#man if i knew i would’ve gotten unleash the light…

[sevenines]

the studio who made the light trilogy games didn’t even know. the games had at most a one day warning before they were taken not only from steam but from console shops too. like,, everyone knows david zaslav has been fucking everything over but i’ll be real i didn’t expect the video games to get hit too

So are we going to talk about how SU Save the Light and Unleash the Light, along with other CN series games, have been taken down from Steam or

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

The rise of a new darkness

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

Chapter 3

Back in Egypt.

The years passed as Rozu watched Atem grow into a handsome young man, the powers he had gained when she emerged with his soul grew in strength with every passing day. She was beyond impressed; he could summon creatures from the shadows and control them with such ease. The way they moved and obeyed his will was a thing of beauty. He had a flare for fire too, bringing forth a flame with just a mere thought. It was like watching a young fire drake discovering its ability for the flame…he was everything she could ever want in an heir…

She would’ve thought that the boy her sister was using as a host would keep Atem from reaching his potential but he surprised her. Little Heba encouraged Atem to train his talents and to not fear his darker side (even if he kept him from unleashing his darkness unto his enemies). They got along well; she found it amusing watching the two grow closer together. Heba’s light complimented Atem’s darkness…what worried her though was the fact that Atem had fallen deeply in love with the child of light.

The queen of darkness wasn’t sure how she felt about the teens developing feelings. She knew how wonderful love could be, the warm and tender sensation that filled every corner of your soul, giving you strength and joy…it could be the greatest power…but also a person’s greatest weakness.

It was her weakness…she had loved once…only to watch as her beloved’s heart get ripped out, staring into his eyes as the light of his soul disappear before his head was torn from his shoulders…the image would forever be ingrained in her mind. She remembered how the inky darkness of grief seeped from her broken heart and over took her…extinguishing her inner flame and leaving her with only the shadows to wield…

And as much as she wanted to keep her prince from the same heartache, the same grief and sadness, she would never wish to stop him from experiencing love, to know what it felt like to find the other half of your soul.

But unfortunately she failed him…

The day the Pharaoh introduced Princess Anzu to Atem was the day her boy lost control…

She witnessed the thirst for blood in his eyes, the temptation for souls as the shadows whispered in his ear to feast upon the girl. Rozu didn’t want this for him…despite his affinity for the dark, the boy had a good heart and a compassionate soul…that was corrupted the moment he saw his beloved little angel’s mutilated body.

Rozu was not prepared for what came next…the eruption of dark magic that over took the kingdom…the monsters that were set free and the destruction of so many lives. She watched as her heir lose control, his body taking on a corrupted form, a vicious beast that complete eviscerated the men that dared laid a hand on his little light…Rozu tried to take control of this madness but she still had not recovered enough of her strength and could only watch as Atem wept over the body of his beloved.

What she did not expect was the blinding light which she knew was her sister’s spirit to chase away the shadows and to rescue her dying host…she watched as the boy opened his eyes, revealing a very familiar set of violet eyes…in her heart she knew that her sister had given up life to save this boy. She couldn’t stop the pain in her heart…

They may have grown up without each other, following two different paths in life but they were still family…they were all they had…she shed a tear for her loss…

Back to the present.

Earlier that day…

Yugi had gotten home and locked himself in his room. He sets down his bag before taking off his school jacket and shoes, putting them away. He laid down in his end, holding his puzzle in his hands, his thumb running over the eye at the front of the upside down pyramid. Images of Bandit Keith smashing his treasure to pieces fill his mind, flames and a building coming down around him as he tried to resemble the Millennium Puzzle as quickly as he could, the feeling of his fingertips burning against the heated metal, his lungs and throat burning from the smoke as he struggled to breathe until he finally put the last piece in place…

He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid to give some stranger his most treasured possession and the item that held a dear friend. His heart felt heavy just from thinking how he nearly lost Yami, how the spirit would once again be lost to the darkness, never to been seen or heard from again.

He sat up and crossed his legs as he set the puzzle on the bed, the last few rays of afternoon light hitting the golden object. He heard the engine of his sister’s motorbike as she drove off, wondering where she was going…a moment later, Yami appeared in front of him, the transparent figure sitting on the bed in front of the young teen. He had a look of concern on his face, reaching over and rested his hand on Yugi’s, “Yugi…” he said in a gentle tone, the smaller teen looking up, gazing into a set of red orbs that stared back at him with such care and concern. Yami knew of the turmoil that was festering in the others heart, he could feel it radiating off the boy and seep through their mind link. He wished for nothing more than to hold the other and reassure Yugi that what happened wasn’t his fault…he could do it in their soul rooms but it wasn’t the same…

“…I can feel the heaviness in your heart. You must know that this wasn’t your fault…”

Yugi pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly, he could see Yami’s hand resting over his but it felt like nothing was there. For some reason this made his heart ache something fierce and he couldn’t understand why…

He hears Yami’s words but is having a hard time believing it, “I handed him the puzzle…I handed him you…I should’ve realized something was wrong but I didn’t it anyways…” he starts to tear up as he buries his face in his arms, the room going dark as the un had gone down. “And then I couldn’t even stop him from destroying the puzzle…I thought…” he trembles, “…when he shattered it, I thought you were gone…” soft whimpers leave the boys lips as he starts to cry. He didn’t want to lose Yami; he didn’t want to be without him again.

The spirit’s heart goes out for Yugi, moving closer to him as he rests his hand on the boy’s head, “Yugi you didn’t lose me, I’m here…we’re still together…our bond growing stronger every day. You saved me…you risked your life to save my soul. And I will be forever grateful. I would be lost if it weren’t for your courage, your kind heart and your selflessness.” Yugi slowly looked up at Yami, his cheeks soaked with tears which the spirit wished more than anything he could wipe away and return his little ones beautiful smile.

Yugi sniffled as his eyes stared into Yami’s and the softest smile on his lips…for a moment an image crossed the young teens mind…a vision of Yami...the teen dressed in white tunic, gold jewellery adorning his arms, neck and eats, a strange crown on his head, his skin a tanned colour…and yet he still had the same heart-warming smile and alluring eyes. Yugi felt another sadness forming in his heart, a wave of grief that didn’t feel like his own.

The spirit sensed his too and leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Yugi’s, closing his eyes, “Yugi…before you completed the puzzle all I knew was a dark abyss, an unbearable loneliness that drove me nearly insane, my memories fading as the years went by till I couldn’t even remember why I was there or how I ended up there…I felt hopeless and deep in despair…and just when I thought I would be there forever, there was a spark in the darkness, a breath taking little light that grew into a warmth that entrapped my very being. I grabbed onto that warmth and held onto it as it pulled me out of the darkness and loneliness…and the light was you Yugi...the sweetest, kindest, bravest soul I’d ever known…even before you were aware of me, I could feel your heart and soul and how it made mine sing with joy.” He opened his eyes to look at his little light, his smile growing when he saw the other hanging onto every word that was spoken from his lips, his amethyst sparkling like the spectacular jewels that they were.

He felt the grief and shame leaving Yugi’s heart, slowly being replaced with euphoria and wonder, “You’ve save my soul twice now…I owe you my life little one…you have my eternal gratitude and in return I will stay by your side as long as I am able…if you will have me…” Yami rests his hand on Yugi’s cheek.

As wonderful as this sounded, the shorter teen had one worry, “What about your lost memories? Don’t you want to discover who you are…who you were? I don’t want to hold you back…” Yugi slowly picked up his puzzle, his eyes never leaving Yami’s as the spirit moved his hands to rest over the others. For a moment Yugi could feel a warmth wrapping over his fingers as if someone was holding them, “I do desire to find out about my past and whether or not I regain them, I wish for you to be a part of my life just as much as I want to be a part of yours. And even if we never recover my memories—“

“I will share mine with yours…and create new ones with you.” The boy said with a smile, sending a funny feeling through Yami’s spirit…a familiar feeling that felt so distant but so close…

He wanted to say more when a bolt of lightning lights up the sky, a massive gust of wind blowing his window open. Yugi is up in a flash, setting the puzzle down as he rushes over to the window to close it, seeing the dark clouds that had filled the sky and blocked out the moon and stars. What the heck was going on? It was like a monsoon had blanketed the city. The storm had come out of nowhere…and what was concerning him was that Lillian wasn’t back yet…

Speaking of Lillian…

She wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was doing, her mind still reeling from the shock of what happened…she had gotten into a heated agreement with Seto. Actually it had been a full blown fight, both parties saying things without thinking, accelerating things to the point where…Lillian nearly froze up as she stopped her bike, not even aware she was at the pier. She was soaked to the bone as the rain was pouring down heavily. She was hyperventilating as she was overwhelmed by emotions, anger, shock, fear and despair…

She walked over to the nearest railing, trying to calm down as she focused on the waves growing violent as the storm grew worse. She started into the water as the moment played through her mind…the anger in his eyes when she compared him to his abuser...the next moment happening so fast, she didn’t even see him raising his fist before it collided with her face. The next second she was on the ground, pain radiating at the point of impact…she had looked up and what she saw frightened her…for a split second it was no longer Seto standing over her but rather the man she had tried to protect him from…

She leaned over the railing and emptied her stomach as she the whole ordeal had made her ill. She gasped for air as she gripped her head; trying to get rid of the images playing through her mind…it was too much. And for the second time in her life she screamed…a shock wave traveling across the ocean, splitting the waves as lightening filled the sky, the windows of the buildings behind her shaking…

Her scream slowly faded into sobs as she sank to her knees, gripping the railing for support. Her eyes caught sight of her Blue Eyes necklace, quickly removing it and staring at it before standing up, raising it into the air, about to throw it into the ocean when she stopped…the memory of the night at the manor, the night he had given her back the necklace…being in his arms as they slow danced, the words that were spoken between…words of love and promise for their future…

She lowered her arm and once again stared at the pendant…even now while she was overcome with shock and pain, despite what had happened just moments ago and the overwhelming emotions she was feeling…hate was not one of them…even in this very moment she could not find it in her heart to hate Seto Kaiba…

Yugi sat by his window as he waited for Lillian to come home…relief washing over him when he saw her parking in front of the store; he rushed downstairs as the front door opened. He grabbed a towel on his way down to give to her since she was probably wet from the rain. He greeted her with a smile as she walked in…but she gave him no response. She slowly took the towel from him as she headed upstairs, her body running on auto pilot as she made her way to her room, closing the door behind her and locking it. She collapsed on her bed, not caring that she was still soaked as she hugged her pillow, curling up as she closed her eyes and let silent tears run down her cheeks.

Yugi stood in front of her door; concerned over her strange behaviour…wondering what had happened…

Mokuba was woken up by the sounds of something breaking and things being thrown around. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up and got out of bed, wondering what was going on. Seto had left for the museum a few hours ago; the youngest Kaiba had decided to go to bed when Seto wasn’t back yet when he said he would be.

He followed the sound to his brother’s office, freezing in the doorway as he was greeted with the sight of his big brother trashing everything in a fit of rage. What the hell? “Seto?” he called out to the other Kaiba but the CEO wasn’t even aware anyone was talking to him. The only thing on his mind was how he had messed up…

Mokuba was starting to get scared as he yelled, “SETO!” the teen stopped what his doing when he heard his brother’s voice, looking at the doorway finally realising that Mokuba was there. He didn’t know what to say as he turned his attention back to the mess he had made, his mind still going crazy. “What’s going on big brother?” the boy asked, worried about his brother. “I��It was…I didn’t…I wasn’t…ARGH!” Seto yelled as he kicked his deck hard enough to the knock the thing over before falling to his knees as he gripped his hair, wanting to rip it from his skull.

Mokuba rushed over and took hold of his brother’s hands, stopping him from hurting himself. The older teen was about to pull away but looked at his little brother, the rage he was feeling for himself turning into sorrow, “Mokuba…”

“It’s ok Seto…”

The older brother shook his head as he was trying desperately not to break down in front of his sibling, “No it’s not…Mokuba I…I messed up big time…I…I…” he couldn’t say it as it made him sick just thinking about it…he buried his face in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing. He felt Mokuba wrap his arms around him, squeezing him tightly, “Its ok big brother. I’m here for you…” this broke the dam walls as Seto wrapped his arms around his little brother and cried for the first time in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The storm continued over Domino City and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. Lillian stayed in bed; the area around her eye had darkened as it developed into a black eye. She didn’t know how she was going to hide it from her family…she didn’t want them to know what had happened because honestly she didn’t want them to get mad at Seto…she knew he didn’t mean to hit her…she had some time to think about what had happened and she kinda understood why it happened…or at least that’s what she was trying to convince herself…

She had left her phone on silent as Seto kept trying to call her…she wasn’t ready to face him yet…she was afraid that things would only worsen between them…

Yugi was growing more concerned as the days passed and Lillian hadn’t left her room. He wanted to know why his sister had isolated herself…though he soon found out why.

Mokuba had called the house, asking how Yugi was doing before asking how Lillian was doing…Yugi thought it was just a normal call until the younger Kaiba brother brought up that Lillian and Seto had gotten into a massive fight…a moment later Lillian had walked into the room, dressed in an oversized sweater and shorts and sporting a nasty looking black eye. She looked at her brother for a second, the boy’s eyes landing on the bruise. Yugi knew in that moment one thing…someone had hit his sister and he knew exactly who it was.

He slammed down the phone and rushed to the door, ready to go give Kaiba a piece of his mind (maybe even convince Yami to send his soul straight to the shadow realm). He had never felt so made in his life, his normally passive nature disappearing. However Lillian quickly stopped him, trying to convince him that she simply fell when she was getting off her bike the other night when the storm hit…the shorter teen didn’t believe a word of it but nodded his head as he let his sister lead him to the kitchen to make something to eat.

However a few hours later when Lillian had gone to lie down, saying she was tired, Yugi left the house, letting Yami take over once they reached Kaiba corp.

Seto had been in a daze for the last few days, he had eventually opened up and explained to his brother what he had done and how ashamed he was of himself…how he wouldn’t blame Mokuba if he hated him…but to his shock, the kid had tried to make a plan to help him not only come to terms with what happened but also make it up to Lillian…and that all started with him talking to her and apologizing. Mokuba wasn’t happy with what his brother had done but he could see the shame and regret Seto was feeling...

But she wasn’t answering his calls, slowly losing hope he eventually gave up…throwing himself into work to distract himself from the mess in his heart and mind…until his office door flew open and in the doorway stood a very pissed off Yugi Muto, “KAIBA!”

[4stars-uswnt]

You Take My Heart Away [Kelley O’Hara x Reader]

requested by anon: Kelley O’Hara x reader where reader gets into a fist fight but she’s like I won’t throw the first punch bc I’ll finish it and like she gets teased by the team but Kelley is mad at reader for it bc R could’ve gotten hurt but it was still cool

requested by anon: Can we get another Kelley O’Hara x reader doesn’t have to be anything specific just maybe along the lines of them both being crazy and maybe oblivious

A/N: i decided to combine these two prompts! hope y’all enjoy it. also bonus points to anybody who gets the title reference (there’s a lil connection to a reference within the story)

warnings: homophobic and sexist language, violence, and swearing

Conversation was flowing and music was playing in the background of the bar, as the USWNT finished up their first round of drinks and appetizers. The team had pushed together a couple of tables, where you all were now sitting, laughing at each other’s jokes.

The air was light, victory and celebration filling the atmosphere. Megan and Ashlyn had been the ones to suggest a night out after your win against Japan, not only to celebrate the 2-0 victory but also to celebrate Lindsey’s birthday that was in the next couple of days.

You were currently sitting next to your best friend, Kelley O’Hara, bridging the gap between the veterans and the youngsters.

“Anybody want another drink?” Alex asks, pushing her chair back, as she moves to get up.

A chorus of yeses ring out, the team’s orders ringing out.

“I’ll help you with that, Al.” You stand up from your seat, giving the other woman a warm smile.

Once the two of you had left for the bar, the rest of the team began interrogating Kelley, who let her eyes follow you as you moved through the crowd.

“Kel,” Ash calls out over the noise of the music. “When are you gonna admit to (Y/N) that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”

“What?” Kelley sputters, flustered.

Megan rolls her eyes at the defender. “It’s so obvious that you’ve had a crush on her for the past like six years, and a blind person can see that she likes you too.”

“I- I’m not in love with (Y/N).” Kelley’s face flushes, as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “She’s my best friend.”

“Kelley,” Christen softly chimes in,, hoping to talk some sense in her friend she’s known since college. “You guys obviously have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship, and you’ve been dancing around them for years. We just want you two to be happy.”

Many of the women nod and voice their agreement.

“But what if it ruins our friendship and I lose her forever?” The freckled defender bites her lip nervously.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Christen gives her a knowing look. “Even if she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she’s not gonna cut you out of her life.”

“And Kel,” Tobin adds on. “You never know until you ask her. And who knows? The risk of putting your heart out there may be worth it. But you’re just gonna live in the dark haunted by the unknown and what ifs unless you tell her how you feel.”

“I hate that you’re philosophical insights are usually right,” Kelley huffs.

Meanwhile, as the team holds their intervention for your best friend, you and Alex were at the bar ordering another round of drinks.

As you were waiting for the bartender, you and Alex were engaged in your own conversation, when you hear a boisterous voice interrupt you.

“Hey! It’s Alex Morgan!” A large man approaches the two of you, holding a half-full cup of beer in his hand, and you have a feeling he’s downed a couple pints already.

You sense Alex tense up next to you, as she gives the stranger a tight smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, and who’s this?” He turns to you, a leering grin on his face, making your insides turn. You reach for Alex’s hand in search of comfort but also as a protective gesture.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The man looks back at the star forward. “I hear your entire team is full of d*kes, but I didn’t think you were one. You’re way too hot to be a d*ke.”

Alex’s grip on your hand tightens, as anger radiates off of her. “I’m actually happily married.” She raises her left hand to show off her ring.

“Woah.” The stranger lets out a low whistle, his eyes slowly widening before he squinting to get a better look, as his movements impaired by the alcohol. “That is quite the rock. How’d you afford that with your pay? I’ve heard all about your team’s fight for equal pay and all that. I personally think it’s a load of crap. You guys aren’t even that good at soccer, and it’s so boring. The only thing that makes your games interesting is your smoking hot bodies.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at this man’s blatant misogyny. “I’m surprised you know about our equal pay fight. I’d think it’d be too complicated for your thick skull,” you quip, throwing the insult right in his face.

“Ooooo feisty, are we?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “And where do you get off calling me dumb?”

“I’m just calling them as I see them,” you simply state, letting go of Alex’s hand, as you move to stand in front of her protectively. “Where do you get off disrespecting women and being a bigot?”

“(Y/N/N), it’s not worth it,” Alex whispers in your ear.

“I’d listen to your friend,” the man sneers and stands up straighter, slightly sobering up. “Because I’m not afraid to hit a girl, especially a mouthy one like you. Women like you deserve to be put in your place.”

“Go on then,” you challenge, probably a stupid decision on your part, but the adrenaline is rushing and you are at your wits end with this man in front of you. “I dare you.”

You thank all the gods in the universe that the stupid stranger was actually stupid enough to try and throw a punch with his blood-alcohol level because you can see his punch coming from a mile away.

Before his fist can make contact with your face, you grab his hand and twist his arm, leaning in closely to his face. “Is that all you got? My mom hits better than you.” You smirk.

“Let go of me, you bitch,” he growls, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Wait, I have one more thing,” you call out.

“What the hell are you talk-”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, rather your fist cuts him off. The man in front of you had been testing your patience and had used up all your grace, which, in your opinion, warranted a punch in the face.

You can’t help but wince at the sharp pain shooting through your hand upon the contact, but the cracking sound of his nose eases some of your discomfort.

By now, the rest of the team had become worried by your prolonged absence and then had noticed the commotion this stranger was stirring. Hearing the raised voices coming from your direction, many of the veterans, including Kelley, Christen, Tobin, Ash, Ali, and Megan, made their way over to where Alex was currently holding you back from unleashing your anger on this drunk man.

“What is going on here?” Becky asks, surveying the situation in front of her.

“This asshole was insulting Al and then had the audacity to continue being a sexist pig,” you spit out, directing your words at the man, who was still holding his bloody nose, while Alex was doing her best to keep you under wraps.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashlyn states firmly.

As the goalie, along with Becky, Megan, and Ali, coax the stranger into leaving you alone, and hopefully leaving the club, Alex, Christen, Tobin, and Kelley try and calm you down.

“(Y/N/N),” Christen soothes, cupping your face. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.” The curly-haired forward inhales and exhales, motioning for you to mimic her actions.

You take a deep breath, and upon exhaling, you feel the tension, along with the adrenaline, leave your body.

“Shit,” you sigh. “My hand.”

You lift your right hand, revealing your split knuckles on which bruises were starting to form.

“Come on, Sylvester.” Tobin claps your shoulder, letting out an amused chuckle. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, and on the way, you can tell us all about your heroics.”

You amusedly roll your eyes and lean into the other woman’s side.

As the team gathers their things, ready to call it a night after the turn of events, Megan approaches you, holding out a bag of ice.

“Here, (Y/N), the bartender gave me this for your hand.”

“Thanks, P.” You place the cool ice on your knuckles, hissing at the temperature shock.

On the way back to the hotel, many of your teammates were interrogating you about what had happened back at the bar. After telling the entire story, you received many hoots and hollers from the rest of the team.

“Damn (Y/N)!” Ash whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Way to protect our honor,” Rose gushes, as many of the women nod along.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for defending me,” Alex says sincerely.

“Of course, Al. Anytime.” You give the forward a warm smile.

“Who knew (Y/N) could be such a badass?!” Emily exclaims with an impressed look on her face. “Kel, did you know that your best friend was a secret badass?”

While the rest of the girls had been teasing you about your heroic actions, your best friend had been oddly quiet.

“News to me.” Kelley answers shortly, her face hard and distant. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering if the defender was mad at you. You thought she would’ve been proud of you for standing up for the team and putting a sexist douchebag in his place.

Before going back to entertaining your teammates’s jokes and questions, you make a mental note to talk to her once you get back to the hotel, silently thanking Vlatko for rooming the two of you together this camp.

You would never in a million years admit it, but you were harboring a huge crush for your best friend, had been for the past six years, ever since you’d joined the national team. Not only did you not want to ruin your friendship and end up losing Kelley, but you knew she would never return your feelings.

Over the past several years that you’d been friends with the defender, you’d seen Kelley go in and out of relationships, and comparing yourself to her other girlfriend’s, you had a feeling you weren’t her type.

You also had reservations due to the fact that Kelley was your teammate, and you didn’t want to change the team dynamic, especially if the two of you didn’t work out.

Thoughts of Kelley clouded your mind all the way back to the hotel, only further exacerbated by her deafening silence.

Upon arriving to the hotel lobby, before you all disperse to your rooms, Alex gives you another hug and thanks you again, and Becky, ever the mother of the group, gives you a warning.

“Make sure to ice on and off. 20 minutes. You know the drill, (Y/L/N). Kelley, make sure she takes care of that hand.”

“Don’t worry about me, Becks. I got it,” you reassure the veteran defender, giving her a mock salute.

Following Kelley, you cautiously enter the hotel room. You nervously watch the other women move around the room, as she silently goes about her usual nighttime routine. Taking the hint that she wasn’t going to talk to you anytime soon, you go about your own routine and get ready for bed.

After about twenty minutes later, after both of you had showered, you were finishing wrapping your hand and were about to get into bed, when you noticed Kelley discretely staring at your bandaged hand.

Unable to tolerate the silence anymore, you break the tension. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kel,” you sigh, plopping down on the side of her bed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since what happened at the bar. Are you mad at me?”

“Nope. Not mad,” Kelley hums slightly passive aggressively, still not looking up from her book.

You roll your eyes, frustrated by your best friend’s childish behavior. “Kelley, I know when you’re lying, and I know that you’re mad at me right now, so would you please just look at me?!”

Sensing the exasperation and frustration in your voice, Kelley closes and sets down her book. “Fine, you’re right. I am mad at you.”

You thought you’d feel relieved, hearing her confirm your suspicions, but instead, the pressure in your chest increases.

“Why? What did I do?” You practically beg, scooting up the bed, so you’re closer to the other woman.

“As if you don’t know,” she scoffs.

Confused, you tilt your head. “I clearly don’t. Kel, please talk to me, tell me what I did.”

“You literally punched a dude in the face!”

“Yeah, but he deserved it, Kel! You heard the things he was saying,” you defend. “I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about our team like that. I thought you’d be proud of me for standing up to a sexist asshole like him.”

“I am proud, sort of. I mean that was completely badass and totally warranted, not that I necessarily expected that from you, and I’m glad you put him in his place,” Kelley babbles. “But that’s not the point, (Y/N/N). You were reckless tonight. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Your face softens at her outburst. Taking a deep breath, Kelley confesses, “I love you, (Y/N). I’m in love with you, and I just can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially by some drunk idiot who doesn’t know shit about football or respecting women.”

Your eyes widen and your heart practically stop, when you process the words that have come out of your best friend’s mouth.

“(Y/N), please say something,” Kelley begs.

“You’re in love with me?” You test the words on your mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs contently, giving you a soft smile. “Have been for the past eight years.”

“Gosh, we really are idiots.” You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, Kel,” you rasped, your voice laced with pure emotion. “I’ve loved you since my first camp.”

“Wow,” Kelley scoffs, an amused grin playing on her face. “Are we really that oblivious?”

“Apparently so.” You shrug. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are.” The freckled woman softens. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meat the other woman’s lips. The kiss is nothing like you’d dreamed of; it’s better. It’s soft and tender, full of love and passion. You melt into each other, as your lips move together in harmony.

Not wanting things to get too heated, especially not before you’ve talked about what this meant for the future of your relationship, you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling like a fool.

“Hey,” Kelley murmurs softly, returning your smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She takes your hand, kissing your wrapped knuckles. “But please don’t be getting into any more bar fights.”

“Hey! I would never start a fight, however I have no problem finishing them.” You smirk, boasting slightly triumphantly.

Kelley rolls her eyes playfully, but then looks into your eyes. “I mean it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. So no more fights alright?”

“I promise, Kel.” You give her a chaste kiss.

“Good.”

That night, you stay in Kelley’s bed, cuddling into her side. As you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep, you notice the woman next to you is already fast asleep.

You sigh contently, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky that even after all these years, and everything that’s happened, life still led you to this woman and a love worth fighting for.

[loki-hargreeves]

Kylo Ren x Reader - You’re Kidnapped (dark angst)

Summary: The force connected you and Kylo Ren, who was now your husband. One of your old enemies, a wealthy weapon manufacturer and criminal kidnaps you. His stalker-ish obsession over you and anger towards Kylo Ren makes the enemy put you through the same pain he has gone through (in his mind). Kylo comes to rescue you, only to see how hurt you are which fuels him with rage. Prompt: “You will regret ever hurting her, that I promise you”

Word Count: 4,5K Warnings: Psychological torture, physical torture, angst, gore, stalking/obsession, mentions of sexual/breeding fantasies, killing (this got a bit dark. 18+, no smut) Author’s Note: Okay, so this happened. I really hope it’s alright. I was in the mood for dark angst. I stayed up all night writing this so it probably sucks @i-have-arrived-bitch​  here it is, the first one :)

Third POV

Garr Caine

He was a weapon manufacturer, past thief, someone Y/N once knew very well. Before they became enemies, they were friends, which was a very long time ago. It ended when Garr became scarily obsessed with Y/N. He would fantasize of a future with her and tell people they were together, when in reality they weren’t. When he was turned down, he was determined to make her regret her decision.

Y/N Ren, previously Y/N Y/L/N, used to be a thief too. Not that she had a choice. She was born into a family of thieves, forced to work for the rich. Her upbringing made her angry at the world. She learned she was force sensitive as a young adult. That’s what attracted attention to her. Eventually, she met Kylo Ren when she was turning in a man that the first order had been after.

Long story short, they were now married. Kylo Ren never thought he’d find anyone to share his deepest and darkest secrets with. Never did he think he’d fall for a force sensitive who was neither on the dark side nor the light. She was herself, lived by her own rules. Kylo adored that about her. Sure, she lived with him which meant she basically belonged to the dark side. She worked for them, but she didn’t necessarily side with them. She sided with her husband.

Years had passed and truly, Y/N had forgotten about Garr. He was irrelevant to her. She was happy with Kylo and being his wife kept her busy all day long, which she was content with. He had taught her how to use to force. Kylo completed her. She couldn’t be happier.

                      Unbeknownst to her, the word had spread in the galaxy that Kylo Ren had wed a commoner, someone who came from nothing. It was on the tip of all gossiping tongues. How they had found out, no one really knew the source. It became popular belief nevertheless, and eventually ended up in the ears of Garr Caine.

His old and unhealthy obsession slowly crept back into his veins in the form of pure jealousy and anger. She was his, not Kylo Ren’s! A devilish plan had sneaked into Garr’s head, he would make her his. As a known weapon manufacturer, Garr knew exactly what to do. You see, the first order often purchased weapons from Garr’s company.

For many moons, Garr’s plan developed and went by unnoticed. No one in the entire galaxy seemed to suspect a thing. They had a whole different kind of a war to think about. Garr would meet people from the first order while making deals. He expected to catch a glimpse of Kylo or Y/N, but for a long time that never happened. It wasn’t until Y/N and six stormtroopers were sent to purchase a new special weapon that Garr finally saw her again.

The men that worked for Garr had killed the stormtroopers in cold blood and eventually overpowered Kylo’s wife. That night, she never returned from the mission. It wasn’t until late the next day that Kylo Ren was informed of this.

General Hux had gotten the honor of delivering the message to Kylo. Sure, the ginger man was nervous of Kylo’s reaction, he was almost happy in a way. He hated Kylo Ren. Knowing that the one thing he truly cared about could be in danger was almost too good.

Kylo Ren was beginning to wonder where his wife was, but he knew she was on a relatively harmless mission, so he hadn’t been too worried at first. By the time she was several hours late, he began to worry…a lot. He had demanded his troops to find out what was going on. While waiting for answers, Kylo was working on another mission of his.

A knock on Kylo’s quarters’ door distracted him. As he turned around to see whoever dared interrupt him, he saw general Hux. He was accompanied by stormtroopers. Was he nervous of something?

“Ren, it’s…about your wife,” Hux started carefully, knowing damn well how temperamental Kylo could be.

“Yes?” Kylo encouraged him to go on, his mechanical voice concealing his worry. He sounded rather intimidating.

General Hux straightened his back, as if he was preparing for something terrible. “No one from the mission has reported back. Their movements can’t be tracked for the past…uh, seven hours. We tried to contact them and the weapon seller, but to no avail.”

Seven hours?!

The bad news stunned Kylo. He felt anger bubbling in his veins already, mixing with the worry he felt. He could sense that Y/N was alive, their force connection was wrong, but something was blocking it. It had never been so weak, strange almost. Immediately, Kylo knew that it must’ve been far worse than he imagined. She was in danger and he was angry at himself that this had happened in the first place.

Just the idea of Y/N being somewhere alone, injured and scared make Kylo sick to his stomach. 

A daring stormtrooper decided to add fuel to the fire, “Their ship was found galaxies away from their target planet, sir.”

Kylo reached out his hand and used the force to pull the man right into his grasp, adding pressure on his windpipe in order to make the man wheeze.

“Find her!” Kylo growled loudly, his rage beginning to boil over. He let go of the stormtrooper and pushed him out of the quarters. Enough time had been wasted already. The stormtroopers and general Hux were already on their way, afraid to taste Kylo’s lightsaber if they stayed around long enough to see his emotions unravel. If he found out someone or something had as much as touched her hair, he would make sure to drag them to their personal torment and make them regret ever stepping foot in the universe.

Kylo grabbed his lightsaber and swung it at whatever inanimate material was around him. He yelled out in anger, unleashing it on the wall, watching how the red sunk into the metal like a knife into butter. Sparks of electricity and the sound of gnashing metal echoed in the corridor, mixed with Kylo Ren’s angry curses.

No one harmed what was dear to him and lived to tell the tale.

No one.

                            A throbbing headache forced Y/N to awake to a harsh reality. She was not on the starkiller base, not with Kylo and she was most definitely not safe. She could tell when she noticed she couldn’t move her body that was restrained to a metal chair. Special handcuffs were around her wrists, keeping her from using the force to free herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get rid of them and panic began to crawl underneath her skin.

Y/N realized she was trapped.

The last thing she could remember was meeting the weapon seller. A familiar face had met them. Y/N didn’t recognize the person at first. She remembered how unfamiliar soldiers had appeared and killed off the stormtroopers, but not her.

It didn’t take her long to realize she was the target. Or perhaps someone she cared about, such as Kylo. Nevertheless, she knew she was in grave danger and she needed to come up with an escape plan. It would’ve been much easier if it wasn’t for her condition. Her heart was stammering in her chest like a wild animal trying to escape a cage, her breaths got heavy and it made her aching head spin.

Calm down! She told herself and forced herself to slow down her breathing. If she wanted to escape, she had to get a grip on herself.

Instead of focusing on how ill she felt, she took in her surroundings. She was in a small, dark room. She could tell it was small by the way her breathing didn’t echo at all. There were no windows. Nothing gave away whether she was on a planet or on a spaceship. It smelled like dust, something metallic and chemicals. Not a good sign. Everything about the place made her fear the worst, that someone professional was behind this. Someone who could cover their tracks.

The heavy door opened, and someone turned on bright, white lights, nearly blinding Y/N. She squeezed her eyes shut as she got used to the light. “Oh, someone’s awake! Finally.” That voice, it was so familiar.

She opened her eyes to see her tormentor. It was the weapon seller. That’s when she remembered that face,

Garr Caine.

“Remember me, Y/N?” Garr wanted to know. He was mocking her, thriving off the fact that he had her under his control at last. 

He was a sick bastard.

“Unfortunately,” she spat out angrily. Garr Caine had been nothing but trouble in her life. He haunted her teenage years with his possessiveness over her.

Garr pressed a button that made electricity pulse through Y/N´s body, stiffening every muscle which spread pain over her entire being. When the source of the electricity was cut, she let out a cry in pain. 

She did not expect that.

“I’m in control, Y/N. Don’t make me angry. We could be happy together. You can forget about Kylo, he’s in the past anyway,” Garr threatened Y/N. She didn’t care about that, she cared about Kylo. What did Garr mean by that?

Her confusion became evident on her face, so Garr continued, “Your husband came looking for you, alone! How reckless. We got rid of him. Now it’s truly just you and me.”

��Liar!” She growled with hatred. Y/N refused to believe that nasty scumbag for even a second. She couldn’t even imagine a situation in which Garr could kill Kylo. He was lying, he had to be! Despite her disbelief, her hopelessness and worry got the best of her. She began to tug on her restraints vigorously, hoping to be released until Garr sent another pulse of painful electricity through her body, this time making tears roll down the sides of her face. The pain was excruciating, filling her every nerve with a hot sting.

Garr pulled a chair out of the corner and sat down next to Y/N. His filthy hand tangled into her hair and he yanked her head towards him so he could whisper to her, his breath landing on her soft skin, “Behave or I’ll just have to teach you better manners. I thought you’d be happy to see me! It’s been so long.”

Y/N hated him. Yes, she was scared of more pain, she was terrified that he was speaking the truth. In the end, she was disgusted by him and she would never give into his sick fantasies. “It’s not been long enough, you sick- aah!” She yelped in pain – he slapped her.

These restraints were too difficult to break out of. It was haunting for her to realize that if Kylo wasn’t coming for her, her chances of survival were incredibly slim. Knowing that Garr had her in his palms made her skin crawl in disgust. He was the worst person that could have ever taken her.

Shivers ran down her spine when he kissed her cheek, his dirty lips tasting her salty tears. The gesture made her freeze in fear. Suddenly Garr chuckled darkly and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “A wedding ring. How did I forget?”

Not the ring! Y/N’s heart swelled sadly as she feared he’d destroy the ring that connected her to Kylo. It was special. “No, please!”

Garr didn’t care about her plead. He tried to remove it, but Y/N curled her finger and used all her strength to keep it that way. Garr didn’t like that, not one bit, “You either let me remove it or else I will cut off your entire finger. You choose!”

He seemed dead serious. Even though, it felt like a disgrace, she did as told. He removed the ring, which left her feeling naked, oddly enough. He stripped her off from whatever reminded of Kylo. Oh Kylo, she really hoped he was alright.

“You’re mine.”

That sounded very much like a threat to her.

                                  Kylo Ren and his knights had tracked down Y/N’s ship. It had ended up on Jakku out of all the possible places in the entire universe. A desert planet full of scavengers and outlaws. He knew that someone knew how that ship ended on the dull planet. Kylo Ren watched as his troops and knights searched the village they arrived at. He watched destruction unfold. He hated the place; it was never good for anything really. Villagers, greedy and afraid, screamed and cried in horror as the first order searched the place throughout. Nothing and no one could hide.

Finally, a knight of Ren brought a man, a strange creature indeed, to Kylo. “Sir, this man claims ownership of the spaceship.”

Kylo felt disgust against the creature. Greedy enough to claim it was his despite the fact there was a blaster pointed at him. There was no time for games. Kylo went straight for his mind, putting his gloved hand on the man’s forehead and digging into his thoughts. The force made the man cry out in pain. No one really liked to have their mind torn open.

He could see him purchasing scrap metal from starving villagers for barely a bite of food. He was thinking about his anger towards the first order, he had seen someone get shot and finally…

his memory of getting the spaceship.

This creature had bought it from a woman who was not from Jakku. Kylo focused on the man’s memory and learned the woman came from Cantonica. Of course, Kylo thought, it was exactly where Y/N and the stormtroopers were destined to go to. The woman had sold the ship for a bargain, threatening to kill the man if he revealed who sold it to him. By now, Kylo knew what he needed to know.

He let go of the man and nodded to the knight, giving him permission to fire his blaster. The man had no time to react before life slipped away from him. He was gone.

“We’re going to Cantonica.”

                                         How long had she been there? Three days? Four? Maybe five? In the darkness, it was hard to tell. Y/N’s entire body was aching, not only from limited mobility, but the torture Garr had put her through after she refused to give into his sick dreams. She’d rather die than say she loved him just to please his screwed-up mind.

Garr clearly wanted her alive. He gave her water and he fed her something that didn’t taste too bad. Y/N had no choice but to accept the food. She was happy it wasn’t as nasty as him.

“Can I please walk around a little bit?” Y/N requested, hoping her sad voice would fool him.

Garr took a deep breath, as if he was disappointed. “You know I can’t say yes to that when I don’t trust you! You can use the bathroom later when assistance arrives. I’m sure there are other ways I could make you feel better though.”

The thought made Y/N’s insides squirm. She was lucky to be relevantly untouched by him, but he kept telling her about all the things he wanted to do to her, and it sickened her. Garr was probably a little nudge away from making it come true. She thought she couldn’t cry more. Y/N wasn’t a crier, but after everything that Garr had done, tears were only a small reaction. “I feel sick.”

“You shouldn’t have misbehaved!”

Y/N was convinced she was losing her mind in that room.

Garr ran his finger up and down her cheek, not avoiding the cut, just to remind her of what he had done. “When we have children, I really hope our first child is a boy.”

Sick, gross, fool, she thought. Keeping her mouth shut was incredibly hard, but she was weak. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more of his sick ways on inflicting pain. Garr Caine was a torturer as much as he was a weapon manufacturer. His mind was creatively good at coming up with ways to bring as much destruction as needed.

“Would you like that? For me to knock you up? Mmh, you’d look so delightful with my child,” Garr seemed to really like the idea of having children.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

“Y/N, we should’ve been together long ago. I should’ve never let you go! Look at yourself, you ended up with Kylo Ren. You could do so much better. Once we have children of our own, I really hope they have a better sense of judgment than you do, dear.”

“Shut up! Shut up, we will never have children! I would much rather die, Garr!” Y/N reached her breaking point. She didn’t want to listen to another word that left his mouth.

He really hated when she acted out. “You’ll change your mind eventually. It’s not like you have a choice either.” Garr walked to a table that was behind Y/N’s chair. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard metallic sounds. He must’ve been handling some sort of blades. The sound sent shivers down her spine. What was he up to now? Y/N felt rotten to her core as she sat there. She hated to be so weak and helpless, just waiting for him to make her scream in pain.

Would it ever end?

 Cantonica was another desert planet, but on the outside, it was much fancier than Jakku. The rich lived here, turning everyday life into races and parties. Kylo despised it. These people were drunk, reckless and they had no ambition in their daily lives. They had money and that seemed to be all the cared for.

Kylo knew that somewhere on that planet he’d find his wife. Something was still blocking her from the force, but Kylo sensed her presence, nevertheless.

After having roamed through the city, they gained valuable information. Apparently, a well-known weapon manufacturer had been missing for as long as Y/N, the one she was sent to meet. He had told the first order his name was Radu Drii, but Kylo found out his real name through a friend of his. The man they were looking for was Garr Caine. After searching the place well, Kylo located the woman who sold the spaceship to the scumbag on Jakku.

Of course, she didn’t make it easy, but Kylo was driven by rage. He would find Y/N, no matter what. After a trip to the woman’s memories, he finally knew where to find Y/N and the filth who called himself Garr Caine.

He was going to be so sorry once Kylo got his hands on him.

Garr had a huge warehouse right outside the city. There were never inspections, visitors, nothing. Kylo led his knights and the stormtroopers there and they stormed the place. Shots were fired, bodies piled on the ground and chaos erupted around them. Kylo held his lightsaber close, more than ready to kill anyone that worked for that disgraceful man. The warehouse was huge. It nearly looked like the inside of a spaceship, a large one. Metallic, cold and dark. Something seemed to push Kylo in the right direction and he eliminated anyone in his way coldly without hesitation. Kylo was deep inside his head, focused on finding Y/N and his target. His wife was more important to him. So anyone who dared to try and make him stop got wiped off Kylo’s way by his lightsaber. He killed them off like the bugs they were, small and worthless.

He just knew Y/N was nearby. He could feel it deep in his bones.

The man was close too, but Kylo couldn’t quite find him yet. Garr knew this place like his back pocket. He was hiding, but Kylo knew he wouldn’t hide forever. The place was full of trained soldiers who would find anything if ordered to do so. Kylo opened all doors that he came across, only to investigate rooms that reminded Kylo of medical facilities. It was confusing to see that in a weapon warehouse. It must’ve been used for something criminal.

Finally, Kylo opened the right door. His heart sunk in his stomach as he saw Y/N. It felt like being punched in the gut and face simultaneously – worse, really. She was strapped down like an animal, handcuffed and her delicate body was covered in bruises, cuts and blood. Seeing her like that awoke something in Kylo he didn’t know he could feel. He felt incredibly angry at himself for letting her out of sight. He felt guilt and he could almost feel her pain. Kylo also felt protective over her, he wanted to take her into his arms and heal her, to make her all better again. But above all, Kylo wanted to find Garr Caine and make the man relive the same pain he put Y/N through, only a hundred times worse. Kylo wanted to watch life slip out of his body because of his hands. Nothing could do justice for the anger and hatred that burned through Kylo Ren when he thought about the man who had harmed Y/N.

Y/N opened her eyes weakly to see Kylo standing there with his helmet on. At first, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She was scared that Garr was playing tricks on her, dressing up as her beloved husband to give her false hope. Hot tears rained down her face. Despite fearing the worst, she was hopeful that it truly was Kylo, it felt like Kylo.

When he took off his helmet, her fears were washed away. “K-Kylo…” A sob left her trembling lips. It really was him. She had never felt as relieved and ashamed at the same time ever before.

He felt speechless as he released her from the restraints, all too similar to the ones they used on their hostages. By using the force, he released her from the heavy cuffs. Her wrists, arms, neck and ankles were sore and bruised from her fighting against the restraints. Seeing the damage done on her was shocking, it was heartbreaking. Tears stung Kylo’s eyes. He didn’t care that she could see him like that. He only cared about the fact she was alive.

She was too weak to get up, too weak to raise her arms to hug him. Kylo felt it. She was exhausted. So Kylo wrapped his arms around her extremely carefully and pulled her into a hug, happy to feel her in his arms. She was overwhelmed with joy to be held by him. Her husband. The man she loved. “I t-thought…” Y/N tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat, drowned by her weak whimpers and cries. Each little sound tormented Kylo’s mind.

His beloved wife was a wreck and he blamed himself.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay…it’s alright,” Kylo tried to comfort her, partly trying to convince himself of it too. He didn’t need her to speak now and frankly, she didn’t have the energy to do so either.

As her face was nuzzled in the crook of his neck, she failed to see the silent tears that spilt from Kylo’s eyes. His scent filled her lungs. His arms made her feel safe again. 

Kylo’s lips trembled. A part of him wanted to speak, the other wanted to be quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried and felt such heartache, but now he couldn’t fight it.

Someone had done this to his wife! 

His wife!

He couldn’t grasp how anyone could ever want to harm her.

                 “Sir, we’ve captured the target. He is ready for you.” Now was a really bad time to interrupt Kylo Ren. At least, they remembered that Kylo wanted him alive. For now. He would’ve gotten up to teach the stormtrooper a lesson, but he didn’t want to let go of her. Not now, not yet. He could feel how badly she needed him right now. It’s like they were both afraid to let go.

“Keep an eye on him. Transport him to the ship. Then get out of my sight!” Kylo was furious. He didn’t have to tell him that twice. They were left alone again, which was a huge relief.

Kylo sat on the floor with his wife on his lap. She was so weak, it frightened him. This was the contrast of the woman she was the last time he saw her. She had to lean against him just to stay upright. Some of her wounds were fresh, bleeding onto Kylo’s clothes. He could smell the iron of her blood which stung in his nose. Gently, Kylo placed his hand above her stomach, feeling how her wound pulsed in the rhythm of her heartbeat. He noticed that her body was quivering. “You’ll be alright,” Kylo promised her gently. This side of him was so foreign, reserved for her eyes only. He used the force to heal her, focusing on transferring his energy into her. It was raw, he felt all of it. They were one through the force. Her most acute wounds closed and healed like magic – disappearing like they were never there. Finally, she had enough energy to be okay, as he promised. She’d need a medical droid back at home, but she’d survive now.

Y/N was strong enough to cup Kylo’s face and kiss him. He kissed her back, tasting her tears and blood, but he didn’t care. No words were a match for the love they showed each other through that kiss. It said everything they needed to know.

They were both alright now.

And Kylo was getting closer to revenge. Garr Caine would be the living form of regret for just long enough until Kylo would kill him. Kylo would enjoy every second of it.

                      At last, they were home. Y/N was being treated by the medical droids and an actual medic. Kylo could finally visit Garr Caine, which would be awfully unpleasant for Garr. Kylo was still outside the interrogation room, but he could sense that the man was terrified. His fear, cowardliness was radiating like heat from a star.

It would take a lot of self-control to not squeeze the life out of the man on the spot. Kylo wanted it to be slow, like torture he was so familiar with. This was personal.

Finally, he entered the room. Kylo was pleased to see that Garr was strapped down too. A taste of his own medicine. Their eyes met and Kylo heard the man’s thoughts which were awfully loud. He was scared out of his mind and surprisingly angry. Garr hated Kylo.

Silently, Kylo walked further inside and dug deeper into his mind. It was not a sight for sore eyes what he saw inside Garr’s mind, memories of him harming the woman Kylo loved while claiming to care about her. He saw the sickening fantasies Garr had that revolved around Y/N. He had wanted children with her, with Kylo’s wife. The audacity of this man continued to shock Kylo, making him excited to hear his painful cries.

Kylo saw red as he looked at him.

Kylo force choked the man, struggling to keep himself from snapping his neck immediately. It was more than just tempting, but it would be too kind for him. Garr was in for a living nightmare no one would wish upon anyone - not even their own worst enemies. “You will regret ever hurting her, that I promise you.”

 _____

Author’s Note: okay so this is what my brain produces after 4 hours of sleep in 48 hours. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed writing it, but like I should probably sleep. For angst lovers, I hope you liked it.

[laurore-stormwitch]

the demon and the witch

Here’s the second chapter my first fan fiction! This is from Zoya’s POV which was so much harder to write. Hope you all enjoy it! 

word counts: 4392

You’ll find it in full in AO3

______________________________________________________

Zoya hissed while trying to strengthen the bandages on her wound, through which a small flower of blood was already blossoming through. Damn those kerghud and their blades. She checked her sides too, finding with relief she was not in much pain. At least the healers were able to take her of that; but the poison the Fabrikators found on the kerghud’s knives was slowing down the process on the deep cut on her shoulder.

You still prevailed, rumbled Juris inside of her. You took down all of them on your own. The voice was beaming with his pride.

And got thrown against a tree for good measure, she answered grimly while examining her wound. It could’ve been worse. Still, it wasn’t a good sign; the Shu were supposed to be their allies now. Why did a pack of kerghuds attack her? They really didn’t need another thing to worry about. She sighed, opening the windows and letting the cold air revive her a little. The ride back to the palace had left her sore; it took her hours and standing on a horse with a throbbing chest and blood all over her hadn’t been pleasant. She arrived after dinner only to be welcomed by a furious and shaken Genya who had tried to cover for her absence and had immediately taken her to get patched up. Not really an ideal day.

She was pondering whether to drown her sorrows either in bed or in wine when she heard some strained voices in the corridor; they sounded rushed, worried. Someone was giving orders to her guards to stand down and resign their post, sending them away. Oh, for Saints sake, not now, she thought as the door slammed open and Nikolai Lantsov stomped in her room with a weary expression, stopping in front of her. Of course he found out.

“What the hell happened Zoya?” She glanced at him, both annoyed and warmed by his uneven breath and messy look; he seemingly ran through the whole palace to get here, already in his more comfortable clothes for the night. Armour in place, her words were clipped and sarcastic.

“Did anyone never bother to teach the future King of Ravka the subtle art of knocking?”

Nikolai looked exhausted; he released a long breath he seemed to have been holding for ages while he carefully skimmed her for injuries, lingering on the bandages on her shoulder and upper arm with a worried look. She quickly put her kefta back on covering them, uncomfortable under his gaze. When he seemed to have assessed that she wasn’t going to die in the next couple of minutes, he relaxed, releasing the tension in his shoulders, shoving the worry away and regaining his usual merry attitude.

“No one thought I’d actually be the future King, you know. Maybe that’s why they skipped it.”

His tone was light, but he took a couple of steps in her direction, still checking her. She rolled her eyes, making a good show of being irritated. He was being overly dramatic. She knew that whoever told him of her little excursion would also have told him that she was safe and sound and healers already had tended to her; he had no reasons to put up these theatrics.

“I’m fine.” He huffed in response, casting his eyes heavenward too.

“You broke three ribs.”

“Two”, she corrected, “And they’ve already been healed.” He didn’t flinch, taking another step forward and gesturing to her arm.

“What about that?”

She shrugged her shoulders ignoring the stab of pain the movement provoked.

“Are you here to question me or do you actually need something?”

Nikolai grinned, leaning against the wall next to the balcony. She shifted unconsciously away from him. He was too close, only a couple of feet apart from her. And they slipped inside their usual banter too easily: everything came too easily with him. Her look wandered outside the window, averting his amused eyes still trained on her with an intensity she didn’t want to consider.

“Ah, there’s the spite. You’re really fine then.”

There was an affection in his voice that was hard on her nerves. What was he doing here? The whole point of her actions was to keep the distance; this didn’t exactly fit with the plan, the two of them alone in her chambers at this hour of the night. She collected her strength, making the decision to ignore him. His smug face was making her want to shove him out the door. The silence stretched and she waited with hope that he would just leave her be, sensing her irritation. But Nikolai was Nikolai after all, seemingly untouched by her demeanour.

“I already sent word to the Shu. We…I’ll take care of it.” She sensed him stop before adding something else, no doubt avoiding saying Ehri’s name and leaving her out of the conversation. Zoya shook her head, even more unnerved by this unwelcome caution in her regards.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re going to say it was a rogue attack. I took care of it.”

Meaning I burned them all.

“Just tell our dear princess to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Somebody else could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“But they found Zoya Nazyalensky instead. What a stroke of luck for them.”

She didn’t react to his praise, so he just kept talking, keeping an easy attitude. But she knew him well, and she could hear the strain in his voice, the turmoil he was trying to keep hidden.

“Do you care to tell me why my most valuable general decided to take a stroll in an open field and almost got herself killed?”

Fine then, so ignoring him was not the correct strategy; she resorted to her ruthlessness and his guilt.

“Most valuable.” Zoya scoffed. “Thought you’d be satisfied; you’d finally have the perfect excuse to replace me.”

She turned to him while speaking, holding a firm gaze; so she was able to see the shadow of shame and pain that swept through his eyes at her words.

As hurt as she was, their fight the other day served her right. It was bad enough to convince her that staying away from him was the sensible thing to do, and now it gave her a weapon to use to keep distancing him. Also, she really didn’t intend to linger on the topic and explore the reasons why she made what she knew had been a reckless decision. Lately, the palace was far too crowded for her liking; it had begun to feel suffocating, and not only because avoiding Nikolai was growing harder and harder by the day. The dragon inside her craved the sky; the power in her was constantly rumbling, pretending to be unleashed. She still didn’t understand it, the force of it, the craving for destruction that came with it. It was slowly changing her: each and every day her senses got stronger, her hunger got deeper. It demanded to be used; there were times she didn’t know how she kept still, moments in which the air around her crackled without her control, nights in which thunder boomed and clouds darkened the sky as her mood grew more sour. So she started taking these rides outside the city, trying to find places where she could test her abilities without risking destroying the Little Palace. In a time that seemed long lost, she would’ve liked to confide in Nikolai with this. But he wouldn’t understand now, he wouldn’t get what she feared to become if she kept searching for more. And she made a choice after Isaak’s death, the choice to give up on her foolish hopes and dreams and be a general after all. That choice included letting Nikolai go, which he was making hard to do.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. A pang hit her throat, and she felt an unfamiliar prickle in her eyes. Why did she want to cry now? She searched for her anger, trying to bury the feeling of despair that was troubling her mind. She prayed for him to say something spiteful, or to turn on his heels and go. Instead, he came even closer, moving a delicate brush of his fingers over the bandages that peaked near her collarbone, sending a shiver through her. Too close. Get away.

“I’m sorry, Zoya.”

And why for all Saints on earth did he have to say her name like this? It was almost like a prayer. A soft whisper full of honesty, not even an inch of his casual arrogance or boldness. She sucked a breath in, holding her pose, arching a brow in his direction.

“Nice speech. Bet you practiced it a lot in front of the mirror.”

He waved a glowing smile at her, while she pondered wherever this good mood came from.

“I had a nice speech, you know. And yes, I also practiced it. But then you went on to put yourself in danger and I got a little distracted.”

She glanced at him. “I’m not a helpless girl whom you needed to run to and save from a monster.” I may easily be the monster myself, Nikolai. Leave. He didn’t back down.

“I didn’t say that, as a matter of fact. I said I got distracted by you being hurt.”

You’re still too close. Get away. Her feet didn’t seem to listen to her brain, which was sparring with her heart for dominance. She turned to her side, away from him.

“Get out, Nikolai.”

“I don’t think I want to.” She was going to kill him.

“I want you to go.”

“And I want to be more handsome than I already am, but some things are just too hard to get.”

Her glare would have made every man on earth shiver with fear. It was apparently useless on Nikolai.

“Enough childish games, Nikolai. Say what you have to say and then leave.”

He sighed. “Just listen to me, please? I really did have a speech. I was out of line the other day, and I didn’t mean a single word I said. I reacted in the worst possible way and I hurt you. And I’m sorry, both for doing it and for waiting too long to realize it.”

She stopped him with an irritated laugh, her eyes slitting silver. How arrogant of him.

“You didn’t hurt me. You were just being the harsh leader you may finally be growing into.”

He shook his head, ignoring the remark, determined to go on with this charade.

“It’s more than that. I should’ve said something sooner. What happened in the Fold...we never got the chance to talk. I don’t know how you are, what you’re going through.” Maybe punching him in the face was not a bad option. Alina did it after all, if she remember correctly. “I let you drift away and I regret that.”

The conversation was steering in dangerous territory. She clenched her jaw and her fists, equally intent as him to stop this.

“You’re gonna regret this if you keep talking.”

“Why?” His controlled tone slipped a bit as he threw his arm in the air, getting more nervous. “What’s wrong with talking? What’s wrong in saying that I was an idiot to behave like I did, that I need my general by my side? That I don’t like all the distance you’re putting between us?”

“There’s no us, Nikolai.” She spatted, fists still clenched, trying to keep the hold on her power already rising inside her. She sensed where this was going and desperately tried to prevent it. “You shouldn’t even be here at this hour. You are going to marry your Shu princess, and be the King Ravka needs. I am your general, as you dutifully pointed out, nothing else. Stop acting like a fool.”

Oh, how well do you lie to yourself. Are you ever gonna stop? That was not the moment for Juris to chide her and mock her, doubting her decisions. She hushed him, trying to focus. Nikolai looked struck at her words; he opened his mouth and then closed it again, seemingly deciding what to say. She narrowed her eyes, an uncomfortable suspicion creeping in her mind. Speechless Nikolai Lantsov was never a good thing.

“Maybe I’m not.” He cleared his throat at her confused look. “I’m not marrying Ehri.”

Juris roared. Zoya widened her eyes in shock: a wave of outrage flooded her thoughts, along with an unwelcome strike of hope she suffocated.

“Nikolai.” His name was said much like a threat. “What on earth are you saying?”

He held up his hands, speaking slowly, trying not to set her off and appease her wrath.

“I need you to trust me on this. I may have another solution, one that doesn’t involve forcing me and Ehri in a loveless marriage we both despise. One that still assures me the alliance.”

She was not having this. The air around them started to feel more dense, the smell of a rainstorm filling the room. Her voice grew louder, her temper brewing.

“I hope you’re joking, or you’re more of a fool that I ever thought possible. Whatever she told you, she’s tricking you. What are you thinking? Ravka is on the brink of destruction, why would you risk your country?”

“It’s not about Ravka.”

"You don’t get to choose, Nikolai. You are a ruler. You have a duty.” He let out an exasperated sound, coming even closer. There was barely the space of a breath within them. She kept going. “You are our King. I won’t let you do something so reckless.”

Now he was losing his temper too, flames burning in his eyes. He caught her wrist, his grip like steel.

“Why do you run from this? Why do you deny yourself of happiness when there’s another way?”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything! I don’t want to marry her. And I don’t want to see my country fall.”

“You think you can have it all? Then what do you want, Nikolai?”

He shot her a pleading look, his soul pouring out of his eyes. Her heart missed a beat, as she shook him away and took two steps back, finding herself with her back on the wall. No. She regretted her question in an instant.

You know what he wants. You know who he wants. Juris wasn’t backing out either.

A whisper rolled out of Nikolai’s mouth.

“Zoya…”

“Don’t.” He came towards her. They were dancing; she cast him a warning look.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no coming back if you say it!” She was shouting now, shivering with rage and dread. “Because I will believe you if you say it and it won’t change anything!” Tears threatened to fall again, her whole body was vibrating with power. She couldn’t hold back anymore, she would’ve hurt him. And yet this stupid boy was not yelding his steps, not afraid of the woman in front of him.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“Please, Nikolai.” A sob escaped her. Was she pleading with him now? But as much as her, he had made a decision, and he wasn’t gonna abandon his resolve. He went on, unforgiving, holding her gaze and his chin as he spoke.

"You need to hear me. And you can trust me."

"Stop." She was losing.

“It’s always been you, Zoya. You’re the only thing I want.”

The sword drew through her hearth, cracking it open.

Show this boy king what you are.

She threw her fist open unleashing the storm, tears streaming on her cheeks, and shot a speeding gust of wind in his direction. It knocked Nikolai over, trashing him on the floor; he hit the wall, the current howling and holding him in place. The window on her side shattered as lightning fell from the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. Papers were rustling around the room, a cold breeze sweeping over them; she watched in horror the destruction she brought. Abruptly, the air fell still as she drew away the power, not wanting to meet Nikolai’s eyes and the disgust she was sure to find there.

“Go away, please.”

He heard him breathing heavily, getting back up on his feet. His uncertain steps crunched on all the letters left on the floor.

"Zoya, it’s okay. I’m here."

"Shut up."

Juris wasn’t finished, too. He growled. Don’t be a coward. You should be the Queen.

“Shut up!”

The scream rose from her sore throat and she fell on her knees, hitting the pavement and catching her head between her hands. Her heart hurt. Her lungs hurt. She made a desperate attempt to fight back the pain as she grasped the last bit of sanity in her mind, huddling on herself like a child. Electricity ran through her skin and a final thunder rolled over the room. Everything stopped as the place grew silent, Zoya shaking on the floor.

“I’m not leaving.”

His voice floated to her like they were underwater; it didn’t even tremble, it was calm and firm, not the one of a terriefied man just taken on by a summoned storm. He slowly walked to her again, rubbing the back of his head a little. Did she hurt him? Shame towered over her. He lowered himself down to her; his movements were delicate, attentive, as if she was a wounded animal he needed not to scare. Another whisper came to her and she grasped at it like an anchor.

“I’m not leaving you.”

She felt his hands on hers, his touch soft as a feather as he circled her wrists and he tried to pull her back on her feet with a soft tug. He caught her elbow, steadying her; instinctively her other hand tightened around his shoulder as her vision blurred and focused back on him; she let her head lean on his chest, catching some air. They stayed like that for a while, Nikolai’s tender eyes waiting for her to get back to herself. He gently tilted her chin up to look at her, brushing some strands of hair away from her face and sighed.

“I missed you.”

The words fell on her like an avalanche. There was a fierce purity in this ordinary admission, spoken like a confession he knew she wouldn’t be able to take. There was so much more to this; it spoke of all the things they never allowed themselves to say, of all the stolen glances and forgotten truths; of how they belonged next to each other, the peace and quiet they found together, how hard it was to be apart; of the times she saved him, and the ones he saved her.

Stop fighting, General. Lower your weapons.

She was tired. Saints, she was so tired. She wanted to rest in the comfort of his arms. She felt herself beginning to surrender.

He is yours to keep. She trembled in his hands, shaken by the conviction in Juris’ voice.

Zoya looked at the boy in front of her, still gently grazing her cheek with his knuckles, at his tousled flocks, at the glowing rays of sun hidden in his eyes. She moved one hand to his stunning face, tentatively touching his lips. A shiver went through him, but he stayed perfectly still while a look of confusion and yearning flashed through him.

He has always been yours. Juris roared, sending flames scorching her chest.

Zoya of the broken heart. Be whole again. Take him.

And once again, just like she did in the Fold, Zoya let herself fall.

She pulled him to her with a hand on the back of his neck, closing the distance between them, crashing her lips onto his, releasing the hunger and the despair that plagued her. When they met, it felt like a war. It felt like a blessing. She registered her king reacting in a split second, without even a hint of hesitation: the hand that was on her arm went to hug her waist, drawing her closer than she thought possible with a desperate need, while the other one was now entangled in her hair. He was holding onto her for dear life, as if she would break if he let her go.

Kissing him was a thousand lives and a single fleeting moment, time stretching in this suspended bliss; she broke free, gasping for hair, drowning in the shock of what happened. Nikolai wasn’t a fool, and he knew her all too well; he knew it would only take her the fraction of an instant for realization to dawn over her, so he didn’t let her slip. He pulled her to him again. But that flicker of oxygen to her brain was enough for fear and remorse to clench at her soul. She pushed lightly onto his chest, and this time he got the hint, leaving her mouth and backing up just what was necessary for them both to release their breath. Good, she thought. At least one of us still has some semblance of control . If it really was up to her will, once so unbreakable, she would’ve never stopped.

“Saints, Zoya.” The words rolled out of his mouth in an ushered tone, as if speaking too loudly was bound to break the enchantment cast upon them. She mustered the courage to look at him: he was watching her in awe, the golden freckles in his eyes darkened by a sheer desire. He may have stopped kissing her, but his hands were still keeping her flushed against him, his uneven warm breathing grazing her neck, making it almost unbearable to try and form a coherent thought. Her heart was aching.

“We can’t.” Her voice was barely audible, devoid of every resolve she had hoped to still have in herself. She trained her look on the floor, the pain squeezing the air out of her lungs. What did I just do? Zoya sensed Nikolai shifting closer, brushing his lips on her lashes, her cheekbones. He rested his forehead on hers. Was he smiling? Why was this damned boy smiling? She cast her eyes up; he really was smiling, cocking his head slightly on one side.

“What?”

“You’re really stubborn, you know.” He teased her. Zoya marvelled at his confidence, at how unfazed he seemed at the fact she was basically rejecting him after shoving him against a wall and possibly giving him a concussion. Not that she felt herself being convincing: all ruthlessness seemed to have left her body. She still didn’t trust herself much to talk; each word was agonizing to get out.

“I just told you we can’t do this. Why are you smiling?”

“I know you don’t mean it.” He shrugged his shoulders, still refusing to let her go. Like the truth was as simple as that, and he had the gift of knowing. Fighting this was tiring; the moment their lips met, every carefully hidden thought, every feeling she locked away flooded out with an overwhelming strength, knocking down each and every one of her defenses.

“How come?”

“You haven’t pushed me away. And you did kiss me, just so you remember it.” Zoya’s lips curled a little before she could stop herself, rolling her eyes. Bold as only Nikolai could be in a moment like this. “Someone told me you were going to find a way to surprise me” He mumbled under his breath, lost in thoughts for a second.

“Besides”, he added. “I’m not in a rush. I’ll convince you eventually. You know my charm has no limits.”

She huffed, but didn’t find it in herself to step out of his grip. She was still falling, and he was the one to catch her. Zoya let her hands rest on his chest: she could feel his heart pounding like it was about to take flight, echoing in her mind and sending waves of soothing calm over her. His certainty was endearing.

“You’re insufferable.”

Nikolai looked perfectly at ease, beaming with confidence. He let out an amused chuckle and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

“Don’t run from me.” He turned serious, placing both his hands on the sides of her jaw, keeping their eyes locked together. “I need you with me to face all of this. We’ll find a way; I know we can. We’ll figure everything out together. And we can do this right.”

General Nazyalensky knew better than to trust fragile promises of peace. And yet the hopeful girl she’d been held onto this one like it was a long awaited shore in a storm-swept ocean. She could regret this tomorrow: for tonight, maybe she wanted to be that girl. And against every belief she had, she really did trust him like no one ever before. She found herself nodding lightly, slightly amused by his hint at doing things right. Nikolai and his idiotic sense of honour. The dragon inside her had spread his wings, roaring his power. Bolts of desire were still shooting through her, leaving her brain a mess, and she could see the feeling mirrored in Nikolai’s eyes. She didn’t know that freeing her heart from the cage it was trapped in would taste so sweet and terrifying.

You are the dragon, Zoya. You will bide your time. And you will have it all.

She brought her hand on one of his, still wrapped around her neck, intertwining their fingers. Deep inside of her, the stone hit the bottom of the well: waiting there for her there was a quiet feeling of belonging, a home in which she could be safe. A place full of light in which she could rest. Someone to hold her. Someone who loved her. As the fall stopped, Zoya handed over the fight, easing herself in the embrace of the boy that tore down her walls and built her a fortress.

Tell him to stay. She didn’t know if it was Juris or her heart demanding it.

“Stay with me tonight.”

A breath-taking soft smile enlightened his features. Nikolai leaned towards her, whispering an oath in her ear, a secret to share in the midst of night.

"Always.”

He caught her lips and kissed her again, deeper, with more urgency, leaving whatever sense of self-restraint they were keeping to shatter in a million pieces as the silk of her kefta slided away from her shoulders, wrinkling through his darkened fingers, the demon and the witch.

And the world went on fire.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

The She-Wolf and the Young Dragon (Lyanna Stark x Daeron Targaryen OC)

I wrote this during my fanfiction module in my final year at university. 

Brief: An AU of GRRM’s novels ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’, taking place before the events of the first book. A ‘what if’ scenario where one of the children of King Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen, Daeron survives infancy into his adulthood, where he is the one to supposedly ‘kidnap’ Lyanna Stark instead of eldest brother, Rhaegar.

BRANDON

His father warned him many times before, that the Starks never did well down south. Yet no matter how stubborn he was, he would never listen.

It lingered in the warmer climate how out of place Brandon Stark was in comparison to what he experienced in the North. No matter how big the lands were, it would remain outdated in contrast to the rest of Westeros.

The Capital held a different atmosphere to Winterfell when he landed ashore from the mouth of the Blackwater Bay. The smell of the streets and manure was strong even when mixed with the strong current of the salt in the air.

Even from here, he could see the Red Keep in all its glory, as beautiful and imposing as he had predicted it to be. The dragons who had ruled for centuries made everything very impressive, even when no winged beast flew any longer in the air. The Targaryens had made King’s Landing their home and he knew for certain of the risk of walking into the dragon’s den. 

“Where is she?” His voice was thunderous when it bounced from pillar to pillar, booming across the hall with steps following, the five men he journeyed with were persistent in tailing behind. The Great Hall was quiet when the Young Wolf of Winterfell stormed through the double doors, noting of the fact that neither the King nor his Hand was around to witness, excluding the few Kingsguard and those of Prince Rhaegar’s own sworn swords that lingered; a deadly chill that passed. Good, Brandon thought, the Gods know how this would go if he were here.

“Brandon Stark, your travels to King’s Landing were swift?” At the base of the steps to the Iron Throne, the Silver Prince was dressed as if ready for long periods of mourning: his deep indigo eyes were just as drab and dark as his attire, his long silver-gold hair tied in a careful knot.

“Don’t you play me for a fool, where is she?” He barked. “I know you have her!” Hovering below the steps himself, glaring up at the Prince. Brandon Stark was all wolf and no man it seemed, yet he still felt inadequate beneath the Dragon.

“Why would you accuse me of kidnapping your sister?”

Brandon’s face grew ever-so-hot, “You gave her the roses at the tourney! My brother had been the one to hold me back before I had the chance to smack you off your horse. Or had you forgotten just as much when you were getting cosy with her that same evening?”

Ser Arthur Dayne was just an inch away from cutting the Stark heir in half if he dared lay a finger on his Prince - Brandon knew that himself. It would be all Seven Hells unleashed if the King had heard of such a crime. The Prince of Dragonstone didn’t seem alarmed nor angered by the accusations, albeit puzzled, before telling his close friend to lower his weapon.

“I think you have been left in disarray by this, Brandon.”

“How? You were taking part in the tourney, my sister had eyes for you even with a future betrothed waiting for her.” He glowered, holding his sword carefully. Prince Rhaegar’s jaw clenched noticeably before he gave a polite, strained smile.

“There has been a misinterpretation of information spread between who you believe was me and the one you seek. You see, I was not the only Targaryen Prince there.” Rhaegar explained calmly, observing how Brandon’s face scrunched up. “If you are looking for a man with my features, perhaps it is my brother you may be wanting to pursue.”

Brandon seemed reluctant to admit that, grudgingly removing his hand from his sword. Of course, it would make sense now, and now the only fool standing here is I.

“Daeron,” Brandon groaned, “he was the one to give the roses to my sister?”

“It would seem so. Those two did seem to grow close in a short amount of time. After all, who would’ve imagined the skilled mystery knight to win the tourney and my brother’s heart?” Said Rhaegar. “She had tended to his wounds after his defeat, I saw it myself... What took place in Harrenhal was what I had to explain to my wife.”

Poor Elia Martell was sweet and innocent: someone who should’ve been told everything in the end. At the end of the day, Rhaegar’s so-called infidelity was untrue and Elia could rest easy knowing her husband remained nonetheless faithful. “What would we do with them then? For all we know, they could be all the way to Essos by now.”

The Silver Prince moved before he stood at a level ground with Brandon. “If I know one thing about my brother, he wouldn’t be keen to travel east. Don’t take my brother for a fool. My father’s spies have eyes not just in Westeros but across the Narrow Sea, thanks to his growing paranoia. He’s still here, I know that for a fact - lurking in a shadow that keeps him and your sister concealed from wandering eyes.”

But for how long will that veil stay up? Brandon thought. You cannot hide anything when you lurk within these walls. “Help me find my brother before the wind catches our words and my father or Robert Baratheon do. Stay here in the Keep and I will grant you and your men housing, your stay here unscathed, and we will go find them together.”

Brandon wavered, but the consequences seemed far too grave; with too much at stake. “And of your father? What if he hears of this squabble between me and his heir?”

Rhaegar grimaced. “Then I pray to both the Seven and your Old Gods that his wrath is merciful.” No mercy would come from those haunted by madness. Brandon knew of no such thing. The Mad King was more an old dog than a sane ruler, one that needed to be put down soon enough. 

-

LYANNA

“Oh, my love.”

The laugh had tumbled from her throat by the time she had landed softly on the pillows beneath her, her long dark hair fanning around her with the following melodic chuckle shortly joining hers. Their bodies were tangled and laid naked as the day they had been born, beneath the cherry wood ceiling with the low candlelight surrounding them.

In the past, Lyanna would’ve held her admiration for the eldest born son of the Mad King at bay around her brothers, but she had never imagined the second-born to have captured her heart. In the dim light, he could’ve been the spitting image of Rhaegar, but the shadows cut false definitions of sharp edges to his face, giving him a more mature look like his brother momentarily. But his eyes were not like the Silver Prince: the second-born was more spirited and his eyes were the lovely colour of lavender, just like the ones Lyanna saw when travelling down on her travels to Harrenhal. She had gotten her brother Eddard to pick some for her and she smelt them whilst riding horseback, as sweet as the summertime and what the singers proclaimed. Had she been able to keep them before Benjen stole them from her tauntingly, she would’ve braided them into her hair, a freshness to keep her content for the rest of the journey down south.

The Young Dragon had eyes that brought her memories of Winterfell with her brothers: where Old Nan would talk about the ice giants beyond the wall and of the wilderness that followed. The cold bite was ever so bitter but the She-Wolf survived throughout. There was more to the North in his eyes that she wasn’t used to, a rigidness that was not found in him. Daeron had more Northerner in him than dragon, it seemed.

She remembered the night when Rhaegar sang with his silver harp at the feast and how the tears came quickly to her eyes, the same as most of the other ladies in the hall. His song was full of solemnity, yet Lyanna had to ignore the snickering from Benjen and when she and Daeron stole timid glances, sheepish but frequent. Rhaegar was a man a decade her senior and tied in matrimony. She would never compete with a married woman for a man everyone admired. What he’s not like of Rhaegar, I prefer. He will be everything his brother is not and so much more.

“You still have much energy, even at this time of the night.” She smoothed at the fair hairs on his chest, kissing at his shoulder fondly. She could imagine living here for the rest of her life with just Daeron and away from the eyes of those, the duties and responsibilities, living and making their own family. “You have tired me out, Daeron.”

“Few people get to ride a dragon; it can be rather draining.” Her husband winked, chuckling softly when her face warmed in reaction. Their laughter died down when his attention was drawn to her kisses resuming on his skin, quickly kissing her back with such feverish intent.

“The last of the dragons died a century before you were born, Your Grace. Lost in tragedy if we dare choose to forget, hmm?” Her eyes were blue as the winter roses she loved in the North, alive and full of mirth.

“You needn’t address me like that, my lady,” Daeron smiled, stroking away the hair from her face, “after all, we are equals.” In the eyes of the north and the Old Gods, they wouldn’t be, but Lyanna did not need to follow those customs. In the eyes of the Gods and men, we are one and together. A Targaryen, whose flame burns bright like his, just like those of greatness who came before him.

“In the eyes of the Faith, perhaps, but not to my father.” Lyanna sighed. “I believe he would find me more wild than dutiful.”

His hair was slicked from sweat when he pulled it from his face, tenderly kissing at her with such ardour. “The North I was told of was all cold and bitterness, but there was a flame within you that was only seen in those who carried the blood of the dragon. I never thought I would see it so brightly in you.” Daeron said. “When we return to the cities, we may wed in your custom, and revisit our fathers when the time comes.”

“And of your father, Aerys? Has there been no word of His Grace or his spies?”

“My father… grows more delirious the longer the days grow, his position falters whilst my brother is alive, his mistrust festers. Rhaegar is every right a King, but getting rid of my father will be troublesome without the right aid.” Daeron admitted bitterly. “That will be his problem, for now. He’ll be ready to find us when he has dealt accordingly with my father.”

“Rhaegar will not be able to conceal everything if he is not in on our secret already, not from my brothers alone. We will not be able to hide any longer.” Brandon will have to halt his wedding for a month if he hasn’t already. He would hunt to the ends of Essos to find me. She dreaded.

Daeron hesitated when he rose from their small bed, his bareness not a problem for either of them. “I fear my father may do something that will not only break him and our families, but tear the entire realm apart.”

Lyanna too rose from the bed and came to embrace him from behind. “If you have me, you have the North by your side, I swear it. We knelt to the Conqueror three centuries ago, we have stood with you since then.” Lyanna promised proudly. “Brandon shall marry one of Hoster Tully’s daughters, and therefore, he will have the Riverlands too. The Arryns from Ned, thanks to Jon. They would aid you if it is needed for their allegiance.”

Daeron’s lavender eyes widened in surprise when he turned to her. “And of your betrothed? Surely Robert Baratheon will not have our side when he accuses me of kidnapping his lady.”

“I am not his lady. I never was. Robert is all boar than man, and his appetite for other ladies would continue no matter his age.” Lyanna objected. “He will hear of my wrath before he dares lay a hand on you.”

The Young Dragon held her tightly in his arms, “I would hope no day would have to arrive, for any of us.” He drawled. “No stress should come to a mother and her potential newborn.”

Lyanna could imagine how her stomach would look when swelled with a child—their child—and the very image of her one day holding her babe in her arms. It made the She-Wolf eager for it to be a so-called reality. A son, she hoped for, a son who would share the blood of the North and Old Valyria. Two powerful houses, coming together as one.

“We still have not thought of names, if the time comes for it.” Lyanna changed the subject quickly, settling her husband to sit once more, his hand to her back and stroking the back of her long hair. “Were there any you had in mind?”

“My grand-uncle Aemon is at the wall, but he is everything a King should be had he not turned it away for my grandfather,” Daeron said with a sad smile, “I want to honour his name, for the man who was too generous and gave the crown to his brother.”

Lyanna smiled, “He sounds like a good man.” Daeron agreed, and for a moment, the wistfulness hung over his head as much as it did over his older brother, giving him a similar look to the Silver Prince. No matter how far he goes, he will always have some part of Rhaegar’s despondency.

“No matter what happens, we will endure this together, against everyone else. We deal with your father and my own when we return. For now, I want to enjoy your company as much as possible.” The She-Wolf softly spoke, enveloping her husband gently. Even in the coolness of their room, he was warm to the touch. But she would get used to it.

The Young Dragon had encircled her to his chest and pulled her back to the bed, caressing and kissing her with such glee. “My little wife, as brave as those of winter who came before her and strong as ice itself. The dragon and the wolf have a fitting name.”

[haroldtea]

i wrote something!!

soooo I’m a pathological “i have a fic idea and i’m never going to write it or I write a few pages and then fall off” writer buuuut I had this very cute idea and wrote 4k words of it! I wanted to post it here before ao3 because 1) not sure if I’m a fan of starting a multichapter WIP because I still may abandon it like my other stuff 2) i want feedback before i continue!!

here’s the gist: it’s princess prom except it’s a high school au and princess prom is actually homecoming. Adora is very happy and supportive of Glimmer and Bow running for king/queen. Glimmer is very, very passionate about winning. The problem is they’ve naturally got competition, in the form of Perfuma (who is equally as passionate about winning, for her own reasons) and her new girlfriend Scorpia. In a sitcom-style mishap, Adora sort of accidentally signs up to run as well...with Catra, Scorpia’s best friend who Adora doesn’t not have a crush on. The two decide to go through with it with the intention of getting eliminated from the race as soon as possible. Then, their friends come up with a different plan for them.

so, take a read below at 4k of stupidity and let me know what you think, and if you would be interested to read more :) (fyi there is a lot of swearing lol)

“I’M GONNA BE THE QUEEN!”

Adora shrieks, flailing her arms and almost knocking her lamp over in the process. She whirls around in her desk chair to face the intruder, arms raised in karate chop form (she does not know any martial arts), and finds Glimmer, who has flung her bedroom door open and has that crazed Glimmer look in her eyes that only means trouble.

“Fuck! Glimmer, you can’t just sneak up--wait, how did you get in my house?!”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! Also, the door was unlocked,” Glimmer replies, kicking off her shoes and launching herself onto Adora’s bed, which she had just painstakingly made.

Adora presses her hand into her face, sighing. “I was kind of busy trying not to piss myself. Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was, you know...” she says, gesturing vaguely.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Please, Adora. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Anyway--the student council decided to bring back the homecoming pep rally!” she squeals, gleefully kicking her feet in the air.

Adora leans back in her chair, brows furrowed. “Bring back? Didn’t we have one last year?”

“Yes, but after the water balloon thing they weren’t gonna let us have it anymore, but it turns out that one senior who wasn’t gonna graduate did graduate so I guess they figured it would probably be fine, ‘cause like, who’s ever gonna try and top that?”

“Right,” Adora hums, thinking back to last year’s pep rally. Just before homecoming court was announced, a group of rogue seniors had risen from the bleachers, unleashing dozens of water balloons they had stashed in their backpacks. What ensued was a pandemonium Adora could only remember in flashes, resulting in almost the entire student body and the school’s hallways being completely soaked.

The catch was that the seniors had filled the balloons with blue paint. It had taken the janitorial staff weeks to get the gym bleachers, the lockers in the science wing, and the cafeteria ceiling (don’t ask) to look normal again. Classes were cancelled for almost an entire week because the paint had messed up something with the internal plumbing. It was single-handedly the coolest thing Adora had experienced in her living years.

It was all led by the legendary Mara Hart, notorious for sticking it to the man during her K-12 years. The prank had all but gotten her and her friends expelled, but given that she was otherwise an A+ student and no one could technically prove who was behind it (her friends were loyal to each other to the bitter end), she walked at Bright Moon High’s graduation to uproarious applause from her classmates.

Adora knew some of the more grisly details because Mara had been captain of the girls’ lacrosse team last year--effortlessly cool Mara, endlessly caring Mara, definitely part of Adora’s gay awakening Mara--but it had become something of an urban legend at BMHS over the past year.

“Wait, how do you know any of this?” Adora asks, because while she was personally connected to Mara in a small way, she hadn’t been aware that they were going to cancel the pep rally indefinitely.

Glimmer arches an eyebrow. “Um, hello? My mom’s the principal?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And Mermista totally let it slip when I asked her about it after the student council meeting,” Glimmer adds, then pauses. “Okay, it was more like I didn’t even wanna be there and I wish no one had ever voted for me and I’ll tell you whatever, but still. I’m...” she props her face in her hands and bats her eyelashes, “in the know.”

Adora smirks and rolls her eyes fondly, turning back to her desk to shut her textbook and put her notes away. She can never get anything done when Glimmer’s around. “Okay, so, pep rally’s back--that’s cool,” she says.

“It’s not just cool, Adora,” Glimmer scoffs. “Being homecoming queen is literally all I’ve wanted since I was a kid. I thought my dream had died with Mara’s academic career, but now there’s hope again--it’s meant to be, Adora. It’s destiny.”

Adora had literally never heard Glimmer talk about this, but, “Um, okay.”

Glimmer huffs and dramatically rolls onto her back, flinging her arms out and further messing up Adora’s sheets. Lesson learned, it isn’t worth the effort for Adora to make the bed anymore. “My mom was the homecoming queen like a hundred years ago, and my aunt was the homecoming queen before that. It’s, like, my birthright!”

Adora lifts a shoulder, twisting around in her chair to look at Glimmer. “Okay, then we’ll just get you to be the homecoming queen too. Can’t your mom just...make it happen?”

“Ugh, no,” Glimmer sighs. “I already asked. It’s a student vote.”

“Oh!” Adora brightens. “That’s easy, then. Everyone loves you.”

Glimmer pouts. “I know, but it’s not just a popularity contest--it’s, like, a whole thing. Me and Bow are gonna have to do a talent show, and there’s a relay race, and other stuff that if we don’t do well in we won’t even get to be in the final vote.”

“Wait, what?” Adora doesn’t remember any of that from last year. “What do you mean, Bow? Is...he's running for homecoming queen too?”

“Ha! No,” Glimmer laughs, then her expression darkens, eyes narrowing. “I would crush him.”

“Right...” Adora says. Actually, Bow would make a pretty good homecoming queen. But Adora values her life, so she decidedly does tell Glimmer this.

“No, every queen nominee has to also have someone to run with them as their ‘king,’” Glimmer explains, making air quotes with her fingers. “There’s no boy/girl bullshit, but you do have to be in a pair.”

“I don’t remember any...talent shows, or whatever,” Adora points out. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of one of those happening in real life.”

“Well, obviously you never went. It would’ve all been during your lacrosse thingies and you would've been too busy making googly eyes at Mara Hart,” Glimmer replies, wiggling her fingers at Adora.

Adora crosses her arms and blushes a deep red. “I would not. I would’ve been playing lacrosse. And stuff.” Okay, maybe she did make googly eyes at Mara, but only sometimes, as a treat, and Glimmer doesn’t need to know that.

Glimmer flips back over on her stomach and levels Adora with a pout. “Adora, this means a lot to me. We’re gonna need your help to win this.”

Adora has no idea how she could possibly be of any help with this, but hey-- “Of course, Glimmer. Whatever you need. I’m there.”

Glimmer grins, eyes sparkling. “Yaaaaay. Also, my mom’s making meatloaf tonight, you in?”

Adora pumps her fist in the air. “Sweet. Hell, yes.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is a joke, right? Like, you’re joking?” Catra says into the receiver as she shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I am usually a pretty funny gal, it’s true--but, ah, no. This time I’m serious,” Scorpia replies on the other end.

Catra hoists her phone higher up on her shoulder while she adjusts her grip on her Xbox controller. “Okay, please explain,” she says between chews.

Scorpa sighs, and Catra visualizes her sitting cross-legged on her bedspread, hugging one of her many stuffed animals to her chest. “I know it’s kind of silly, but Perfuma sounded really excited about it, ‘cause I guess if you win, you get to pick what charity the proceeds from the dance ticket sales go to, and...I just couldn’t say no?”

Catra smirks, mashing a series of buttons on her controller as her TV screen lights up in front of her. She’s been trying to get past this level for weeks, but she’ll probably die right before the end again whether she’d answered Scorpia’s call or not. “You are so whipped,” she says.

Scorpia sighs again, but this time Catra can hear a smile in it. “I guess so, kitty cat. Still, it sounds kinda...fun? I mean, it’s more time spent with her, if anything else. She’s talking about writing an original song together for the talent show and incorporating her Tibetan singing bowls into it.”

Catra takes that in and barely suppresses a laugh. Her New Year’s resolution was to make fun of her friends less. Some days are harder than others. “Um, wow,” she says instead. “That’s, uh...that’ll be interesting. Do I have to call you Queen Scorpia if you win?”

“Oh, Perfuma doesn’t believe in gendered royalty,” Scorpia replies. “She wants us to be known as Homecoming Monarchs.”

“Of course she does,” Catra mutters. Perfuma is endlessly kind and patient and makes Scorpia smile, so by default Catra likes her, but otherwise they...don’t exactly share identical values, let’s say. Catra brings her own point home by pressing a button on her controller and chainsawing an alien in half on screen.

“Do you...think it’s a stupid idea? The whole...running for homecoming thing, I mean.”

Catra hears the telltale signs of Scorpia-doubting-herself in her reply, so she pauses the game. “Nah. If it’s something you guys wanna do, you should go for it. Fuck what anyone else thinks.”

“Okay, thanks,” Scorpia says, sounding lighter. “I think it means a lot to Perfuma. It would be cool to win it for her.”

“Well, hey,” Catra continues, un-pausing her game. “If you need any help, let me kn--oh, fuck!”

“Catra?” Panic sets in Scorpia’s tone. “Kitty cat, speak to me--do I need to call 911?!”

“No, no, Scorpia, please don’t do that,” Catra groans, tossing her controller aside. “I just got blown up in my stupid game again, that’s all. I’m never gonna beat this final boss.”

Scorpia sighed in relief. “Aw, don’t give up, kitty cat. One of these days, you’re gonna really give it to--what’s the dude’s name again?”

“Prime something-or-whatever,” Catra grumbled, reaching for her popcorn.

“Yeah, that guy. He’ll never know what hit him.”

Catra snickers into the receiver. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Scorpia.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lunch period at BMHS is, naturally, chaotic. Being a regional high school, every inch of the place is usually crawling with students, and the cafeteria is no different. The student population is small enough and the cafeteria big enough to condense into one lunch period, although Adora has oftentimes heard Perfuma lament about the ethics and health concerns of overcrowding.

Adora likes chaos. She likes that the overlapping sounds of chairs scraping and garbled chattering combine to form a comforting din that allows her to drown out whatever weird TikTok plans Bow’s making (ok, to be real, she will be asking about them later) and quietly observe the antics happening at tables around them.

She takes another bite of her pudding and her eyes land on the table to their right where Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio from her math class always sit together. Lonnie is mechanically chewing her gum as she stares into a compact mirror, examining her eyebrows with fierce concentration. Across from her, Kyle is holding up something on his phone to Rogelio with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he holds a corn dog. Rogelio is nodding along but is staring down fondly at Kyle rather than at the screen Kyle’s pointing to, one arm hanging loose around Kyle’s shoulders. Lonnie slaps her compact shut and shouts something at them, pointing emphatically to her eyebrows. They all pause for a moment before bursting into laughter. Then Kyle drops his corn dog.

Adora pointedly does not observe the table across from theirs. She’ll gladly watch the Star siblings silently and intensely do their homework for the next period, or listen to Mermista fight off Seahawk’s PDA attempts, but nothing could compel her to look at the table straight ahead.

That table was where Catra Weaver and her friends sat.

Including: Perfuma’s new girlfriend, Scorpia Garnet; Entrapta Dryl, who was dating one of the Hordak twins (Adora was ever completely sure which one); the Hordak twins in question, one of which who usually broods silently and one of which who usually stares around smiling at nothing and everything; the stylish and blonde ruler of the theatre kids who has been nicknamed Double Trouble for as long as Adora can remember; and finally: Catra Weaver. Effortlessly cool, effortlessly gorgeous, effortlessly effortless Catra Weaver, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, coolly regarding the rest of the cafeteria as she holds court at her table of wonderful misfit toys.

Today’s effortless ensemble: cool jean jacket, a cool crop top, cool black jeans, cool combat boots, she got a haircut recently so--

“Um, Earth to Adora?”

“Huh?” Adora says, jerking her head up.

This is why she avoids looking at Catra Weaver’s table. Or Catra Weaver in general.

“We were talking about homecoming,” Glimmer says from her seat across from Adora, raising an eyebrow. “You were totally spaced out.”

Adora clears her throat, willing herself not to blush. “Sorry,” she replies, digging back into her pudding.

“Glimmer’s trying to convince me not to run for court,” Perfuma continues, crossing her arms.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s totally lame and stupid and a waste of time,” Mermista answers from beside Perfuma, inspecting her nail polish. She glances up when she senses everyone at the table staring at her. “What?”

“Mermista, you’re on the homecoming committee,” Bow says.

Mermista shrugs. “So? I said what I said.”

“Look, Perfuma,” Glimmer starts, sliding her hand across the table toward Perfuma. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if you lose. Homecoming’s a really big deal to me, and I really want to win.” She smiles saccharinely, tilting her head at Perfuma, eyes gone wide. Bow and Adora exchange a look.

Perfuma smiles back. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Glimmer! I’m sure our classmates will select the most deserving and talented couple to win,” she says, then goes back to stabbing a fork into her salad.

Glimmer’s eye starts twitching. Bow slowly and gently takes Glimmer’s hand and slides it back to her side of the table. “Glimmer, we’ll do great. The most important thing is to have fun,” he says, patting her hand.

“The most important thing is the charity,” Perfuma mutters.

“That too.”

“Is anybody else we know running?” Adora asks. Glimmer and Perfuma both shake their heads in response, until Mermista sighs dejectedly.

“Unfortunately,” she groans, raising her hand.

“Wait, what?! You just said it was stupid and lame!” Bow squawks.

“It is,” Mermista rolls her eyes. “But the rest of the student council said it would look really bad if I was on the planning committee and didn’t run. I was forced against my will.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Glimmer asks, gripping her lunch tray so tight Adora wondered if she was going to launch it at Mermista’s head.

“I don’t know? I guess not? I’m planning on getting cut as soon as humanly possible though, so whatever,” Mermista replies, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.

“We won’t win with that attitude, my love!” Seahawk roars, throwing his arm around Mermista’s shoulder and raising a fist triumphantly. “You and I are going to be the greatest King and Queen this school has ever seen!”

“Oh my god, please stop,” Mermista groans, hiding her face in her hands.

“Picture it: you, me, newly crowned, gliding down the science wing--the students stop and stare! Could it really be our King and Queen in the flesh? The teachers stare too! I am going to give them both straight A’s!”

“Please just sit and eat your sandwich,” Mermista begs.

“Never,” Seahawk says, then kisses her on the cheek and acquiesces, taking a big bite of his sandwich. Adora tries to hide her smirk when she sees Mermista blush a deep red. She elbows Glimmer and nods in their direction so she can see.

“Aw, how cute. I’m going to destroy them,” Glimmer whispers in Adora’s ear.

“I know,” Adora whispers back. “But try to at least be nice about it.”

“No promises.”

“Ok, I have to pee,” Adora announces to the table, grabbing her lunch tray as she stands, grinning at Bow’s groan of TMI, Adora!

She makes her way over to the trash cans by the cafeteria exit, waving to her friends on the lacrosse team as she dumps her leftovers in the trash and sets the tray in the dish bin beside it. She should probably go over and check in with them about practice tonight, but she really has to pee, which reminds her that she forgot her water bottle all the way back to the table and needs to refill it before her next class.

“Damn it,” she mutters to herself, still smiling at her lacrosse friends as she whips around to head back--

And crashes right into someone, their heads knocking smack together.

“Ow!” Adora yelps, losing her footing for a moment. She rubs at her stinging forehead, glancing up as she apologizes, “Shit, sorry, sorry, that was totally my fault, I--”

And stares right up at Catra Weaver.

“I...I...I...”

She blinks a few times, but yes, that is Catra Weaver, rubbing at her own forehead and fixing a few strands of hair that had come loose from behind her ears. Catra Weaver, up close and personal, who she hasn’t talked to since...

“Your forehead is fucking hard. And big,” Catra says, holding her tray in one hand as she narrows her eyes up at Adora.

“Oh, um, you too...I mean! Thanks? I grew it myself,” Adora replies spectacularly, and then promptly wants to crawl into a hole and never come out.

Catra raises one eyebrow at her. “How hard did I hit you?”

Adora scrambles to answer. “Oh, not at all! I mean, not hard. It was my fault. Are you, um, are you okay?” This is going amazingly.

“I’m fine, Greyskull,” Catra replies, sending a tingle up Adora’s spine. She goes to deposit her tray. “Just watch where you’re going.”

Adora grins dopily. “Yes. I mean--I will. Sorry. Again.”

Catra glances Adora up and down, eyebrow still raised, and goes to say something else, when they’re interrupted by a foreboding, familiar voice.

“Ah, Adora! I’m so pleased to see you taking an interest in student affairs.”

Adora turns to see Glimmer’s mom looming over them, hands neatly clasped together. Maybe looming isn’t the right word as she’s smiling brightly down on her and Catra, but she’s tall, ok? “Oh, hi Ang--,” Adora starts before remembering they’re at school, “um, Mrs. Moon. What’s up?”

Angella gestures between her and Catra. “I was just observing how wonderful it will be that Glimmer will have a friend to share the homecoming experience with.”

Adora tenses again, remembering that Catra is still standing very close to her. “Oh, haha, yeah, super great. Wait, what?” Sharing?

Then she notices that her and Catra are standing in front of the wall where the Homecoming Court Signup Sheet is hanging. A sparkly pen tied to the clipboard is dangling within Adora’s reach.

“Oh, um, actually, Perfuma’s already--”

“I think this activity will make a fine addition to your college applications, Adora. And you know how Glimmer gets,” Angella leans in conspiratorially, not bothering to lower her voice. “I think it will calm her nerves to have a friend by her side. A bit of friendly competition, even!” she claps her hands together, delighted. “I remember having so much fun with my friends back in my day.”

“But, I’m already on the lacrosse team...” Adora mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. She glances down at the pen.

“Oh, but you know schools these days, always looking for that something that makes a student stand out,” Angella says, waving her hand dismissively. “And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Coach Huntara about any scheduling conflicts. You’ll get to have the best of both worlds!”

Wait, but lacrosse was Adora’s whole thing--does she not stand out enough? Will she seem boring to UEternia? “I...”

“Oh, Ms. Weaver!” Angella says, as if she’s just now noticing Catra. “I didn’t take you for the...school spirit type.”

“I’m not,” Catra replies, crossing her arms. She smiles saccharinely and adds, “ma’am,” for good measure. God, she’s cool.

“Ah,” Angella says, creating an awkward pause before brightening again. “Well, still, here you are. Are you Adora’s running mate?”

So, sometimes Adora panics.

Look, she’s in a high-stress situation. The girl she doesn’t not have an embarrassing crush on bumped into her, talked to her, and then her best friend’s mom swooped in basically saying that lacrosse is boring and dumb and running for homecoming court will get her into UEternia. At least, that’s what Adora got from all that. And then she insinuates that she’ll be doing that with Catra Weaver.

So, she panics. She panics, and she grabs the glittery pen, and she continues to panic.

“Yep! We’re running together!” she says, grinning.

“Say what?” Catra hisses.

“Oh, wonderful!” Angella squeals, clapping her hands together again. “I must say, I think this will turn out to be a very interesting competition. You’ll have to come dress shopping with us, Adora.”

“Haha, yeah...” Adora says, quickly scribbling Adora Greyskull & Catra Weaver on the signup sheet. Oh fuck, oh god.

“Hang on a fu--” Catra starts, then clamps her mouth shut, because the goddamn principal is still talking to them.

“Oh, I wonder what you’ll do for the talent show! I can’t wait...well, I’m off. It was great catching up, girls!” Angella says, and winks, and does weird-mom-finger-guns, and then she’s gliding away as quickly as she came.

Adora continues to grin and wave awkwardly until Angella is out of sight, then she deflates. That was so weird.

Then she turns and sees Catra reach for the pen that’s still in her hand. Adora has half a mind to snatch it away. Or half a brain cell, at least. “Hey!”

“Cross our names out. Right. Now,” Catra growls through gritted teeth, still trying to grab the pen. Adora tries to hold it up out of reach, but it’s still attached to the clipboard, so the best she can do is weave her hand in and out of Catra’s way.

“Um, no? I just told her we were running!”

“Well, we’re not. Give it to me!”

“No!” Adora grunts, yanking the pen away. “You heard her--she’s gonna talk to Coach Huntara. I can’t back out now.”

“Well, I can!” Catra says, grabbing at Adora’s arm, where she has the pen tucked under her armpit. “Find someone else to run with you!”

“I can’t! They’ll want to win!” Adora says, twisting her body away from Catra. She’s having a slight meltdown over Catra touching her so much, but she’s focusing on the pen for now. “No one’s gonna want to run with me anyway.”

Catra mutters something under her breath that Adora doesn’t catch, then she snakes her hand under Adora’s and takes hold of her wrist. Adora stifles a gasp. “Wait, you don’t want to win?” Catra asks, eyebrow quirked.

“Noooo,” Adora furiously shakes her head. “No, no, no. Glimmer would kill me. She wants to win. I just, um, panicked. I guess?” The heat from Catra’s hand is searing into her wrist.

Catra glances down at their hands and back up at Adora. “So, your friend will kill you if you run for homecoming. And you just signed up in front of her mom?”

“Um...” Adora thinks for a second. “Yes?”

Catra huffs out a laugh. “Wow, you’re even more of an idiot than I remember.”

Adora feels her face redden, shocked at Catra’s casual mention of the past, and glances away. “Look, let’s just get eliminated as quickly as possible and then we can forget it ever happened. Deal?”

“Ugh,” Catra lets out a groan, leaning her head back. She tugs at Adora’s wrist a few times, finding that she isn’t budging. “Fine! As quickly as possible.”

“As quickly as possible,” Adora nods, finding herself grinning as Catra loosens her grip and pulls away. “I’m gonna take this pen home, by the way,” she calls out as Catra begins to head back to her table.

“Fuck!”

After Adora finally pees and refills her water bottle, she gingerly sits back down beside Glimmer. Poor, sweet, deadly Glimmer, who’s chattering away excitedly with Seahawk about some new music video or something.

She says, in a very tiny voice, “So, um...I think I’m running for homecoming queen?”

Glimmer whips her head around, nose flaring. She stands up, slamming both hands down on the table with a smack.

“You WHAT?!”

And then the bell rings.

[naomisimagines]

I absolutely love your writing. I always enjoy seeing your posts come up in my notifications 😊 Could I make request be any chance? Leon and Raihan reacting to seeing their S/O being rushed to the hospital after the S/O fought and captured Eternatus? (I'm convinced there's no way you could have gotten away from that fight without some major injuries. That was a seriously dangerous pokemon)

Not Naomi but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless! Also, angst!

Leon

Leon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he stared at the pokeball that laid on the ground in front of him. That Pokemon, that Eternatus… It was really something else. It was strong, fierce and cruel. He could feel all its rage as it battled against the ball. 

“Please…” he whispered; his stomach tied into a tight knot. Usually, he loved battles and the greater the challenge, the greater the fun he had. But that time was different. 

His little brother and s/o were there, the two people he loved the most… He had to protect them no matter what. 

The pokeball jerked sharply and, immediately, he knew what was about to happen. 

“Charizard!” was all he was able to say before the pokeball broke, unleashing a devastating force that blasted him against the wall. 

With a painful groan, Leon raised his throbbing head just long enough to see Hop and s/o safe and sound behind his Charizard. 

“Run!” he tried to yell but, before he could make a sound, he passed out, blood trickling down on his purple hair. 

When he came to, the room was silent as the grave. He sat up, nauseous, and looked around. 

The white walls and the intense, stingy smell of disinfectant made him quickly realise that he wasn’t at the Tower Summit anymore. 

Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine. Hop, his Charizard and his beloved s/o… If he was there… Where… Where were they? Where was the Eternatus? 

His heart started to race in his chest, making the machines next to him beep angrily. 

He needed to get up, he needed to find his family, he needed-… 

“No no no, you need to lay down!” a strong voice interrupted the storm that was rising in his mind, and, when he looked up, Leon found a doctor staring down at him. “You took quite the hit. I know you’re the Unbeatable Champion but please, for the love of whatever is holy, do not get up!”

The younger man stared at him, scared and yet dumbfounded. “Where… Where…” he asked, tears threatening to escape his golden eyes. 

The doctor sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, take it easy. I need you to take several deep breaths and calm down, or I’ll have to give you a sedative.”

Leon shut his eyes close and hid his face in his hands, forcing himself to do what the man told him. It took him some long, endless minutes but in the end he was able to calm himself enough to be reasonable. 

“My brother and… and s/o…” his voice shook as he spoke, too afraid to look the doctor in the eye. 

“Hop is okay.” The man reassured him but he couldn’t help another sigh. “Regarding s/o… Look, Leon, I’m not going to lie to you but I need you to promise me that you won’t panic again.” He said, and that was enough for the champion’s heart to start racing again. 

“I promise.” He lied. “Just tell me what happened to them. Where are they? Are they okay?”

The doctor scratched the back of his head, then he took a deep breath and told him the truth. “S/o… They’re stable now. That Pokemon did a number on them though, so we had to put them into a medically induced coma. But don’t worry; we took great care of them. They’re gonna be alright.”

Tears rolled down Leon’s cheeks and he didn’t even try to hide them. He lowered his head, trying his best to listen to the doctor and believe that they were okay, that they saved them, that he would soon hold them in his arms again. But it was hard to think about that in that moment, it was hard to see the light. 

“Easy, easy…” the doctor murmured, patting his shoulder. “Would seeing them make you feel any better?”

Leon’s eyes shot open and stared at the man in front of him in disbelief. Could that really be arranged? 

“Look, we’re going to wake them up later today. If, and only if, their vitals are all in the clear, I can allow you to stay in the room with them as they come to.”

Leon nodded at his words and, not even an hour later, he was sitting beside his s/o. They looked terrible; their whole body was covered in scratches and bruises and he could see stitches creep out from their collar. But the doctors were hopeful and believed they would quickly make a full recovery. They had worked their magic and Leon was glad for the opportunity to be there when the sedatives wore off. 

Gently, the champion took his beloved’s hand in his and placed a feather-like kiss on their knuckles. 

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Their low, hoarse voice made him flinch in surprise. But, after a moment of insecurity, he smiled at them.

“So are you.” He replied with a wink, which made them chuckle and, subsequently, caused them a coughing fit. 

“Easy, love.” he soothed them, his smile now apologetical. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m beyond happy.” S/o laughed again and, again, they started coughing. “I saved you. And Hop. And I captured the Eternatus.”

Leon laughed with them then, once his brain processed their words, he froze. “You what?” 

“I did it. I caught it.” They repeated, their voice now soft and sleepy. “It put up a hell of a fight but I… I… got… it…” they tried to say but tiredness had the better of them.

The championed smiled and kissed their forehead gently. “You got it.” He whispered against their skin. “Now you need to get some rest, too.”

 Raihan

Whatever was happening in that tower; it must’ve been bad, Raihan realised as the ground of Hammerlocke’s plaza shook beneath him. 

Worried, his eyes darted up to the crimson clouds that covered the sky. Could that mess really be caused by a single Pokemon? Had he known, he would’ve never let s/o follow Leon. 

As the ground shook again, he cursed out loud. He should’ve gone too. But now, it was too late. 

Suddenly, the earthquake stopped and the sky became clear again. Confused, the gym leader looked around, meeting the eyes of several other people that were just as incredulous as he was. 

And then he heard them; the sirens. There were plenty of them and before he could realise why, the whole plaza was filled with ambulances and police cars and an officer was ordering him to step back. 

Raihan obeyed, his heart racing faster and faster. Why were there so many paramedics? And why was the police there?

Was… Was s/o okay? They had to be… They were tough and they were with the Unbeatable Champion… There was no way they were hurt. 

But then he saw a group of paramedics rush out of the tower, pushing a stretcher and shouting things that he didn’t really understand. They seemed panicked though, and when the officer moved, he realised that it was Leon that was being carried away, unconscious. 

His heart dropped and all colour drained from his face. If Leon was down, then… S/o, his beautiful, gentle, caring beloved s/o…

Fear started taking the best of him and, before he could realise what he was doing, he shoved the officer aside and ran to the ambulances, frenetically looking for his lover. 

“Make way, make way!” he heard someone shout and, as he turned around, he caught a glimpse of another stretcher coming through. 

The person on it had an oxygen mask on their nose and mouth and was bleeding copiously, drenching the candid gloves and sleeves of the paramedics that were attending to them.

If it weren’t for their bracelet, Raihan would’ve never recognized them. His s/o. 

The realisation hit him like a dagger through the heart and he felt his knees shake. 

“S/o!” he yelled, panicked, then he juggled the officer and made a run for the ambulance that they had been taken to, jumping onto it as well. 

“Who the hell…- F- it, there’s no time.“ the paramedic cursed as she saw him, then, she just shook her head and moved her attention back to the patient. “Family, press, I don’t care. Sit down, don’t touch anything and let us do our job.” She ordered as the ambulance sped away but Raihan didn’t even hear her. His blue eyes were scanning s/o from head to toe, looking for something, anything that could tell him that they were alright. 

Then, amidst the chaos, the faintest voice could be heard. “I won.” 

Raihan’s eyes darted up and met those of his beloved s/o. They were smiling, he noticed. How could they smile in a moment like that? 

“I won.” They repeated and, before a paramedic could stop them, they placed a hand in his own. “Don’t lose it.”

The gym leader blinked at them, confused, then he looked down at what they had just given him. 

A Pokeball. Well, an Ultraball, actually. 

Raihan’s brows furrowed at the sight but before he could ask any questions, S/o had passed out again. 

A long time passed before they woke up again but, when they did, Raihan was still at their side, his head down against their mattress. 

S/o smiled at the sight and weakly ran a hand through his dark hair.

“S/o?” he murmured, his voice tired and sour. Slowly, he turned his head, flashing them the warmest smile. “You woke up!” 

“Did I?” they replied with a smile of their own. “Because this very much feels like a dream. Or more like a nightmare that turned into a dream, actually.”

Raihan sat up and took their hand in both of his. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he placed a kiss on their open palm. 

“For someone who battled a legendary pokemon… Pretty good, actually.” they replied with a smirk. “By the way, did I tell you that I won?”

Raihain let out a breathy laugh and nodded. “Several times, before passing out, yes.” He assured them, then he pointed at their nightstand with a nod of his head. “I take it that the Ultraball you gave me…”

“It’s the Eternatus.” They finished the sentence for him, a spark in their eyes. “Now I’m a ‘tamer of dragons’ too!”

The gym leader laughed again. “You sure are.” He said and, as he looked at them, he couldn’t hide an ironic smile. “I can’t wait to see the two of you against good old Leon.” 

S/o chuckled some, then they shook their head. “Wouldn’t it be cheating?”

Raihan seemed to think about it, then he just shrugged and took out his Rotom Phone, eager to show them all the support their fans had given them while they were out.

~~

Masterlist

[bokutosbiceps]

tokita secretly married and kazuo and akiyama find out by walking in on him and reader making out , female pronouns if that’s okay?

okay, i feel like ohma would never be “secretly” married so i’m making it that ohma is married but he just never talks about himself/his personal things with anyone ever so he’s just never mentioned it,,, but i hope you enjoy :)

!!! SLIGHT SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE ANIME BELOW THE CUT--also light angst + mild nsfw lol !!!

You looked on as Ohma straddled Raian and unleashed a flurry of fists onto his face. Your fingers balled up into tight fists as you watched the man you loved seemingly be pushed over the edge by his anger. 

Someone has to stop him before he kills that man. You thought as you watched your beloved beat the Kure assassin’s face into the ground. You breathed a sigh of relief when the referee grabbed Ohma and managed to drag him off of his unconscious opponent. You got up abruptly and ran out of the arena, willing your legs to run faster down the stairs and to the concourse as the announcer named Ohma the winner of the match. 

As you neared the gate where Ohma had entered the arena, tears started to flow from your eyes of their own accord. Your vision became blurry enough to the point that you did not notice Ohma approaching you until he grabbed you by the shoulders to keep you from running into him.

“You could have gotten blood all over yourself.” Ohma’s hands tightened on your shoulders once he noticed your wet cheeks and puffy eyes. “Why are you crying?”

“You almost killed that man!” You hiccupped, unable to meet Ohma’s gaze. You were too embarrassed; you couldn't believe you had started crying during one of his matches. You’d seen him fight multiple times, you’d seen him almost die multiple times, but not a single one of those times did you cry. 

“So? That brat would’ve deserved it. He—”

“I don’t care about him, I care about you! If you had killed him, you would have become just like him! Do you want to be a murderer?” You broke free from Ohma’s hold before wiping your eyes and meeting his gaze for the first time. He looked slightly concerned, which was serious in Ohma’s case since he almost never showed emotion. 

“You know I don’t try to kill. That’s not who I am.” Ohma said seriously, his voice deescalating to a low mumble. You breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm yourself down before you started crying again. You felt comforted by his admission, knowing the kind of person he was and the values he held. He had never tried to kill anyone in a fight, no matter how awful that person might have been. 

“Listen, Ohma, I just don’t want to see you turn into the monster you promised Niko you wouldn’t become. I’m just trying to help.” 

“I know.” Ohma took a step closer to you and attempted to wrap you up in an embrace, but you placed a hand against his chest, wincing at the blood and sweat that stuck to your palm. 

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head and grinned at Ohma, feeling a little bit more like yourself now that Ohma seemed to be aware of himself. “You can hug and kiss me all you want after you clean all that shit off of you. This is my favorite shirt, you’re not gonna ruin it.” You took a small cloth from your back pocket and wiped your hand off before handing it to Ohma. “Now, clean your face. It looks like you just got beat up.” 

Ohma eyed you before taking the cloth and wiping his forehead. “I won the fight, you know. You didn’t even congratulate me or anything.” Ohma mumbled. 

“I always expect you to win. Congratulating you would just feed your enormous ego.” You dismissed him with a wave before making your way toward the part of the concourse that lead to the hotel. You managed to barely make it into the tunnel that led to the hotel before Kaede and Kazuo rounded the corner and made a beeline for Ohma. You had never met either of them, but Ohma had told you that they seemed like normal people, which you knew was Ohma Speak for the fact that he liked them.

You and Ohma liked to keep your relationship and marriage a secret from the public to avoid any dangers or annoying questions. Ohma was insistent that if one of his many enemies found out that he had a wife, they would try to come after you and use you to get to him. And he absolutely would not let you get into any danger on his behalf. You, on the other hand, didn’t want Ohma’s swarm of fangirls that he always managed to attain to be on your case. You were well aware of the fact that your husband was an extremely attractive man, but you didn’t need to proclaim it to the world. Plus, Ohma never showed interest in any other woman besides you, no matter how much they tried to seduce him.

Once you made your way back to the hotel, you called for room service and ordered one of each dish that contained meat, knowing Ohma would eat the walls of your hotel room if he didn’t have food waiting for him when he got back.

The feeling of the blood and sweat smeared onto your hand was getting to you, so you slipped out of your clothes and made your way into the shower, letting the warm water loosen the tension in your body. Just as you were about to close your eyes and let the water take over, you heard the door open and close.

“You can just leave it by the door!” You called to who you presumed was the room service delivery person. You jumped when you noticed a shadow in front of the shower curtain and you quickly shut your eyes and flung your first out when the shower curtain was drawn back.

“Relax, it’s just me.” You opened your eyes to see Ohma holding your arm inches from his face, his body still covered in dried blood and sweat. “If it was someone else, you would’ve been dead with a punch like that.” 

You scowled at him and broke free from his grasp, turning back to the warm stream of water coming from the shower head. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Ohma step into the shower and close the shower curtain. He reached over you to tilt the shower head toward himself and you watched the water in the shower run red as he washed the blood off of his body. 

“Tokita Ohma, you’re going to make me stand in bloody water after I just cleaned myself?” You turned around and narrowed your eyes at the smug man before you, his face now his regular shade of a deep almond, just a bit lighter than that of his eyes.

“I’ll just have to wash you off again, I guess.” Ohma said, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly into a sly grin. Ohma’s torso pressed to yours as he reached for the bar of soap, rubbing it in between his hands before ghosting his fingertips over your shoulders blades and down your back. 

You let out a small moan when Ohma started to lather your back with soap, massaging it into your skin the way he had done many times before. He craned his neck down to brush his lips over yours before fully taking them in his own. 

You jumped when you heard the hotel room door open and a voice call for Ohma. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, pulling away from Ohma to peek out of the shower curtain. 

“Just ignore him, he’ll leave if we don’t make any noise.” Ohma kept his grip on your waist tight and jerked you back toward him, causing you to lose your footing and slip in the shower. You held onto the shower curtain for support but dragged it and Ohma down with you as you fell onto the bathroom floor.

Footsteps rushed toward the bathroom before the door was flung open, revealing Kazuo and Kaede. 

“Ohma, are you—” Kazuo’s sentence was cut short as he laid eyes upon the two naked bodies on the floor in front of him. 

You rushed to cover yourself up with the shower curtain as Kazuo remained speechless; Kaede, on the other hand, was throwing insult after insult at Ohma.

“Tokita, we were looking everywhere for you and you were hiding away from us with some slut? We have to discuss the next—” Kaede was cut off when Ohma lurched toward her, his face stopping inches from her. 

“Don’t you ever call her a slut. That’s my wife.” Ohma said quietly, his voice dangerously low. 

“Wife? Ohma…” Kazuo trailed off as his eyes met your mortified stare. 

“I’m gonna get dressed. Let’s get out of here, give her some privacy.” Ohma mumbled, walking out of the bathroom. Kaede and Kazuo followed him out of the bathroom, their shock preventing them from making any other decision. 

Ohma moved over to the bag you had packed him for his stay during the tournament, and pulled on a pair of shorts before turning to his two guests.

“YamashitaKazuo. Kaede. Please...don’t tell anyone about her.” Ohma kept his gaze on the floor, feeling too vulnerable to look anyone in the eye. Kazuo and Kaede smiled fondly at Ohma.

“Of course. Your secret’s safe with us."

[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Ahuhuhu~”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

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

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

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

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

Pause. “Mud.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “I said now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why hadn’t he—

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

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

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

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

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

 ~

             Something…happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

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

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

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

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

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

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

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

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

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

 ~

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

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

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

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

           “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[moonlightsbeams]

The Queen’s Court Chapter 1

The turtle creature awakes, horror filling his eyes. Flying out of the gramophone, he goes to the Guardian, who looks at the creature. “Wayzz, what’s wrong?”

“Master Fu, it’s Nooroo. I- he’s resurfaced, but.. He’s being used by a powerful negative energy, I fear that Paris is in immense danger if Nooroo’s new owner is left unchecked.”

The Guardian nods, and motions to Wayzz. The Guardian raises his hand to transform, but is struck down by crippling pain. 

With a shaking hand, he opens the gramophone, surveying his choices. He deftly selects the Ladybug and the Black Cat miraculous, but falters. “I cannot send them out alone, can I, Wayzz?”

Wayzz tilts his head. “I’m not sure I understand, Master.”

“While the Black Cat and Ladybug are strong, I cannot send them out against the Butterfly alone.”

“But who should aid them, master?”

Mater Fu examines his choices, and reaches for one last miraculous box. “The Bee is the perfect choice.”

------

Chloe Bourgeois knew she was perfect. Her daddy told her all the time, and all of Paris knew it too. She prided herself on always looking like it, and nothing, nothing stopped her from being perfect. 

So what the hell is she going to do?

She stares in distaste at the situation in front of her. A large garbage truck is rumbling by, trash stacked precariously out of it, and an elderly man in a hawaiin shirt trots next to it. She does not want to go anywhere near the truck but.. She doesn’t like his chances if that trash falls onto him. Her decision is forced into motion by the trash toppling out of the truck. 

Muttering “Ew, ew, ew, EW!” under her breath she darts close to the man, grabbing him by the nape of his shirt and quickly pulling him out of the way of the falling trash.

After thoroughly examining herself to make sure she’s still perfect, she turns to the old man, unsure on what to tell him.

Luckily for her, the man speaks up, bowing his head in gratitude. “Thank you so much for saving me, young lady. That trash would have severely injured me, and definitely would’ve humiliated me. You truly are courageous.”

Chloe pauses by the compliment, a genre of which she’s.. Unfamiliar with. She quickly preens, trying to hide her genuine pleasure. “Of course I am! I- I couldn’t just let it happen. I’m going to tell my daddy about how ridiculous these trash workers are!”

The older man nods, a thoughtful smile on his face. “A good use of your power, young lady.”

She snorts, unable to think of anything else to say. “Whatever, I need to get to school.”

She storms off, feeling slightly better than she was before.

School was uneventful, except for Marinette Dupain-Cheng thinking that she could steal Chloe’s spot behind her Adrikins! And then some new girl had the audacity to tell her off! She was going to have to put them in their place.

She sulks all the way back to the hotel, and throws herself down on her bed. “Ugh, could this day get ANY worse?”

She rolls over and is greeted by a red and black box that was definitely not there before. “What’s this? It looks old, so maybe it’s an expensive gift for me?”

She gently opens the box, and is immediately blinded by a large flash of yellow light. After it clears up, there’s a… giant bee in her room.

Chloe shrieks, throwing herself across the room. “WHAT??? BUG?? BIG BEE!!!”

“My queen, please calm down!” The bee reassures her. “My name is Pollen, I’m the kwami for the bee miraculous!”

“The bee WHAT!” Chloe screams, holding a pillow in front of her like a shield.

“The bee miraculous!” Pollen squeaks. “With it, you become a superhero, my queen!”

Chloe lowers the pillow, peeking out behind it. “A-a, superhero?”

Pollen nods. “Indeed, my queen! You will also fight along two other heros, with powers of their own! Your power is Venom, the power to immobilize anyone you want!”

“How do I turn into this superhero?”

“First, put the miraculous in your hair and say, ‘Pollen, buzz on!’ The detransformation is ‘Buzz Off!’” Pollen instructs, a reassuring smile on her face.

Chloe goes back to bed, picking up the red and black box. She pulls out a silver bee shaped comb. She tucks it into her hair. “Pollen, buzz on!” 

“My queen I still have to tell you-”

Chloe knew exactly what to do while transforming, after all, Adrikins forced her to watch far too many anime shows. After her beautiful and stunning transformations, she examines her suit. Her suit is a yellow base, with a few black stripes that dip in the middle. Her gloves end at her elbows, and are lined with black faux fur. Her mask covers her eyes, and is a yellow honeycomb pattern. Her hair is pulled into a low ponytail, slightly curlier than it was before. She spins around, as translucent wings draped like a cape flutter behind you “This is…”

“AMAZING!!” Chloe squeals, admiring herself. “Pollen, I’m beautiful!” She looks around, noticing her disappearance. “Pollen?”

Before she can look for Pollen, her phone buzzes with an emergency alert. “Giant stone monster rampaging around Paris? That sounds like a job for a superhero!” 

She finally notices a top slung around her waist. “What does this do? OH NO IT’S SPINNING!” Chloe quickly figures out how to operate the top, and swings out of her window. “Look out, Paris, here I come!”

She lands on a building, examining the scene around her. “Yikes, the police have no idea what they’re doing, huh?”

Suddenly, a scream cuts through the air. Someone slams into Chloe, knocking her down. The person jumps up, and reaches a hand out to Chloe. “I’m so, so sorry! I- I just haven’t gotten a knack for the staff yet! I’m um, guessing, you’re one of the other superheroes?”

Chloe’s first instinct is to snap at the girl, insulting her on everything and anything. But, she shouldn’t act like herself, right? Secret identities are the most important thing about superheroes, right? So she takes the girl's hand and gives her a smile. “You’re fine! It took me way too long to figure out how to use my top. And yeah, I’m…” What’s my name? What had Pollen called me again? “My Queen”?

“Queen Bee. And you are?”

The girl blushes, tugging on one of her twin braids. “I have no idea. All I know is that some cat..bug..thing told me I was a superhero, and I turned into this leather… furry!”

Chloe snorts, and takes a moment to notice her costume. A leather bodysuit similar to her, except that the girl has glove fingers pointed like claws and kneehigh boots. The girl has a cute half cloak with a blue cat paw fastening the hood. And..

Chloe gasps. “Oh. My. Goodness. Do you have cat ears and a tail??” 

The girl blushes, her ears flattening in embarrassment. “Yeah.. I guess it’s ‘cause it’s the Cat Miraculous? It’s super embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, chatonne,” Queen Bee teases. She’s not going to unleash the full Chloe treatment, but she can’t not tease her.. “It’s purr-fectly cute!”

The girl’s face reddens, but she groans at the pun. She opens her mouth to retort, but is interrupted by the roar of the monster. “We’d better take care of this, huh?”

Queen Bee nods, a determined smile spread across her face. “Let’s go!”

The two make their way over to a stadium, lading in front of what looks like a golem made of rocks, chasing...Kim?

“Chatonne!” yells Queen Bee. “Can you get Ki- the boy away from the monster?”

“On it!” she shouts back, expanding her pole to stop the monster from getting Kim. 

“Good work, chatonne!”

“Hey, Queen Bee, aren’t we supposed to have another..” As if summoned, a blonde boy in a red and black spotted bodysuit and a black cape draped off of one shoulder lands next to Queen Bee.

“Am..I late?” He asks, clearly nervous. Nervous of what? The monster..or her?

Chloe would chew him out, asking where he’s been.. But Queen Bee wouldn’t. Queen Bee simply rolls her eyes and smirks at him. “Haven’t missed much, bug boy. So, you’ve got anything up your sleeve?”

“Um..” The boy launches a...yo-yo.. At the stone monster. Seriously? A yo-yo? Was the cat miraculous the only one with a sensible weapon? As soon as the yoyo makes contact with the monster, it roars again and..

 “IT GROWS EVERY TIME YOU HIT IT?!?!?” The cat girl yells, staring in disbelief. “HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT A MONSTER THAT GROWS IF YOU HIT IT??”

Queen Bee curses under her breath. Cat girl had a point. Her plan was just to beat it until the cops could apprehend it.. But where would they even put it anyway?

“Wait!” The bug boy calls. Cat girl and Queen Bee turn to him. “What was my power again.. Oh! Lucky Charm!” 

Queen Bee watches as the boy throws his yo-yo in the air and gets.. A wetsuit. “Planning on going swimming, bug boy?” she quips. The momentary confusion is disrupted by a giant stone fist swinging down. Chloe and the boy roll aside, narrowly missing being flattened. 

“Oh! I have a power too!” The cat girl yells. “Cataclysm!” The girl's hand is now encompassed with dark energy. 

Queen Bee dodges another fist. “What does it do?” she yells.

“Destroys anything I touch!”

“Seriously?” the boy groans. “You get to destroy anything and I get a wetsuit?”

“Where do you think the akuma is?” Cat girl shouts.

“The what?” Pollen did not mention anything called an akuma.

“The thing that turned whoever’s actually in there.. Into that!”

Huh. Maybe Chloe should’ve paid more attention to what Pollen was saying. 

“By the way, who are you two?” The boy yells. 

“I think introductions are necessary when we’re being attacked by a giant monster!” Queen Bee retorts.

“It’d be easier to call you something other than bee girl and cat girl!”

He has a point. “Call me Queen Bee, bug boy.”

“I’m Princess Kitten!” Comes a shout. Seems cat girl decided on a name.

“Well, if the two of you are going with a royalty theme, who am I to mess it up? Call me.. Sir Cocinelle!”

“Why? Are you some knight in spotted armor?”

He actually perks up at the remark. Oh no, Queen Bee can’t make fun of someone that wholesome. “I would be honored to be your trusted knight, my queen!”

Wait.. “Guys I have a plan!” She shouts. “Meet me at the top of the stadium!”

“Okay, but make it quick!” Princess Kitten yells back. “I have only 5 more minutes until I detransform!”

Yeah. Chloe should’ve really listened to Pollen. After some tricky jumps, the trio made it to the top. “So, I have some weird ‘ladybug vision’, and I think the akuma is in that fist,” Sir Cocinelle points at one of the fists.

“You’re probably right, Sir Cocinelle.” Queen Bee appraises, noticing the boost in his confidence. Is- is this kid okay? “Okay, so my power is Venom. I can freeze the monster. I was thinking, once I do that, Sir Coccinelle could pull him down with the yo-yo, and you could use that ‘ladybug vision’ to force open the fist while he’s down. Princess Kitten, can you ‘cataclysm’ the akuma and..” She notices the two staring at her. “What?”

Sir Coccinelle speaks up. “Nothing, it’s just, you’re really good at this. It’s like you’re a natural.”

Queen Bee flushes. “Oh. Um..My dadd- my dad works..in a leadership position. I guess I picked up some stuff. Does the plan not work or…”

Princes Kitten shakes her head. “I think you’re great! The plan! The plan is great!”

Queen Bee smiles at her, murmuring, “Thank you, Princess. I really appreciate it.” She turns to Sir Coccinelle. “Listen, I have no idea how your powers work, but I have a feeling that they’re the key to getting the akuma, and chattonne’s powers are the only way to destroy the akuma. Are we ready?”

Sir Coccinelle and Princess Kitten nod.

 “Let’s go!”

She signals for Sir Coccinelle to topple the monster, and quickly calls “Venom” to freeze him before he can get up. That new girl… Alexis, right? For some reason is still there, next to.. A fire hose! “Hey you! Toss bug boy the hose!”

Wide eyed, she tosses the hose to Sir Coccinelle, who looks at the hose, the wetsuit and the fist, cogs turning. He shoves the wetsuit in the fist, and begins filling it up. Cracking the fist open, he gets a purple rock, and pumps his fist in celebration. “Boo-ya!”

Queen Bee smiles, but the victory is short lived as the rock monster starts to stir. “SIR COCCINELLE GET THE ROCK TO PRINCESS KITTEN!” She screams. 

Sir Coccinelle nods, and lobs the rock at Princess Kitten, who catches it with her Cataclysm hand, turning the rock into a crumpled note.

 Sir Coccinelle throws the wetsuit in the air, with a cry of “Miraculous Sir Coccinelle!” ladybugs rush over the city, restoring all the damage, and turning the stone monster into.. Ivan? Huh. 

Princess Kitten turns to Queen Bee, wide eyed. “How’d you know that was going to work?”

“Yeah, Queenie,” Sir Coccinelle pipes up. “I didn’t really know how my powers would work, yet you did.”

“First off, bug boy, I’m your Queen, not ‘Queenie’, and since you mentioned ‘ladybug vision’, I figured that the wetsuit would actually come into use. Chatonne, you told me that you could destroy, so I used that to get rid ourselves of the akuma. All I really did was look at your powers and figure out how to use them in the situation.” She mutters, very much liking the attention. She holds out her hand in a fist. “You guys did really good. I’m proud to be a superhero with you two.”

Princess Kitten lightly bumps her fist into Queen Bee’s. “Give yourself more credit. Sure, Sir Coccinelle did some wacky thing with the wetsuit,  but it was you were the one who figured it out.”

Sir Coccinelle fist bumps the two of them. “Seriously, Queenie, you did great. Princess couldn't've gotten to the akuma without you guiding her. I think we make a great team.”

Queen Bee rolls her eyes, but smiles. “A team. I like that.”

Ally? Alexa? Rushes up to the three, a huge smile on her face, phone clutched in her hand. “OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS ARE ACTUAL SUPERHEROES!! CAN YOU TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT YOURSELVES??”

The three exchange awkward glances, until a beep from all three of them goes off. “I believe that’s our cue to go,” Queen Bee drawls. “ But If you must know, the dashing knight is Sir Coccinelle,” he offers a flourishing bow, “The beautiful lady is Princess Kitten,” she nods her head, “And I’m the regal Queen Bee.” She winks at the girl. “I’ll see you around, huh?” Queen Bee leaps off, leaving a blushing girl.

She sneaks back in through her window, crying “Buzz off!” The transformation disappears in a flash of yellow and black, and Pollen reappears. “That was amazing! I was like, woosh, and boosh! And…” Chloe falls on her bed giggling.

“My queen, I’m glad you enjoyed it! You did such a good job, you truly are meant for the Bee Miraculous!”

Chloe looks at Pollen, her eyes gleaming. “Really?”

Pollen claps her hands in delight. “Of course, my queen! Now can I tell you what you need to know?” “Oh. Yes, please.”

“So! Your partners hold the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, which are the powers of creation and destruction…”

Chloe listens to Pollen, furiously memorizing everything, occasionally asking questions. “Wait.. so I can’t tell anyone? Not even Sabrina?”

“No, we can’t risk anyone finding out your identity and using your loved ones against you.”

“That makes sense..” Chloe notices Pollen flutter down. “Hey, are you okay?”

Pollen nods, “I’m sorry my queen, but I need to recharge.”

Chloe perks up. “Of course! What do you need? I have access to anything and everything I want.”

Pollen smiles appreciatively. “I would like some almonds, if it’s not too much trouble my queen.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I’ll get some sent up right now. I think I’ll get some chocolate covered ones for myself.”

Her phone buzzes. She picks it up, and.. “What? There’s more stone monsters?? Pollen, what’s going on?”

“My queen, did you purify the akuma?” Pollen chirps.“Was I supposed to do that?” Chloe asks, starting to panic.

“No, no! That was Sir Coccinelle’s job. You did everything right, my queen. We can figure this out in the morning, it’s getting late. Get some sleep, my queen. You did good.”

Chloe nods, trying to push away unease in her stomach. “Yeah… let’s get some sleep.”

Chapter 2

[96harmony96]

Chapter 19

Cary joined us in the living room for excellent Chinese, a sweet plum wine, and Monday night television. As we flipped channels and laughed over the hilarious names of some reality television shows, I watched as two of the most important people in my life enjoyed some relaxation time and each other. They got along well, ribbing and playfully insulting each other in that way friends had. I’d never seen that side of Lauren before and I loved it.

While I hogged one whole side of our sectional sofa, the two sat cross-legged on the floor and used the coffee table as a dining table. Both were wearing loose sweatpants and fitted T-shirts, and I appreciated the view. Was I a lucky girl or what?

Cracking his knuckles, Cary dramatically prepared to open his fortune cookie. “Let’s see. Will I be rich? Famous? About to meet Mr. or Ms. Tall, Dark, and Tasty? Traveling to distant lands? What’d you guys get?”

“Mine’s lame,” I said. “In the end all things will be known. Duh. I didn’t need a fortune to figure that out.”

Lauren opened hers and read, “Prosperity will knock on your door soon.”

I snorted.

Cary shot me a look. “I know, right? You snatched someone else’s cookie, Jauregui.”

“she better not be anywhere near someone else’s cookie,” I said dryly.

Reaching over, Lauren plucked half of mine out of my fingers. “Don’t worry, angel. Your cookie is the only one I want.” she popped it in her mouth with a wink.

“Gag,” Cary muttered. “Get a room.” He cracked his fortune with a flourish, and then scowled. “What the fuck?”

I leaned forward. “What’s it say?”

“Confucius say,” Lauren ad-libbed, “man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.”

Cary threw half his cookie at Lauren, who caught it deftly and grinned.

“Give me that.” I snatched the fortune out from between Cary’s fingers and read it. Then laughed.

“Fuck you, Camila.”

“Well?” Lauren prodded.

“Pick another cookie.”

Lauren smiled. “Pwned by a fortune.”

Cary threw the other half of his cookie.

I was reminded of similar evenings spent with Cary when I was attending SDSU, which made me try and picture what Lauren had been like in college. From the articles I’d read, I knew she’d attended Columbia for her undergraduate studies, then left to focus on her expanding business interests.

Had she associated with the other students? Did she go to frat parties, screw around and/or drink too much? she was such a controlled woman, I had a hard time picturing her that carefree, and yet here she was being exactly that with me and Cary.

she glanced at me then, still smiling, and my heart turned over in my chest. she looked her age for once, young and seriously fine and so very normal. At that moment, we were just a twenty-something couple relaxing at home with a roommate and a remote control. she was just my girlfriend, hanging out. It was all so sweet and uncomplicated, and I found the illusion a poignant one.

The intercom buzzed and Cary leaped to his feet to answer it. He glanced at me with a smile. “Maybe it’s Trey.”

I held up a hand with my fingers crossed.

But when Cary answered the door a few minutes later, it was the leggy blonde from the other night who came in.

“Hey,” she said, taking in the remnants of dinner on the table. She eyed Lauren appraisingly as she politely unfolded and stood in that powerfully graceful way of her. She shot me a smirk; then unleashed a dazzling supermodel smile on Lauren and held out her hand. “Tatiana Cherlin.”

she shook her hand. “Camila’s girlfriend.”

My brows lifted at her introduction. Was she protecting her identity? Or her personal space? Either way, I liked her response.

Cary came back into the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Come on,” he said, gestured down the hallway to his bedroom.

Tatiana gave a little wave and preceded Cary out. I mouthed behind her back to Cary, What are you doing?

He winked and whispered, “Picking another cookie.”

Lauren and I called it a night shortly after and headed to my room. As we got ready for bed, I asked her something I’d wondered about earlier. “Did you have a fuck pad in college, too?”

Her T-shirt cleared her head. “Excuse me?”

“You know, like the hotel room. You’re a randy girl. I just wondered if you’d had some kind of setup even then.”

she was shaking her head as I ogled her divinely perfect torso and lean hips. “I’ve had as much sex since I met you as I’ve had in the last two years combined.”

“No way.”

“I work hard and I work out harder, both of which keep me pleasantly exhausted most of the time. Occasionally, I might’ve gotten an offer I didn’t refuse, but otherwise I could take or leave sex until I met you.”

“Bullshit.” I found that impossible to believe.

she shot me a look before she headed toward the bathroom with a black leather toiletry bag. “Keep doubting me, Camila. See what happens.”

“What?” I followed her, enjoying the sight of her delectable ass. “You’re going to prove that you can take or leave sex by doing me again?”

“It takes two.” she opened her bag and pulled out a new toothbrush that she extricated from its packaging and dropped into my toothbrush holder. “You’ve initiated sex between us as much as I have. You need the connection as much as I do.”

“You’re right. It’s just…”

“Just what?” she pulled open a drawer, frowned at finding it full, and moved on to pull open another.

“Other sink,” I said, smiling at her presumption that she would get drawers at my place, too, and her scowl when she couldn’t find them. “They’re all yours.”

Lauren moved over to the second sink and began unpacking her bag into the drawers. “Just what?” She repeated, taking shampoo and body wash over to my shower.

Leaning my hip into the sink and crossing my arms, I watched her stake her claim all over my bathroom. There was no doubt that’s what she was doing, just as there was no doubt that anyone walking into the room would know right away there was a someone in my life.

It struck me then that I had a similar claim on her private space. Her household staff had to know their boss was in a committed relationship now. The thought gave me a little thrill.

“I was thinking about you in college earlier,” I went on, “when we were eating dinner, imagining what it would be like to see you around on campus. I would’ve been obsessed with you. I would have gone out of my way to see you around just to enjoy the view. I would’ve tried to get in the same classes as you, so I could daydream during lectures about getting into your pants.”

“Sex maniac.” she kissed the tip of my nose as she passed me and went to brush her teeth. “We both know what would’ve happened once I saw you.”

I brushed my hair and teeth; then washed my face. “So…did you have a sex pad for the rare occasions some lucky bitch got you in bed?”

Her gaze caught my soapy reflection in the mirror. “I’ve always used the hotel.”

“That’s the only place you’ve had sex? Before me?”

“The only place I’ve had consensual sex,” she said quietly, “before you.”

“Oh.” My heart broke.

I walked over to her, hugging her from behind. I rubbed my cheek against her back.

We went to bed and wrapped ourselves around each other. I buried my face in her neck and breathed her in, snuggling. Her body was hard, yet it was wonderfully comfortable against mine. she was so warm and strong, so powerfully female. I only had to think of her to want her.

I slid my leg over her hips and rose above her, my hands splayed atop the ridges of her abdomen. It was dark, I couldn’t see her, but I didn’t need to. As much as I loved that face of hers—the one ahe resented at times—it was the way she touched me and murmured to me that really got to me. As if there was no one else in the world for her, nothing ahe wanted more.

“Lauren.” I didn’t need to say anything else.

Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me deeply. Then she rolled me beneath her and made love to me with a tender possessiveness that rocked me to the soul.

I woke with a jolt of surprise. A heavy weight crushed me and a harsh voice spit ugly, nasty words into my ear. Panic gripped me, cutting off my air.

Not again. No…Please, no…

My stepbrother’s hand covered my mouth and he yanked my legs apart. I felt the hard thing between his legs poking blindly, trying to push into my body. My scream was muffled by his palm smashed over my lips and I cringed away, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Nathan was so heavy. So heavy and strong. I couldn’t buck him off. I couldn’t shove him away.

Stop it! Get off me. Don’t touch me. Oh, God…please don’t do that to me…not again…

Where was Mama? Ma-ma!

I screamed, but Nathan’s hand covered my mouth. It pressed down on me, squashing my head into the pillow. The more I fought, the more excited he became. Panting like a dog, he rammed against me over and over…trying to shove himself inside me…

“You’re going to know what it feels like.”

I froze. I knew that voice. I knew it wasn’t Nathan’s.

Not a dream. Still a nightmare.

God, no. Blinking madly in the darkness, I struggled to see. The blood was roaring through my ears. I couldn’t hear.

But I knew the smell of her skin. Knew her touch, even when it was cruel. Knew the feel of her body on mine, even as it tried to invade me.

Lauren’s erection battered into the crease of my thigh. Panicked, I heaved upward with all my strength. Her hand on my face dislodged.

Sucking air into my lungs, I screamed.

Her chest heaved as she growled, “Not so neat and tidy when you’re the one getting fucked.”

“Crossfire,” I gasped.

A flash of light from the hallway blinded me, followed by the blessed removal of Lauren’s smothering weight. Rolling to my side, I sobbed, my eyes streaming tears that blurred my view of Cary shoving Lauren across the room and into the wall, denting the drywall.

“Camila! Are you okay?” Cary turned on the bedside light, cursing when he saw me curled in a fetal position, rocking violently.

When Lauren straightened, Cary rounded on her. “Move one fucking muscle before the cops get here and I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp!”

Swallowing past my burning throat, I pushed up to a seated position. My gaze locked with Lauren’s and I watched the haze of sleep leave her eyes, replaced by a dawning horror.

“Dream,” I choked out, catching Cary’s arm as he reached for the phone. “she’s d-dreaming.”

Cary glanced at where Lauren crouched naked on the floor like a wild animal. Cary’s arm dropped back to his side. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “And I thought I was fucked up.”

Sliding off the bed, I stood on shaky legs, sick with lingering fear. My knees gave out and Cary caught me, lowering to the floor with me and holding me as I cried.

“I’m gonna crash on the couch.” Cary ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and leaned into the hallway wall. The door to my bedroom was open behind me and Lauren was inside, looking pale and haunted. “I’ll set out some blankets and pillows for her, too. I don’t think she should go home alone. she’s shredded.”

“Thanks, Cary.” The arms I had wrapped around my middle tightened. “Is Tatiana still here?”

“Hell, no. It’s not like that. We just fuck.”

“What about Trey?” I asked quietly, my mind already drifting back to Lauren.

“I love Trey. I think he’s the best person I’ve ever met aside from you.” He bent forward and kissed my forehead. “And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Stop worrying about me and take care of you.”

I looked up at him, my eyes swimming in tears. “I don’t know what to do.”

Cary sighed, his green eyes dark and serious. “I think you need to decide if you’re in over your head, baby girl. Some people can’t be fixed. Look at me. I’ve got a great guy and I’m giving it to a girl I can’t stand.”

“Cary…” Reaching out, I touched his shoulder.

He caught my hand and squeezed it. “I’m here if you need me.”

Lauren was zipping up her duffel bag when I returned to my room. she looked at me and fear slithered in my gut. Not for me, but for her. I’d never seen anyone look so desolate, so utterly broken. The bleakness in her beautiful eyes frightened me. There was no life in her. she was gray as death with deep shadows in all the angles and planes of her breathtaking face.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

she backed up, as if she wanted to be as far away from me as she could get. “I can’t stay.”

It worried me that I felt a surge of relief at the thought of being alone. “We agreed—no running.”

“That was before I attacked you!” She snapped, showing the first sign of spirit in over an hour.

“You were unconscious.”

“You’re not going to be a victim ever again, Camila. My God…what I almost did to you…” she turned her back to me, her shoulders hunched in a way that scared me as much as the attack had.

“If you leave, we lose and our pasts win.” I saw my words hit her like a blow. Every light in my room was on, as if electricity alone could banish all the shadows on our souls. “If you give up now, I’m afraid it’ll be easier for you to stay away and for me to let you. We’ll be over, Lauren.”

“How can I stay? Why would you want me to?” Turning around, she looked at me with such longing it brought fresh tears to my eyes. “I’d kill myself before I hurt you.”

Which was one of my fears. I had a difficult time picturing the Lauren I knew—the dominant, willful force of nature—taking her own life, but the Lauren standing before me was an entirely different person. And she was the child of a suicidal parent.

My fingers plucked at the hem of my T-shirt. “You’d never hurt me.”

“You’re afraid of me,” she said hoarsely. “I can see it on your face. I’m afraid of me. Afraid of sleeping with you and doing something that will destroy us both.”

she was right. I was afraid. Dread chilled my stomach.

Now I knew the explosive violence in her. The festering fury. And we were so impassioned with each other. I’d slapped her face at the garden party, lashing out physically when I never did that.

It was the nature of our relationship to be lusty and emotional, earthy and raw. The trust that held us together also opened us up to each other in ways that made us both vulnerable and dangerous. And it would get worse before it got better.

she shoved a hand through her hair. “Camila, I—”

“I love you, Lauren.”

“God.” she looked at me with something that resembled disgust. Whether it was directed at me or herself, I didn’t know. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“You just see this”—she gestured at herself with a wave of her hand. “You’re not seeing the fucked-up, broken mess inside.”

I inhaled sharply. “You can say that to me? When you know I’m fucked up and broken, too?”

“Maybe you’re wired to go for someone who’s terrible for you,” she said bitterly.

“Stop it. I know you’re hurting, but lashing out at me is only going to make you hurt worse.” I glanced at the clock and saw it was four in the morning. I walked toward her, needing to get past my fear of touching her and being touched by her.

she held up a hand as if to hold me off. “I’m going home, Camila.”

“Sleep on the couch here. Don’t fight me about this, Lauren. Please. I’ll worry myself sick if you go.”

“You’ll be more worried if I stay.” she stared at me, looking lost and angry and filled with terrible yearning. Her eyes pleaded with me for forgiveness, but she wouldn’t accept it when I tried to give it to her.

I went to her and took her hand, fighting back the surge of apprehension that hit me when we touched. My nerves were still raw, my throat and mouth still sore, the memory of her attempts at penetration—so like Nathan’s—were still too fresh. “We’ll g-get through this,” I promised her, hating that my voice quavered. “You’ll talk to Dr. Petersen and we’ll go from there.”

Her hand lifted as if to touch my face. “If Cary hadn’t been here—”

“He was, and I’ll be fine. I love you. We’ll get past this.” I walked into her, hugging her, pushing my hands beneath her shirt to touch her bare skin. “We’re not going to let the past get in the way of what we have.”

I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince.

“Camila.” Her returning hug squeezed all of the air out of me. “I’m sorry. It’s killing me. Please. Forgive me…I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” My eyes closed, focusing on the feel of her. The smell of her. Remembering that I once feared nothing when I was with her.

“I’m so sorry.” Her shaking hands stroked the curve of my spine. “I’ll do anything…”

“Shh. I love you. We’ll be okay.”

Turning her head, she kissed me softly. “Forgive me, Camila. I need you. I’m afraid of what I’ll become if I lose you…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” My skin tingled beneath the restless glide of her hands on my back. “I’m right here. No more running.”

she paused, her breath gusting harshly against my lips. Then she tilted her head and sealed her mouth over mine. My body responded to the gentle coaxing of her kiss. I arched into her without volition, pulling her closer.

she cupped my breasts in her hands, kneading them, circling the pads of her thumbs over my nipples until they peaked and ached. I moaned with a mixture of fear and hunger, and she quivered at the sound.

“Camila…?”

“I—I can’t.” The memory of how I’d woken up was too fresh in my mind. It hurt me to deny her, knowing she needed the same thing from me as I’d needed from her when I told her about Nathan—proof that the desire was still there, that as ugly as the scars of our pasts were, they didn’t affect what we were to each other now.

But I couldn’t give her that. Not yet. I felt too raw and vulnerable. “Just hold me, Lauren. Please.”

she nodded, wrapping her arms around me.

I urged her to sink to the floor with me, hoping I could get her to fall asleep. I curled into her side, my leg thrown over her, my arm draped over her hard stomach. she squeezed me gently, pressing her lips to my forehead, whispering over and over again how sorry she was.

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. “Stay.”

Lauren didn’t answer, didn’t make any promises, but she didn’t let me go either.

I woke sometime later, hearing Lauren’s heart beating steadily beneath my ear. All the lights were still on, and the carpeted floor was hard and uncomfortable.

Lauren lay on her back, her beautiful face youthful in sleep, her shirt lifted just enough to expose her navel and the ripped muscles of her abdomen.

This was the woman I loved. This was the woman whose body gave me such pleasure, whose thoughtfulness moved me over and over again. she was still here. And from the frown that marred the space between her brows, she was still hurting.

I slid my hand into her sweatpants. For the first time since we’d been together, she wasn’t hot steel in my palms, but she quickly swelled and thickened as I tentatively stroked her from root to tip. Fear lingered just beneath my arousal, but I was more afraid of losing her than of living with the demons inside her.

she stirred, her arm tightening around my back. “Camila…?”

This time I answered her the way I couldn’t before. “Let’s forget,” I breathed into her mouth. “Make us forget.”

“Camila.”

she rolled into me, peeling my shirt off with cautious movements. I was similarly tentative in undressing her. We approached each other as if each of us was breakable. The bond between us was fragile just then, both of us apprehensive about the future and the wounds we could inflict with all of our jagged edges.

Her lips wrapped around my nipple, her cheeks hollowing slowly, her seduction subdued. The tender suckling felt so good I gasped and arched into her hand. she caressed my side from breast to hip and back again, over and over, gentling me as my heart raced wildly.

she kissed across my chest to the other breast, murmuring words of apology and need in a voice broken by regret and misery. Her tongue lapped at the hardened point, worrying it, before surrounding it with wet heat and suction.

“lauren.” The delicate pulls expertly coaxed desire through my skittish mind. My body was already lost in her, greedily seeking the pleasure and beauty of her.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” she whispered. “Don’t pull away.”

she kissed my navel, and then moved lower, her hair caressing my stomach as she settled between my legs. she held me open with shaking hands and nuzzled my clit. her light, teasing licks through my cleft and the fluttering dips into my trembling sex took me to the edge of insanity.

My back bowed. Hoarse pleas left my lips. Tension spread through my body, tightening everything until I felt like I might snap under the pressure. And then she pushed me into orgasm with the softest nudge of the tip of her tongue.

I cried out, heated relief pulsing through my writhing body.

“I can’t let you go, camila.” lauren levered over me as I vibrated with pleasure. “I can’t.”

Brushing away the tear tracks from her face, I stared into her reddened eyes. Her torment was painful for me to witness, hurting my heart. “I wouldn’t let you if you tried.”

she took herself in hand and fed her cock slowly, carefully into me. My head pressed hard into the floor as she sank deeper, possessing my body one thick inch at a time.

When I’d taken all of her, she began to move in measured, deliberate thrusts. I closed my eyes and focused on the connection between us. Then she settled onto me, her stomach pressed to mine, and my pulse leaped with panic. Abruptly frightened, I hesitated.

“Look at me, camila.” Her voice was so hoarse it was unrecognizable.

I did, and saw her anguish.

“Make love to me,” she begged in a breathless whisper. “Make love with me. Touch me, angel. Put your hands on me.”

“Yes.” My palms pressed flat to her back; then stroked over the quivering muscles to her ass. Squeezing the hard flexing flesh, I urged her to move faster, plunge deeper.

The rhythmic strokes of her heavy cock through the clenching depths of my sex pushed ecstasy through me in heated waves. she felt so good. My legs wrapped around her plunging hips, my breath quickening as the cold knot inside me began to melt. Our gazes held.

Tears coursed down my temples. “I love you, lauren.”

“Please…” her eyes squeezed shut.

“I love you.”

she lured me to orgasm with the skilled rolling of her hips, stirring her cock inside me. My sex clenched tightly, trying to hold her, trying to keep her deep in me.

“Come, camila,” she gasped against my throat.

I struggled for it, struggled to get past the lingering apprehension that came from having her on top of me. The anxiety mingled with the desire, keeping me on edge.

she made a hoarse sound filled with pain and regret. “Need you to come, camila…need to feel you…Please…”

Cupping my buttocks, she angled my hips and stroked over and over that sensitive spot inside me. she was tireless, relentless, fucking me long and hard until my mind lost control of my body and I came violently. I bit her shoulder to stem my cries as I shook beneath her, the tiny muscles inside me trembling with ecstatic ripples. she groaned deep in her chest, a serrated sound of tormented pleasure.

“More,” she ordered, deepening her drives to give me that delectable bite of soreness. That she once again trusted us both enough to introduce that little touch of pain chased away the last of my reservations. As much as we trusted each other, we were learning to trust our instincts, too.

I came again, ferociously, my toes curling until they cramped. I felt the familiar tension grip lauren and tightened my grasp on her hips, spurring her on, desperate to feel her spurting inside me.

“No!” she wrenched away, falling to her back and throwing an arm over her eyes. Punishing herself by denying her body the comfort and pleasure of mine.

Her chest heaved and glistened with sweat. Her cock lay heavily on her belly, brutal-looking with its broad purpled head and thick roping of veins.

I dove for it with hands and mouth, ignoring her vicious curse. Pinning her torso with my forearm, I pumped her hard with my other fist and sucked voraciously on the sensitive crown. her thighs quivered, her legs kicking restlessly.

“Damn it, camila. Fuck.” she stiffened and gasped, her hands shoving into my hair, her hips bucking. “Oh, fuck. Suck it hard…Ah, Christ…”

she exploded in a powerful rush that almost choked me, coming hard, flooding my mouth. I took it all, my fist milking pulse after pulse up the throbbing length of her cock, swallowing repeatedly until she shuddered with the surfeit of sensation and begged me to stop.

I straightened and lauren sat up and wrapped herself around me. she took me back down to the floor where she buried her face in my throat and cried until dawn.

I wore a black long-sleeved silk blouse and slacks to work on Tuesday, feeling the need to have a barrier between myself and the world. In the kitchen, lauren cupped my face in her hands and brushed her mouth across mine with heartrending tenderness. her gaze remained haunted.

“Lunch?” I asked, feeling like we needed to cling to the connection between us.

“I have a business lunch.” she ran her fingers through my loose hair. “Would you come? I’ll make sure Angus gets you back to work on time.”

“I’d love to come along.” I thought of the schedule of evening events, meetings, and appointments she’d sent to my smartphone. “And tomorrow night we have a benefit dinner at the Waldorf=Astoria?”

Her gaze softened. Dressed for work, she looked somber yet collected. I knew she was anything but.

“You really won’t give up on me, will you?” she asked quietly.

I held up my right hand and showed her my ring. “You’re stuck with me, jauregui. Get used to it.”

On the drive to work, she cuddled me in her lap, and again on the ride to lunch at Jean Georges. I didn’t speak more than a dozen words during the meal, which lauren ordered for me and I enjoyed immensely.

I sat quietly at her side, my left hand resting on her hard thigh beneath the tablecloth, a wordless affirmation of my commitment to her. To us. One of her hands rested over mine, warm and strong, as she discussed a new property in development on St. Croix. We kept that connection throughout the entire meal, each of us choosing to eat one-handed rather than separate.

With each hour that passed, I felt the horror of the night before drain away from both of us. It would be another scar to add to her collection, another bitter memory she’d always have, a memory I would share and fear along with her, but it wouldn’t rule us. We wouldn’t let it.

Angus was waiting to take me home when my day ended. Lauren was working late, and then going directly from the Crossfire to Dr. Petersen’s office. I used the length of the drive to steel myself for the next round of training with Parker. I debated skipping it, but ended up deciding it was important to keep to a routine. So much in my life was uncontrollable at the moment. Following a schedule was one of the few things totally within my power.

After an hour and a half of tagging and groundwork with Parker at the studio, I was relieved when Clancy dropped me off at home and proud of myself for working out when it was the last thing I’d wanted to do.

When I stepped into the lobby, I found Trey talking to the front desk.

“Hey,” I greeted him. “Going up?”

He turned to face me, his brown eyes warm and his smile open. Trey had a gentleness to him, a kind of straightforward naïveté that was different from the other relationships Cary’d had before. Or maybe I should just say Trey was “normal,” which so few of the people in my and Cary’s lives were.

“Cary’s not in,” he said. “They just tried calling.”

“You’re welcome to come up with me and wait. I won’t be going out again.”

“If you really don’t mind.” He fell into step beside me as I waved at the gal at the front desk and moved toward the elevators. “I brought something for him.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I assured him, returning his sweet smile.

He eyed my yoga pants and tank top. “You just get back from the gym?”

“Yeah. Despite it being one of those days when I’d rather have done anything else.”

He laughed as we stepped into the elevator. “I know that feeling.”

As we rode up, silence descended. It was weighted.

“Everything all right?” I asked him.

“Well…” Trey adjusted the sling of his backpack. “Cary’s just seemed a little off the last few days.”

“Oh?” I bit my lower lip. “In what way?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I just feel like maybe something’s up with him and I’m missing what it is.”

I thought of the blonde and winced inwardly. “Maybe he’s stressed about the Grey Isles job and he doesn’t want to bother you with it. He knows you’ve got your hands full with your job and school.”

The tension in his shoulders softened. “Maybe that’s it. It makes sense. Okay. Thank you.”

I let us in to the apartment and told him to make himself at home. Trey headed to Cary’s room to drop his stuff, while I went to the phone to check the voicemail.

A shout from down the hallway had me reaching for the phone for a different reason, my heart thudding with thoughts of intruders and imminent danger. More yelling followed, with one voice clearly belonging to Cary.

I exhaled in a rush, relieved. With the phone in my hand, I ventured to see what the hell was going on. I was nearly run over by Tatiana rounding the hallway corner still buttoning her blouse.

“Oops,” she said, with an unapologetic grin. “See ya.”

I couldn’t hear the door shut behind her over Trey’s shouting.

“Fuck you, Cary. We talked about this! You promised!”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” Cary barked. “It’s not what you think.”

Trey came storming out of Cary’s bedroom in such a rush that I plastered myself to the hallway wall to get out of his way. Cary followed, with a sheet slung around his waist. As he passed me, I shot him a narrow-eyed glance that earned me a fuck-off middle finger.

I left the two men alone and escaped into my shower, angry at Cary for once again ruining something good in his life. It was a pattern I kept hoping he’d break, but he couldn’t seem to kick it.

When I came out to the kitchen a half hour later, the stillness in the apartment was absolute. I focused on cooking dinner, deciding to go with a pork roast and new potatoes with asparagus, one of Cary’s favorite dinners, in case he was home for dinner and needed some cheering up.

The sight of Trey stepping into the hallway while I was putting the roast in the oven surprised me, and then it made me sad. I hated to see him leave looking flushed, disheveled, and crying. My pity turned to fierce disappointment when Cary joined me in the kitchen with the scent of male sweat and sex clinging to him. He shot me a scowl as he passed me on his way to the wine fridge.

I faced him with my arms crossed. “Screwing a heartbroken lover on the same sheets he’s just caught you cheating on isn’t going to make things better.”

“Shut up, camila.”

“He’s probably hating himself right now for giving in.”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

“Fine.” I turned away from him and focused on seasoning the potatoes to put in the oven with the roast.

Cary grabbed wineglasses out of the cupboard. “I can feel you judging me. Stop it. He wouldn’t be half as pissed if it’d been a man he caught me fucking.”

“It’s all his fault, huh?”

“Newsflash: Your love life isn’t perfect either.”

“Low blow, Cary. I’m not going to be your punching bag over this. You messed up, and then you made it worse. It’s all on you.”

“Don’t get on your damn high horse. You’re sleeping with a woman who’s going to rape you any day now.”

“It’s not like that!”

He snorted and leaned his hip against the counter, his green eyes filled with pain and anger. “If you’re going to make excuses for her because she’s sleeping when she attacks you, you’ll have to make those same excuses for drunks and druggies. They don’t know what they’re doing either.”

The truth of his words struck me hard, as did the fact that he was deliberately trying to wound me. “You can put down a bottle. You can’t quit sleeping.”

Straightening, Cary opened the bottle he’d selected and poured two glasses, sliding one across the counter toward me. “If anyone knows what it’s like to be involved with people who hurt you, it’s me. You love her. You want to save her. But who’s going to save you, camila? I’m not always going to be around when you’re with her and he’s a ticking time bomb.”

“You wanna talk about being in relationships that hurt, Cary?” I shot back, deflecting him away from my painful truths. “Did you screw Trey over to protect yourself? Did you figure you’d push him away before he had the chance to disappoint you?”

Cary’s mouth curved bitterly. He tapped his glass to mine, which still sat on the counter. “Cheers to us, the seriously fucked up. At least we have each other.”

He stalked out of the room and I deflated. I’d known this was coming—the unraveling of circumstances too good to be true. Contentment and happiness didn’t exist in my life for more than a few moments at a time, and they were really only illusionary.

There was always something hidden. Lying in wait to spring up and ruin everything.

Lauren arrived just as dinner was coming out of the oven. she had a garment bag in one hand and a laptop case in the other. I’d worried that she would try to go home alone after her session with Dr. Petersen and was relieved when she’d called to say she was on her way. Still, when I first opened the door and saw her on the threshold, a shiver of unease slid through me.

“Hey,” she said quietly, following me back into the kitchen. “Smells delicious in here.”

“I hope you’re hungry. There’s a lot of food and I’ll be surprised if Cary joins us to help eat it all.”

lauren dropped her stuff on the breakfast bar and approached me cautiously, her gaze searching my face as she neared. “I brought some things with me to stay the night, but I’ll go if you want. At any time. Just tell me.”

I blew out my breath in a harsh rush, determined not to let fear dictate my actions. “I want you here.”

“I want to be here.” she paused beside me. “Can I hold you?”

I turned into her and squeezed her hard. “Please.”

she pressed her cheek against mine and hugged me close. The embrace wasn’t as natural and easy as we’d grown used to. There was a new wariness between us that was different from anything we’d felt before.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

If it's okay to send requests, may I ask for Snafu x male reader smut? Something rough, because it's been awhile since Merriell had been with a guy and he's excited?

Gosh I hope you like this–I think it turned out a little softer than you requested, but it’s kinda pretty … just like Snaf 😍

* * * * *

Coming home to Louisiana had filled Merriell with a wild unease. He had been Snafu for so long, he worried he had forgotten how to be any other part of himself.

So when it came time to soften his edges and adjust to civilian life, because let’s face it, Merriell had slid into the skin of Snafu Shelton like that was always who he had been, Mer found himself struggling.

He returned home to his beloved grandmother’s house, which sat abandoned on the outskirts of Thibodaux, and all around him, soldiers were starting new lives.

When Merriell Shelton had gotten off that train in New Orleans, he knew he wanted to start a new life, too.

He threw himself into fixing up Ma-maw’s house, determined to renovate it into something that would’ve made her proud to say her grandson had done it. And since he was fixing up the house, that meant there was always something to be done. Mer quickly learned the less he tried to sleep, the easier it was to keep Snaf’s demons at bay.  

It was on one of those late nights that Merriell first saw you through the window. At first, Mer merely glanced and kept walking, not wanting to be intrusive. But the second night, when you appeared in the same spot at the same time, you had sat down and started plucking at a guitar.

You weren’t very good, but it was obvious that you once had been. Merriell wondered if you had played before the war and had forgotten a part of yourself that had once been a little softer, too. Then, Merriell wondered why the fuck he was wondering.

But as time passed, Merriell figured out he could sit in the dark with the window open, drinking his whiskey and smoking his cigarettes, and hear your playing as clearly as if it were coming from the radio in the kitchen.

And after a month had passed, you had begun to sing, humming at first, but the hum soon turned into words, and the words into song.

Every night he listened to you.

Every night he longed for the courage to close the distance between you.

Until one night, mother nature decided enough was enough.

The weather had been hot for days; the kind of hot that reminded Merriell of sickness, of a clammy heat that bathed a person’s body in sweat until it felt like they were going to become one with the sun.

When Merriell finally went inside, lightening was flickering in the distance, bold pink flashes that lit up the bulging thunderheads that promised rain. It had gotten dark much earlier than usual, so when Merriell shucked off his shirt and took his spot near the window, he was unsurprised to hear you already playing.

Mer settled in with his whiskey and cigarettes as the thunder threatened to drown out your song, when suddenly, he found himself in pitch black night. A batch of sweat unrelated to the heat beaded out on his forehead.

Ya not on dat fuckin’ island, he repeated over and over in his mind until he was able to get up and stumble through his house, stopping to clutch at things he knew could never be in a foxhole—a cushion on the sofa, a cold bottle of beer, the silverware in his cutlery drawer. With every object he touched as he looked for a flashlight, he told himself he wasn’t over there.

Mer stopped, mid paw through a drawer and looked toward what sounded like a soft knocking on his front door.

It came again, surely as it had moments ago, so Merriell knew it wasn’t just in his mind.

He stumbled through the dark, his hand trembling slightly as he turned the knob and opened the door.

There was a light shining on the feet of the person at the door and Merriell squinted to adjust his eyes.

“Sorry to bother ya,” came a soft voice, the same soft voice that had damn near sung him to sleep for the past few weeks. “I—I live next door and jus’ wondered if ya had any bat—”

The flashlight died and left both of you in the dark for only a moment; a bright flash of lightening struck almost simultaneously with a clap of thunder, and mother nature finally opened herself up, buckets of rain pouring from the sky.

Too soon, both of you were bathed in darkness again.

Merriell chuckled, “Guess I know what ya needed without ya finishin’ dat sentence.”

“Guess so,” you said, your voice soothing even in your obvious distress.

“Think I got some candles. I was jus’ stumblin’ ‘round in the dark when ya knocked.”

You reached out a hand and accidently brushed against Merriell’s naked torso.

“So-sorry,” you stammered.

Merriell tried his best to tamp down the heat he felt at that inadvertent contact. It had been a long, long time since anyone had touched him on purpose.

Once you were inside, Merriell shut the door and waited for the next flash of lighting. Before it could totally blacken the room again, he took off for the kitchen and dug around in one of his Ma-maw’s junk drawers. He almost whooped with delight when he finally felt the hard coolness of a hunk of wax.

Pulling a pack of matches from his pocket, he lit the tip of the candle and turned to smile at you as you still stood near the front door.

“Have a seat?” Merriell asked as he gestured toward the kitchen table.

“I thank ya,” you mumbled and crossed quickly to sit down in front of the flickering candle.

Merriell rattled around the kitchen but couldn’t find any batteries or even a flashlight. He knew he had one in his truck, but he wasn’t about to go out in the dark and start rooting through it—not when he had an opportunity to have some company for an evening.

Mer did find two more candles, both fat and quite round, so he set them out on the table and looked down at you.

“Care fo’ a drink? Beer will be gettin’ warm.”

“Beer sounds great,” you said with a nervous smile.

Pulling two bottles from the fridge, Mer reached for the bottle opener on the counter and popped the first one off, the gentle rush of air escaping from the bottle sounding like a Boeing landing in his living room.

You grinned nervously at each other in the dark as Merriell popped his bottle open and slid onto the open kitchen chair.

“New to the neighborhood?” Merriell asked.

“Yeah, kinda. Grandparents had a place at the other end of town.”

You both lifted your bottles and drank, your eyes trained on the way Mer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, your gaze something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’ve really fixed the place up,” you offered.

“Been a hell of a job,” Merriell returned.

“Not like ya sleep much anyway,” you said before clamping your mother shut and lowering your eyes.

Merriell took another long draught of beer, nearly finishing it.

“Guess even ya music ain’t enough to quiet all dis,” he said with a quick tap to his temple, furtively letting you know he watched you as much as you watched him.

“I know what ya mean,” you said as you reached out and touched Merriell’s fingers.

You had meant for the gesture to be short, sympathetic, but Merriell spread his fingers a little wider and slid them gently along your fingers until they were nearly locked together.

“I—I should go,” you said, not yet daring to move.

“Yeah. I reckon ya should,” Mer agreed.

You slid his fingers farther into Merriell’s so now they were locked together, and you sat for a moment, holding hands across the almost ancient checked tablecloth of Ma-maw’s kitchen.

“Or …”

“Or?” Merriell question.

“I could stay?”

“Or ya could stay,” Merriell said, bringing his beer to his mouth and draining the last drops, never once taking his eyes off you.

You both moved at the same time, standing first then lunging at each other. Merriell’s kiss was bruising, his plump lips working over yours with brutality.

But you didn’t mind. You made to clear you wanted Merriell Shelton to take whatever it was he needed to give.

Tentatively, you did what you had been wanting to do from the first moment you had ever seen Merriell; you slid your hand into those wild curls and pulled, just enough of a tug to get Mer to stop his assault on your mouth. Slowly, you pushed him toward the counter, pinning him with your hand in his hair and your other hand on his hip.

You tugged, exposing Merriell’s neck to the flickering light of the candles and his skin looked so golden and delicious, you knew you wanted to taste every inch of his lithe body.

Tracing your tongue up Merriell’s neck, savoring the salty sweat and the earthy taste of him, you worked you tongue up to Mer’s ear. As you pressed into him, you could feel how eager Merriell was and that excited you, too, to know that this man you had been admiring from afar wanted you just as much.

The second you pulled Merriell’s earlobe between your lips and sucked, it was like something unleashed inside of him. Before you knew it, you had been flung over Merriell’s shoulder and were ordered to grab the two candles off the table. You did as you were told, barely encircling them in your hands before Mer was stomping down the hallway with his prize.

Merriell set you back on your feet and took the candles from your hands, placing them on the dresser. With a shove, he pushed you onto the bed and began another assault on your mouth. His kiss was demanding and deeply sensuous as he worked his tongue along yours and as he nibbled and sucked on your lower lip.

Your hands were dragging down his back, pressing into the hardened muscle, kneading it as you ground your hard cock against Mer’s.

“Want you,” you panted when Merriell pulled his tongue out of your mouth.

“Good. Because ya gonna get me.”

With a shiver, you sat up and pulled off your shirt, tossing it onto the floor. Merriell stood back from the bed and unbuckled his pants, which was the sexiest sight you had ever seen. He hooked his fingers into his briefs, the bright white such a contrast to his tanned skin, and pulled them off.

Immediately, Merriell’s hand went to his cock, his eyes half-lidded as he smirked at you, knowing he was making you unmercifully hard.

“Undress,” he commanded in a way that barely made his lips move.

You unbuckled your trousers and kicked them off, reaching for the band of your shorts before hesitating.

“Need a hand?”

You nodded shyly and Merriell pounced, palming your hard dick through the fabric of your shorts. You groaned and bucked up into his touch.

Mer slid your shorts down and without warning, enveloped you in the heat of his mouth. He moaned around you and you fought not to come right then and there.

“Merriell,” you begged. “I won’t last.”

He let go of your cock with a little pop and looked up at you with a cheshire grin.

“Can’t have ya undone dat quick, now can we?”

You shook your head no and Merriell sat up to lean toward his nightstand. He pulled out a jar of Vaseline and coated his index and middle finger with the slick substance.

Mer moved back up your body and began to kiss you, this time much more gently. And just as you felt yourself getting lost in the kiss, you felt him at your entrance, circling slowly, not daring to press into you just yet.

He worked you over slowly, meticulously, and by the time he had two fingers inside of you, your body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your cock was leaking, aching and red, a trail of precum connecting its tip and your stomach.

“Please,” you finally begged. “I’m ready.”

Merriell didn’t need anymore from you than that. He swirled the remnants of the Vaseline over the tip of his cock and gave it a few pumps to make sure he was well coated.

“On ya knees,” he said in an even voice.

It didn’t surprise you that Merriell wasn’t ready for the intimacy of a missionary position, and hell, you weren’t all that ready either. What you were ready for was him; you were ready to let him fuck you like you had imagined night after night.

Merriell pulled you to the edge of the mattress as he stood. He aligned himself with your entrance and slid in quick enough to make you hiss.

He stilled, letting you adjust to his size.

“So tight,” Mer said, his voice much less steady than a moment ago.

Knowing you were the one making him lose control, you backed up and sheathed him entirely inside of you.

Both of you moaned out, shuddering at the sensation.

After that, Merriell couldn’t have held back even if he had wanted to. And you were glad to take it—the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you had you wrapping your own hand around your cock and coming hard and fast onto the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” Merriell moaned as he felt you clench around him.

He gripped your ass and began to fuck you in earnest, your legs spread just enough and your ass clinging tightly around his cock, threatening to milk him dry.

“Come inside of me,” you hissed, your hands clenching the sheets. “I need it.”

Merriell moaned low in his throat, a moan that built into an animalistic growl as he pounded into your ass and when he let go, pumping his load inside of you, he was damn-near screaming.

You winced as he pulled out, your arms a little shaky as you collapsed onto the bed. Merriell returned from the bathroom with a damp towel and offered it to you.

“Thanks,” you said, swiping at some cum on your stomach and the cool puddle on the sheets.

Merriell walked around to the other side of the bed and slid in as you adjusted to lay on your side to look at him.

“Dat’s ma side,” he said with a crooked grin.

“Wanna switch?”

“Nah. Think I can make do ova’ here fo’ one night. Come here,” he said raising his arm so you could slide in underneath it.

Merriell pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades, and soon you were both fast asleep, the distant sound of thunder fading away while the rain persisted with its cooling renewal.  

[barleylightfoot]

MY THOUGHTS DURING THE LAST RAPUNZEL’S TANGLED ADVENTURE EPISODE. SPOILER ALERT, DO NOT CLICK THE READ MORE IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN PLUS EST EN VOUS.

The episode starts with an amazing voiceover by Eugene! What an ICONIC storyteller. I can't believe this is the last one we'll ever get. Welp, I'm already emotional.

A STORY OF TWO BEST FRIENDS. At least that's a glow-up considering they were called sisters throughout the past episodes. Best friends fits them better.

I love how Eugene has constant faith in Rapunzel, no matter how big and scary their enemies are.

Awww, I missed Arianna. Glad to see she's doing good, despite everything.

I was ready for an heroic song and then it was a super pretty instrumental of wind in my hair instead. What a throwback.

This freaking animation when Arianna and Rapunzel ride their horses back to Corona. They went all out.

The last time in the Snuggly Duckling 😥

Eugene saying “What would Rapunzel do?” is my favorite.

We can always count on King Edmund for comedic relief.

SONG TIME! With all the allies Rapunzel has met along the way, awwwwwwwwww.

HE CAN PLAY THE PIANO? Is there anything Varian cannot do?

I NEED A NICKNAME FOR EUGENE. N O W.

Back to Cass in the castle, destroying her old room... She’s really far gone, isn't she?

TEAM AWESOMEEEEEE. I love how close Varian and Eugene have gotten.

LANCE, YOU GENIUS. He solved that riddle in less than a second.

GE-BUG? EXCUSAME?

HEYHEYHEYHEY! I love when Eugene gets feisty 🔥

Varian saying don't press that button... I have an awful feeling about this, because Lance is known to go against Varian's advice. MULTIPLE TIMES.

NOT VARIAN TURNING INTO A MONKEY NOOOOO

Omg brotherhood!Pascal. I’m dying. He’s such a thespian.

New Dream talking about the engagement, and Eugene saying “Who's turn is it again?” AWW.

THE DREAM VOWS.  I'M EMOTIONAL.

LET ME MAKE YOU PROUD IN THE BACKGROUND. FUCK ME.

And of COURSE this is followed by Quirin turning bad. This was foreshadowed a lot rip. Varian is so smart for coming up with that helmet, though!!

I have a feeling Raps' true powers are unleashed now.

Omg stupid HAMUEL WHY WOULD YOU RUIN EVERYTHING.

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwh. This is a Cassunzel song.

Yessssssss, Cass. CAGE ZHAN TIRI UP.

Omg this is like the quantum realm in Ant-Man!

The freaking hot pink sky above Corona. This is really the end of the world.

Lil Pascal with his fists, ready to fight. bless him.

Hahahaha is this the explanation of varian's hair everyone's looking for? The blue lock is secretly a snake?

WAIT. EDMUND JUST LEAD EUGENE TO THE TRAP? WHY DID I NOT SEE THAT COMING? THE SYMBOL WAS ON HIS COAT THAT WHOLE TIME?

YAS EUGENE! TELL THEM WHO'S THE BOSS!

GO SAVE YOUR BUDDY MAX!!!!!!! (glad he wasn’t lost in the quantum realm lol)

Awww that scene between Eugene and Edmund was so sweet. I love the Fitzherbert fam.

OMFG THE HAIR CHANGES AFTER LOOSING THE DROP AND STONE???????? Why am I so shook lol that’s literally what gave Rapunzel her blonde hair and Cass her blue hair, and yet...

And omg Zhan Tiri in her true form is haunting.

Wait lol wasn't Varian riding on Catalina just now? (nope, it was monster!Ruddiger)

The coloring change when Zhan Tiri says the decay spell. Give these people A RAISE.

FRYING PANS, WHO KNEW!!!!!!

OMG RAPUNZEL’S HAIRCUT WAS THE LAST EPIC MOVE?????????

THE HUG OF THE TRIO. There’s nothing I couldn’t do, not with you by my sideeeeeeeee. I love how it was a parallel to Arianna pulling Eugene into the hug at the end of Tangled.

Eugene saying “Cass, you were worth fighting for.” LSJDSKJSKDSX

Now that I’m reading this back I know Cass died somewhere after or before this but I’m super confused as to how that happened so I really need to watch that again lol.

I'M HAPPILY EVER AFTER AFTER ALL!!!!!!!!!

LANCE ADOPTED ANGRY AND CATALINA KSDJDKSJSKJDSDKJ I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT. He was technically their babysitter throughout the whole third season.

They all have their happily ever afters in some way, awww.

Fade to black and then LUCKILY they come back. I KNEW THEY COULDN'T LEAVE WITHOUT THE ENGAGEMENT.

WHAT A PERFECT SETTING???? I would’ve loved to see a See The Light reprise, but gosh, that was the most perfect scene/ending ever. Eugene finally proposed.

It’s really freaking over. I cannot believe it. I’m SO EMOTIONAL AND I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. 

[astyle-alex]

[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

Another chapter goes live!

Start With Why

Fandom: the Old Guard Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team are all quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 2,761

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

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Part II  ::  BOOKER

           Booker is not a good person, not really.

           He was a decent man before he died; a faithful, loving husband and a doting, embarrassingly indulgent father, a reliable and responsible (albeit criminal) businessman, and just altogether decent.

           But he was never good.

           Not like Andy.

           Andy was a beacon for him, a light in the dark in the horror that he felt after Russia.

           She knew what pain was. She knew grief with the same intimate ache of guilt and loneliness and longing that drove him to drink, and yet she was still so good.

           So good, and so driven.

           She made him good— or, at least, she made him better, made sure that even if he wasn’t really a good person, he could damn well do some good for others.

           Nicky and Joe were good too; a different kind of good, but better than Booker could ever hope to be. They believed in Andy like the Grace of Fate she had to be, and they believed in him with the very same kind of ferocious Faith.

           Booker knew he didn’t deserve it, that he’d never deserved it.

           And as he sank into his grief, into his loneliness and loss, and as the world burned down around them ever-more efficiently, Booker knew he deserved their Faith less and less.

           As Andy began to indulge his benders more and more frequently, as she began to forget how much good she really did for the world, Booker knew he deserved their love even less.

           Andy wanted to die.

           She wanted all of it to just be over.

           Booker did too, more than anything. He fed her worst impulses and couldn’t make himself stop even when he knew it was hurting her… when he knew it was ruining her.

           Wallowing with her in the guilt and the loss and anguish… it hurt Booker far less than it did trying not to burst with the force of self-loathing he experienced while drowning his sorrows in alcohol around Joe and Nicky— hobbling their bliss with his how his demons ran unleashed.

           They’ve always thought he was jealous.

           They still do, Booker knows, they think he was so jealous of their happiness that he was willing to sell them out to Merrick because he hated how he could not have a share of their joy enough to let his selfish desire to end things overshadow any sort of more-than-Family bond they had… Than the unbreakable bond they were supposed to share implicitly after 200 years of fighting at each other’s backs and standing at each other’s sides.

           But Booker had never been jealous, not really.

           He’d been happy for them, painfully happy. He loved them. Still loves them.

           He loves them with the fierce passion of a man granted salvation by their hand— because he had been, in no uncertain terms.

           Nicky and Joe are his brothers.

           He wants them to be happy. He wants nothing more fervently, not even his own escape.

           Booker knows the true depth of love that finding a perfect compliment to your soul can create. And he knows the even deeper love of having experienced fatherhood.

           He knows what love is, what it could be, and he knows they have a true one.

           And he knows how much it would hurt when something makes it break.

           Booker might not be a good person, but he could never wish the pain he felt at losing his family on anyone— especially not on Joe and Nicky. They are his brothers and he loves them enough to want to help ensure that they would never have to face the horror of a life alone.

           To ensure that none of them did.

           After escaping Merrick, after getting cleaned up and getting alcohol acquired, and after imposing his own self-banishment to the balcony, Booker thought he’d have nothing but his own regrets for company until his Fate and punishment had been decided.

           And then he’d probably have nothing left at all.

           But that wasn’t how it turned out.

           Andy had come out to question him on Copley.

           He’d tried to answer her questions, but he knew he didn’t do it justice.

           Copley was… Copley understood. He knew the pain Booker was facing, understood the depths of his despair— not entirely, but enough to make it matter.

           And more than that, he understood Andy… He understood the good she did for the world, understood how to help her do even more good while simultaneously giving her the option of that final release which she’d been craving acutely for the last 100 years, at least.

           Copley… Copley was good, and he wanted to do good— wanted to help them do good. It would be a gift given directly to the world; one Andy could see impacting people’s lives.

           And it would be a gift to them, giving them the out they’d been both dreading and hoping for in a desperate, wavering ache of woefully undecided.

           Booker had never given Andy anything but a reflection of her grief. He’d hoped this was a way to give her something more.

           And give Joe and Nicky something, too.

           All while giving the world something greater than the good any of them had dared to hope they could ever manage to affect.

           Booker doesn’t convey it right. He knows that when Andy goes more and more rigid beside him as he speaks— knows it when she turns her back on him and rejoins the others.

           But still, if he at least managed to tell her proper that it wasn’t Merrick he’d sold them out too… Maybe Copley’s goodness wouldn’t be too overshadowed by his own mistake.

           Because even now, even after everything and all the horror of what Merrick and Kozak had planned to wreck— of all the terror that they had wrought— Booker still thinks of Copley’s goodness and does not regret getting close to him.

           He still does not regret letting him get close to them.

           Andy needs Copley. She needs to see what he can see, or else she’ll turn into something too much like the drunken, useless mess that Booker has become.

           Now, with her new mortality, she might just kill herself and finally be done with it.

           It’s a thing that Booker finds himself… actively dreading.

           She wants to die, he knows this, but… he doesn’t want her to take on that bounty of her newfound mortality just yet. He doesn’t want her to die without seeing what he always has, without seeing what he hadn’t… what he hadn’t even guessed but Copley found.

           Andy is good and deserves to know it, to feel it… and he believes Copley will help her.

           If she does die soon, Booker wants her to at least die happy— to die feeling a little bit like she can revel in what her long life has accomplished.

           “You really thought it would help.”

           Nile’s statement startles Booker, but he’s too exhausted with the effort of just existing to jump. And it takes all of his cognition to parse her words and tone together. Her eyebrow’s raised like the statement was supposed to be framed as a question, and her lip is curled with a tinge of incredulous disgust like it’s really meant to be an accusation, but her voice and shoulders and eyes are soft… like she truly wants to try to understand his side of it.

           “I was wrong,” Booker admits. “I was blind.”

           “But you really thought it would help,” Nile repeats, not taking his bullshit.

           “Yeah. I did,” Booker confesses, hanging his head until his neck screams at the strain.

           Nile doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t have to. She just stands there and shifts her weight to the opposite heel and crosses her arms with that eyebrow still cocked as she waits for the explanation they both know she’s due.

           “Living like this, like Andy and I… it’s not okay,” Booker tells her. “I thought that if we could so some good and find a way to let this end… I thought it would be worth it.”

           Nile absorbs that, sits with it a minute to really let it process.

           Book side-eyes her and counts her steady breaths.

           “What about Joe and Nicky,” Nile asks, again in that way she has for giving a sort-of statement in an accusation but still with open room for questions to be answered.

           “They weren’t supposed to be taken,” Booker promises. “No one was. The footage was supposed to be enough to get Merrick interested, and the samples he needed were supposed to come from me, alone. Copley didn’t think we’d even need to go to Merrick’s lab directly, we thought that I could just stay with Copley for a few weeks collecting whatever samples Merrick said he needed there and just letting Copley pass them on…”

           Nile’s head cants sharply as she huffs an incredulous breath.

           “I knew pieces of me would be taken, I knew they would be studied,” Booker admitted wholly. “But I didn’t… didn’t recognize, I guess, how depraved science had gotten to be… I’d lived through witnessing Mengele’s atrocities and I thought… I thought it was a rarity, an aberration of the norm. I didn’t realize it was an infection he’d contracted that others could be infected by as well. I thought enlightened ethics would’ve bettered people smart enough to learn them in becoming doctors…”

           “But what about Joe and Nicky,” Nile presses after letting the weight Booker’s latest confession dissipate. “You said it was a gift for all of us. That’s what you told Andy, all of us.”

           “They wouldn’t have needed to use it now,” Booker told her, looking at her head on for the first time since leaving her alone at the table with the others’ waiting drinks.

           Nile waits for more and Booker can’t find the words to give her.

           “You’re so young, now, sweet girl,” Booker says, heart-breaking as it swells with the odd feeling of thinking her both a little sister and an adoptive daughter all at once. “So young.”

           She bristles, but she doesn’t bite his head off at the comment she clearly knows he doesn’t mean as an insult.

           “You don’t know what it’s like to love as they do, you cannot even fathom it,” he confides.

           She’s still stiff with a pinch of indignation, but she is mature enough to recognize that four days of being an Immortal is not enough to have the proper grasp of scale for this. She cannot truly fathom what it means to have been so in love as Joe and Nicky, to have been so in love for over 900 years. If pressed, Booker would confidently bet that she hasn’t even quite wrapped her head around what it means to live 900 years— and he can already guess that she’s stunningly self-aware of her lack in that comprehension.

           But the duration of Joe and Nicky’s love is not the only piece of it that makes it special.

           They love with a passion that ascribes their whole being— they’ve found a compliment to their very souls. Most would envy them, would do anything to feel even a fraction of it.

           But not Booker.

           Because he had it.

           And he lost it.

           And he could never wish that pain on Joe and Nicky.

           “It just stops,” Booker says suddenly in the quiet of a silence stretched too long. “We don’t know when and we don’t know why, but one day, it just stops.”

           Nile shifts closer, listening.

           “One of them will go first.”

           There’s a soft gurgle that speaks of strangled breath in Nile’s throat.

           Booker almost hates to go on, but he owes it to Nile to explain himself fully— owes it to all of them, honestly. He owes it to them to try.

           “They died together the first time, but we can’t assume they’ll die together for the last time,” Booker rambles on. “We can’t know which one will stop first, or guess by how long one will outlive the other, but there’s far too much of a risk in it to pretend we’re safe in thinking that they’ll manage to truly leave this world together.”

           Nile remains quiet as Booker looks at his hands, clasped together with white-knuckled grit that has already broken at least one finger.

           “You’re so young, Nile. You’ve lost your father and your world ended, I’m sure,” he tells her, trying to show that he truly does sympathize— trying to show that what he’s about to say is not meant to diminish her loss, but to contextualize his own.

           “But to lose a parent, even to lose one as a child,” Booker sighs, “Is to be a neighbor with a dead pet in the face of your loss in terms of you trying to understand the despair of at the heart of losing love like mine, like theirs. You simply cannot comprehend the weight of it.”

           “You don’t think they could face it,” she accuses, steady this time in her statement, making it almost purely an indictment.

           Booker hangs his head again. “I wouldn’t wish for them to ever need to…”

           “But what if they aren’t like you, aren’t doomed like you think they are? What if they could grow from the loss,” Nile presses, thinking— Booker’s certain— of how her own mother had managed to carry on fighting. “They’d know that the other would want them to keep fighting the good fight. They’ve probably had words on it directly, made each other promise not to let a loss destroy the work of the man they love.”

           She thinks he’s underestimated them, and perhaps he has.

           Nile’s right that they aren’t like him, they aren’t weak or cowardly like him.

           But still…

           “Andromache was once ‘not like me’,” Booker tells her. “Even after Quynh… Eventually, the weight of it all will change them, like it changed her… and while I know they’re strong and fierce and fearless, I also know they don’t love like her, reserved and distant and calmly comfortable. They love like me; they love in a way that consumes them, they love like they believe it can truly save the god damned world.”

           “Maybe it can,” Nile retorts, digging in. “Maybe it’s the only thing that can.”

           She leaves him there with that statement hanging in the air above his weary shoulders.

           It’s such a simple idea, and yet, it fits itself to all his jagged pieces like a balm with the pure grace of the Divine that he’s forgotten how to let himself believe in.

           When Joe or Nicky go down in combat, the other is rendered an avenger— Joe becomes a monster of fiery ferocity; Nicky, an avenging angel with the cold calculation of unyielding stone.

           But… but if one went down and stayed down…

           Maybe that focus wouldn’t stay destructive forever.

           Maybe Nile has a point, maybe the love they have for each other could change things...

           Maybe it would be enough to make itself into another miracle… Maybe it would be the inspiration needed for them to truly change the world for the better.

           Maybe love shouldn’t be what ruins him, but what saves him instead.

           His wife and children would be ashamed of who he has become.

           How they were at the end… how they’d hated him, how they’d only seen the selfish coward who wouldn’t help them when they needed it most… They wasn’t how he wanted to remember them, and it wasn’t how he would’ve wanted to let himself be remembered.

           Booker wasn’t ever a good person.

           But he hadn’t always been this bad.

           Perhaps it was time to let go of the time between when he died in Russia and when he’d died again as the one he loved had. Perhaps it was time to live as if he’d truly died the first time.

           And been reborn entirely new.

           He still had a Family after all, and he loved him every bit as fiercely as if they had truly been born his brothers and sister— he loved them far more fiercely than any of his fellows from the war where he’d felt the fraternal camaraderie of being ‘brothers at arms’…

           Maybe it was time to be the man he could have been if his wife had ever known what could happen to him in despair and had then asked him directly to be better than to let himself succumb to such a fall.

          Perhaps in another version of reality she had.

          Perhaps even in this version, he could start living up to what she would've hoped for if things had turned out differently...

           If she had ever asked him to live on and be better… maybe he would have found within him a bit more strength to do so.

          Maybe he still could...

- - - - -

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[evanbucklley]

here's an idea: eddie kissing buck's tattoos, all of them 👀 you can take it from there. we love some intimacy

this was a prompt right? because i wrote it lol i hope it’s okay.. 

In these small hours (ao3)

It was a quiet night, the tv volume was low, the glaring light brightening the dim loungeroom just enough to see the man sitting next to him. Eddie unconsciously stroked Bucks arm, his thumb leaving a trail of warmth with it. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so peaceful; a time where he could just be. The outside world felt so far away, it was just them and they just were. Complete homely bliss. Eddie glided him thumb up Bucks arm, tracing the outline of his double banded tattoo, catching Bucks attention.  

Bucks focus switched between Eddies hand and his eyes – that deep hazel capturing him in a trance, the warm colouring like an old oak under the golden haze of summer.

“How many tattoos do you have anyway?” Eddie asked.

“Uh,” Buck paused and looked off to the left, mentally counting, “…six… No, seven. Why?”

Eddie smiled, “Just curious.” Eddie continued to drag his fingers over Bucks skin and licked his lips. He had always wondered about Bucks tattoos – whether they’d been the object of fascination or meaningful event, Eddie wanted to know everything. “Can I see them?” The question slipped out before he had the chance to catch himself. The unconscious thought was now present in the verbal world. Eddie mentally cursed at himself for his lack of tact – he would’ve asked Buck eventually… but in a way that meant something. For the both of them. The air caught in his lungs as he couldn’t quite bring himself to breathe.

Buck scratched his cheek, lines forming between his eyebrows before he spoke, “Uh, yeah, I guess if you want to.”

Eddie’s eyes widened only for a fraction of a second. He didn’t expect that he’d be so… open? Maybe? He knew Bucks tattoos were mainly scattered over his arms and torso from previous incidents of nudity; like when they went to the beach together with Christopher or when he’d caught him coming out of the shower. But never had he gotten quite close enough to look.

Buck leaned forward and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his face then off his arms. A shimmer glistened over his torso, from the minute beads of sweat forming with the humidity. Eddie swallowed. The material was then discarded over the back of the couch.

Eddies face flushed; the memory no matter how wonderful, paled in comparison to the real time Buck without a shirt. God just the sight sent a tingling sensation through his body. His tongue darted out leaving a quick, damp layer over his bottom lip before his teeth sunk down.

“When did you get this one?” he asked, moving closer.

Buck paused, a sad smile meant only for him surfacing as he relieved a memory, “About 10 years ago now I think.”

“Tell me about it?”

Buck pondered for a second, caught up in the nostalgia.

“Only if you’re okay with it, I mean.”

“No, I wanna tell you.” Buck took a deep breath in. “When I was little my grandma used to look after me a lot – she was one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever known.”

Was? Eddie gave Bucks arm a squeeze.

“She used to uh, have this little vegetable garden out by the back porch.” His face lit up in the sweetest grin, “We used to plant things together you see–” Buck nudged Eddie’s shoulder–, “Oh! The strawberries were my favourite, and I would always get in trouble for eating them all before she had the chance to collect them.” He laughed heartily. This time there was no sadness, only joy at the shared memory of the past. “Anyway, just after I got out of high school, she… she died and it hit me a little hard, I guess. The very next day I was in the parlour getting inked. My folks weren’t too happy about that.”

“Must’ve been rough,” Eddie said. He knew he shouldn’t have been happy in that moment, but he was. Buck was sharing a story about himself. A rarity among rarities. This was something only he knew. And that felt glorious.

“I guess… She was a big part of my life but she passed away peacefully and that’s all I could really ask for, you know? She lived a long, happy life.”

Eddie’s heart melted. He couldn’t believe someone this genuine existed. Maybe it was the residual heat of the day, or the Santa Anas but Eddie had an overwhelming desire to touch him. To embrace him. His hand slipped to the underside of Bucks arm and he tugged it close to his face, lips brushing over the banded tattoo. His heart was pounding in his chest, his blood on fire as if he had been thrust into the sun. He couldn’t stop there. He pushed Buck down so he was lying flat on the couch, and hovered over top, trailing kisses up Bucks arm before landing at another tattoo – this one an overlay of geometric shapes, kind of resembling a star, situated on Bucks chest. To which he also placed a slow, sensual kiss.

Buck whined but didn’t resist. Oh God did that noise set Eddies heart ablaze.

“Eddie –” Bucks tongue caught in his throat as Eddie swiped his hand over his left peck.  

“Shhh… I’m counting,” Eddie whispered, his warm breath unleashing goose bumps over Bucks skin.

Eddie trailed his thumb upwards, gliding over the next tattoo, a squiggle-shaped three with a cross over top. He brought his mouth to Bucks burning skin, caressing it in a light peck.

“That makes three.” He looked up at Buck, eyes full of hunger.

There was this fiery desire inside of him, wanting, needing to caress every mark that ever had the blessing to grace Bucks supple skin. Each one, a moment or memory in Buck’s life that he hadn’t known. He ached to know every last detail about this man.

Buck writhed underneath him as Eddie raked his hands down Bucks torso. Buck desperately tried to cover his face with his arms to hide his reddening features, revealing another tattoo on the inside of his left upper arm in the process. Oh? One hand stayed synched on Bucks waist, but the other grasped Bucks elbow and pushed it down as his lips crashed onto the fourth tattoo. Bucks skin slightly salty, as Eddie swiped his tongue over the area.

“Four.”

Buck moaned then sunk lower into the couch. Eddie paused. Did he just find a sweet spot? Though unexpected it was a welcome surprise; Eddie loved hidden treasures. He smirked.

Eddie delicately withdrew Bucks hand from his face, wanting to see everything. The soft lighting hit Buck in every right way; as if the warm glow had cast a magic spell, he was enchanted. He caressed under Bucks eye, rubbing softly before cupping his hand around Bucks face.

It caught Eddie off-guard when Buck leaned into his hand and shut his eyes. Here he was, embracing the man that had filled his whole heart and thought there wasn’t a luckier man alive.

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free,” Buck whispered.

“What?”

“The one on my arm… it’s a quote from Michelangelo,” Buck responded, still flustered. “You know, the artist.”

Eddie chuckled, “I know who Michelangelo is, Buck.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, “He also happens to be Christopher’s favourite ninja turtle.”

“A respectable choice,” Buck grinned.

“You know he was 13 when he started his apprenticeship?”

“The turtle?” Eddie, of course, knew exactly who he meant but it was always fun playing dumb. He loved it when Buck told him of his passions, dumping copious amounts of information that he’d stayed up researching. And hey, he even learned a thing or two.

Buck giggled, shoving Eddies chest, “The artist.”

“Oh.”

“He wasn’t even the first choice to paint the Sistine Chapel, Raphael was – ” Buck let out a squeal as Eddie nibbled down his chest–, “But convinced the pope to hire Michelangelo to prove he didn’t have the range. He sure showed him – painted the whole thing himself. It may have taken 4 years but he did it.”

Eddie rested his chin on Bucks ribcage and stared up at him, eyes full with a soft smile. It was warm, but of the pleasant kind, and Eddie’s face rose and fell with Bucks chest as he continued his rambling adventure. The vibrations from Bucks voice like the pattering of rain on a tin roof, and his heartbeat like excited footsteps on hard wood flooring. If there were one meaning for his existence, it would be this moment.

Buck smoothed his hand over Eddie’s hair, giving it a tousle, and guided his arm into Eddie’s line of sight.

“I think you were at five,” Buck’s voice now low and gravelly.

Eddie could hardly contain himself – not only was Buck not rejecting his advancements, he was responding, initiating.

Taking this chance, Eddie held Bucks hand with a firm grip and trailed five kisses up the length of the quote.

“Five kisses for the fifth,” he whispered.

Eddie moved on from Bucks arm, still unwilling to release Bucks hand, and continued to kiss down Bucks torso. An outline of a head, with an anatomical heart was the next tattoo he found, on the lower left side of Bucks abdomen.

He had a pretty good idea what this one was about. Buck had always been an emotional thinker – he followed his heart wherever it took him. And that wasn’t a bad thing. Especially since that heart lead Buck here, to Eddie. Buck’s heart was and probably will always be, the best thing about him.

Eddie placed his lips over the black ink and he could almost feel it beating. Thump. Thump. Thump. Or maybe that heartbeat was his own? He nibbled the area then smoothed it over with his tongue, Buck squirming underneath him. This was by far his favourite. He placed his mouth around the centre of the heart and sucked for a few seconds before releasing. Bucks skinned reddened and Eddie smirked. The heart was now as vibrant as his own.

“This was number six… so there’s one more left.” He shot a look to Buck, prompting him to tell him where the last one was. Buck shied away, blinking a few times. Was the last one somewhere… indecent?

Eddie growled and grabbed the top of Bucks pants, ready to explore the hidden territory. Buck bit his lip and glided his hand atop Eddie’s and lead it down over his hip. Eddie took slow shallow breaths, like a predator ready to pounce. Buck continued to move their hands lower and lower until he reached the bottom of his left trouser leg. He dragged up the hem, revealing the quote scrawled in cursive over his calf. Eddie chuckled. Buck was teasing him. Oh, he was going to get him back for that later.

Eddie gave it a quick kiss before sitting back up.

“You sure you don’t have any more?” he said, almost sulky. He wanted to keep going.

Buck cleared his throat and looked away, feigning interest in the house now showing on the tv.

“Hey that’s pretty cool, I’ve always wanted to renovate my own house.”

Eddie looked to the screen, “It’s a lot harder than it looks on tv you know – whether you get contractors or do it yourself.”

Bucks gave him a look and sat up, “Can I put my shirt back on now?”

“If you must.” Eddie noticed the evasion of his question but that only made it more exciting. One of these days he would find out for sure if Evan Buckley did indeed have another tattoo.