that," you made a cup appear beside her bed that had some special, soothing hot chocolate in it. It had a little lavender in it to help her get to sleep as well as some other potions to help keep her powers dormant for the night. "Now Merlin is here if you don't want to talk to me, he's special- like us."

"Special isn't something you usually call...or yell at me..." he looked up to you with bright green eyes. Bea gasped hearing the cat speak. "Hey kid, I'm glad you've found your powers."

Bea looked between you and the cat on her bed "Merlin can talk?!" She quietly said, her voice full of shock.

"Unfortunately yes..." you glared at the cat who hissed at you. You'd usually flip him off but not in front of Bea. "You can chat to him about anything as well as me." She took a long gulp of her hot chocolate "Good?" You asked and she nodded with a toothy grin. "Good. Get some sleep, sweetie. Sweet dreams, I love you." You kissed her forehead. "Remember, you are so special and being a witch is nothing to worry about or be ashamed of."

"I know that now. I love you too mummy, night night!" You left the door slightly ajar, Merlin was happily curled up at the end of her bed and had fallen asleep. As soon as you stepped out of her room, Roger was coming up the stairs.

"She asleep?" He asked and you nodded. Roger groaned a little and rubbed his shoulder. "Think I went a bit too mad at that practice session in the studio today- my shoulder is killing me!" He rubbed it and you frowned a little following him into the bedroom.

He continued to rub it "Let me have a look," you said and Roger took off his top. Your fingers danced over his skin and he hummed.

"You're so warm..." he hummed as your hand massaged over his sore spot. "You and your heeling hands trying to fix my old shoulder?" He half heartedly chuckled. You smirked and kept rubbing, using your powers to take away his pain. Like you always did. That's how you got the playful pet name of 'heeling hands'. Roger naturally assumed the pain just eventually disappeared on its own. "Uhhh..." he loudly and lonely groaned "Feels so much better."

"Guess I rubbed the right spot then hmm?" You teased a little and pulled back.

Roger turned around and gave you a kiss "What else do those hands of yours do...?" He suggestively wriggled his eyebrows.

"Don't you even start!" You playfully warned and got ready for bed. You could feel Roger watching you, he always did. He was amazed with you. The second his eyes landed on you years ago in a smoky bar, you had bewitched him. Since then you had been inseparable and full of love for one another. Roger was slightly terrified of your mother however- thanks to her evil looking glares she'd send him occasionally. But despite what she thought of him, it was effortless for you to fall in love with Roger. He was so carefree and smiley all the time that it made your heart do somersaults in your chest. You always wanted for him to be happy and never feel any pain. When he had the rare nightmare you'd place a hand on his head and take it away. If he had a cold you'd make him some soup with a few extra ingredients that he couldn't taste to make him feel better, and of course, take away the muscle aches and pains. "What?" You raised a brow at Roger who was still staring- he hadn't blinked in a while.

"Nothing," he whispered with a smile "Nothing...you're just...spellbinding."

You raised a brow at his choice of word. "Spellbinding?" You pulled the duvet over you "That's a new one." Roger climbed in beside you and cuddled into you. You ran a hand through his hair and soon the pair of you fell asleep. You kissed his forehead and let out a sigh after he had fallen into a deep sleep, oblivious as to what was happening. "Night, Rog."

•••

"Ah ah ah!" You warned Bea seconds before she made a mess of the kitchen. "You raise your finger up not down." You told her and she focused on pouring some sugar into a bowl.

A few weeks had passed since you discovered that she had powers and were teaching her everyday when Roger was out how to use them. Today you were making cupcakes with her. Merlin was sat next to Bea on the countertop "You're getting the hang of it!" He said. Bea smiled down at him- she loved the talking cat.

"You really are, petal! Now how about we crack the egg together?" She nodded and you magically made one fly out of the carton "Now what you to is tap your finger in the air- super simple! One, two, three, tap!" You both did it at the same time and it cracked into the bowl. "Well done! That's it! You're getting good!" You grinned and got rid of the shell.

You finished up the cakes and put them in the oven. You picked her up off of the countertop and put her on the floor, Merlin soon following. "Sorry I made a mess, mummy..." Bea said referring to the flour she had spilled all over the countertop and floor. She tried to pick it up and it levitated for a few seconds before falling back down and spilling out.

"That's alright because look what I can do!" With a wiggle of your fingers you made the dustpan and brush clean up the mess. Bea stood there with her mouth gaping open. "One day you'll be able to do that without even thinking about it! Clean the whole kitchen with the snap of your fingers in fact! Just like I do." You smirked and snapped your fingers together, a whole range of tools and cleaning utensils started to clean up the mess making the cupcakes had made.

"Can I fly?" She asked and you quickly snapped your head around to her.

"Flying on your own is very tricky- even I find it hard. I have a broom and one day maybe you can get one too but-"

She cut you off "Can we try and fly now?"

"Oh this is going to be fun..." you glared at the cat who made that comment.

You looked at the clock, Roger wouldn't be back for a while. You let out a defeated sigh "Give me your hands." You clicked your fingers again and the cleaning stopped, you'd need all your focus and energy to levitate. Bea held your hands tight "Okay, shut your eyes..." she did as she was told. "Now open them."

As soon as she did, the little girl loudly gasped "W-were floating!" She had a beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah! Now I'll let you go but I'm right here if you want to grab onto me." You let your hands slowly loosen, Bea was far too eager for you to let go. "See! You're doing it!" You looked down at the countertop and brought a glass of milk and a cookie up to her level. "Watch this," you tipped the glass upside down and all the liquid stayed in. "Magic can be fun huh?"

"What...the...hell is happening?!"

You flinched hearing his voice. You almost didn't want to turn around. You quickly brought you and Bea back down to earth and put the glass of milk and cookie back where they were. Bea looked at you, almost unsure of what to do or say so she grabbed onto your legs as you turned and hid behind them. "Roger-"

"Y-y-you an- and...that?!" He motioned to the air. "W-what?!" He shrieked and ran a hand through his hair. "What did I just walk into?!" He yelled with a mix of fear, worry, confusion and the faintest glint of amazement in his eyes. "What?!"

"Roger, Innever wanted to tell you like this. I wanted to tell you! So much! It was just so hard to find the right words!" You admitted and stepped forward but he stepped back a little.

"What even are you?" He whispered out with glossy eyes.

You sighed and let your head bow down "A witch..." you felt Bea squeeze you a little, you brought her forward, holding her close. "We both are." Roger's eyes moved to the little girl who was next to you. His cheeky monkey, his partner in crime, his little girl. The two people he loved and cared for most in the whole world...and he was hit with that. Witches didn't exist. Magic didn't exist. Those things lived in sheets of paper in fantasy story books. Where the hero got the girl and everyone lived happily ever after and where true love existed. Roger looked up to you and thought for a split second that perhaps it lived outside the pages of those books.

He thought he knew you better than he knew himself. He thought you told him everything about you...clearly not. "Dad?" A soft voice broke Roger from his thoughts. You glanced down to where it came from and tensed up- you had no idea what she was about to say. "Are you sad? Are you...angry at me and mummy?"

You looked up to Roger, tears now welling up in your eyes. "N-no!" He forced a reassuring smile, the last thing either of you wanted to do was upset or worry Bea. "I just," he looked at you for a second "I just need to go somewhere." You called out and chased after him but he was already out the door. You sighed and placed your head in your hands. You never wanted him to find out like that.

•••

"Is daddy going to be back soon?" Bea yawned while you tucked her into bed. It was getting late and you hadn't seen Roger since he stormed out hours ago.

"Yeah," you lied as you had no idea when he'd be back. "Get some sleep, petal. Love you." You kissed her forehead and left the room, practically dragging yourself downstairs. The tv was on and you planned to sit in front of it all night until Roger came home. If he didn't, you'd take Bea to your mum's house and find him yourself.

When you stepped into the living room you froze seeing a mop of blonde hair poking up above the couch. "Roger...?" You whispered. He turned around and sent you a thin smile. "God Sake Roger!" You quietly snapped and sat on the other side of the couch "Where the hell have you been?!"

"I actually went to see your mum..." your eyes went as wide as saucers. "She didn't kill me or put some weird hex on me...least I hope she didn't."

"Don't joke," your voice trembled and a tear slipped down your cheek. "Why did you go to see her?"

"Because I wanted to ask her some stuff. About...everything really." He quietly admitted, nervously playing with his fingers. "Wanted to try and understand a little better." He admitted and stayed silent for a few minutes. "I don't love you any less." You both looked at each other at the same time. Roger scooted over a little and delicately took your hand, intertwining your fingers and wiped away the tear on your jaw with his free one. "I just wish you said something to me."

"How can you expect me to just spring something like that onto someone?" You asked but it came out as a sob. "You thought magic was nonsense and I was then so worried about Bea because she got her powers the other week and I've been trying to get her to control them around you. I was worried what you'd think about her being like me." You loudly sniffled.

"But that's not a bad thing!" Roger tried to reassure you, tightly squeezing your hand. "She's as much of you as she is me. And you are unbelievably kind and beautiful and strong...I'd be so happy if she turned out like you."

You shook your head with a sigh. "I grew up completely different to you, Roger. I went to a school for witches and I grew up always worrying. Constantly thinking I was weird and that everyone would hate me or judge me for who I am. I read countless of books on good and bad things about witches and read the horrific things that happened to them. I had to find my place in their world." You looked up to him though your watery lashes. "Then I found you and...and I felt like I could be me. That I could be accepted by someone who wasn't a witch or a wizard or a warlock. That I didn't have to worry anymore. A part of me always did, of course."

"Why?" Roger asked, his thumb stroking your knuckles.

"Incase I frightened you or you left...that you wouldn't love me anymore."

"Y/N, I swear to you. That would never happen." Roger seriously said. "You and Trixie are my world. You both made it magical before I learned you could fly!" He half joked and you let out a watery giggle. "I love you with all my heart."

"I love you, Roger." You smiled. He leaned in and softly kissed you, wiping away your tears and your worries.

"I've got to ask something though..." you furrowed your brows. "Have you ever used magic on me?"

You timidly nodded "Only when I felt like I needed to...you'd have terrible nightmares and I'd take them away. And of course my 'healing hands'." You wiggled the fingers of your free hand and Roger softly smiled with tears welling in his eyes. "I only used my powers so you didn't have to endure any pain."

Roger leaned forward and delicately pressed his lips to yours. "You are so selfless..." he whispered and caressed your cheeks. Your eyes were shut but Roger was looking at you with half hooded ones. "What else have you done?"

You smirked "Sometimes when I feel really lazy I'll fill up the fridge because I can't be bothered going to the shops." Roger burst out laughing and you giggled.

"One thing for certain is you never fail to amaze me, Y/N." He kissed your forehead then your lips again.

"I wouldn't put her name and 'amaze' in the same sentence." Your head snapped around to the cat that was perched on the end of the sofa. Roger went wide eye and looked at Merlin before looking back to you.

He pointed to the animal "The...the cat talks?" His words left his mouth very slowly.

You nodded "The cat talks."

"That cat...talks..." Roger said again just because the first time he said it didn't sound mad enough. "Of course he does." He looked to you and a huge smile appeared on his face "I love you."

"I love you too, Roger."

He engulfed you in a hug and a tingle spread throughout his body. He always knew there was something magical and enchanting about you and now he could feel it. Now he knew. Roger pulled back but still held you with his hands. "Do you ride a magic broom?" You nodded and his head curiously cocked to the side. "Can I watch?" He asked.

A cheeky smile appeared on your face. "Tonight I'd rather ride another magic broom..." you bit down on your lip. "Yours."

Roger swallowed hard and boyishly smirked with a twinkle in his eyes. He stood up and pulled you with him. He practically had you stuck to his chest. "Well brace yourself," he gave you a bewitching kiss "It could be a bumpy ride."

———————–————

Tags- (Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be tagged or not or if I've forgotten to tag you!) @rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @mespetitestortues @trickster-may @xtrashmammalstefx @trescharmant-mydear @makapaka11 @killerqueenbucky @hodgepodge-of-rog @fredthelegend @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @bowiequeen @princessleiaqueen @okdeaky @mizzallfandomz @fangirlofeverythingme @ellee677 @the-killer-queenie @bucket-of-kittens @jamiethewallflower @rogernroll @queen-irl-af @freddie-malek @deakysgirl @little-miss-queenie @sheridans-dynamos @multifangirl17 @deacon-pecan @drowsy-deaky @goodoldfashionedloverboii @rogerinameddow @beanie-on-a-string @valeriecarolinaw

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devilrising · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen Draco Pt. 1

This follows a prompt written by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count: 3018

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

2nd March, 1998

It’s hard. It’s really, really hard, to know what I know and do nothing. Every day I wake up screaming, nightmares plaguing me in my sleep. Each morning I look in the mirror, and watch as my wings start to fade. Going from purest white, to a darker shade of grey. I’m losing feathers too. There’s a jar by my bed, and a couple others in a drawer, filled with them.

The day they started drooping, I became terrified. I knew what had caused it, but I didn’t want to think about. Angels are rarely men. And when they are, they don’t usually survive for very long. My life up until now was, rather dangerous. I always thought that if the war hadn’t killed me, I would’ve eventually died from being an angel. I guess it’s both.

Voldemort is in the living room of Malfoy Manor, discussing what the next move will be. Father is listening intently, and I’ve been banished to my room, so it must be vital. Maybe there’s new information. Maybe they are planning another battle. I hope I’m not asked to participate. I never asked to be a part of this. I wish I wasn’t. Mother has grown increasingly concerned recently. She is the only confidant I have. The only person I can talk to. Her once beautiful hair has rapidly been turning grey and warn. The wrinkles riddling her skin are more pronounced than last year, and she is

growing frail. I’m terrified of losing her, because that’s where I feel we’re heading.

A knock draws me across the room and towards my door. The wood is dark and thick, keeping up the illusion of no light in the Manor. When I twist the handle and pull the door towards me, I jump. It’s Voldemort. What’s he doing here? He takes in the surprise on my face, and a beam shows itself. On anyone else, I would say that it ‘lit up their face’. With the Dark Lord, however, it’s much more of a wicked, cruel, and insane look. Like he wants to saw my head off in a public courtyard. I cringe at the thought.

“I’ve been wondering, Draco.” I shudder and pray that it isn’t visible. “How would you feel about being a crucial part of the next battle?” Like I have any choice. Like he wouldn’t kill me on the spot if he questioned my loyalty.

“Of course, my lord,” I say as I drop into a bow.

“Wonderful! Would you like to join the meeting in the drawing room, then?”

“That would be much gracious of you, my lord.”

I receive no reply, just a hand on my shoulder as I walk down the corridor and into the room my father is in.

“You’re here, Draco. Glad. Take a seat over there.” Father gestures to a black leather armchair, and I sit on the very edge of the cushion. Voldemort strides in after me, and takes a seat opposite my father. He begins informing me about the recent decision to crash the Ministry. But not just any part of the Ministry. No, no, we need to be more ambitious than that. That’s predictable even. No. We are crashing the Unspeakables’ department.

Horror drips down my spine, but I smile and nod at the half-man in front of me. I tell him that I think it’s a marvellous idea, and will really persuade people to join the correct side of this war. In my head, I’m screaming. It’s the worst idea imaginable. Who knows what’s in that department? If someone was to so much as knock something, we could all be dead. What if someone was to wear a certain metal that reacted with an object? I can’t see this going at all well, but I sit in silence, a fake smile on my face.

***

9th March, 1998

I’m in over my head. I’ve known the next ploy for a week exactly, and have come up with every possible way this mission could fail. We could burn alive. Explode. Drown. Rapidly age. Turn into objects. Have the air sucked out of our bodies. The list is so long I forget the first few I wrote down. I have no idea why Voldemort decided the Unspeakable department was a good plan. But then again, when has he ever had a good plan?

The wind roars around my ears, and I can’t hear anything other than my pulse and hammering heart. Mountains are beautiful to look at, but to hike them? That’s another story entirely. But I needed to get away. I couldn’t bear to be in the same house as my father and Voldemort. The two men are positively insane. They both need a mental asylum.

I sweep my eyes over the ground below, and marvel at the scene stretched before me. The view from Skiddaw mountain is astonishing. I feel tiny in comparison to everything else I can see. I feel like I’m insignificant. A welcome emotion for me recently. The sky above me is dull and cloudy, but there is no rain falling today. It’s Monday, and I should be at Hogwarts, but I’ve been pulled out for the remainder of Seventh Year. Potter isn’t there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing much. Studies became quite boring Sixth Year, if I’m being honest.

Potter. Apparently he is off in the world somewhere, trying to locate and destroy Horcruxes. I applaud him for trying, but there is no way he’ll survive that. Voldemort told me himself how difficult they are to find, and that to actually get a hold of them is practically impossible. I’ve tried to imagine where they would be, what they would be, but have always come up dry. I don’t know of a single place so dangerous. Potter must be out of his mind. Potter, Granger, Weasley, and his precious Order.

Suddenly no longer interested in the scenery below me, I turn around and walk over to the tree where I’ve laid all my things out. I sit on the emerald picnic rug, and bite into one of the apples I brought. The pink skin matches what colour I know my cheeks must be, and I hum with the sweet taste filling my mouth. The branches above me sway in the gentle breeze, and I’m reminded of autumn days in Third Year. Before everything started going south rapidly.

That was the year with Black escaping from Azkaban. The year with the stupid hypogriff breaking my arm. The year Granger punched me, and Potter laughed at me. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very often. My thoughts start straying back to life at Hogwarts, before the world turned a head. Before my family started to repeatedly fulfill “tasks” and “assignments”. Before I had to seclude myself from my friends, the rest of Slytherin, and before I had to push myself to the extremes of my magical capabilities.

The Vanishing Cupboard, the Unbreakable Vow, Dumbleodre’s death, and the Sectumsempra incident. Last year was a bitch. I can’t see this year being any improvement however. The plans that I’ve overheard (due to unfold in May) haunt me in my sleep. I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one to talk to. To tell how scared I am.

The wind starts picking up, and the emerald rug beneath me lifts up in the breeze. Although it’s no longer a breeze. It’s more like a blustery wind than anything else. Regardless, I decide that it’s probably for the better to leave Skiddaw mountain and return to the Manor. I use my wand and a complex charm my father taught me in order to pack up all my things. I watch as everything floats above the rug, which starts folding itself into a square. The food I didn’t eat flies into the basket I brought, neatly organised and sorted. Then the rug shrinks, and enters into the basket. The basket then shrinks itself, so now I can fit it in the pocket of my black skinny jeans. Happy with the charm, I nod to myself and pick up my Nimbus 2001 from where it was resting against the tree.

Even though the wind is brutal, I would rather fly the 475-ish kilometres back to Wiltshire, than accidentally apparate into a meeting again. That didn’t work out so well for me last time.

***

11th March, 1998

Life is getting worse. It’s harder and harder each day to tell myself that it will be okay. Two days ago, I was beaten into unconsciousness for arriving after my curfew. The wind had made it nearly impossible to fly, and I struggled the whole way to the Manor. Being the stubborn prat that I am, I was confident that I would make it back before 11pm. I shouldn’t have taken the risk.

As an added punishment, I am grounded to my room. But my father and Voldemort don’t do things by half. No. They have come up with specially designed wards to let them in, but to keep everyone else out. Not to mention, I physically can’t leave. If I try, I’m electrocuted until I pass out. If that happens four times, I’m instantly killed. I am forced to stay in my tiny, dark, uncomforting room for a week. The only thing I’m allowed to do is write letters. But I have no way of sending them out to anyone or anywhere. With no owl to carry them, I’m doomed. They deliberately let me write for help, knowing that I’m not stupid enough to actually do it.

Instead, I write stories, I draw woodland animals (and other more, uh, explicit ones, but those are burned immediately after completion). It’s relaxing. With nothing but ink and parchment, I waste away the hours in front of the fire. The warmth very welcome in the cold month March is shaping up to be. Eventually tired with ink, I grab down a book on puzzles from my shelves. The cover is faded, deep purple, the title written in silver thread. I’ve read this so many times, solved each riddle, word puzzle, and math problem, but I open it anyway.

The first one is easy. “.--. ..- --.. --.. .-.. . ... - .... .-. --- ..- --. .... --. . -. . .-. .- - .. --- -. ...” The problem is written in Morse code, and it takes less than a minute to have it decoded. “Puzzles Through Generations” is the title of the book, and I find it rather humorous that it’s also the first problem. I smile to myself, before diving headfirst into the book.

***

Later that same evening, I start to grow restless. With nothing else in my room, I’ve resorted to lying on my bed, face buried in a pillow. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Why I allowed myself to get into this mess. Why I even bothered coming back to the Manor. I wonder, not for the first time, why I’m given so much freedom. Well, except for right now, of course. I’m generally permitted all through the Manor and it’s grounds. I’m given unlimited access to anywhere on the continent, so long as I can be traced.

I always come to the same conclusion though. The two terrible excuses for men know I won’t leave. They know that I know that if I was to desert them, they would track me. Voldemort would employ thousands of Death Eaters to find me, and to bring me back to him to die at his hands. Hours of torture would occur, worsened because of my father. I would be considered a ‘traitor’. I have nothing wrong with that last bit, of course. But I wouldn’t want to leave my mother. She would surely be punished for my actions, and I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.

I stand up from the bed, pace over to the small bathroom joined to my bedroom, and stare at my reflection. I look ill. My hair is in shambles, strewn all over my face. It almost looks like Potter’s, except for the colours, which are starkly opposite. My eyes have sunken into my skin, dark rings under them. My complexion has become sickly pale, and I wonder when this happened. I’ve probably looked terrible for months, but been too busy with everything else (like surviving) to notice.

Trying desperately to salvage my appearance I cast a few simple charms. I straighten out my hair, making it fall neatly to my scalp. After struggling with my complexion for a while, I give up and move to my eyes. The bags are covered with a glamour that takes all of my energy. I’m so tired from the spells that I pad back to my bed and gladly fall asleep. In my dreams, I question why I was worn out so quickly, but pass it off as being trapped in a room with no sun, limited food and water, and lack of new oxygen.

***

15th March, 1998

I’m becoming desperate. I was let out of my room for an hour earlier this morning, and dragged outside into the sun and air. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it was better than nothing but artificial lights. Food was handed to me, and I greedily ate it, the first proper meal I’d had in six days. I didn’t think the occasional plate of unappetising gloop counted. After fifteen minutes, I was dragged back inside once again, and led into the drawing room where I first accepted the Dark Mark. I was then tortured for the remainder of the hour.

Legilimency was first. Voldemort did it himself. Digging through my memories to find any weakness he could find. He had eventually decided on one of Potter lunging at me, fury in his eyes. I was taunted with it for ages, before being placed under the Cruciatus Curse. It had been extreme pain, and I’m thankful it’s over now. Still, the sensation is fresh in my mind, and I’m being plagued by paranoia.

Desperation fills me just from the memory, and I silently panic at my desk. I need to get out of here. My wings are losing colour every day. Feathers have filled the jar next to my bed, and I’ve started a fourth. I need to get help immediately. I’m seriously starting to wonder how long I have left. As a male angel, I never should’ve lived this long. I should’ve died years ago. I stretch my fading wings out, and try to gently flutter them. No use. Instead, I watch as a single feather floats to the carpet beneath my feet.

Uncontrollable tears stream down my face, and it’s desperation that finally drives me to pick up a quill. It’s intense, urgent need that makes me pull a sheet of parchment from my stack. It’s in despair that I actually touch the inked quill to the parchment. I quickly pen a letter to the first person I can think of to save me. Shuddering, I use my wand to summon a muggle postage stamp from the hallway outside, slip it under the door, and stick it to the envelope I pulled from a drawer.

A shiver goes through me as I seal the letter in the envelope. I don’t know how to send it to him, until I remember about the bathroom. I cross the bedroom and turn the water on in the shower in order to cover any noise I might make. Then I drag a chair in from the bedroom, and place it directly beneath the air vent. Standing in the chair precariously, I unattach the grille from the ceiling and place it gently onto the white tiles. The gap is too small for anything but my hand to get through, and grin. There’s no way anyone will think I’ve used this air vent for anything. What’s the point after all?

Carefully, I place the letter into the vent opening and pull my wand from my pocket. Knowing I’ll be drained after this no matter what I do, I decide to use everything left in me to lurch the letter up. A shock of green particles shoot from my wand tip, and they push the letter up the vent. I watch as it disappears from view and into the kitchen vent. I start to track the letter with my mind. Following it as it flies through the deserted kitchen, and out of the window in the dining room. I know it’s made it out of the wards when the green barges into my wand again, knocking me of the chair I’m still standing on.

Now I can only hope that Potter replies. Or rather, that he doesn’t.

***

22nd March, 1998

It’s been a week now, and I’ve heard nothing from him. I have been let out of my room though. My wings have lost all of the pure white, and are now as dark as a raven. It’s quite striking, the dark colour of the few feathers I have left, against my sickly pale skin and platinum hair. I always thought that if I lost my wings, there would be a skeleton left to haunt me of the sins I had committed. Instead, there is nothing. The feathers aren’t attached to anything but air. Maybe it’s because of the extremity of the darkness encompassing me.

I no longer feel much at all, just longing to be saved. Even if it’s by my previous enemy.

***

24th March, 1998

My wings are totally gone. Vanished from existence. I feel awful. The steady stream of food, sun, water, and air being spoon-fed to me isn’t enough. My mother is blaming herself, and I can’t stand seeing her beyond herself. I start praying to a god I don’t believe in for Potter to arrive.

***

26th March, 1998

I threw up today. It’s been 24 days since this whole thing started. Scars have made themselves a home between my shoulder blades, permanently tormenting me. I wish not for the first time that I’d done something sooner. Before I was in over my head. Potter had better get here soon.

***

A/N: Next part will be out same time next week! If you want to be tagged in the next uploads, please tell me so you don’t miss out! 🥰

Masterlist — Next Part

#devilrising #Fallen Draco #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #cute #fanfiction #lol #draco lucius malfoy #draco/harry #draco x harry #harry x draco #h/d #fanfic #drarry fanfic #cute drarry

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