#i need to finish the second drawing either tonight or tomorrow and then ill post em

[tw1nkee28]

HELPP I LOVE THIS

A lot of these are very accurate LMAO

I really need to expand more on him soon

He's insane

Roland edit?- @tw1nkee28

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Hi!  I am still accepting bingo prompts!  The crossed out prompts are already written, the starred ones are ones that I have gotten, but not posted yet!  Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Bingo sheet by the wonderful @celosiaa​

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn.  Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea.  Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull.  Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes.  

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking.  No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty.  

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning.  Jon goes back to sleep.  

He wakes up properly at nine.  He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea.  Jon remembers by this point.  It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing.  Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face.  He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to.  

Martin will be back in a couple days.  He shouldn’t be this clingy…  But the flat already feels empty and cold.  Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin.  

Jon teaches his classes.  He eats lunch in his office.  A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement.  He grades a few papers.  He teaches another class.  He rides the tube home.  He falls asleep on the couch.  He wakes up on the couch.  The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame.  Joints stiff against the chill.  

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't.  He texts Martin.  'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep.  Heavy and aching and so tired.  

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone.  'Going well, just finished up for the night.  Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late.  Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London.  Jon shivers.  He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed.  

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort.  It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with.  

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer.  

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat.  Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes.  The flat is cold.  Cold like his dreams.  Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice.  He wraps his arms around his chest.  He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can.  He shakes and he cries silently.  

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages.  

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo.  

He makes tea.  And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it.  

Jon goes back to bed.  

It's morning and Jon's head hurts.  His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts.  

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday.  

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed.  Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town.  

Jon texts Martin.  'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes.  

He should make breakfast.  But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move.  Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed.  He wants the weighted blanket.  He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet.  Those are for bad nights.  Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough.  

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it?  And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him.  Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading.  None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever.  

And Martin texts back.  

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch.  Dosing off to the Archers.  He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend.  

He grades some.  Not much.  And he makes tea.  

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them.  Lacks the appetite.  

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  Tea cooling on the coffee table.  Papers spread around him in uneven heaps.  

Jon texts Martin.  And Martin texts back.  

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery.    

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks.  

Jon's head hurts.  He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him.  Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath.  The Stranger this time.  

He calls Tim.  

"Jon?  Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space.  And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend.  

"Jon, are you alright?  Where are you, do you need your inhaler?"  

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay.  

"I'm home.  It's fine, sorry for calling."  He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now.  Tears over nothing at all.  Just the fever.  Just the dreams.  Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways.  He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep.  

"Hey, hey, hey Jon.  It's okay to call.  Are you alright?  Do you need someone to come over?"  Tim isn't angry.  It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice.  No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance.  Just... warmth, caring.  

"Just a little under the weather.  I'm okay.  Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish.  I'm alright."  Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone.  He aches.  Stupid joints.  Stupid immune system.  Gives out the minute Martin leaves.  Which... good.  He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time.  He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon.  He Hates it.  He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years.  

"I'm gonna come over, okay?  It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it.  I promise I Want to.  Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow.  No plans.  Nothing."

"Not been hungry."  That's all Jon has the energy to argue.  

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?"  Tim asks.  He sounds too cheerful for this.  

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof.  One of those nightmares?  Yikes.  Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup.  This Is to my benefit.  Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either.  It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles.  "'kay."  

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again.  "Get some rest.  I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds.  Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him.  

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes.  

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable!  I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor.  Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!"  Tim smiles at him.  

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up.  At least a little.  

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion.  

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today.  "38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient.  In any case, not bad but not great.  You okay if I start the soup?  You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods.  He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen.  

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so.  

"You.  Are not gonna help, okay?  You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare.  Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance.  He nods.  

Jon falls asleep on Tim.  On the couch.  Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket.  

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home.  Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill.  Martin thanking Tim for coming.  Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup.  

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places.  Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier.  

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms.  

[damienthepious]

cutting it close this week fam. one hour left on the clock in my timezone though! still not late to the Lizard Kissin’!

Crawling Along The Hours To You

[ao3]

[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Established Relationship, Temporary Separation, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday

Summary: Rilla is quite possibly the most skilled doctor in the Second Citadel. Sometimes, this means she must go fairly far afield to do her work, and Lord Arum and Sir Damien are left to await her return.

Notes: I wrote literally all of this today. This was NOT what I planned to post today initially, but the idea invaded my brain (whY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING). Hope you enjoy? Love y'all! Title taken from Waiting Around Again by Eliza Rickman.

EDIT: now accompanied by INCREDIBLE fanart by @spinningstraw!!! THANK U SO MUCH I SHALL CRY NOW. ]

***

Arum creeps into the bedroom, the claws of his toes clicking softly on the wooden floor of Rilla’s hut, and slinks towards the bed with a deep sigh, his shoulders hunched and his head low.

When his fingers meet the edge of the sheets, Arum only just has time to notice the unexpected shape in the bed before Damien jolts awake with a sharp inhale, sitting halfway upright and blinking furiously against the dark, and Arum leaps a full foot backwards in surprise.

“H-honeysuckle?” Arum growls against his own embarrassment, claws flexing in the air. “I thought- I thought you were staying at the barracks-”

Damien’s startled breaths ease into a relieved exhale when he recognizes Arum, and he runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, mussing it further. “I… Lord Arum, I was not expecting… what are you doing here?”

Arum’s tail curls behind him, slithering anxious, and his tongue flicks as he avoids Damien’s puzzled gaze. “I…” his jaw snaps shut a few times, teeth clicking. “I believe I asked first, takatakataka,” he deflects, folding his arms over his chest.

Damien pulls his knees closer to his chest as he sits on the bed, and his breath catches oddly. “It’s- I am being- I’m afraid I am acting rather foolishly,” he says with a distinct waver in his voice. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand another night there, another night in a cot that I have never shared with any that I love, another night alone-”

Arum’s body sways towards the knight automatically, the urge to comfort him stronger than his own embarrassment by far, his mortification at being caught eased, somewhat, by the knowledge that Damien is yearning for Amaryllis as much as Arum himself is. The most egregious downside of Amaryllis’ brilliant mind is that she is so often needed by the rest of her soft-headed species, and an outbreak of some magical illness or another in a town near the border of the Second Citadel has resulted in her being called away for nearly three weeks, now.

(”I don’t care about doing a favor for the Queen,” she says with a roll of the eyes as she packs her bags, putting extra care into the arrangement of her tinctures and salves, “but a lot of people are sick, and I know damn well I can help them. I know it’s not exactly ideal, Arum, but it’s my job-)

Arum blinks to clear his mind, then slinks towards the bed, kneeling when he is close so that his eyes are level with Damien’s. This puts him within Damien's reach, though he keeps his claws to himself for now. “And- and why did you not come through to the Keep then, if you felt… if you did not wish to be alone?” Arum asks, soft.

“I did not want to trouble you,” Damien says, dropping his eyes. “I know full well that I can be… overwhelming when my emotions run high, and I have been missing our lovely Rilla quite…” his lip trembles, just barely, and Arum can see a brightness in his eyes even in the dark. “Quite terribly,” he finishes in a whisper. “I’m afraid I have been driving my fellow knights nearly mad with my longing, and I did not wish to bring that home to you. I did not want to be a bother.”

“So you decided to come curl up alone and miserable somewhere that she could not possibly leave your mind instead?” Arum asks, incredulous, and the words are already out before he realizes-

“It seems we had similar instincts on that front,” Damien points out, his lip curling into a playful smile as he reaches forward to brush his fingers along Arum’s shoulder and then down his arm. “It is probably better, this way. Missing her together instead of missing her alone.”

Arum growls low again, but there is no sense in denying the truth of Damien’s words. The Keep has been unbearably quiet without Rilla ducking in and out throughout the day, borrowing supplies and asking questions and bullying him into taking regular meals, and his nights have been twice as maddening, since Damien’s early mornings with his fellow knights have made it difficult for him to overnight at the Keep with any regularity as of late, leaving Arum to sleep alone. It has been far too reminiscent of the past for Arum’s comfort, too similar to how his life had been before. When he slipped into his own bedroom tonight and realized he could no longer catch Amaryllis’ scent on the air it had snapped his willpower in two, and the Keep had not even teased when it opened the portal to Amaryllis’ home for him.

He sighs, then climbs up onto the bed, pushing Damien back and slipping under the covers beside him until he can drape his entire body along the furnace-heat of Damien’s skin. The bed here still smells of Amaryllis, subtle and sweet, herbs and flowers and the soft soaps she uses for her hair, and alongside the brighter, more urgent scent of Damien’s skin (linen and feathers and the permanent stain of ink on his fingers), Arum finally feels steady again. He feels as if Amaryllis could be just a room over, working late, soon to join them.

“You are… probably correct,” Arum admits, only when he can breathe the words into Damien’s hair instead of the open air of the room. “I could not possibly leave you alone now anyway, honeysuckle. Entirely unacceptable, you wallowing in loneliness when I could so easily keep you in my clutches instead.”

Damien laughs softly, his fingers dancing light down the scales of Arum’s back. “I will need to wake early to return to the Citadel in time tomorrow,” he warns. “I would not blame you if you would rather-”

“I ‘would rather’ take what moments I can with you, honeysuckle,” Arum growls, and then he sighs, nuzzling against Damien’s cheek. “And… and I would rather not be alone, either. The pair of you have caused me to grow far too dependent on your presence, you unscrupulous creatures.”

Damien hugs him closer, knowing Arum’s grumbled complaint for the quiet admission of love that it is. “It won’t be long until she returns to us,” he says softly, as much to assuage his own longing as to comfort Arum. “The Queen assures me that the crisis is almost entirely averted, and Rilla is staying merely to ensure that her treatments will last. We must… we must simply be patient, and she will return in no time at all.”

Arum has never been particularly adept at being patient. He growls, twining his tail around Damien’s leg, as if it were at all possible to draw him closer. “Of course,” he hisses, unconvincing and unconvinced.

Damien pauses, and after a moment presses a kiss to the crook of Arum’s neck, by the edge of his frill, and then tucks his head against Arum’s shoulder as if he were always meant to fit there. “I hadn’t realized…” he pauses again. “I have… I have endured Rilla’s absences before, as her skills have always been in high demand. I hadn’t considered that this is the first time since we… since us, that she has been called away.”

Arum grumbles under his breath, nothing that quite approaches actual words.

“It is… I am glad you are here with me now,” Damien says softly, his lips still brushing Arum’s scales. “It is easier… the pain of absence is lessened when we may commiserate and comfort each other in turn. When there are still arms to return to, still a heartbeat and steady breaths with which to lull each other to sleep.”

Arum does not like the thought of Damien alone in Amaryllis’ absence, truly alone, before the three of them. Damien alone seems like an unnatural state of affairs. And… Damien is right, about the lulling. Damien’s hands, Damien’s heart, Damien’s heat; Arum can feel it drawing sleep towards him like a tide, here in the safety of Amaryllis’ room. He knows he cannot match Damien’s words, though, and he does not try. Instead he simply draws his own hands as soothingly as he can across Damien’s skin, through his hair, down his back, purring low and deep.

“Sleep you should, honeysuckle,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep, and when we wake together, we shall be one day closer to when she will return to us.”

Arum can feel the curve of Damien’s smile against his scales, and the sweetness of the creature in his arms could drown Arum if he let it. He nuzzles against Damien’s hair, nudges his snout against his temple in an almost-kiss, and settles to rest in the comfort of his arms.

Some sunrise soon, Amaryllis will return to them. In the meantime, they can endure if they endure together, for a little while longer at least.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Holding On to Pieces of Us - Chapter 3

SMUT advisory! @spartanguard I am so excited to see what you have up your sleeve for this chapter. Thank you @hollyethecurious for beta services rendered. @kmomof4 CSSNS fucking rocks, thank you! I put in my cut line!!!!!! **Edited to include what @spartanguard had up her sleeve! Go check out her fabulous manip here. 

Ch. 3      Rating E      8.5k words     ao3     ffnet   Tumblr:  ch. 1    ch. 2

Emma was woken by loud pounding on her door and two concerned voices yelling her name. Rising from the couch she squinted at the blazing sunlight filtering in through her window. “Coming!” she shouted with annoyance.

“Oh my god, Emma! Where the hell have you been?” Mary Margaret’s words were as strong as the hug she wrapped Emma in. “We’ve been so worried.”

David hugged both women, sighing in relief, “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“I’m fine guys.” Emma broke away from the group hug, and sheltered her eyes while walking to the window to draw the curtain.

“Where were you?” Mary Margaret pressed.

“Wait, how’d you know I was back?”

“Your car is in the driveway,” David said as if it should be obvious.

Emma’s eyes went wide, before quickly schooling her features. “Geez, I’ve been gone like a day. I went for a hike after my appointment and got stranded in the rain, I decided to find high ground and rough it.” She immediately regretted mentioning the appointment when she saw both of their eyebrows raise in expectation.

“So? What’d they say?”

“I have uh… it’s just a vitamin deficiency. In fact, that reminds me, I have to go pick up my prescriptions.”

“Come out with us for breakfast, first?” Mary Margaret asked.

“No, I can’t, I have to shower, when I got home last night I went straight to bed. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” She wasn’t trying to be rude as she ushered them toward the door. But she had to figure this out. How the hell did she get home? How was her car back? How much time had she lost?

“Alright, we can take a hint,” David said, throwing his arm around her shoulder and giving her a half hug. “Dinner tonight?”

“Perfect.”  

“Our place or yours?” he asked.

“Mine.” Emma slapped a smile on her face, ready to agree to anything just to get them out of the house.

“And never, ever do that to us again. Call or text… or something.”

“Got it, mama bear,” Emma ribbed Mary Margaret. “Who knew I’d have such wonderful parents as an adult, after a childhood with none.”

“I’m going to start taking that nickname as a compliment,” Mary Margaret laughed.

Emma just rolled her eyes, smile still firmly in place until she shut the door behind them.  

“What the hell?” She was more confused than ever now. She’d finally gone completely off the deep end and created that alternate universe where it was just her and Killian, but she had also blocked out a complete period of time where she would’ve had to drive herself home.

Deciding to investigate, she walked out to her car, but not before donning her darkest pair of sunglasses. “It’s so fucking bright,” she muttered, the irony was not lost on her that the weather was in direct opposition to her current mood.

Opening up her car, she sat down in the driver’s seat and was immediately assaulted by his scent. It was just as strong as her imagination had conjured last night. She was about to go back inside when she noticed that the seat was scooted too far back, she pressed the toggle to adjust it to her settings.

Reaching over to grab her jacket from the passenger seat, she startled slightly as she remembered she also wasn’t able to account for how she’d come to be in different clothes than she’d worn yesterday.  When she lifted the jacket a piece of paper fell in her lap, picking it up Emma was bewildered to see Killian’s unique handwriting.  

Swan,

Please forgive me love, I did not want to leave you last night. I have been away from you for too long and I was ill prepared for your presence. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to control myself. As promised, I will return to you tonight.

Yours,

Killian

“Oh my god! It was real?” Emma’s free hand flew to her neck, praying for the mark upon her body that would further prove he existed.

Grabbing all her belongings that had been magically waiting in her car, including her phone Emma raced back into the house.  Her heartbeat was frantic as she approached her bathroom, hand still caressing her neck.  When Emma looked in the mirror and revealed the area, she was exhilarated to see two faint puncture marks. She didn’t even care if it was insane. Killian was alive! Well, technically undead, but he was still in this world.

There was so much to do. She started with a long, hot shower where she washed away the grime from her wilderness trip and the anguish of a year. After dressing in leggings and a tank top, and primping for the day, a day where she would see Killian, she cracked open her laptop. She researched everything she could about vampires, searched the world wide web like an addict, until her stomach audibly protested its neglect over the last two days.

Steak, Emma thought. Steak sounded beyond divine. She didn’t really feel like sitting out at a restaurant by herself, yet she didn’t want company, at least not the company of anyone who was available. Running to the grocery store she bought a family size pack of boneless ribeyes and headed for home. She pulled out all she needed to prepare one of her favorite steaks, thinly sliced garlic inserted into slits in the steak, marinated in worcestershire and barbecued to medium well.

The moment she set to her task though she felt as if she was going to lose her lunch, a lunch she hadn’t eaten. Chalking it up to being over hungry, she forewent the prep.  Emma practically skipped outside to light the barbecue and threw the slab of meat on the grill. It smelled divine as she waited impatiently for it to finish cooking. Medium will do, she thought as she plated up her very plain steak.

Emma cursed her impatience as she felt the sting along her skin from standing too close to the barbecue for too long. As she cut into the steak though, she realized she couldn’t have been standing there too long as the steak was rare, not medium, or medium rare, but rare rare. And it looked delectable.

She practically moaned when the first bite graced her palette. It was so tender and juicy… and bloody. Her eyes popped open, having closed them in delight of the first taste.  “No way,” she murmured. Sensitivity to the brightness of the sun, aversion to garlic, skin tingling after standing outside, eating a bloody steak? “Am I…” Emma’s hands shot to her mouth where she felt her teeth, no fangs, she thought with an air of disappointment.

She laughed out loud at the absurdity of her situation. Either she was experiencing some post bite symptoms, or she was psychosomatically exuding vampire traits.  Either way, what the ever loving fuck? She’d been ready to call it quits two days ago, now she had a renewed vigor for life, or whatever she would be living with Killian.  Because yes, she already knew her answer. She wasn’t going to live without him for one more moment, she was going to embrace a future with him, even if it was different than the one she’d hoped for a year ago.  

Emma spent the remainder of her day researching more about vampires and tidying up her place, even the bedroom that she hadn’t slept in for a year. She had every intention of bedding her man tonight, she would’ve last night if given the chance.  She freshened up and dressed for the evening while the sheets finished drying, then made the bed. Dusk was settling outside and her body tingled in anticipation. She chuckled when she heard the knock on her door.  He was earlier than she’d have thought was possible for him to be out. But perhaps so long as the sun wasn’t shining, he was okay, or maybe he was just as impatient as her.

“You don’t have to knock, you’ve obviously taken to coming and going as you please,” she called out as she walked to the door.

“Hi!” Mary Margaret and David greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi,” Emma croaked, after staring blankly at them for a good five seconds.

“And what do you mean coming and going as we please?” Mary Margaret questioned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we were more than entitled to stop by this morning after you went missing,” David added. “And we’re invited tonight!”

“Right, of course, “ Emma said. “I thought you were somebody, uh, nevermind. My mistake, you are most definitely allowed to check up on me, and yes, I did in fact invite you over tonight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could she tell them, she couldn’t say she forgot, or wasn’t feeling well. She was all dolled up, hair, some light makeup, a dress, heels. Shit!

“You’re so dressed up... oh my gosh! Do you have a date tonight? You look like you’re ready to go on a date. Oh my god, she has a date,” Mary Margaret gushed. “I’m so happy for you, Emma! Let us get out of your hair.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Give her the wine, David. Maybe she and this mystery man want to get a little liquored up.”

“I don’t-”

“Do we know him? Nevermind, details tomorrow! Let’s go honey,” Mary Margaret told David all but pushing him back through the still open door.

“I don’t have a date,” Emma yelled, then softly added, “as such.” Because really, how was she going to explain that she was going to see her missing boyfriend who was now a vampire? How was she going to explain that her friends weren’t going to see her again? She wasn’t questioning her decision, of that she was one hundred percent decided. But the finer points, the particulars, those were going to take more thought than she’d even thought to consider.  

“You got all dressed up for us?” David asked suspiciously.

She wasn’t going to lie to them, but she didn’t feel like just busting out with the truth was going to help matters either. David would have her 5150’d before Killian got there. Turning swiftly, she headed to the kitchen where she uncorked the bottle of wine, took out three glasses, poured every last drop evenly between them, promptly handed her guests their drinks then drank deeply before either could offer up a toast.  

“Look, I don’t know how to possibly say what I need to say without you both thinking that I need to be committed. I’m just going to have to show you. But while we wait, let me tell you about my appointment.”

“You’re kind of not making too much sense, Emma, are you sure you’re okay?” Mary Margaret asked.

“I’m sure I am going to be,” she answered cryptically.

“What are we waiting for?” David asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it, of that I am sure.”

“Ooookay,” Mary Margaret drew out her word as though she already thought Emma was crazy. “Then while we wait for the big reveal I want to hear about these vitamin deficiencies and what the doctor is doing to fix them.”

“Well we still have to eat right? How does steak sound?”

The Nolan’s both nodded their heads signaling that steak sounded great. “I’ll go light up the grill,” David said. He barbequed the steaks while Emma and Mary Margaret prepared a salad and roasted potatoes.

After some small talk about office gossip and the latest cases while dinner was prepared, the trio sat down to eat. “So, Emma, what’s the news?” David asked.

“So, it turns out I don’t have any vitamin deficiencies after all.”

“Well that’s good news,” Mary Margaret beamed.

“I actually have stage four brain cancer,” Emma said, cutting into her steak and avoiding eye contact. She didn’t want to see their pity, but this could hopefully bolster the support she would want from them when it came time to tell them when, why, and how she was leaving them.

Mary Margaret’s fork and knife clattered to her plate and she fixed Emma with a stern glare. “That’s not even funny!”

David just stared at Emma, mouth slightly ajar, silently assessing her demeanor.

“It’s not supposed to be funny, M. It’s not a joke.” Emma spoke in a low voice before glancing briefly at her friends pain filled eyes.  Hopefully Killian would get there soon so she could tell them that despite her diagnosis, she was not sentenced to death.

“What are the treatment options? When do you start? How can we help? We’ll have to talk to HR to get you taken off the rota-”

“David, I, uh, I’m not going to seek treatment, it won’t be nece-”

David stood up from the table so hastily that the chair flew back and tipped over hitting the floor with a clatter. “What the hell do you mean you’re not getting treated? Over my dead body!”

Mary Margaret began to sob loudly in her seat as David stood with his hands on his hips, face red with anger. This was not at all how she had seen things playing out. Where the fuck is Killian? “As I was saying, treatment won’t be necessary.”

“Why the hell are you just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I… I promise this will all be explained in just a few minutes.  Let’s just finish our dinner.”

“I’ve lost my goddamn appetite,” David cursed, causing another loud sob to burst from Mary Margaret who could count on one hand how many times she’d ever heard her husband curse. He calmly turned around, picked his chair up off the floor and pushed it in, then walked outside.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret sniffed, “please tell us what we can do to change your mind.  You just have to get treatment. Not even trying is like giving up hope.” Reaching her hand across the table she squeezed Emma’s. “Back when Killian... disappeared, I- I don’t remember everything. But I remember that whatever happened snapped something inside of me, I broke… but David came to see me everyday, and then you came to see me. And I knew I had to fight. I knew I needed to hope for the best. Believing in the possibility of getting better could be a powerful- holy shit! Daviiiid!!” Mary Margaret screeched at the top of her lungs.

Emma listened as her friend started in on one of her hope speeches, when suddenly Mary Margaret paled, cursed, then screamed for her husband, all right before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted right out of her chair before Emma could do anything.  

“Bloody Hell!”

Emma’s head whipped around toward Killian’s voice, “Thank goodness you’re here!”

“Maybe I should come back at a better time?”

“NO! This is the perfect time. The shit has hit the fan, David is ready to haul me to the hospital to receive involuntary treatment, and Mary Margaret is about to preach hope like never before.”

“What the hell is going on?” David shouted running in from out back. “What is the scream- Who… I… Wha- Emma, what the fuck? Is this why you’re all dressed up?”

Emma couldn’t help it, none of this was good, but it wasn’t bad either, she giggled. “I told you, you’d know it when you saw it.”

“This isn’t funny Emma, my wife is passed out, and you’ve taken to finding a stand in for your dead boyfriend. No offense,” David added cordially, looking at the man in black leather.

“None taken, mate,” Killian smiled.

“Wow, you really do look just like him, and you got the accent down. Is it real, or did she ask you to talk like that?”

“I assure you, it’s real.”

“David!” Emma chastised. “I didn’t ask him to do any such thing. This is Killian, the real Killian.” Emma was now on the floor with Mary Margaret’s head cradled in her lap. Her friend was still out cold.

“Enough, Emma. Do you have any idea what this could do to her if she wakes up and this rent-a-Killian is here, do you even remember what happened to her when he disappeared?”

“Of course I remember,” Emma snapped. “I remember every painful moment of the last year.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. He’s real, David, and I don’t care if you believe me. I can explain everything if you’d give me the chance.”

“Fine, but I want him out of here for when Mary Margaret wakes up. I don’t want this putting her back in the hospital.”

“Fine,” Emma answered petulantly. Apparently not everyone was going to warm up to this development as quickly as she had. “Can you wait in our room, just for now. Please don’t leave though, Killian?”

“As you wish,” was all he answered before he vanished from the spot he had been occupying.

Emma rolled her eyes, “He always did have a flair for the dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

David didn’t answer. He was frozen in his spot, jaw hanging open, eyes wide as saucers.

“Close your mouth, you look ridiculous.”

David snapped his jaw shut then scrubbed both his hands over his face and through his hair. “Just what the everloving fuck is going on, Emma!”

“Keep your voice down! Your wife is going to have a meltdown if you don’t get your foul mouth under control.”

“She’s already having a meltdown! Explain. Now.”

Emma stood up and grabbed Mary Margaret below each arm, “A little help?”

David grabbed his wife’s ankles and they moved her to the couch. Returning to sit at the table, they stared at each other for a moment before Emma began the whole tale. Everything from her hallucinations that weren’t hallucinations, to Scarlet’s arrest, to her diagnosis, to her trek into the woods, to the discovery that Killian was their vigilante killer, and finally to what he was and what he could offer her.  

“Now if you need more proof that it’s really Killian, then you’re going to have to talk with him. I’m sure there are things he can say or do that will convince you.”

David’s jaw was having a hard time staying in the correct position tonight. He felt as though he might need to physically hold it up. Either Emma was completely mad, or the world as he knew it was changed forever. He looked over at his sleeping wife, wondering if she’d be able to handle this development, and was startled to see she was awake with silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

Rushing to her, he knelt down by her side and slid one arm under her back and one under her knees. “Come on, it’s late, let’s get home.”

“No,” Mary Margaret whispered. She sat up and looked first at Emma, and then at David.  “I want to know. I need to know if it’s him.”

David sat down next to his wife, and wrapped her hands in his. Looking at Emma with a pleading look in his eyes, he beseeched her one final time. “I want to believe you, Emma. Really, I do. But if this is some kind of hoax, or twisted reality you’ve created, I’m begging you to stop it now.”

“I swear to you both, it’s not,” Emma vowed, while walking over to take a seat.

“Are you sure, hon?” David asked Mary Margaret who nodded her head vigorously in response. “Bring him out then.”

“Okay.” But before Emma could even call his name, he reappeared, this time sitting on the loveseat along the opposite wall of the couch, right next to where Emma had sat down.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret yelped, hand clutching her chest.

“Sorry, Snow.”

Mary Margaret’s sharp inhale morphed into a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh my gosh! It’s him!”

“What?” David and Emma asked in unison.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Emma started, “I know it’s him, but what the hell happened in point five seconds that has you convinced?”

“He called me Snow.”

David and Emma shared a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Mary Margaret said. “When David took me to Cabo for a week, I came back bragging about my tan. Killian laughed at me and said I was still white as snow. He even went so far as to show me that his arms were still tanner than mine and he hadn’t even had to leave dreary Maine for it. Ever since then he’s called me Snow.”

Emma laughed at the simplicity. “Well there you go Sir Skeptical, your wife is a believer. And here I always thought he was making fun of you because you always get so excited when it snows.”

Looking at David, it was apparent that he was still a bit unsure.

“Come on, mate. What do I have to do to convince you? Your favorite drink is the daiquiri, even though you rarely order them because you don’t want the guys to laugh at you. You have a thing for fairies, Tinkerbell, Crysta, even the fairy godmother in Shrek. You prefer loose fitting boxers to boxer briefs because you don’t want your boys to suffocate, oh and you... eh, you like that thing the wifey does… you know with her pinky fing-”

“Alright, that’s enough Jones!” David’s blush shot from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Mary Margaret burst out laughing, while Emma had a look of distaste on her face, “TMI Killian, but you got him! He’s a believer.”

David finally let out a chuckle. “Of all the shit you know about me, you chose to start with those?”

“You could’ve stopped me at anytime, Dave.”

“I’m starving,” Mary Margaret cut in, “let’s eat and you can tell us all about the past year.” She sounded so enthusiastic one would think she was talking to a friend who’d left to explore the world.

The four settled at the table and Killian regaled them with his tales from life as a vampire. Although he left no detail out, he did make sure to censor the gorier parts.

“Lately I’ve been exploring Cartographer’s Bluff. Do you remember that portal I told you about Swan? When we took our first camping trip?”

Emma nodded, while Mary Margaret and David looked at him cluelessly.

“I’ve heard rumors for years that there’s a portal to another… realm, a place where a diverse spread of supernatural beings live. It’s why the maps we look at show more land than we see when we are hiking.  That land does exist, but it was cursed, locked away beyond a portal that isn’t visible to the human eye. Supposedly the supernaturals lived in secret among humans for years, but over time people started to suspect something otherworldly about the community in general and so they decided it best to go into hiding to protect themselves.”

“Have you found it?” Emma asked.

“I did, it’s a very faint field protecting the area, but I can see it. I haven’t had the nerve to crossover.”

“Why not?” David asked. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

“Of course, but I guess a part of me always wished, or hoped that I’d be with Emma again. I don’t know if the portal is open to come and go as I please, or if I’d be trapped there forever.”

“You’ll always have me now.” Emma reached out for his hand and squeezed it when he laced their fingers together.  

“Ha!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. Placing her hand on top of both of their hands she smirked at Killian. “Guess you can’t call me Snow anymore, seeing as I’m waaaay more tan than you now, and I didn’t even have to leave dreary Maine to do it.” She laughed heartily as she mocked his own words.

“It would seem you are correct, it only took my death to achieve this feat,” he deadpanned.

Mary Margaret’s laughter immediately ceased, and her eyes turned down sadly.

“Snow, it was a joke. Please forgive me, it’s too soon for such flippancy.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… it made me realize that your solution to Emma’s condition is to make her a vampire. Does that mean that you two will leave?” The woman’s big green eyes filled with tears again as she contemplated losing her friend.

“We haven’t thought that far in advance,” Emma said hurriedly, trying to head off a huge discussion before she and Killian had a chance to discuss it themselves. “I promise you both I won’t disappear again without telling you where I’m going.”

“Emma and I still have a lot to figure out, but you guys will be the first to know outside of us,” Killian added.

David and his wife both nodded their heads solemnly, taking their friends at their words. After finishing dinner, cleaning up, and the reiteration of promises, the couple took their leave. They were wise enough to know the couple needed this time to formulate their plans.  

As soon as the door shut Emma turned to Killian and launched herself into his waiting arms. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!” She hugged him with all her might and relished the feel of his arms wrapping strongly around her.

“Oi! Such language. You kiss me with that mouth?”

“You’ve never complained before.”

“I suppose not. Now what is it I’m not to do again?”

“You are never to disappear or magically poof me away and leave without a word again.”

“It was for your safety. I was having a hard time controlling myself with you, always have.”

Emma looked up at him with a seriousness in her gaze, but momentarily found herself lost in the bright blue hue of his eyes tonight. “Your eyes are so blue tonight, they were pale yesterday.”

“I wasn’t properly prepared yesterday. Tonight my thirst is quenched I suppose you could say.”

Emma huffed, and broke from his embrace.

“What is it?”

“How? I mean, you didn’t drink that much from me last night. I don’t want you to… you know. You don’t, like… I mean… are there others?”

Killian just stared at her as she continued to stumble over her words. “What is it you’re asking, Swan?”

A rosy shade of pink colored her cheeks as she realized she was going to have to come right out and ask. “Are there other girls?”

“Other girls for what?”

Emma rolled her eyes at his obtuseness, silently cursing him for making her a jealous brat. “Do you drink from other females?”

Killian burst into laughter, his eyes alight with love for this girl.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, then she spun on her heel and stormed to the bedroom.

“Wait up, love.” He got to the door just as it was slamming closed and stopped it with his foot. Emma was laid out on her back, arms folded across her chest, staring at the ceiling.

Laying next to her on the bed, he took it as a good sign that she didn’t tell him to leave, or even turn away from him when he slowly crooked his arm across her stomach. “Emma Swan, are you jealous?”

She growled in irritation, but still didn’t turn away. “No,” she muttered petulantly.

“I think you’re jealous,” he crooned.

“Well what the hell do you expect, I mean you were hard as a rock last night when you drank from me. You think I want you doing that with someone else?”

“Mmmm I was,” he growled, splaying his hand across her stomach, “but you know what darling? I was hard as a rock because it was you.”

Emma turned her head, “Yeah?”

He nodded his head. “After I left you here last night, I knew I couldn’t see you again without first quenching my thirst. Remember the stockpile I have at the, what did you call it? House of horrors? I drank my fill before seeing you tonight so I could control myself.”

Emma giggled at the title and at assuming the worst. How could she so quickly forget the mini blood bank he had back at his place.  “Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly. Turning her body toward his she scooted further into his embrace.

“Nothing to apologize for. I imagine I’d feel the same if you were to let someone else taste you.”

“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about, I don’t know any other vampires.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about that kind of tasting.” Killian arched his eyebrow and licked his lips.

Emma watched as he transformed from man to vampire, his fangs clicking into place in the blink of an eye. Her heart rate soared, but not out of fear. As surreal as this all still was, she was turned on by his fangs, as was proven by the swirl of want she felt between her legs at the thought of him tasting his fill of hers.  “Oh, that’s only for you.”

“Only me? Even after a year?”

“I don’t know if I’d have ever moved past you, Killian. I might’ve become an old spinster. But I assure you, after only one year, yes, only for you.” Leaning in, Emma touched her lips to one fang, then the other before taking his mouth.

Killian groaned into her mouth when he tasted her tongue on his. He tightened his hold at her lower back and kneaded her flesh, wanting to feel more of her. “Your soft, wet, mouth tastes just as delectable as I remember.”

He’d always loved to kill her with words. She felt that familiar swell low in her belly, and she pressed into him further. “What else do you want to taste?”

“Everything you have to give.”

Their eyes mirrored each other’s, beautifully colored irises, blue versus green, barely visible around wild pupils.  “Take it,” she whispered. Before she could take notice, Killian transported, where he had been laid beside her he was now standing next to her side of the bed. Emma took the hand he offered her and stood up with him.

He removed his black leather jacket, then took both Emma’s hands and placed them on his chest. She didn’t need to be led further, Killian had always enjoyed when Emma undressed him, with her eyes and especially with her hands.

Slowly caressing the planes of his chest, down to his abs and then back up again, Emma pulled the shirt from his jeans at the same time, then set to the task of unbuttoning it. With each new bit of skin that was exposed she felt new want blossoming. Her hands caressed his pecs, fingers skimming through his thick chest hair, then moved up to his shoulders to push away his shirt.

Even though he couldn’t blush, she saw a shy modesty bloom under her scrutiny.  He still had his tells, she noted as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. A sure sign he was a little shaken. “Just as gorgeous as I remember,” she murmured. Moving forward, Emma inhaled deeply at his neck then feathered light kisses along the column of his neck as she deftly unfastened his belt. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into his skin as she unzipped him.

“I missed you too, my love.” Taking her face between both hands he brought her mouth to his to cement his words.

Emma slid his pants down his hips and thighs while he kissed her senseless. She felt his hard length against her stomach and couldn’t help the giggle that stole from her mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“No blood, no heartbeat, and now no knickers? I seem to remember you had quite the collection of those hot little boxer briefs that packaged everything so… deliciously.”

“Perhaps I forewent my knickers for your easy access.”

Emma laughed again, “Good idea. Goddamn you look so good. You’re just missing one thing.”

“And what would that be?” He quirked his eyebrow as she unfastened the necklace, his necklace, she wore.

“I want you to have it back, now that you’re here to stay.” Emma stepped behind him and fastened the necklace for him. She kissed his neck and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I also want to feel it drag along my body when you’re on top of me,” she whispered into his ear.

An involuntary shiver coursed through his body at her seduction. Then she was gone, the warmth of her body no longer pressed to his, and he found himself desperate for her touch.

When she walked back around him, she faced away from him, toward the bed, then swept her hair upward with both hands signaling Killian to unzip her. The dress fell to the floor seamlessly, and she whipped back around to face him, without warning she jumped up and clung to his body. He caught her as if she were a feather. “So it’s true what they say? Vampires have super strength?”

“Aye, there are many things that are different about me now, Swan. We could discuss them all at great length if you’d like?”

“Uh-uh, not right now. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“Shut up and get inside me, Killian Jones.”

“As you wish.” He laid Emma out on their bed and crawled between her thighs, then kissed her lips once, before setting to leisurely teasing every inch of her body. He ran his lips down her neck before feasting on her breasts like a man starved, all the while inhaling deeply, her scent like a lifeline.

Just as she’d wanted, Emma could feel the delicate drag of the pendants on his necklace along her throat, then down her sternum as he kissed his way down her body. “Hurry up,” she whined. “It’s been a year,” she added when he chuckled at her impatience.

“Don’t I know it,” he murmured. “Let me enjoy these a bit more.” He sucked and teased his fill before moving further down her body, finally settling where she wanted. Killian massaged her hips, up and down her rib cage, then placed his mouth upon her.

The moan that emerged from Emma would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t busy being so impatient and greedy for his mouth. She fisted her fingers into his thick hair, encouraging his actions.  

Killian hummed his approval into her folds when her delectable taste graced his tongue. He worked her quickly, but expertly, his tongue seeking everything she had to give. He brought two fingers to her entrance, soaked and ready to be penetrated and slid them in without warning at the same time as he sucked her clit between his lips.

“Yes,” Emma gasped at the sudden but welcome intrusion. It’d been far too long, and she was on the brink of utopia from just one thrust of his digits. She bucked her hips to meet the curve of his fingers, the wet slide music to her ears. The sound of sex had always been a turn on for Emma, and after a full year, it was as though the sense was heightened.

Killian added a third finger to her divinely swollen flesh and delighted in her cries of passion as she immediately came. “That’s it love, let me hear you.” He coaxed her through her aftershocks, waiting patiently for her to come down. “Hearing you get off is second only to watching it, Swan.”

“Then allow me to come again… for your pleasure.” She smiled like the cat that got the canary, before adding, “Tell me how you want to watch me come.”

Before Emma could process a thing she was straddling his waist while he lied out on the bed. “What the-”

“Super speed,” he shrugged throwing his hands behind his head.

“So that’s true too. What about super stamina?”

“Oi! My stamina was always super.”

Emma collapsed onto his chest in a fit of giggles. Her vampire boyfriend was still a drama queen. “Oh, Killian. That wasn’t a complaint.” She braced her hands on either side of his head and pushed up so she could look down at him. “I never had any complaints in that department,” she purred as she slid her still wet folds up and down his length. Emma watched as his eyes rolled shut. “You like that?”

“Fuck yes, you’re so warm and wet. I want to feel you wrapped around my cock, love.”

She kissed him briefly then licked and gently bit her way along his jawline. “As you wish,” she murmured into his ear.   

Killian’s eyes sprang open as he didn’t want to miss a moment, she just felt so good. He watched as she braced her left hand on his chest and gripped his shaft in her right to line him up to her. His cock strained as he felt the warmth of her entrance, and he swore she was teasing him. “Ride me, Swan.”

Hearing those words brought back a flood of memories, so many nights spent making love. Torn between slamming home and making him beg, Emma slowly sunk down onto him until he was fully sheathed. She didn’t move, she needed to adjust to the way he stretched her, she also wanted to savor the full feeling she’d been deprived of for so long.

Killian didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes again until he felt her forehead rest on his. He brought one hand to her hip and the other to the back of her head. “I love you, Emma.” He punctuated his words with a fervent kiss, hardly giving her a chance to answer.

His words and ardor spurred her to action and she withdrew her hips before gliding back home again. Emma alternated between kissing him and watching him. The muscles of his body moved smoothly under his skin as he guided her hips. She got lost in the way his arms flexed, his stomach tensed and settled, the tick of his jaw, and she thought watching him in the throes of passion might be the most gorgeous thing she’d ever witnessed.

Killian moaned and whispered encouragement and obscene words to her as she worked herself closer to another peak. He was mesmerized by the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, but only when he could pull his eyes from her expressions of heat, happiness, and wonder that all made their way across her face. He knew the moment she reached that crescendo, when she threw her head back in ecstacy and called out his name. And again, hearing her come undone was second only to watching. Pumping into her still, Killian’s orgasm started to crest through him and he was inundated with a maddening desire to bite and feed from the woman who’d just thoroughly ravished him.

Emma watched as Killian’s release took him. He was beautiful, but something was just slightly off. His eyes paled a shade, and he looked slightly feral. Then it dawned on her. “Drink,” she commanded. And once again she found herself in a new position without experiencing how she got there.  She was laid out on her back and Killian was poised above her now, still thrusting deeply into her. She didn’t say anything, but only swept her hair aside and offered her neck.

Without another moment’s hesitation Killian sunk his fangs into her tender flesh and pulled deeply from her thrumming vein. Her breathy moans had him fucking into her harder, as he realized she loved his bite. The swell of her walls against his cock had him seeing stars until he finally let go and let the pleasure take him on a ride.

The moment her skin was pierced Emma entered a state of euphoria. She felt pleasure course throughout her body, settling in every nerve ending. The way his fingers grazed her skin was perfect, the way his chest rubbed against hers was perfect, and the way he stroked against her clit with every thrust was perfect. Her whole body tensed as she sensed Killian’s orgasm, and then a wave of pleasure like none she’d experienced before swept her up with him, and her body relaxed as gentle wave after wave washed through her.

Not for lack of want, Killian withdrew his fangs from her neck.  “That was…”

“What ha-”

They both chuckled at the utter fuckstruck tone to their voices, and Emma collapsed against Killian’s chest.

Running his hands through her hair he enjoyed the warm press of her skin against his cool body. “You are so warm. I’ve missed you so much, my love. Tell me you’ll stay with me forever?”

If he had a beating heart it would have stopped at her hesitance to answer. Taking in a deep breath he didn’t technically need, he tried to find his center again. “I understand. I didn’t mean to pressure you, please know that I will accept any decision you make.” He kissed the top of her head, then rolled them so they could get comfortable.

There was something off with the way her body rolled so listlessly as he moved them. “Emma, are you quite alright?” Brushing her hair away from her forehead he saw that her eyes were open, but glazed as if she wasn’t seeing. “Emma, love, wake up,” he shouted as he shook her gently. Killian checked for her pulse, but even with his heightened senses could only detect a weak and fading pulse. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing her after he’d only just got her back. But he couldn’t fathom turning her without her permission either. “Please, wake up. Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. Holding her limp body tightly to his, he prayed to any god who might hear him for Emma to wake.

“Emma!” Killian was sitting up in bed holding her tightly with his forehead rested on hers. She was still breathing but it was shallow. He pressed his lips to hers and a broken sob spilled forth. Emma’s whole body jerked in his arms as she struggled to inhale.

“Breathe love, just breathe,” he soothed her.

“What happened?”  

Killian still had her held tight in his arms, unwilling to let her go. “You tried to leave me, you were barely breathing, and your pulse was almost nonexistent.”

“Why are you bleeding?” Emma brought her hand to his face and brushed her thumb across the drops of blood on his cheek.  

“Shit, sorry. Will you be okay If I go to the bathroom to clean up?”  

Emma nodded her head. “I’m fine. But why are you bleeding, did I hurt you?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Killian stood up from the bed and raked his hand anxiously behind his ear.

“There’s that blushless blush,” Emma teased as she watched him. “What is it, bashful?”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered. “Crying is a messy affair when you’re a vampire.”

“I’m not going anywhere, all you would have to do if I was dying in your arms is turn me, then there’ll be no getting rid of me.” Emma stood up off the bed and held her hand out to him, “Let’s get cleaned up. If that’s what comes out of your eyes when you cry, I’m sure I need to bathe after what we just did. Unless you’re ready for round two.”

“I’m always ready for you, but we need to talk first.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed, knowing that serious Killian with his good form, morals, and integrity was going to make an appearance.

~CS~

“Are you hungry?” Killian asked as he dried his body.

Emma watched his naked form as he toweled off, her eyes were quite focused as she enjoyed the show. “Only for you,” she murmured as she slipped on her silky robe.

“On the contrary, I can hear your stomach,” he chuckled.

“Stupid vampire hearing,” she muttered while drying her own hair. “I can eat anytime, I’d rather make up for the last year by having you again.  I haven’t gotten to... you know.” Licking her lips she crudely gestured a blow job, then smiled devilishly as he began to harden before her.

“Naughty vixen,” he smirked, “I promise you, once we’ve talked, if we move forward together-”

“What if, Killian?” she interrupted. “There is no if, only when.”

“Well then, after we talk, when we move forward together, you’ll have an eternity to suck my cock.” He waggled his eyebrows at her scandalized expression, while throwing on a pair of his old worn sweats.

Emma feigned offense before bursting into giggles. “I love you, you filthy animal.”  

“Come on.”

Before she could make another attempt to lure him back to bed, he poofed them to the kitchen where she was sitting on the counter watching him practically warp around the kitchen while preparing her pancakes, eggs, and sausage. She was almost dizzy.

Once he’d prepared her plate he swooped her up and transported them both, food and all to the back patio. “Now we talk.” He sat her in a chair at the small dinette and sat across from her.

“Talk, talk, talk,” Emma rolled her eyes before scooping a bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Mmmm, just as delicious as I remember,” she commented through a full mouth.

“So classy.” He watched as carefree Emma returned. She’d been such a shell of herself over the past year.    

“Shut up!” she laughed, punching him in the arm. “Actually don’t shut up, you talk all this talk you need to talk, and I’ll eat.”

“As you wish. All the things I am about to say aren’t to discourage you, but I do need to say them, because I want you to really think it through before you make your decision.”

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“No more food to start, you won’t be able to enjoy those light and fluffy pancakes, nor your beloved garlic steak. No sunlight... tanning, the pool, the beach, all gone. A warm body will be a thing of the past, and no more beauty sleep, not that you ever needed it. You won’t be able to be around humans for a long spell, it’ll just be you and me.”

Emma reached across the table and entwined her fingers with his. “I don’t see the problem with any of that. I would give up food, sleep, my warmth, my heartbeat, the sun, moon, and stars to be with you.”     

“Fortunately you wouldn’t have to give up the stars, Swan.” Killian squeezed her hand lovingly as he gestured toward the star laden sky with his other. “We can always enjoy this. Alas, those are the more superficial things. We would never be able to stay anywhere forever if we intended to live among the living, they’d realize we were different if we maintained our youthful good looks for too long. You’d have to watch every human you love die, eventually. And… no babies.”

Emma contemplated his last two thoughts as she pushed around the bits of food left on her plate. For the majority of her life she hadn’t wanted kids, she’d never had a mom and was quite sure that she didn’t know the first thing about how to be one. Only once Killian had come into her life had she even considered kids, they’d discussed it a time or two. Ultimately, had everything worked out happily ever after, they probably would’ve had a couple kids. But now, the fact was, she wasn’t going to have kids either way, she probably didn’t have nine months left to try, and she could handle that.

“David and Mary Margaret,” she murmured, they were a different story. Her eyes watered as she thought about them growing old and eventually dying as she and Killian would remain never changing.

“I can… enthrall them, I suppose you could say.”

Emma stared at him blankly.

“You know, enchant, glamour, hypnotize them.”

“To do what?”

“To forget. Everything about us, it would be as if we’d never existed in their minds.” Killian watched silently as an array of emotions flitted across her face, a bit of sadness, some nostalgia, and even the hint of a smile.

“No, I can handle it. I don’t want you to… mess with their minds. Wait! Have you messed with my-”

“Never love,” Killian cut her off, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emma stood up and tugged on Killian’s hand. “C’mon.” She led him to their swinging loveseat.  After guiding him to sit criss cross she sat opposite him so they were facing each other. Grabbing both his cool hands in her warm ones she laced their fingers again placing them in her lap, and looked into his eyes.   

“I know you may think I am being quick to jump, and flippant, but Killian, I know in my heart that I’m making the right decision. Some might think me weak for not moving past your death, but the fact is, I could have moved on, I just didn’t want to. I had no desire to live in a world without you in it. You were, are the greatest and only love of my life, I had no desire to move past that. I would have lived out my life however I was able to navigate without you, but now I don’t have to, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”   

“Gods I am blessed, if a demon like me can be blessed.”

“You are not a demon,” Emma whispered, wiping at the bloody tear that traced the curve of his cheek.

“Knowing all that you know now, I don’t understand how you can still love me so unconditionally, but I swear you won’t regret it for even a single moment of our eternity.”

“Good.”

Pulling Emma into his lap he threaded both hands into her hair and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“Prove it. Take me back to bed.”

“One track mind,” he chuckled.

“Better yet, who needs a bed. Take me right here, vampire.”

“You’re amazing, Emma.”

“I love you, Killian Jones, enough talking now.”

Tagging: @onceuponamirror @teamhook @artistic-writer  @courtorderedcake @jarienn972 @therooksshiningknight @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @captainswan-shipper88 @winterbaby89 @cssns please let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or removed from the list. 

[jrbalufbfnzl]

I slept late yesterday n woke up at 9h30 bc my mom ws spamming my phone. I have to text wishes for my fam bc their granddad died and go to the pharmacy. Slept from 1 till almost 10 and didnt feel tired when i woke up. Ill try n b productive today im gna take my pills n walk the dogs. I also have to finish mty sisters drawing n listen to all her memos

I need to cut my hair i cannot stand the sensation

Thinking about having more tats n being anxious bout it for some reason

Ill try to be strong n turn away from food and hopefully as well ill be able to exercise but no food at ALL today sounds grear to me but no pills and no sleeping all day bc it ruins the mood

Didnt wake n bake but didnt meditate, im lazy to meditate thismorn. Been hanging on my phone for a lil more than an hour so ill just go out n do my stuff now

My dogs off her medication today i hope shell getbetter i cannot deal w the stress of her having a chronical serous disease.

I scratched my ears until they bled n couldnt hezr well yesterday

UPDATE : i managed to walk yhe first dog and fed both of em. Im waiting for my pills to kick to walk the second one. It was a struggle to get something non triggering to eat and im trying to wait as much as possible to eat. Days are fucking short anyways and ill xhabge my password and lockdown uvereats to not order some tonight maybe. Ill try and sleep early and stay strong and also get ready to see peeps and maybe feel a lil bit better but also i wanna stay alone. I cried a bit bc im ashamed to be so paralysed at 25 time is running fast and hezlth as well and the fall could be terrible idk. I felt anxious to walk both of the dogs at the same time or evenbto vring them to the parc or go to the pharmacy even tho its 5mins away n its kind of a nice walk. My stomach and intestine hurts tho. I hope ill manage to go to the pharmacy n exercise today n shave my hair n meditate and finish my sisters drzwing. Its not that much

UPDATE 2 : its 30 to 7 and i managed to cut my hair and walk the two dogs once. I feel zncious about walking them a second time but ill make it feed them then take them out.

My best friend made a post sayin that knowing otger people dezl w the same stuff as her is rezsuring so i ferl less guilty of "making it about me all the time" bc thats rly not what im trying to do and my bf told me i wzs incapable of listening so i guesd it fucked up my self apreciation.

Sometimes i feel like my bf is the only thing in his world and i also feel like its giod for him but at the same time i feel like im wrong znd im the one taking toi mych space. I have 0 sense of whats real and whats not and as soin as im thinkin ab smth that is not invalidating to me i kind of gaslight myself into thinking otherwise znd remarks my bf made repeatedly in the past arent helping. I have to finish my sistets drzwing walk the dogs n exercise. Today i felt anxious multiple times and wasnt really able to get out of bed. I didnt meditate first thing in the morning either whoch i shouldve. Im gonna try my psycholoist tomorrow to take another apt bc i missed the last one. I feel like a failure. Good thing is im not hubgry at all bc of aderall and stress so thats cool. Ill try ti go to the pharact tomorrow as well but even thibking about livin another dy and having stuff t do makes me rly anxious i feel incapable of having a routine.

Update 3 : did the drawing, hate it and i dont have my mind up to that. Esp sibce the dezdline is so close and i feel like my sisters work ethic is so abusive and self centered that i just dont have fuel to turn her idea into smth cooler and add detzils or a personal touch. I just dobt want to experiment w it and i hate doing it and it shows. I walked my first dog for the second time fed them both gave the last pill to my second dog abd im about to walk her out now. I feel shitty about my day.

Today my ideal me :

Wouldve woke up meditate exercise and took care of the dogs in a whistle withiut thinking to avoid building up unecessary anxiety and have the drawing done by thr end of the morning and went to the dog park and pharlacy afterwards anf make music.

If someone saw me from an outside perspective :

I think they would think that my depression is quite invalidating and that im just letting myself down completely

Today i did :

Nothing consistent but i feel like i did my best within my possivilities and i went above my lack of motivation to draw and rakr care of the dogs

I felt :

Down empty and dead anxious and tired.

I ate :

Two biscuits and a bubble tea

Tomorrow i'll :

Try to meditate and exercise and feed the dogs and get ready for what its worth and go out a little abd go to the pharmacy abd call my shrink and try to get sum weed even tho i shouldnt but the anciety is too much

Im grateful for :

Having the strenght to write stuff down znd maybe itll be the start of a routine

My shrink being so lame she accepted that i get surgery

The dogs remiding me that i rly shouldnt br like my parents and helping me reflec and remember on abuse and stuff

[kurathemonster]

Mask of Memories - Chapter 2[Deltarune Fanfiction]

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ - - - ♢  ♤  ♢ - - - ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗Thanks so much for reading and I hope you stick around for more to come! I’m so excited to show you the next chapters! :3HECK- I’m late on this. Sooo I had this done and posted on Friday, but forgot to post here(and I was too lazy) so here you go! Also sorry that this one is considerably shorter than the previous chapter, but I've separated the chapters based on major events. I was also going to draw another cover for the chapter, but I got lazy so I used the same one.

Time Taken - 1-2hours for writin

Word Count - 2,083

Programs Used -  Google Docs

WARNINGS

Mental illness

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ - - - ♢  ♤  ♢ - - - ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ - - - ♢  ♤  ♢ - - - ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

“Did you hear something?” Toriel said as she slowly turned her head behind her to find the source of the noise. Alphys’s expression changed to worry as she looked up the boss monster. “Uhh… Y-yeah. I did.” Toriel walked towards the large door at the end of the hall. The metal of the door shone yellow from the setting sun gleaming through the windows. Toriel stepped in front of the door and put her hand on the handle to open it. Alphys stood behind her, concern in her eyes. The light from under the door inside began to move. Kris noticed the difference and saw a shadow cover the space under the door. They panicked and pointed the figure out to Susie. “Someone’s here!” Susie said in a hurry to escape from view of the door. There was nowhere to go. Everything seemed to lead to dead end, straight in view of the doorway. The door opened and Toriel was standing to see the students panicked at the sight of her. “Kris? What on Earth are you doing?” Kris stared at their mother hoping that she would say something else instead of look for an answer. “I was just… uhh… playing with my friend?” Toriel gave Kris her stern face, indicating that they were in trouble. “Kris, go home. No more play for today” Kris sluggishly walked towards the door. As they passed Susie they turned towards her and waved. They could hear a silent “sorry” come out of Susie’s mouth. Kris passed their mother and went into the hallway as Toriel turned back towards Susie. “I should really be telling your parents about this. You shouldn’t be in the school this late.” “I know, sorry,” Susie said quietly as she walked past Toriel and out the door. She tried to avoid making eye contact with her, but Toriel seemed to be staring her down. Toriel faced Alphys and sighed. “I’m really sorry about that. Can we continue our conversation tomorrow?” “O-of course!” The lizard monster looked relieved to see that no fight has arisen. Toriel smiled at Alphys and took Kris by the hand. Kris was shocked at the strength of her grip and the speed at which she grabbed their hand. “We’re going home Kris. If you are good, I’ll allow you to play tomorrow.” They walked past Susie who was watching from the door. “We’ll find some way to get in there tomorrow,” Susie whispered to Kris on their way out. Kris nodded their head. Kris got into Toriel’s car and sat still and obedient as their mother turned the car on. The trip back to the house was completely silent. No words were exchanged when they drove. Toriel concentrated on the wheel with a worried look on her face. Kris only stared out the window to see their classmates playing with each other. They recognized almost everyone on their street. Noelle was walking on the sidewalk, in the direction of the hospital. Berdly was talking to some children near the apartments. Monster Kid was waiting next to the door of the “Librarby”. Their dad was watering the flowers in front of his store. He noticed the familiar car on the street and saw Kris staring in the window. He waved and smiled at them. Kris waved back. They could feel a faint happiness after seeing him again. Although Kris visited Asgore often, it still didn’t feel the same as when he was at home. Kris thought about how much Toriel used to comment about the simple things Asgore would do. It made Kris a bit mad to see how she treated him. She views him as an irresponsible and naive influence to Kris and their brother, when he was just trying to bring fun to their world. He left before Asriel left for college. Kris honestly thought that things would be the same forever. Asriel left not too long after that though. They pulled up in their driveway and Toriel quickly got out of the car. Kris slowed their pace and walked out into the yard. They looked far in front of them. They could see some people beyond the thick brush on either side of the road. Toriel opened the front door then looked behind her. “Kris? You can go out tomorrow, but come stay inside for tonight.” Kris looked back towards their mother and slowly dragged their body towards the door. Toriel put her bag down on the table at the front door and went to open the fridge. “Kris, I have some leftover stew if you want-” “I’m not hungry,” said Kris as they walked upstairs in a hurry. They didn’t even bother to glance toward their mother. Toriel looked at Kris when they stopped in their tracks near the bottom of the stairs. “Kris, may we have a talk?” Kris hesitated for a second, then turned around and stood in front of their mother. Toriel grabbed their shoulders and gestured them towards the table. She then walked back to the fridge, took out the cold pot of stew, and placed it carefully on the stove to heat up. “Kris, I…” she started as she sat down on the opposite side of the table. “I’m worried about you. You were out all day yesterday and now you’re going in places you know you’re not supposed to be in.” Kris stayed silent and listened to their mother. Toriel sat up straighter. “Kris, I know you’re excited about your new friend, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to do whatever you wish.” She paused. “I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you to get hurt. And I know how hard it’s been for you since Asriel left. And even more so after…” She stopped talking as if it had been too painful to continue. The look on her face hurt Kris. She looked sad and stressed out from worry. Kris hated to see their mother like this. “I know you miss him, Kris. You miss Asriel. You two used to have so much fun times together, and ever since he left,  I feel like a part of you stopped working. You’ve changed a lot, and I’m so proud of what you’ve become, but I feel like you’re not happy with your life. You do miss them, do you not?” Kris opened their mouth slightly as if to say something, but nothing came out. They sat silent and pained with what their mother had to say. “No need to say it. I understand. You really wish for them to come back and for our… family to be together again. I want to try to fix it, but I don’t know if Asriel would be the same when he comes back. He’s a grown man now, off in college. He might not want to stay with us anymore.” Kris could feel tears choking them. Their breath was tight, but they resisted the tears. Toriel continued, “I honestly don’t know if things could ever be as they used to be, Kris… but I want the best for you. And… and what you’ve been through has worried me as your mother because I see how much you miss them and hurts me to know that I might not be able to bring them back. I don’t know if your dad.. would be willing to…” Kris looked up to their mother when she finished her sentence. They knew how unfairly she treated their dad, without appreciation for anything, and it hurt them more than anything. Especially after she admitted that nothing could ever be the same. That Asriel wouldn’t want to see them as often. It wounded them to hear these words come out of the mouth of one of the last people Kris depended on. Kris also couldn’t believe that they let their guard slip down for too long. They acted like everything was perfect, even to their mother, but when the player came in, she noticed how different things were. Kris was confused by all of their feelings. They were astonished by the truthfulness in their mother’s words. They were hurt to realize the reality of things. They were never coming back Not as they were before. Kris realized that their parents’ relationship would never be the same and that Asriel wouldn’t come home as a playful and imaginative child. Kris looked back down towards their hands resting on the table. “Why is it Dad’s fault? What did he do?” Toriel was shocked at the question, not expecting so straight forward from someone such as Kris. “Why he- there are many times where he…” Toriel was nervous and trying to recount all of the times Asgore had messed up. “He- he’s irresponsible and neglectful as a parent. He never tried to stay serious about anything, or- or…” Kris looked straight at their mother and suddenly stood up from the chair. “You didn’t have to mention anything! You treat him, like he’s done something horrible, and yet you- you’re not… guilty for any of it? It’s all his fault?” Toriel looked more stressed than ever. A few seconds of silence passed. Kris suddenly pushed their chair back and walked towards the stairs. Toriel stood up slowly. “Kris? I’m sorry, Kris, will you just-” Toriel stopped and they were gone. Kris went upstairs and shut the door to their room in an instant. Toriel stood in silence and shock. She looked around for a bit, trying to process everything she said and heard. “What have I done?” she said aloud, almost whispering. Small tears were forming in her eyes, sticking to them. Toriel just kept thinking about everything. She realized that never once had she really sat to think about why she treated Asgore the way he did. It was just that something about him, a flaw, made her hate him. He wasn’t that bad of a person, yet she still pushed him down. He’s only made a few minor mistakes, nothing that important, but it still made her angry. She didn’t know what to think anymore. All she wanted was for it to be the way it used to be, when Kris was happy and their family was together. She never intended for any of this to happen and honestly thought there was no harm she was doing. She took a deep breath and sighed. She could hear the pot of stew boiling and walked over to the stove to turn it off. She sat back down again and only put her hands on her face and cried more. After Kris mentioned it, she definitely felt guilty. She felt like this entire mess was her fault. A few hours passed. Kris didn’t know exactly how long, but they knew it had been a while. They lay on their bed, sheets pulled halfway up their body. They rotated their body so that they were facing their brother’s side of the room. They saw all of the trophies and decorations. A lot of his stuff was left behind when he left. Kris saw the drawn picture on the wall of a flower. A golden flower. Kris remembered helping Asriel color the picture. How long ago, it had been. They turned back around to face the wall on their side of the room. Empty, their side was. They sat up on the bed, the bed sheets falling of their stomach and onto their legs. The player’s soul was still trapped in the cage, silent as ever. Kris thought it to be strange for some reason, how something such as the player would only be active for a day. The soul was so restless, nothing moved. It almost scared Kris. They heard a knock at the door. Their mother was standing behind it. “Kris?” Kris stayed silent. They could hear their mother’s desperate voice behind the door. “Kris, I’m sorry about… what I said and what I did, but I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t know that what I was doing was hurting you too. And I’m sorry for that.” She paused. “I want to fix this, if you’re willing to let me. I want to be there for you as your mother.” She knocked lightly on the door. “Kris?” She realized that Kris wasn’t going to answer. She sighed as her hand left the door and away she was. Kris stayed still on their bed, nothing to say back to their mother. They just sat still and silent.

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Thanks so much for reading! Can't wait to show you what happens next!