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tarotlogy · 2 years

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SIX OF CUPS

HOME, CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

KEYWORDS

Emotional Security, Being Cared for, Giving and Receiving, Openness, Sharing, Goodwill, Kindness, Charity, Gifts, Blessings, Simple Joys, Helping, Forgiveness, Peace, Harmony, Protected, Being Guarded by another, Calm, Contentment, Sanctuary, Fortress, Security, Restricted Freedom/Movement, Predictability, The Past, Past Influences, Nostalgia, Longing, Yearning, Homesick, Familiarity, Innocence, Trust, Childhood, Childhood Sweetheart/Friends, A Child/Baby, Young Person, Playful, Youthful, Courtship, Memories, Reminiscing, Trip down Memory Lane, The Homestead, Hometown, Old Haunts, Old Friends, The Good old Days, The Past, Childhood Issues/Abuse, Old Age, Senility, Nursing Homes, Nurseries

CARD DESCRIPTION AND IMAGERY

As we prepare to enter the Six of Cups, let us take a few moments to cast our mind back to the Five. When we last visited the Cups, it was very upsetting indeed and we worried about how the black cloaked Figure was going to recover sufficiently to find their way back over the bridge into life again. The Figure had friends or family standing by waiting to help but it was too soon to let anyone get close. Perhaps the Figure didn’t want to be comforted, preferring to wallow in their sadness instead. When we left the Cups behind to explore the other Suits we weren’t quite sure how long the Figure would stand there staring at the fallen Cups in front of them. Would they ever acknowledge their friends or see the bridge in the distance? It is true that damage was done but the Figure needed to come round to accepting that life had changed and possibly irrevocably. For the purpose of describing this Card we shall refer to the Figure from the Five of Cups as a she or her but it can equally be a he or him if you prefer.

Moving on to the Six, we are relieved to see that much light has come into the situation. It is obvious that the sad Figure eventually lifted her head, looked around and saw those who had stood by, waiting a long time. Reaching out to each other they embrace and tears fall all round. After much hugging and comforting, they take their first tentative steps towards the bridge, encouraging the fragile woman and assuring her that all will be well, for they are there to help. They will cross the bridge with her and any other ones they encounter along the way. Upon asking where she wants to go, she instantly replies “take me home. I want to go home”. Home, Homesickness, the Past, Past Influences, Nostalgia and Memories are key elements that accompany The Six of Cups.

If you have ever watched the movie Gone with The Wind, you will be familiar with the heroine of it, Scarlet O’Hara, who was played by Vivien Leigh. Scarlet was a wilful young woman who was strong-minded and quite self-centred. She had an terrible habit of drawing drama to herself. At times it was funny but at other times she had to endure terrible trauma, starvation and want. At these times of despair, Scarlett would reach a terrible low (like the Figure in Card Five) and often flung herself to the ground, unable to cope with the burden she had been given. Each time we thought she would not get up again as she had nothing left to fight for, but somehow or other she always managed to drag herself to her feet. The camera would zoom in on her face so that we could see the look of delirium before it was quickly replaced by a sudden dawning of realisation or inspiration. She would then dramatically declare, “I know what I will do. I will go home. That’s it, home to Tara”. With no time to lose, she would have found herself a wagon or horse for the journey and be off.

Tara was the large plantation family home she had grown up on and she loved every bit of it. Tara was where she got her strength from and it was to Tara she always ran when life got difficult or upsetting. Her parents, both gentle and loving, had infinite patience with her and put up with all the antics she got involved in. The staff and servants, although in despair of her at times for not acting lady-like enough, indulged her childish ways and selfish attitude. Tara was where she felt safe, loved, cared for and properly fed. It also was home to all her precious childhood memories. No matter how bad life was, she was bound to feel better once she returned to Tara. She was always Homesick for Tara.

The Six of Cups nicely displays this scenario as we get a feel for the atmosphere contained within the Card. After times of loss, sadness or despair we often take comfort and solace from familiar places and those we have known the longest, such as old friends and family. We crave what is secure and steady as we have coped with enough change for the moment. In the Six of Cups, her friends or family members will happily take her home to ensure that she is well cared for and loved back to her natural warm self once more. Back in the bosom of her family and friends she won’t have to think of a thing, for everyone will be eager to smooth the way for her. They will protect her as much as they can, and if at all possible, shield her from further pain. The woman looks at her friends and realises how lucky she is to have been blessed with such good people in her life. They have known her throughout good and bad times. They have shared both tears of laughter and sobs of sorrow. Their very act of kindness begins to remove some of the chill from her heart and she is glad to accept all offers of help. In the Six of Cups, the woman’s loyal friends will stand by her and look for nothing in return. This is what friends are for and they know that she would do the same for them if the situation was reversed. They all have history between them or go back a long way.

As the Figure returns to the Family Home to heal, she inhales the permanence of all she sees in front of her. She feels relieved to see that very little has changed. The road down to the house still looks the same and the local town makes her giggle as she recalls buying ice-cream and staring across at the boys coming out from the record store on the street corner. She screams “Oh my God, there’s Mrs Gordon, she can’t be still alive can she? as she sees a small rotund woman cross the road to the pharmacy. “Sure she was ancient when I was a little one. She must be at least 200 years old” . And there is Mr. Godfrey, the butcher, still writing up his daily specials on the old chalk sandwich board outside his shop. He looks at her and then looks again but does not nod or wave. She smiles to herself. She knows he has recognised her but just can’t put a name to the face. Laughing, she is hit by a sudden pang of strong nostalgia as she sees the old oak tree on the avenue where she used to hang out. Carved into the ancient gnarled bark, large as ever, are her initials intertwined by those of her first love, her childhood sweetheart, Joe. She racks her brain to think of when she last saw him and wonders what he ever did with his life; was he married, did he have kids, was he even still alive?

As she pulls up outside her family home, she releases a deep breath and acknowledges that she should visit more often. Children play happily on the street and scurry round her as she takes her bags from the boot of the car. They ask her name and what she is doing. She chats with them for a while and watches them play. She can’t believe they still do skipping outside no 10. For a moment she is transported back in time and sees herself holding one end of the rope while her friend, Cathy, holds the other. Their little skipping song runs through her head and she is surprised to remember all the words. She suddenly feels a lump rise in her throat and her eyes fill with tears. Looking back, she thinks of how simple life was as a child, how innocent and carefree they all were. When did it all get so complicated? If only she could go back to being one of these children playing on the street, then she would not have to deal with difficult decisions or feel any pain except when she fell on the ground. Even back then, when she was upset, there was always mother or father to sort things out and make everything feel better. Now she craves that attention once more and is looking forward to being looked after in the coming weeks.

As she stands beside the children, all grown up in comparison to their childishness, we see the yearning for those simple days of innocence symbolised in the two Figures in Card Six. In The Six of Cups, we see one Figure tenderly handing a Cup with a white Lily to a smaller Figure who wears White Gloves. The White Gloves are symbolic of innocence, fragility and protection. The smaller Figure looks up to the taller one with rapt attention and seems to be entranced with what he has to say. It looks like a very special moment is being shared. As they stand in their garden, they feel safe and protected. A Guard patrols the area and buildings which appear very close to each other ensuring that nothing of any danger will get in. The Guard and Walls also prevent the children from straying out of their safe environment into possible danger.

The children look as if they have just raided a Dressing-Up Box as their clothes look unsuitable for their childish frames. They might be playing Make-Believe Games and pretending to be older than they actually are. The taller Figure does appear to be older than the smaller one but there is an air of acceptance and sharing between them. He is happy to give and she, happy to receive.

The girl in our story stares at the children wishing to be one of them again while the children look up to her and wish they could be all grown up, just like her. The children wish to learn from her and they have much of value to offer her. There is mutual enjoyment in their observations even if they are a bit whimsical.

Walking up the driveway, she runs her hand along the smooth paintwork of her father’s old Ford. Bits of rust are dotted here and there but otherwise it still looks the same. Even the old floral scatter cushions are still on the back seat. Nothing has changed. Inside the house, her parents have taken turns to watch out for her arrival and now they burst out the door eager to hug and embrace their daughter who is in need of their help. They had extended the invitation some time ago “you know you can always come home sweetheart, your room is still there and we would be so happy to have you”. However, in her early stages of sadness and pain she had just wanted to be alone and wait for everything to return to normal. When it didn’t, home she thought she would never get. Dragging her inside the house, her mother assured her that dinner was just ready and that her father would fetch her bags out of the car.

Her bedroom looked the same as it did the day she left it several years ago. It even had the same smell which conjured up all sorts of memories of teenage perfumes and nail varnish. Her mother had laid out fresh towels for her and everything was just so. Sitting down on the pink eider-down cover on her bed, she felt momentarily lost and panicked. Caught between two worlds, the past and the future, she was unsure of what she should do next. For the moment, she was home and as Scarlet O’Hara often said “I can’t think about this right now, I can’t. I will go crazy if I do. I know, I will think about it tomorrow. That’s right, I’ll think about it tomorrow. For tomorrow is, another day.”

In the Six of Cups the woman spends a wonderful period of time being cared for and looked after by her adoring parents. Meals are laid out on the table and her clothes washed, ironed and hung back in her room again. Nothing is asked of her, not even questions about all the trauma she had been through. They had told her to take her time, and only when she felt ready, then she could fill them in on all that went on. She was happy with that as pressure from any side was the last thing she wanted or needed. She just had to find her balance one more and feel peace of mind.

She spent her days helping her father in the back garden. They planted White Lilies in Gold Pots and placed them on the patio. The back garden was bordered by an Old Tall Brick Wall and Houses (the background buildings). As a child, she had thought that the Wall towered high up into the sky, but now, it just seemed average height to her. It was funny she thought, how one’s perspective as a child can be so different. She and her friends had used that Wall in many of their games. At times it was a strong Fortress Wall to keep out the enemy and at other times, it was their Castle Wall as they danced around in princess dresses. Now, it was just a Wall and the neighbours houses behind seemed much closer than she remembered. Oh to have the wild imagination of a young child she mused.

At other times, she went shopping with her mother or fetched groceries for Mrs. Armstrong, the elderly lady two doors down who could no longer get around. As a child, she had not spoken much to Mrs Armstrong and as a teenager and young adult had nothing at all in common with her. In fact she had never been in her house before but here she was, happily shopping for her, mowing her lawn and sipping tea with the old lady over a friendly chat. Who would have thought it? Her being Community Spirited and doing Kind Deeds for the neighbours! It made her feel good inside and was far more rewarding to think of others for a while and not just herself. Mrs. Armstrong was far more inquisitive than her parents and asked constantly about her situation. She probably didn’t have many callers so enjoyed the bit of companionship and gossip when she got it.

The children on the street often asked her to come out and play. She was happy to oblige them. She showed them some of the games she played as a child, which of course she then had to join in on just to make sure they got it right. She had a great time but wished she had more of their energy.

Life moved on nicely and as each day passed, she became stronger, healthier and more balanced in herself. She no longer constantly thought about her situation but just enjoyed the simple things in life. She watched television with her parents and got hooked on the old black and white movies they forced her to watch. She called in on old school friends who still lived in the neighbour hood, catching up and even babysitting for them on occasions. She was happy in herself, that is, until two things happened and it seemed to take off from there. Change was coming once more. Those hazy days of summer began to blow away.

On one of her trips to the local store she encountered Joe, her childhood sweetheart, at the counter. She was surprised to see him as she had heard he now lived abroad. Joe wasn’t as shocked to see her for his parents had told him she was home. As they spoke her heart beat very fast and she felt awkward in her speech. She couldn’t wait to get away from him as she was not suitably dressed for such encounters. Her hair hadn’t been washed in two days and her clothes were soiled from working in the garden. Joe didn’t seem to notice and looked her over admiringly a few times. He told her he would be around for a while as his father was recovering from a stroke and he had come home to help with the business.

When she went home that day, she made casual enquiries from her mother about Joe and found out that he had been married but that his wife had left him for her boss. He had two children but the ex-wife had custody of them. “Poor man” her mother sighed. “Apparently, he only gets to see them two or three times a year”. She also found out from her mother that he lived and worked in France but often travelled as part of his job. He was single as far as she knew. And so, her content calm state vanished. All she could do was think about Joe even though she hadn’t a clue why. She was not in the market for a man, certainly not after all she had been through. Imagine, after all these years, getting back with your childhood sweetheart. It was the stuff movies were made of but daft otherwise. However, she did spend an awful lot of time after that going up and down to the shops for the slightest thing. She had several encounters with Joe, at first just standing on the street talking, then it was coffee, then a drink and before they knew it, they were going out on dates.

The second change came when her parents started to push about her plans for the future. They were eager to promote Joe to her and kept going on about how nice a man he was. Her mother occasionally read her texts if she left her phone lying around and often walked into the living room while they were having a kiss or cuddle. It also started to annoy her that no matter where she put things in her bedroom, her mother would come in and move them around. Things she hadn’t noticed before began to irritate her. Every time she went out with Joe they asked were they were going and what time they would be back at? Would she be having dinner with them or were they eating out? Sometimes they didn’t know where they were going, when they would be back or whether lunch or dinner was included but her parents, especially her mother, needed to know for some reason or other. She began to remember that the same thing annoyed her years ago and she used to say to her best friend back then that she couldn’t wait to move out. How had she forgotten?

She began to feel the four walls close in around her. Everywhere she went, there they were, asking if she was okay and wanting to know what she was doing or planning to do. Even when she sought peace and quiet in the back garden it wouldn’t be long until her father appeared out from behind a bush needing help with the pruning or picking up leaves. They seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. She also felt she was being watched by the neighbours on the far side of the garden wall who she often found in deep chat with her mother. When she tried to lose a bit of weight by cutting down on some of the constant feeding that was going on, her mother took it as a personal insult and sulked.

What had happened to change things so much she thought as she stood staring out the window at the children playing. The answer came quickly enough. For that blissfully unaware period of time she had worn those old Rose Tinted Glasses that she didn’t even realise she possessed. Her need for comfort and security had caused temporary amnesia or had strangely altered her recollection of the past. Now when she looked at her parents, the lines on their face became more pronounced. Her mother seemed stuck in habits and routines, cooking and cleaning for a family long gone. Her father more worryingly so, appeared not completely with-it at times. He was forgetful and she noticed he sometimes talked about things he needed to do in the garden that he had already done the day before. He also had a bad shake in his left hand and very rarely took the car out of the driveway anymore. He seemed tired and looked so small at times. Like Scarlet O’Hara, who arrives back at Tara after fighting her way through “those damn Yankees” she finds that everything has changed. Her mother is laid out in the front parlour after dying that day and her father’s mind is half-gone. He still thinks the mother is alive. Scarlet, who was used to running home every time there was a problem, now has to face the fact that Tara has changed. Her mother is dead and her father out of his mind. There is no food in the house or crops in the field. Scarlet, hungry, tired and drained realises that she can no longer rely on her parents to sort out her life because everyone now relies on her. She has to grow up rather fast.

Why had she thought things hadn’t changed? Was it that she so desperately needed the comfort of familiarity when she herself had felt so unsteady and unsure. Change was the last thing she needed for so much had already changed in her life. She fooled herself into thinking that she could keep everything the same but she now realised she had no control over that. Change would always come and what she needed right now was some of the very thing she had tried to avoid, Change.

One thing was for certain, she could no longer stay where she was. She had enjoyed her time at home, being looked after by her family and friends. Even the neighbours had helped, the kids on the road too, but now she had come to the stage where she felt cramped and restricted by her environment. Yes, it was just what the doctor had ordered at the time and she would heartily recommend it to anyone in her situation, but only for a short period of time. Life and the world outside, were carrying on without her. If she did not move her life on soon, she would begin to stagnate. She must now take responsibility for her own life and not lean on others so much. She felt safe and secure in the knowledge that she had good friends, wonderful family and a place she could always call home so it could not harm to dip her toe in ocean once more. She was truly blessed to have been given a second chance and could look positively to the future. Back in the Five, she had thought her life over but now in the Six, she realised it was only just begining.

She felt ready to face the world again and take on a few new challenges in life. Ready to open her heart to forgiveness and move on, she felt healed and much stronger but also confused as to what exactly it was she wanted to do. Joe was heading back to France shortly and she should think about heading off too. She no longer had the heavy sadness looming over her so her head was free to properly explore her options. For the first time in a long time, she felt excited about her future. She was ready to find herself but first she must identify her needs, desires and feelings before taking off in just any old direction. She loved her parents very much but accepted that once she had left home all those years ago to make a life for herself there was never going to be a way to go back to those carefree days of childhood again. Yes, she would always visit and she could see they were getting older but for now they were fine and she would need to make her own way in life once more.

As she watched her mother and father going about their chores, her heart almost burst with emotion. They were indeed getting older. They had done nothing wrong. They were doing what they always did and were happy to. She now saw them similar to children who needed to be minded and not the other way around. She would worry about them in the way they had worried about her but she knew that should the time come when they would need her, she would be home in a heart beat to tend and care for them, for that is what you do for the people you love. It is unconditional and does not come with strings attached.

As for Joe and their future, only time would tell. If they were meant to be together then it would happen but for now she would not worry as she had a lot to plan for and some packing to do.

On the day she left home again, her mother and father stood in the driveway, tears welling up in their eyes. She would be home again soon she assured them. She wouldn’t leave it so long again. Just as she was preparing to pull away from the kerb, her father put his hand up and asked her to wait. He had forgotten to give her something. He disappeared around the side of the house and into the back garden. He seemed to be gone forever but then reappeared. He had something in his hand. In through the window of the car he handed her one of the White Lilies they had planted in the gold flower pots (innocence, beauty, gift). “This one is for you my dear. Mind you look after it as well as I have looked after mine. Plenty of water and sunshine and they will be as right as rain”. She took the White Lily, holding his hand for a few seconds before letting it go. “What a lovely gift. Don’t worry, I will look after it well. You know, I did pick up a few things about gardening from watching you over the last few weeks. You are a good teacher” she replied and promised to ” treasure it forever”. As she drove out through the town, she noticed how tired and faded it all looked, but didn’t care, for this would always be home to her, her Tara, the place she loved, and one day, she would bring her own children here. She would proudly show them where she grew up and tell them all the wonderful stories of her childhood. Hopefully her parents would still be around to share them with and who knows, maybe they would plant some White Lily bulbs.

If you like the story line above why not watch Gone With The Wind for yourself and see how you can apply the Six of Cups to aspects of the storyline. Another movie which focuses on the return to the homestead after upset and pain stars Sandra Bullock and is called Hope Floats (1998). Sandra plays the role of a woman Roberta (Birdiee) Pruitt who thinks she is happily married until she is publicly humiliated on a live show when it is revealed to her that her husband is having an affair with her best friend. Taking her daughter Bernice (Mae Whitman) and whatever she can pack into the car, she returns to her family home in Smithville, Texas and to her eccentric mother Ramona, played by Gena Rowlands and father Bill (Michael Parre) . Unlike Scarlet O’Hara who was constantly running home, Birdiee has a tough time readjusting and finds the town pretty much as she left it. However, there is a romantic tie-up with a childhood friend Justin, played by Harry Connick Jnr. It is a lovely story and nice to watch how her mother, regardless of Birdiee’s disinterest, does her best to mind her and bring her out of herself. Birdiee also has to face the fact that her mother is not getting any younger and has health problems. Her father is also struggling with Alzheimers Disease. Birdiee’s daughter has also to settle into her new environment and the transition is not easy for her either.

Going home brings it blessings and curses into Birdiee’s life as she struggles with divorce and a child who wants her father back. At times, she feels she has stepped back in time and is a complete failure. She is very different to the woman who left home and Smithville many years before, but the town’s attitude to her has not altered over the years. The walls of the Six of Cups and over-closeness of everyone drive Birdiee to distraction and near suffocation at times. Birdiee has many ups and downs to go through before she can find balance and stability in her life. She also has to come to terms with her past, her neighbours and make peace with her family so that she can build a future for her and her daughter. She eventually finds healing in the very last place she thought she would.

Her story has a different outcome to mine above but it does have that warm wholesome feel of The Six of Cups even though it is not always a bed of roses. A real feel-good movie for sure.

MEANING

When the Six of Cups appears in a Spread, it often suggests that the past is being focussed upon or that the issues surrounding the Reading are being influenced by something in your past. By looking into your past, you may find the answer, solution or at least an explanation. Memories of the past flood in. For some reason or other, the past is significant in your life right now and you must ask why? It may be due to your current situation not bringing you the happiness you seek. If you were happy in the past, and it does not necessarily mean childhood, then you could be yearning for the old days or how things used to be.

The Six of Cups can also act as a warning that you are living in or fixated with the past. If you are too rooted in the past it stops your forward progress and there is a danger of becoming shut down and very narrow-minded. Your memory of the past may be distorted, based more on fiction rather than fact. If you continue to live in the past, life will pass you by and leave you behind.

If you have been through a tough time, then the Six of Cups can suggest that you are, or need to, seek support or solace from friends and family at this time. You may feel safer and more comfortable with familiar faces and places so it is not a good time for starting new things or heading off on your own. If you need to talk to someone about a problem then it should be someone who knows you well as he or she will better understand your situation and how it is affecting you. There are many you know who would gladly help. They may be standing by waiting for you to make the first move. Perhaps, an older member of the family who you look up to and respect? They may be only too willing to share some wise experience with you.

The Six of Cups may signify a time when you return to the family home or locations from the past to heal and restore. Feeling nervous and insecure you may hunger after safety and security. You may feel the need, or crave, to be looked after and cared for by others. You may not feel capable of looking after yourself right now which is understandable if you are recovering from loss or trauma. After all the insecurity the sadness and loss the Five brought, one seeks a place of sanctuary. A need to be shielded from the pain of life in the outside world encourages the retreat into the guarded fortress. Nothing is going to get at you in here. You are safe, for the moment anyway. You need to heal and find emotional stability so accept any offers of help that come your way without feeling guilty or imposing. You must learn how to receive graciously and thankfully. All offers of help are genuine and sincere, so relax in the knowledge that you will do the same for them if ever the need arises. Don’t worry about being indebted to those who help at present for you will naturally find a way of returning the compliment. You may be surprised by the goodwill and kindness that is extended to you. Many around you are interested in your welfare and only want the best for you. Expect spontaneous acts of charity, sharing and benevolence. Rest assured, peace and harmony will return to your life very shortly.

Giving or Receiving a beautiful Gift may be represented by The Six of Cups. The Gift may be a present or surprise but it might also be an inherited Gift such as a talent or skill. There may also be the Gift of Forgiveness. You could be either the giver or recipient of this Healing Gift. You may inherit the family home, part of it or some valuable belongings or you could be making your will. As we see the taller Figure hand the Cup down to the Smaller one, it can symbolise that some one is entrusting into your care an item of great emotional worth and significance. You will need to care for it as they once did. There may be a Teacher willing to share their knowledge if you are interested. The Six of Cups brings a time for counting your blessings and enjoying the simple things in life. The Six of Cups Reversed, depending on surrounding Cards can suggest being left a wonderful gift by a parent.

Being cared for and fussed over is wonderful, and at the moment, may be just what the doctor ordered, but eventually this very security and cossetting (castle walls, building and guard) will become claustrophobic and restricting. Staying under this influence should only be temporary otherwise there will be a risk to your personal development and growth. Return to life and personal responsibility as soon as you can.

The Six of Cups is an extremely nostalgic card. It speaks about childhood and reminiscing about days of yore. Generally, The Upright Six brings happy memories and fond recollections of times gone by. The Six of Cups may simply represent a time when we take a trip down memory lane just for the sake of it. You may be sorting through old photographs, watching old movies or sharing memories with friends and family. Mostly, we rush around each day, caught up in what is happening now, what we have to do next and where we are going later. Very occasionally when the mood is right or a memory trigger presents itself, we are suddenly spun back in time and our mind unlocks the wonderful gems of our past. A significant song on the radio as we drive or the scent of freshly baked bread or scones can readily set us off. As the memories floods over us, we can re-experience and remember who we were, where we came from and the significant people or pets who shared our environment. There is however, a tendency to be selective with our memories. We all maintain that summers were better when we were children. The sun always seemed to be shining, we were always laughing and having fun out on the street with our friends and sweets were bigger and tastier. Ah, the Good Old Days! This can lead to you thinking about people not seen or heard of in years or even the desire to visit old haunts or previous locations. You may get great joy out of all your reminiscing but it may also leave you feeling melancholic and emotional for a past that cannot be retrieved.

If you are middle-aged or older, then taking a trip down memory lane can be a little upsetting or destabilising. You may feel the loss of your youth, physical strength or health as a stark contrast to the fit and able-bodied young person you were many years ago. Nostalgia connected with old age is also represented in The Six of Cups as the long-term memory kicks in and short-term memory diminishes. Senility can be represented as the adult faces regress into childlike behaviour indicated by their size and dress. Nursing homes can be represented with this Six. The Six of Cups can indicate returning to the family home to look after an ageing or ill parent as the roles of parent and child reverse. You could also be taking them into your own home. You may find this emotionally rewarding and fulfilling but regardless of how much you love the parent involved, you are bound to feel trapped and claustrophobic at times.

Then again, you may be taking a physical trip down memory lane as childhood places are revisited and childhood friends re-discovered. You may be attending a school reunion (look for the Three of Cups) or family gathering (Four of Wands). Funerals are one of the best times for meeting faces from the past and sharing memories. Older relatives, cousins, friends and neighbours often travel from the four corners of the globe to pay their respects. This in itself shows strong solidarity, caring, compassion and sympathy for the bereaved. However, it is one of those surreal times when the past and all the characters from it make a reappearance. Much sharing of tales and reminiscing can turn what could be a very sad time into a wonderful memorable occasion. You may learn some interesting things about people from your past at times like this. You may promise to keep in touch or wish to re-start old friendships and connections. It may just be “all talk” on the day or a genuine commitment.

The Six of Cups brings the Family into strong focus. When we are growing from childhood into young adulthood, we seek freedom and wish to personally express ourselves by living our own life independent from parents, restrictions and other’s routines. We set about making this new life outside the confines of the family and may leave long gaps between trips home or indeed phone calls made. We can get so caught up in our present, and making big plans for our future, that there is precious little time for anything else except current friends and social scene. However, as we get older, once we have had a happy upbringing, we are often drawn back to the home and re-establish strong contact with parents and other family members. Rather than be embarrassed by our family, we realise that we are actually quite like them and have much in common. We no longer see them as the spoiler of fun or disciplinarian rule-setters but rather as human beings of great worth and value. Most of us gravitate back to the family as we get older especially when we have children of our own. It can therefore represent a time for feeling or re-connecting to your roots.

If you live far away from family for work or relationship reasons, then the Six of Cups can suggest that you are terribly homesick. This may be only a passing phase or one that you find intolerable and depressing. They say that you should give any new location or environment six months at the very least before making any decisions as you need this time to settle in and readjust. If you haven’t tried before, then set up a Skype Account or one similar, but make sure to get everyone else on board too so that you can all keep in visual contact. It may help you through this difficult time. You may be realising the importance of your family for the first time.

The Six of Cups readily represents children and the innocence of childhood. You may be thinking of having children or enjoy their company and playing with them. You may be looking after your grandchildren while their parents work or wish you could see more of them. You may be getting great joy being a parent second time round. You may be working on your inner-child and learning how to bring fun or play into your life.

This card, because it relates so much to childhood, can suggest that childhood issues may be re-surfacing or coming back to haunt you. If you are experiencing problems in your life they may have originated in your childhood if the Six of Cups appears so it is a good place to start from. Life may be too harsh for you now and you may seek the comfort and support that the innocence of childhood brought. It may be a sign that you do not want to take responsibility for your self or situation. You may have a habit of letting others sort out your problems all the time instead of tackling them yourself. You may hanker after the loss of a mother or father and spend time revisiting childhood haunts trying to re-capture their essence. You may also be holding on to all their belongings, afraid to let go of the past.

In a relationship reading, The Six of Cups can represent a relationship with someone from your past or an old sweetheart. If looking for love, then you may find it in your old home town or on a trip home. The love of your life may even be living next door or at the least not very far away. This Six in a Relationship Reading can also highlight a Past Love or Lover interfering or causing issues in your current relationship. They may turn up out of the blue and set you all aglow. You may not have severed the ties in an old romance or still hanker after an old love. There may be a third person in your relationship but their presence may be either an influence from the past or an actual reality (a real person). You may be comparing your current partner to an Old Flame you never got over. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and you may be viewing an old relationship with Rose Tinted Glasses. You may be very naive, innocent or idealistic when it comes to relationships or very gullible. You may also be looking for a ‘Father Figure’ so look out for The Emperor falling close by in a Reading. The Six of Cups can represent seeking your parents approval of your current partner or fiance. You may be travelling home to break the news of your engagement. Look to surrounding cards for further insight.

The Six of Cups appearing in a Relationship Spread can suggest that you feel safe and secure with your partner. There is genuine tenderness, caring and a strong sense of protection. The relationship suggested may not be very exciting or dramatic but will be steady, stable and more than likely predictable. It is a relationship based on routines and habits. Generally one partner takes on the role of provider and carer while the other is happy to be looked after. Most important decisions are made by the carer who shields his or her partner from any unpleasant business or stressful situations. The carer may have the tendency to wrap their partner in cotton wool or treat them like a china doll. In the Upright Six, this arrangement is harmonious and works well. The Carer is happy to take on the bulk of responsibility and the Cared For, equally happy to relinquish it. Each brings their own worth and value to the relationship, which strikes a content balance. This Six often symbolises the ‘old fashioned’, ‘traditional’ style relationship.

You may be longing for someone to look after you and take care of you or vice versa. The Six of Cups can also refer to a time of courtship or receiving a gift from the one you love. If you are in a stable relationship, you could possibly be thinking about having a family. If you have a child or children then you may be conscious of passing down the good morals and values you were reared with (the Lily in the Cup).

The Six of Cups also deals with nursing and caring for a partner who is senile or very old. There is great love and tenderness between this couple who will be there for each other in ‘sickness and in health’.

In a Career Reading, the Six of Cups often represents working with children as in Nursing or Montessori. There is a strong focus on protecting those who are young and innocent so a career as a social worker may be the right thing for you. You may also be dealing with people who had abusive childhoods, so a position that helped people overcome early trauma such as psychotherapy or hypno-analysis may be suitable and rewarding. You might also consider volunteering on help-lines or giving time to youth groups. You might be providing classes or workshops to those under guard such as in prisons or reform schools or facilitating group therapy for addicts or alcoholics. Any career involving making one feeling safe and secure can be suggested such as healing, meditation or massage. A career caring for the elderly or in a Nursing Home can also be represented by the Six of Cups. You may be taking time out from your career to nurse an elderly parent.

The Six of Cups can sometimes highlight a career that is filled with habits, routines and patterns. There may be a motherly figure in the work environment who looks upon her staff as her children. Your interest in an old career may be re-ignited or you might decide to develop a childhood talent or skill. Beautifiying surroundings may also be of interest such as developing show gardens or doing up old properties. A secure comfortable position is often suggested by this Six but it may lack excitement or challenge. Depending on the surrounding Cards, this may be suitable at the moment but you are bound to get bored in the not too distant future. It can also suggest going for the long haul in a position or with a company as in joining young and leaving old.

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violettelueur · 4 years

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— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI || THANK YOU FOR STAYING

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of blood, mention of injury, mention of death and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 18 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 1.6k

↳ request : AAAA YOUR FINALLY OPENN <3 um so for starters i was thinking abt the same scenario for the s/o, where the s/o was megumi’s gf. team tokyo was seeing your *dead* body lying on the ground, not knowing that your actually trying to use the reverse technique slowly. megumi felt he failed at protecting you, when you’re actually still alive but reviving. eventually he came to you, crying, and just kept saying “please dont leave me” “i cant afford to loose anything” “please”. IM SORRY IF ITS TOO SPECIFIC 😭😭 i really want some fluff+angst rn LMAOO. thankyou!! <33

↳ barista’s notes : hello hello hello ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ i had to remove a tiny bit of your request because it is a spoiler for non jujutsu kaisen manga readers ʕᴥ·　ʔ and don’t worry if you think you’re being too specific, i will try my best to make the perfect cup of coffee for you ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ but other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and you’re welcome back anytime!

“Y/N, wake up please”

However, no matter how desperate he sounded nor how loud he was. You were non-responsive.

The grass below your body was struggling to soak up all the blood that had been spilt from your unknown wound caused by the special grade curse that you were fighting against.

No one knew how the curse was able to get into the premises of the battlefield of the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, let alone how it managed to get anywhere near Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. However, right now, all Fushiguro knew was that you were in critical condition as you continued to stay silent to his pleas.

“This ain’t some joke Y/N, wake up!” Fushiguro shouted in agony as he lifted your body into his arms, searching for any source of warmth from you that he was desperate to hold. Yet, you were just stone cold.

Frantic, Fushiguro began to search around your body to see if he could find the injury that was the final blow that you took, but there was no visible presence of one leading to the shikigami sorcerer’s anxiety to heighten as he began to wonder what really happened to you. What could have the special curse did that causes you to fall into a coma? A coma right? You were just in a coma? You weren’t dead? You couldn’t be dead?

“Megumi, she’s….Y/N is..” Maki began to stutter, afraid of the junior’s reaction to what she would have to announce as she began to reach out to him, leading Fushiguro to turn to look at her with tears welled up in his eyes which led Maki to look at him with widened eyes.

Never once she ever saw the green-eyed sorcerer have a single tear in his eyes as well as the rest of the sorcerers behind her as they stared at the situation that was happening right in front of them. On the other hand, they weren’t really surprised at the fact that you were the one that brought those same tears into his precious eyes.

You were the first person to ever make them see Fushiguro smile.

Itadori remembered it as clear as day. It was when he had first met you at Harajuku around the same time when he first met Kugisaki. To his surprise that day, you weren’t the new student that they were meeting but rather a current student at the school he newly attended, it was just that you weren’t the one chosen to collect Sukuna’s finger at Sendai that day due to you having a mission of your own.

ꕥ

“So, you’re the infamous student that ate Sukuna’s finger?” you commented, as you walked towards the two students who were waiting in front of the station Gojo has told you to meet everyone at - but to no shock or surprise from you, the said teacher was not there to greet you.

“Oh? Are you the new student we are waiting for?” Itaodori kindly asked, as he took another bite out of his ice popsicle leading to your boyfriend, who was standing next to the salmon-haired boy, to have a say in the newly started conversation.

“No, this is L/N Y/N, she’s a first-year student like us, she enrolled at the same time as me,” Fushiguro informed the boy leading you to kindly smile at him while holding up a peace sign to seem more friendly.

“I’m Itadori Yuji, I’m from Sendai,” Itadori greeted you as he pointed at himself, causing you to nod your head before asking both the boys where your extremely tall teacher was, only for them to shrug at you indicating they had no idea on where Gojo was at all.

‘He probably is buying snacks or something ha?’

“Now it ain’t just the two of us ha Megumi?” you playfully asked your boyfriend as you poked his cheek, leading him to send you a side glance only for a giggle to be your response. Although it was a small interaction, Itadori was able to instantly pick up on something that confused him slightly.

“L/N, why did you call Fushiguro by his first name and not his family one?” Itadori asked in curiosity as he wondered how you were really friendly with the usually grumpy sorcerer. Turning to look at your new classmate, you smiled at him and quickly answered by saying, “no reason really, he just allowed me to since we’re really good friends,”.

Knowing Fushiguro, you knew he probably didn’t want to reveal the fact that you and him were in a relationship to Itadori too early into his newfound friendship with him, so you decided that it was the best for now to tell your new classmate that you two were really good friends.

On the other hand, what you didn’t see was how Fushiguro was looking at you. The shikigami user really appreciated the fact that you weren’t the type to tell the whole world about the both of you since he was a person that thought that not everyone needed to know if he was in a relationship or not leading to a small smile to dawn his face with a hint of adoration in his eyes as he stared at you.

Which was caught by the sights of Itadori Yuji.

ꕥ

However in his sights right now was not the same expression Fushiguro had that day. But how he wished it was. All Itadori could see right now was fear, desperation and regret in Fushiguro’s emerald eyes as he was holding onto your body like he was gripping the small amount of life that you could possibly have left in your body.

“Please don’t leave me,” Fushiguro muttered in a brittle tone, as he gently shook you, not giving up on the fact that you could have a chance of waking up. Not giving up the chance that he gets to see your beautiful eyes. Not giving up the chance that he gets to see your bright smile. Not giving up on the chance that he gets to see you alive.

“I’m sorry for not protecting you, please just wake up, I can’t lose you too,” Fushiguro begged as sorrowful tears began to lightly hit your cheeks with his throat slowly closing up leading to a slight struggle in breathing. Fushiguro slowly and regrettably came to the realisation that you were now gone, leading to a river of guilt that uncontrollably began to flow down to which caused the grade two sorcerer let out a pained scream as his friends from behind looked at the scene with a broken heart.

Gripping on to your body, Fushiguro held your body against his chest and his face was hidden in the crook of your head wanting to hold you for one last time before you were fully taken away from him.

“Hey….Mimi”

Now he was hallucinating. Fushiguro was now hearing your voice as if you were calling out to him. He couldn’t help but fully accept that fact that you were dead and there was no chance you could possibly be calling out his nickname that he hated so much but was so desperate to hear again if he could.

Suddenly to his shock, Fushiguro felt a light but tight grip on his school jacket leading him to slowly pull away with widening eyes to a hand on his jacket causing him to look up to notice your eyes slowly begin to open, showcasing the coloured orbs that the shikigami user was so desperate to see.

“Mimi….it’s really hard to….concentrate using reverse curse energy….when you’re tightly gripping on to me,” you slowly commented with a small smile on your face, to which then you slowly began to sit up only to fall back into his arms due to exhaustion of using a magnitude of your curse energy to heal the injury that the special curse managed to wound you with.

“Y/N!” everyone shouted, as they crouched down to have a clear view of what they were seeing. To their complete astonishment, you were fully awake with a smile on your face leading everyone’s hearts to fill with joy as they were relieved that you were here right in front of them alive and well.

Kugisaki couldn’t help but instantly let tears of complete joy flow down her cheeks as she launched herself on top of you, tightly hugging you close to her releasing all the agonising tension that she was holding in the second she saw your once lifeless body in Fushiguro’s arms.

Gently lifting up one of your arms to Kugisaki’s body to comfort her, you slowly turned your head to stare up at the pair of emerald eyes that were looking at you with such relief and radiance, leading to your other hand that was previously gripping his jacket to then be placed on his cheek as you used your thumb to caress it to help him slowly come back to reality.

To be honest, you could tell he needed it right now. At the beginning of the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were utterly dumbfounded at the fact that Itadori was alive and well after 2 months of assuming that he was dead after Sukuna ripped out his heart and now you somehow you ‘came back alive’ after sustaining a serious injury of your neck being slashed - you knew seeing two people being revived was not what you saw every day.

“I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” you whispered to Fushiguro as you lightly brushed the remaining tears he had on his cheek leading to the stoic sorcerer to softly place his forehead against yours as he began to savour the warmth that he thought he had lost.

“Thank you,’ Fushiguro muttered as he closed his eye tightly, holding in the new coming tears that were threatening to flow down leading to your hand that was on his cheek to be now placed on the back of his neck as your fingers began to caress his hair to help calm him down even further.

“Thank you for staying”

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cc-writesfor2dcharacters · 3 years

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KUGISAKI NOBARA AS YOUR PARTNER IN CRIME ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

a/n: i kin nobara so much ^^ and i always envision how we would be like as best friends. and of course, hAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! WE WOULD'VE BEEN THE BEST OF FRIENDS IF YOU WERE REAL!

You two have instantly clicked the moment she knew that another girl in the same year as hers will be joining them. Your love for shopping is what drew you even closer to her. This girl wouldn't let Yuji or Megumi be close to you, because after all, she saw Saori-chan in you.

She thought you were really cool and strong. And, she admitted that you were cute, which was uncommon for her to stay. Since she believes no one can be as cute as her.

Your friendship with her started when you were shy at first, but Nobara will drag you along everywhere. She'll be the one to introduce you to your upperclassmen. But, she will make you feel welcomed nonetheless.

After being really great friends with her, you were always prepared for what she has in store. Nobara is chaotic and loud just like you. And, now that there's the two of you and Yuji always tags along, it'll be harder for Megumi to control you three.

Tiktok in your free time, Tiktok on training, and Tiktok even on the mission. The two of you are always in trend, so you two always gotta try the new Tiktok trend. Sometimes, the two of you will teach the boys some dance, so all of the 1st years will get to dance. Your sensei always wants to join in and is happy to see the four of you bond.

Like all other best friends in the modern era, you like to spend your time revolving around gossips. You two know everybody's secrets. When someone tells you not to tell it to anyone, Nobara is an exception, and of course, vice versa. But, that doesn't mean your perspective of the people you're talking about won't change until you two get to know that person.

Speaking of talking about others, MAKI ZENIN IS THE NUMBER 1 GO TO OF YOU TWO'S GOSSIPS. Because you and Nobara are practically crushing on Maki. You will devise a plan with her on how you two can get Maki to do things you want to see her do. But, to both of you's demise, Maki won't agree and just channel her angry energy towards you and Nobara.

When in doubt, you always train together no matter what. After all, you trust each other so much. And, you believe that Nobara is the only person who can help you hone your skills even more.

Along with Maki, the two of you are also always bullying poor Yuuta. Of course, Nobara's still mad at him for winning in the Goodwill event. And, after finding out he's a special grade, your competitive nature just wanted to challenge him. But, with him declining the two of you, your favorite pastime with Nobara is to bully him.

Both Megumi and Yuji agreed that you coming into Nobara's life was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because that meant that Nobara will not force them to do Tiktok videos anymore. And, it's a curse because the trouble just doubled. With the two of you being more reckless than any other together.

You're both a good and bad influence to each other. She's a good influence to you because she's helping you become a better person who is strong and ambitious. But, she's also a bad influence to you due to the two of you skipping training sometimes to go to Harajuku and go shopping while using Gojo's card.

Every day goes so fast when you're with her. Every day is filled with laughter and joy together. But, when sadness hits one of you, the two of you are always ready to be one another's shoulder to lean on. She'll be there for you when you feel like the whole world's burdens are on your shoulders alone. She will tell you how important she is to you and how you made her aim for even greater things. She will remind you that there's no challenge that you can't go pass through. And, she will stay not just until you feel better, but until you heal. After all, she is the only person who has seen you through your worst and still chose to stay.

Nonetheless, both you and Nobara will always resort to ordering a large box of pepperoni pizza, and a pint of ice cream for each of you. And, you will both laugh out all the troubles you two are feeling while feeling comfortable in the company of each other.

Despite the personality she shows to everyone, she is a caring and gentle soul, who is ready to risk her life for your safety and happiness.

Overall, Nobara Kugisaki will be the bestest best friend in the world. After all, you were one of the rare people she'll willingly give a spot in her life. Because you changed her. She will forever thank you for being the breath of fresh air into her life. You will thank her for bringing you out of your shell, and to you, she is like your salvation. And, you'll always be the light in her life that will shine brighter than anyone else.

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voidstilesplease · 3 years

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Swords and Arrows

or That Summer When The Ares and Athena Cabins Finally Allied For Capture The Flag part 1 of 3

⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹

(A Steo Demigod AU) || For @anonymous's prompt: "Scott as a Roman demigod instead of Greek" || word count: 2,647 || The Entire Demigod Series -> [AO3][Tumblr] (it's finally a working link tfg)

Stiles pulls back, "I was going to ask if you missed me," he says, face flushed and beaming. "But it appears I don't need to."

"You never need to."

🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️

"Why the long face, little brother?" Tara asks cheerfully, wedging herself on the bench between Theo and one of their half-siblings, and placing down her tray brimming with colorful food as opposed to Theo's bleak and half-empty one. She grins at Theo, but he's not in the mood to return the goodwill.

Theo pokes half-heartedly at the contents of his tray: a lonely sealed bag with a couple squares of ambrosia inside - the food of the gods - some cheese and two slices of wheat bread. "Don't call me little brother," he mutters with little heat, leaning to the table to whisper a request to his goblet, which immediately fills up with sparkling water.

Tara looks over Theo's head at Fred, their Head Counselor, sitting on Theo's other side. "He's not back yet?"

Fred shakes his head, wiping the bbq sauce at the side of his mouth. "Nope," he replies, popping the 'p' and catching on to the question without much elaboration. By now, there's only one 'he' that reduces Theo to a brooding and sulky man-child. "He hasn't answered Theo's last IM, too."

"Try the last five Iris Messages," Theo grumbles in annoyance. He turns to Tara, face contorted in a sour expression. "I mean, how difficult is it to take my call? He always has drachmas in his pocket exactly for this reason."

"He's probably busy disintegrating monsters," Fred says reasonably. Which, of course, makes sense. Monsters make the most infuriating and persistent roadblock of all. They make any journey twice as long for demigods - if they don't manage to kill you, that is. "Or, you know," Fred adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "maybe he's being an accomodating companion to the Son of Jupiter."

Theo grinds his teeth hard and fixes his head counselor with a death glare. Fred only shrugs at Theo's reaction, obviously aiming for the exact response, and chuckling through a bite of ambrosia. Theo has half a mind to punch him in the jugular. He doesn't need a reminder of who Stiles is with, thanks. Spitefully, he harshly impales a piece of grape from Fred's tray with the tines of his fork and shoves it to his mouth in the most menacing manner he can project.

It only makes Fred guffaw, spraying bits of food onto the table. The campers across from him slide their trays away protectively, shrieking an indignant chorus of "Fred!" as they make sure no stray bits made it into their platters. Fred raps at his chest as he reaches for his goblet, still laughing his dumb ass off while trying to wave his hand in apology.

Their neighbors also share their opinion on the appalling table manners of the Ares brood - spitting out food may slightly be a common scene from their lot, unfortunately.

Brett from the Apollo cabin throws corn kernels at Fred, a strange display of solidarity if you can believe it, while Ara, the half-Korean junior counselor of Athena cabin, gives the Ares and Apollo tables a look of disapproval. She's a pretty terrifying 15 years old, which is why Stiles is extremely fond of her. With Stiles gone to New Rome the first week back to camp, Ara is doing a kickass job taking over the head counselor duty. (But, to Hades with it, Theo would much prefer Stiles to be scowling at their table.)

"Okay, first of all," Tara says over the little chaos. "Fred, you're disgusting. Second," she holds Theo's chin to compel him to look at her, then smirks, "Stealing a piece of fruit is not a cabin 5-worthy intimidation tactic."

Theo opens his mouth for his scathing retort, but at the same time, one of Stiles's younger siblings points in the direction of the cabins. "Hey, it's Stiles!"

Many heads look up, but Theo springs to his feet instantly, scanning the area for Stiles. He catches sight of him almost immediately, bounding to the Mess Hall in his orange shirt, face bright under the camp's enchanted borders, as radiant as the last time Theo saw him four long months ago. Without much thought, Theo finds himself carried by his feet towards Stiles.

Stiles sees him coming too, and his smile broaden. Theo sprints, forgetting himself and where they are. They meet halfway, by the entrance of the Mess Hall, with Theo knocking into Stiles's open arms strong enough that it's a surprise they're still upright on the ground.

Theo squeezes him to make sure his mind did not conjure a Spectre to appease his longing. Stiles feels solid under his hands, if a little sweaty, and he smells as if he was run over by monsters. But underneath the grime, he catches the scent of Stiles's favorite body wash. He feels himself sagging in satisfaction.

Stiles pulls back, "I was going to ask if you missed me," he says, face flushed and beaming. "But it appears I don't need to."

"You never need to."

Theo doesn't know how long they stood just smiling at each other, but they break apart at Chiron's pointed clearing of the throat. It's not even in Theo's head to be embarrassed by his actions despite the cackling and many leering faces of the other demigods. Mr. D merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow, though the twinkle in his eyes can only be from amusement.

Chiron is sitting on his wheelchair today, hiding his horse's ass behind the illusion of human legs - why he still does it is a wonder - and rolls forward to them.

"Stiles Stilinski," he greets merrily, the lines of his eyes crinkling when he smiles. "Welcome back." Chiron gazes a little behind them, then, nodding kindly towards another boy Theo only notices, is standing patiently at a distance.

The boy, Scott McCall, son of Jupiter and a praetor of the Roman demigods' army, the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, steps forward to bow his head in respect of the centaur. "Chiron," he also acknowledges Mr. D who didn't bother to get up from the head table. "Lord Bacchus."

"Hm," Mr. D hums without correcting the demigod, sipping on his diet coke dismissively.

Theo doesn't hate Scott, but he also doesn't like him - strongly, irrationally, dislikes him. Instinctively, he shuffles closer to Stiles as if his boyfriend is going to dissolve into the Mist if he isn't close enough to pull him back.

Theo's been agitated since Stiles told him, a week prior, that he was flying to New Rome in California where Camp Jupiter is, the Roman camp, for a 'friendly' visit. Everyone's allowed to cross borders, but no one has really done so just to tour around. After all, the camps are on opposing sides of the country and monsters don't pause to consider not killing vacationing demigods.

A couple of times before last week, when Theo visited Stiles in his Manhattan apartment, he'd, out of the blue, mentioned the varied courses and scholarships that New Rome University offered, as Theo laid his head on Stiles's lap while the latter read. Theo hadn't minded it at the time, as Stiles quickly dropped the subject. But another month passed and Stiles mentioned it again, randomly, during one of their IMs, adding that he might check into the enrollment requisites. Theo started to worry, then.

If Stiles goes to New Rome for college, Theo can't follow him. He never even got to finish eighth grade. And Scott, he's one of the Romans, their leader, and grudging as he is to admit, one of Stiles's friends now the more he visits Camp Half-Blood. He will eagerly encourage Stiles, telling him of the countless perks that Camp Jupiter has. He will be as big a hero there as he is in Camp Half-Blood, and he can rise to praetorship alongside Scott if the Legion so wishes it.

Scott is not a bad person per se, but he wears the color and insignia of the place Theo might lose Stiles to. And if Theo blinks the wrong way, he might not see quick enough that Stiles is being whisked away to the other side of the coast, leading a life without him.

⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹

After officially welcoming the son of Jupiter to the camp, feeding him, and getting him settled in Cabin One, the campers go about their daily routine of training.

The blade vibrates when it hits the shooting log, right on the marked spot. Then it disappears into thin air and reappears in Theo's hand only to be thrown back to the same spot. He does it repeatedly, unrelentingly, until Tara aims with his bow and hits his blade with an arrow to send both weapons clanging to the ground, a few meters away.

Theo heaves; he doesn't even know he's breathless just from throwing until then. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, he nods appreciatively at the bow in Tara's hands when his sister stands beside him with a smile. "If we aren't siblings, I'd mistake you for a daughter of Apollo."

"Please," she laughs, opening her palm, gesturing at the fallen weapons. Both her arrow and Theo's blade fly to her hands in a matter of seconds. "I don't want to light up like a glow stick while waxing poetry during a fight." Children of Apollo don't actually do those in the middle of a fight, but they do glow when they're healing, and they can make others speak in rhymes just for fun. Tara offers the knife back to his brother. "Also, we're children of Ares. By birthright alone, we should know to wield any weapon of war."

Theo takes the knife and snorts, "And yet, I suck at archery."

"I can't summon weapons out of thin air," She points out, grinning at him as she puts the arrow back to its sheaf. "I guess we just can't have it all or Zeus would be zapping us one by one."

Theo scoffs, leaning into position to begin throwing again.

"Speaking of Zeus," Tara says, a playful tone in her words. "Where's your favorite son of the Sky God?"

Theo spares her a glare before flinging his knife and burying it onto the battered practice log. He purses his lips before answering, "He's at the Big House with Chiron, Mr. D, Stiles, and the other head counselors." He clenches his fingers around the blade's hilt when it returns to his hands. "They're talking about a little orientation on New Rome University's scholarships and handing brochures and study guide for the DSTOMP." Theo doesn't bother hiding the acid in his voice from his sister. She'll recognize it anyway, even if he masks it with neutrality. He can't mask it with neutrality.

She quirks a brow, "You don't sound too eager," she notes. "Are you still jealous of Scott, little brother?"

"I'm not jealous of Scott," he says, gritting his teeth. "And don't call me little brother."

"Why are you so strung up, then, if you're not baselessly jealous?"

He finds his reply being interrupted for the second time that day, this time by a distant rumbling coming from the sky. All activities on the ground cease as everyone turns to the increasing volume of an invisible running engine. Theo scans the space above them, at first not grasping anything in motion, until a burst of light reveals a flying, glowing red bus coming down fast to the ground.

🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️

Someone goes to alert Chiron as the rest of them scamper to the landing site by the amphitheater. The bus landed surprisingly smooth, despite its breakneck descent.

"Is that a Ferrari bus?" One of the campers points out.

Sure enough, the logo at the front of the vehicle, a black prancing horse on a yellow background, is of the famous luxury sports brand. But why would there be a flying Ferrari bus at Camp Half-Blood?

"Oh gods," Lori gasps somewhere on Theo's left. "Is that dad's sun chariot?"

As if on cue, the bus door opens, and a teenager who looks about Theo's age exits, wearing what he can only describe as a hipster look. He flashes a blinding grin - and quite literally at that, since they have to shield their eyes momentarily from the glimmer of his teeth - clears his throat dramatically, and announces:

"Hello demigods

The sun landed on your grounds

I am so awesome."

There's silence at first, then a series of enthusiastic applause from Brett and the rest of cabin seven comes next. The teenager bows theatrically, although Theo finds nothing extraordinary about what he just said. But soon, the others join in with half-hearted claps, recognizing the powerful aura suddenly seeping into their skins that could only mean there's a god among them - well, another god, aside from Dionysus, their Camp Director. And with the terrible haiku, there will be no mistaking who graced their camp today. The last time Theo had seen him, during the almost war on his first year at camp, the god had worn the body of a muscular mid-20's blond man. Now, it seems he favors to look even younger despite his four thousand years.

"Lord Apollo," Chiron's voice drowns out the applaud as he trots forward, now in his form as a white stallion from the waist down. "It's a pleasant surprise. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

Mr. D isn't as warm. He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Oh, bother, what brought you here now?"

Apollo's bright persona doesn't falter as he gestures at the bus - that is apparently his sun chariot. Theo remembers the time when he almost drove Apollo's chariot, if the Hermes cabin did not snitch it from under their noses, and thus putting three cabins grounded after a severe prank war. He had to take Liam's dish duties and pay him just so his present for Stiles could be delivered in time for Christmas.

"I'm here at the request of my little sister." The god says proudly, as the door opens again, this time with grumbling teenage and prepubescent girls coming out from the bus. All dressed in the same outfit: silver jackets, silver camo pants, and black combat boots, and they carry at their backs a quiver of sharp silver arrows. They glance at Apollo with apparent distrust, standing as far away from him as possible, as the god continues, "To deliver her hunters safely while she's away on a personal errand."

Several demigods groan in displeasure at the news, and even Chiron's lips form a thin line, though he tries to smile through the tension. Mr. D seems to be delighted now, though, happier to see the strange, vicious-looking ladies than his own brother. Personally, it feels like an omen of danger. Mr. D is never happy unless something perilous is about to descend upon his campers - even if his own daughter, Malia, is among them.

"Thank you, Lord Apollo." One of the hunters says albeit she looks physically pained by her words. She stands at the front of the group, a silver ring headwear around her head, with bouncing black curls, a pointed nose, and a strong chin. The other hunters also look at her when she speaks. It's easy to recognize her as the group's leader. "And thank you, Lord Dionysus, Chiron, for accomodating the hunters of Lady Artemis."

Chiron nods at the girl, eyes softening with kindness born out of familiarity, "You're always welcome, Allison."

Mr. D laughs boisterously, then. Like his punishment has just been lifted and he can go back to Olympus and away from the brats, celebrating by getting drunk on wine after years of prohibition. "Well, at least, Capture the Flag this Friday seems more enticing now, don't you think so, Chiron?" He gives a wicked grin at his campers, not waiting for a reply, his change in demeanor promising a torturous next few days for the demigods. "Ready to lose the Camp Half-Blood banner to these little girls for the 58th time in a row?"

~•~

#steo #steo fic #demigod au #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #so idk what the heck happened #but i wrote 1k words more than my target word count #ahdbdjdjskxb idk #also for the demigod anon here's a response to one of your prompts!!#it took a hot minute but i hope you see this #scott mccall #brett talbot #tara raeken #allison argent #fics tag #demigodseries

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franstastic-ideas · 5 years

Text

Present Day, Present Time

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

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

Word Count: 20,603

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

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

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

Webber and Julian belong to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We just wanted to be close to you.”

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

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

Frisk was about to find out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re up unexpectedly early today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-What...?” She stuttered dumbly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was time to test if that claim was true.

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

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

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

“buh?!” He nearly spluttered in surprise.

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

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

“these... these are amazing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kneesocks?!”

“you didn’t know?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I better go answer that.”

“‘kay. see ya in a bit, kiddo.”

~~~~~~~~~~

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

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

“Mettaton?!” She openly expressed her shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’ll clean that up!”

So the party was going great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her wide toothy grin then turned into a deep frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually, it does!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alphie, you’re CHOKING me...!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She would get her a real one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fallen deeply and hopelessly in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“SANS, DON’T YOU DARE!”

“pasta-la vista.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I... I didn’t have time to.”

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

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

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

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

“WOWIE, WOULD I EVER!”

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

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

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

“nope.” “NOPE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The price was just too much to pay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frisk, on the contrary, thought he was adorable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And no peeking either!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Affection!” She replied cheerfully.

“Disgusting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She glanced over the box, surveying its size.

“...Is it a tiny whoopie cushion?”

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

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

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

It was an echo flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sans, I have one last gift for you.”

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

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

“frisk, you aren’t making any sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, i’d wear ‘em.”

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

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

Sans peered inside the blackness of the box...

Reset...?

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

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

“It’s yours now.”

It took him ages to respond.

“.........wh-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“............”

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

“......I know that.” He whispered.

“You do?” She replied, deadpan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Departures

What is this? 7 of 14 prompt requests for my follower celebration!

What is the prompt? “For your drabbles I got an idea from a video I saw where a dad shaved his beard and him and his wife do a face reveal for their toddler and the kid doesn’t recognize him and starts crying, it was the cutest thing. What if Poe and reader do something similar with their kid/s?” This was hella specific (which is all good, ILY) but I reinterpreted it a little- hope you enjoy and thanks for the request, Anon!

Author’s note: This can be read as a sequel of sorts to Arrivals but can totally be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: dad!Poe, husband!Poe, modern!Poe domestic cuteness.

Word count: 1977

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, wifey x hubby flirting and light sexual innuendos, and typos.

GIF credit: here

“I’m not ready to say goodbye. You’re really going to shave it off?” you ask, with a pet lip, as you run your fingers through your husband’s glorious salt and pepper beard one more time. “It’s just so hot. You look distinguished, like a... hot Duke or something.”

Poe’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “But you like me without a beard too, right?”

“You’re hot all the time. It’s infuriating, actually. Just maybe I’m gonna miss the tickle of your beard on my skin.”

“Between your thighs, you mean?” he teases, his voice a low rumble. It’s not meant to turn you on -his tone is light-hearted- but it does anyway.

“Maybe.” you sing-song, nipping your lip between your teeth.

“You’ve forgotten how much you liked my stubble grazing you there. I’ll be happy to remind you, sweetheart.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” you promise, hopping up on the counter as Poe continues his application of shaving cream and takes his shaving blade in hand.

Ok, maybe you could get used to him without a beard again. There’s something disconcertingly hot about watching him shirtless, shearing the stubble from his chiselled jaw. Something about the smoothness and then the roughness which follows. The smell of those lotions on his skin.

You watch him fondly for a while, careful not to distract him as he moves the blade precisely over the more sensitive contours of his neck. He hums as he does so and, you realise, you’re glad to be reminded of this morning ritual. You tune-in to what he’s humming, and smile as you realise he’s unconsciously humming the theme from your little one’s current cartoon of choice. This man can go from sinful to adorable in the bat of an eye. He really has it all.

“Do you think Juno will like your new face?” you ask, and Poe’s eyes soften immediately from the mere mention of your daughter.

“She’s been strongly encouraging me to shave it off. In fact, she keeps trying to yank my beard right off. Yesterday, she hated it so much she mushed porridge into it and it was stuck in there for hours.”

“Gross, Poe.” you chide and he throws you a feigned angry look. “What if she doesn’t recognise you?”

“What?!” your heart grows several sizes upon hearing how concerned Poe sounds at the suggestion. “She’ll know me, I’m her Papa!” it’s more of a plea than a statement of certainty. He drops the blade down, seeming as if he might halt right there and remain half-bearded if there’s even a slight possibility Juno wouldn’t recognise him.

“I’m sure she will, Poe.” You say, hopping down to rub circles into his shoulder blades. “Just don’t be surprised if she gets a shock when she wakes up, ok?”

Well now he looks more than a little glum. “Maybe I shouldda kept it.” He keeps going, the other side of his beard disappearing stroke-by-stroke. The only patch which remains sits on his top lip. “Should I keep this bit?”

You smile warmly at him in the mirror. “It’s gotta go, Poe. I can’t take you seriously with a moustache.”

“Do you ever take me seriously?”

You respond by giving his ass a squeeze through his relaxed joggers. “You’re seriously sexy.”

He smiles and you think you might be distracting him a little too much now. “I’m gonna go start on the laundry. Come remind me what that handsome, cleanshaven face feels like when you’re ready, baby.”

You mosey out of the room, swaying your hips as you know he’ll be looking to catch a glimpse through the mirror.

***

You are pottering in the utility room downstairs when you hear Juno’s cries from the bedroom. You keep an ear out, but you know Poe is up there and likely rushing to her. Still, you wander into the kitchen so that you’re on hand if you’re needed, and so you can greet them when they make their way down to you.

The crying doesn’t subside and you get a little furrow in your brow. “Everything ok, honey?” you call up the stairs.

You look up at the mouth of the stairs with light concern, and you see Poe approaching across the landing, a bawling little poppet slung at his hip. Juno spots you and stretches her arms towards you with cries of “Mama! Mama!”.

Poe looks upset as he hands Juno over to you and you bundle her into your arms. You give her a gentle bounce on your hip. “Jungle ‘Juno’ Dameron. What’s got you so upset after your nap, huh?”

You look at Poe’s face and he is so distressed that it’s almost comical. You’re not sure who to comfort more - him or the child. “She doesn’t recognise me, honey.”

“Aww. Course she does. Don’t you Juno?” You rub you palm over Poe’s cheek, feeling the smooth skin and the sharp contours of his jaw. “Look Juno, it’s Daddy.” You give Poe a friendly kiss on the cheek. “We love Daddy, don’t we?”

Juno wrings her chubby little hands together, a tremble in her lip as she looks between the both of you, her cries having stopped but crystal ball tears still lingering on her cheeks.

He reaches out to Juno, brushing her tears away. “It’s me, baby.”

“Do the song she likes.” you nudge him, knowing she’ll respond to his familiar and soothing voice. He begins to sing to her and immediately, her face brightens. Although she still looks a little apprehensive, her cheeks apple with her gummy smile.

To your relief, Poe’s face brightens too and soon they are both smiling again.

Now that she’s settled, Juno wriggles against you and signals she wants to be put down. “Ok, baby girl. Shall we get some fresh air in the yard? Where’s Beebs?! Shall we go find Beebs?”

Juno claps her palms together and toddles in the direction of your yard. You follow closely behind her, momentarily confused as to why Poe isn’t following too.

“You coming hubster?”

“In a second. I just need to do something upstairs.”

You shrug and tootle outside, perching yourself on your back step and smiling softly to yourself as Juno plays in the grass with Beebs at the end of your garden. You pick up the stuffed animal strewn on the patio by your feet -a blurrg Poe had custom-made for Juno’s birthday- and your smile spreads further as you give the ridiculous creature a little snuggle.

Eventually, you hear the approach of Poe’s footsteps through the kitchen and you turn to look up at him as he plants a warm, broad hand on your shoulder. Now you might actually be able to appreciate that clean-shaven face of his.

You squeal as you turn towards him, however, and observe that he has something inexplicable and black and furry strapped across his chin.

“Woah.” You startle, pressing your palm over the shocked “o” of your lips before a hearty laugh filters through your fingers.

“I made a beard.” he offers by way of explanation. “I did not like upsetting Juno.” He perches himself by your side on the step. You think he’s smirking beneath the monstrosity strapped to his face, crow’s feet radiating from around his eyes. “Do you think she’ll buy it?”

You laugh. You laugh at this ludicrous man. Your fingertips coming up to tug at... whatever this is. You see he’s been quite creative, hair ties hooking it around his ears.

“What is it?”

“Ok, don’t tell Juno.” he leans in to you as if confessing a secret, his voice dropped low. “I maybe cut up a stuffed animal from that sack of stuff destined for goodwill.”

You feel overcome that he would do all of this, just so he didn’t upset her. Happy tears brim in your eyes at how loved your daughter is. You run a hand over his makeshift beard. “You are the sweetest man on earth, you know that?”

He gently presses a hand to your rounded, expanding belly. “Anything for my joint-favourite kiddo.” Your pending second child was about to be the joint-luckiest kiddo in the world, you could swear.

You look at him again in disbelief, so utterly wonderful and so utterly ridiculous. “Poe, you know you have a stuffed animal strapped to your face? This. This is one of the reasons people don’t take you seriously.”

“I thought I was seriously sexy.” he purrs, dipping his head towards you to steal a quick kiss from his wife while Juno is happily occupied.

The fibres of the fabric tickle at your nose.

“Just to be clear, honey. There’s no way you’re getting that beard between my thighs.”

You are joined in laughter until Poe’s attention is diverted by Juno making loud, nonsensical noises and tracking her way across the garden to you both. Her hands make a grabby motion as she toddles.

“I’ll take care of you later.” he promises, with a swift press of a kiss into your hair as he stands. “For now, let’s see if Juno recognises me again. I gotta be honest, it broke my kriffing heart when she didn’t know me.” you smile at his newly invented swear word to use around the little one.

You feel warm inside as he runs to Juno and lifts her in the air, joined in a happy moment as he aeroplanes his baby girl around in his arms, Beebs snapping joyously at his heels.

You reach for your camera phone. You must remember to take a video of him in that ludicrous beard. You don’t want to forget a single, silly, loving moment and you know it is impossible to capture them all. But this one? This one is far too good to let slide.

You stand and mosey down the garden, until you fold over with a jolt of discomfort in your belly. Poe catches it instantly and turns towards you. “Honey?”

“I wasn’t sure earlier. But now I’m pretty confident I’m having contractions. Pretty regular.”

His eyes scold you for not saying anything sooner but at the same time they are only full of love.

“It’s happening! Honey!” he looks like he might smile and cry and freak out all at once. He slings Juno on to his hip so he can wrap his other arm around you, his thoughts evidently going a mile a minute. “I’ll drop Juno next door with Finn until we can get hold of Grandma Leia and Grandpa Han. The bags are in the car. We can do this.”

You look at him in shock. “It’s happening. We’ve got to go. Meet our new baby.”

He presses a loving kiss to your lips, despite that infernal fake beard still adorning his jaw. “I love you so kriffing much,” he says, voice cracking with emotion, “and I’ll be right back. Call your mom, ok?”

He dashes through the yard and you call out to him. “Poe!”

He looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Take that thing off your face, or Finn and Rose will never let you hear the end of it.”

“There’s no time, sweetie! Plus, I wouldn’t want people to start taking me seriously.” He flashes you a grin before resuming his dash through the house.

You stand in the garden alone for a moment, saying softly to yourself. “I love you so much too, Poe Dameron.”

Then, you remember that you’re not quite alone as Beebs rubs up against your calf and yaps at you, as if to helpfully yank you from your slight panic and disbelief as the reality of the situation hits you. It does the job, and you remember suddenly that you need to call your mom, Leia.

When you look down at the phone in your hand, you’re delighted to see you never hit the button to end the video you were recording. You’ve captured that whole exchange.

Tears brim in your eyes, overwhelmed by the family you already have, and the family you’re about to have. You are so glad for every moment.

THE END

Like this? Please consider reblogging, and/or sending feedback in an ask or comment. I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU AND STORIES ARE NOTHING WITHOUT A READER. YOU ARE EVERYTHING AND ILY.

Want more? You can check out my Masterlist to read more of my works! FYI: It’s always kept updated in my bio.

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#poe dameron x reader #dad!poe #husband!poe #modern!poe #poe dameron au #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #star wars x reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron #sw #poe dameron fic #star wars fic

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marvels-writings · 4 years

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Rumor Has It (4)

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers Masterlist

A/N: so quick thing, since my parents don’t know about this blog (and i’d like to keep it that way) i won’t have an excuse to be on my computer anymore (which is when i write and post) so activity might be less than usual, i’ll still try to find a way around it tho, love you all!

“I don’t know honestly.” Carol answered softly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.

“Well, I mean the meeting is at 6 today, so we can sightsee.” You offered, almost excited. “I mean, I’ve been to this part of London hundreds of times but it doesn’t hurt to roam around.”

“Y/n it’s freezing outside.” Carol answered, trying to shoot the idea down, not liking the idea of going sightseeing without cover.

“C’mon, it’s already 5 in the morning,” You got up, letting go of Carol’s hand, Carol frowned slightly, missing your warmth next to her but remained sitting. “We can shower and I know this great place to get a bite.”

“Do you even have euros?” Carol asked, getting off and walking over to her bags, knowing there was no talking you out of this.

“They use pounds sterling and yes, I do,” You lifted up a few stacks of pounds out of the side drawer, they were all 5, 10 and 20 notes to look inconspicuous. Carol’s eyes widened as she raised an eyebrow at the amount of money you held in your hands, and the fact you pulled it out of a hotel’s side drawer.

“What? I have a lot of goodwill with Maria and Fury,” You shrugged, taking out a lot of them and putting them in your wallet, you laid out some warm clothes on the bed, unable to decide which one to pick.

“How did you even get that much goodwill is what I don’t understand.” Carol muttered, picking out clothes for herself.

“I did missions no one else wanted to,” You explained, half distracted by your inability to decide outfits. “I’m actually a nicer person than most of SHIELD would like to think.”

Carol was a bit taken aback by that statement, she thought you didn;t know about the rumors. But you knew, you just didn’t care.

“Hey which outfit?” You asked, holding up both of them for Carol to choose.

One was a simple white sweater, light blue pants and a thick waterproof jacket. The other was a black sweater with a large neck, it was meant to slip off your shoulder, a slightly but barely noticeably tighter jacket than the other one and black ripped jeans.

“Black.” Carol answered almost instantly, even thought the white one looked visibly comfier.

“Yeah easier to blend in.” You thought aloud, throwing the white outfit in your duffel bag and practically running into the shower.

“Yeah that’s why.” Carol muttered, not knowing the exact reason why she said black. She picked out an outfit and decided to browse something on her phone as she waited for you to take a shower.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Sorry that took so long.” You apologized, coming out of the shower in the outfit you’d picked out with the jacket sing over your shoulder and the sweater hanging off your shoulder.

“it’s fine.” Carol answered, not looking up from her phone and just getting up to go in the shower.

“Thoughts?” You asked, Carol looked up at you. You did a small twirl for the fun of it.

The sweater looked like something bought in H&M at a last minute sale but god it looked good on you. The jeans hugged your skin perfectly, the rips revealing your knees and a bit of your thigh.

“Wow, I mean it looks good.” Carol stuttered, you smirked and blushed at the compliment, thanking her quickly.

“I’m gonna shower.” Carol said quickly, heading in after you, you chuckled softly and went on the balcony of your room, staring out at the streets.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“Ready to go?” Carol asked, out of the shower as she threw the jacket on her bed.

You turned around from the balcony to find Carol wearing a half zip, peacock blue sweater and navy blue jeans with white fading. A black jacket thrown on the bed. The zipper was all the way down.

“Might want to zip that up.” You commented, clenching your jaw and averting your gaze.

“Oh, right, thanks.” Carol smirked at your behavior but let it slide.

You put on your jacket and grabbed your fav/color beanie. Carol put on her jacket, deciding it wasn’t cold enough for a hat, and she didn’t bring one so the two of you headed out.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The place you went to for breakfast actually ended up being way better than carol had expected. She ate more than she had in a few months, you laughed and ate while talking.

Carol couldn’t stop thinking, what you said was true. You were a much better person than all of SHIELD made you to be. Weirdly enough, Carol found herself liking your company.

You dragged Carol to some of the major touristy places in London after finding out she had never been to London before. She had never enjoyed sightseeing, she thought of it as almost a useless task.

That was before you of course.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noticing Carol tense up while you talked.

“One of the dealers is on our 1 o’clock and heading towards us.” Carol stated, you saw her jaw and neck muscles clench visibly, you tried to keep yourself from staring but you noticed the dealer.

The street had very few people on it since you were taking a shortcut to one of the more famous bars in the city. He would definitely notice you, there was probably no way to get out of it but a small alley on the right, where he was.

“Alley, now.” You whispered, linking your arm with Carol’s hurriedly and dragging her into the alley, moving so your back was against the wall and Carol in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing?” Carol demanded, eyes wide and your arm still loosely linked with here.

“Trust me.” You said, looking up at her seriously. Carol found herself doing as you said, despite barely knowing you for more than a few days.

“He’s heading this way.” You stated, panic flashing through your eyes quickly.

Carol was about to speak, probably suggest something the two of you could do. But you practically grabbed her neck and smashed her lips into yours.

Slightly shocked, Carol was about to pull away instantly and call you crazy. But your touch made her melt, your lips soft on hers, she found herself kissing back before she could stop.

Your hand went slowly into her hair as your other hand was still linked with hers, Carol put one hand gingerly on your waist, lips moving over yours as her body pressed yours into the wall, still having no idea what was happening.

You broke away suddenly, completely breathless as Carol practically panted into your mouth.

“What was that?” Carol whispered, softer than she had intended. She meant for it to sound like she was angry you had kissed her, she was never a good actor.

“PDA makes people very uncomfortable.” You smirked and took your hand away from Carol’s neck, gesturing to the man who was currently walking the other way now, Carol couldn’t help the grin on her face.

“Uh you can let go now.” You stated, pinned against the wall still.

“Right,” Carol muttered, pulling away instantly and fixing her jacket even though she didn’t need to. “Kissing to get away from the bad guys.” She muttered.

“What? It’s a classic.” You joked, linking your arm with Carol’s as a friendly gesture and taking her out of the alley.

Carol was still stunned on what had just happened. She knew it was a classic thing to do, and normal to be honest. But still, it felt like more than that. Much more, you seemed much more than a rumor to her.

A/N: I think I’m liking this so far, you?

Tag list: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

| Part 5 |

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a-deadly-serenade · 4 years

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uh oh i feel a rant coming on 😳

man i just realized that castlevania has been apart of my life for... so long??? shouts out to half-priced books, a DOPE ass store that’s basically like goodwill but for videos and books and cds and video games?? it’s SO cool?? so anyways shouts out to them & to my dad for making one of his few big-brain decisions to purchase a little game called symphony of the night for our ps1 cuz i LOVED playing on that as a kid!!! i became obsessed!! with the manual & the pretty art of the characters. i loved owls so maria was an instant favorite and i remember practicing drawing her portrait so many times i could do it from memory. and of course, since i was super huge into winx club as a kid, alucard reminded me of valtor, so THAT was pretty lit for young elementary/middle school me 👀 i was ass at the game but i still remember always booting it up just to hear the theme that plays as u enter dracula’s castle... so good

flash forward to high school and i haven’t really thought much about castlevania until my brother gets into avgn & we watch the castlevania episode together and one of the last games he brings up is, of course!! misses metroidvania herself, symphony of the night!!! i instantly remembered the game & booted that bitch up and played it for the first time in years!! and i got pretty far too. i started trying to get other games from the series, and ended up getting super castlevania 4 for one of my birthdays.. i think 18th. played that. loved it. i see dragonforce in concert for the first time in college. they introduce their next song by asking, “HEY has anyone heard of a game called, SYMPHONY OF THE NIGHT?” and proceeded to blast my tits clean off with an homage of the same name.

and then... i got word of a possible series being created... with my favorite actor of ALL time being the lead as trevor belmont. it was as if god themselves looked at my life and said, u know that obscure game series you’re into?? yeah, we’re going to make an anime that not ONLY has ur main slice alucard in it, but one of the characters is voiced by The Richard Armitage. how we feeling?? Dead. i was dead. and season 1... listen, that season is still my favorite. i have watched it SO many times. i showed it to literally ALL of my friends.. the memory of stumbling upon it while browsing netflix while i was at home, and the SHOCK on my face when i saw the GORE and direction it was going??? GOD MAN!!!!

OK!!!! it just makes me so mad that the show went so south!!! it had such promise!!! i love this series!! so i think that’s why s3 was just so intolerable for me. i may not have played a lot of the games, but this series still means so much to me so... man s3 was such a slap in the face lol so much lost potential uhghghghghhhhhhhh anyways

#yes i deleted my reblog of this #no i did not #anyways #decided to be courteous and leave it under the cut #but #castlevania sweetie #i still luv you #that last addition to the netflix part of ur history #lets just treat it like that one weird member of ur extended family #that u hear about now and again #but u never really interact with them

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jane-ways · 5 years

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Of Things Made to be Destroyed, Ch 1

Read it on AO3 and SWG!

Title and description from Fuckmylife666 by Against Me!

In fairy stories, the kind he used to tell his nephew, the handsome prince sees the beautiful princess and falls instantly in love. She is radiant, and he, burning with passion, strides purposefully towards her, mind made up to ask for her hand in marriage. They dance, because they are at a ball (these sorts of things always seem to happen at balls), they kiss, and then they are married, and live happily ever after. (“What happens in the happily ever after?” Celebrimbor had once asked. Caranthir, stuttering, had told him to ask his father.)

This was not a fairy story. The first time he saw her, she was little more than a blur covered in blood and filth as he swept past her on horseback. In the back of his mind, Caranthir registered that she appeared to be the person in charge, and after his initial assault drove the attacking orcs back, he turned his horse, searching her out amongst the rabble. She fought close to the front lines, screaming orders to her soldiers above the din of the wind and rain, voice raw with the kind of fury that most often masks fear. (Something in the ragged edges of her words caught his notice, and he heard in them first his father and then himself.) He made to catch her eye and saw he had already caught hers. (Well, Caranthir reasoned, trying not to make too much of it, he was a mighty Elven lord on horseback who had just swept in from the rear with half his cavalry. Eru knew what he seemed like to this mortal woman.) Riding up to meet her, he spared no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the point, shouting the first words of his message even before he had quite reached her. Belatedly, it occurred to him that she might not speak Sindarin. He prayed that by some miracle these people had encountered friendly Avari who might have passed on Thingol’s language.

Luck, it would appear, was on his side. Slashing at an orc who had broken through the defensive line, she shouted back her reply over the howling of the wind. Battle plans thus agreed on, she returned her attentions to the orc as Caranthir charged forward to his soldiers once more, surging into the fray.

By the time the battle was over, the storm had subsided to a drizzle, no less damp and miserable but at least less noisy. Picking his way through the uneven ground, Caranthir guided his horse around the bodies of the dead and injured. Mannish and Elvish soldiers alike scoured the battlefield for fallen comrades, either to tend or to bury. The orcs they left. The woman stood a ways off, surrounded by a contingent of other Men, whom he guessed to also be women by the obvious swells of their hips and chests. (He wondered if perhaps that was why Men seemed to take so much stock of whether one was male or female—those being the only two options, as he understood it, although in truth he found Mannish sexual dimorphism, and the extent to which it seemed to govern their genders, their societies, and their daily lives, utterly mystifying.) With Elves he would not have so easily known, but then, with Elves it would not have mattered. Perhaps these women were considered more suitable counselors or bodyguards for a female leader? Or perhaps this was a society governed by women? Had Findaráto or the twins mentioned any tribes of the Edain with matriarchal systems of leadership?

His thoughts thus occupied, Caranthir did not notice when his horse failed to stop completely as he dismounted. Tripping ahead with the forward momentum, his leather riding boots slipped in the wet mud, and he stumbled with an “oomf” directly into the woman’s outstretched arms. Peering down at him, she blinked. For the first time, he could see her face clearly, and he found himself preeminently occupied with the sheen of sweat and rain on her skin, and how it seemed to glimmer as it rose in thin wisps of steam into the cold air.

She coughed politely and he realized with embarrassment that he had been staring. “You, ah,” he stuttered, “you fight well.” Regaining his composure, Caranthir righted himself awkwardly, all the while praying silently he would not slip again. “Thank you.”

“I am Haleth, daughter of Haldad, by right of succession chieftain of the Haladin.” She gave him a once over, flicking her eyes from head to toe and back up. Without thinking, he felt himself stand up straighter. “Who are you?”

“I am Morifinwë Carnistir, called Caranthir in the tongue of Elu Thingol; Prince of Thargelion, fourth son of the First House of the Noldor. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady,” he replied in what he hoped was the correct mixture of grandeur, magnanimity, and pleasantness. First contact protocol was an inexact science at the best of times, and he had met few Edain before—certainly not as the ranking prince in his side of the exchange. And certainly not having just tripped into their arms. Gazing at her again, he noticed the same intensity he had first seen on the battlefield, a veneer of authority with its foundation in insecurity. By right of succession, she had said. Even though her Sindarin wasn’t perfect, that much had come across clearly. So her parent had likely died in this battle, or at least recently enough that she had not been formally recognized as leader in her own right. Dimly, Caranthir recalled the name Haldad from the depths of his memory: a man’s name, he thought, so not a matriarchy—another reason for her overcompensation. Haldad—wasn’t he the one who had united the Haladin? Not a long or well-established line of leadership either, then. A wave of sympathy swept over Caranthir. Poor woman. At least his father, in all the blustering and recklessness of his last years, had been secure in his right of succession by birth and the strength of his line.

All these thoughts came and passed in the blink of an eye. Haleth, too, had been making her own mental review, and now she spoke. “Thank you for your aid, Lord,” she said carefully, picking at each syllable, although whether to better her pronunciation or bide for more time to think, he was unsure. “You have been generous in your help today, and in letting us settle your southern lands,” she continued. Caranthir saw that she aimed to go on, but he interjected, hoping to reassure her (and spare himself further effusive comments, which he found embarrassing—he had had enough embarrassment for one day).

“It is well enough to me that you should be settled there, Lady. My people make little use of these lands and your presence discourages more aggressive invasions from—” In the background, he heard the snarl of a wounded orc who had regained consciousness. There was shouting, more snarling, the clashing of metal, and then all fell silent again. “…More unsavory peoples than yourselves,” he finished pointedly. “In fact,” he found himself saying, in one of those all-too-common moments where he could feel his lips moving faster than his mind, with apparently no ability to control the words coming out of his own mouth, “it would not displease me if you were to remain here.”

“It would not displease you?” Haleth’s tone was unreadable but decidedly lacking in enthusiasm.

“With your own fiefdom, of course,” he added hurriedly. Why am I like this? he wondered mournfully. It’s like dropping something and just watching it fall. “You would be free to rule your people and live as you see fit, with as much or as little involvement in my affairs as you wish. I believe it would continue to be mutually beneficial for us both.”

“My Lord,” Haleth spoke deliberately, choosing her words carefully but firmly. “My Lord, is that not already what we have been doing? Living as we pleased, with as much as involvement in the affairs of Elves as we desired?” That is, Caranthir surmised unhappily, none at all.

Caranthir felt a surge of—annoyance? disappointment?—rise up in his throat. “Yeeess,” he answered slowly, drawing out each sound in an attempt to calm down. “To a degree. But as you have been living on my lands without leave—that is,” he caught himself as anger flashed across Haleth’s face—“without formal, legal documentation, you have also been denying yourselves access to certain special protections, public works and improvements projects, tax benefits, etcetera…” As he felt himself slip into what his brothers called “Accountant Mode,” he stopped and took a deep breath. He did not have the time or patience to teach this woman the finer details of administration. Either she had learned what she needed from observing her father, or she would now have to learn the hard way. And he would be damned if he begged a Man to stay on the lands she had already been illegally squatting on. (Even if that squatting had substantially kept the orcs at bay. And resulted in the land being cultivated and cleared of unwanted flora and fauna. And thus increased its real estate value.) Caranthir took another deep breath and settled himself.

Haleth gazed at him silently, considering her options. He guessed that she was not foolish enough to say aloud that she didn’t need him, and he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to insist aloud that she clearly did. One did not get to be as rich as Caranthir by being that stupid. So, what would it be, then?

“My people need time to recover before we can begin making plans for the future,” she said at last. A non-answer, then. Wise decision, he thought. It would give her time to consider her options while receiving more goodwill aid from his people. He would have helped her anyway, of course—he wasn’t a monster, despite what his tempter and his actions at Alqualondë might prompt some to say—but it was clever maneuvering not make that assumption. Perhaps she had learned more than he had first assumed.

He bowed and took his leave, remounting his horse and guiding it over to his lieutenant. There was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t explain, and for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, his mind was filled with the fairy stories he had once told his nephew, and how when his father had first seen his mother, she had been covered in the soot of the forge.

#caranthir #haleth #caranthir/haleth #tolkien #silmarillion #silm fic #My fic

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 5 years

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Fic: Come As You Are (2/11)

nope. i haven’t given up on this, no matter how long it takes me.

Summary: A series of codas/tags/missing scenes to every episode of the first season of TItans.

Warnings: SPOILERS for the whole series, some swearing, violence and gore, lot of dense parenthetical nonsense and fancy formatting. I’ve also taken the liberty to fill in some gaps that were left by canon.

corresponding episode recap is here, and the episode recap series is here.

Chapter one is here.

Come As You Are

1.02

For about an hour into their drive out of Detroit, they say nothing.

Rachel is huddled awkwardly against the car door, staring at the floor or out the window. She doesn’t talk or even look at Dick for a while. He can’t really blame her; every time he blinks, he’s still seeing Rachel’s kidnapper’s face pressed against the glass, leaking blood and brains even as he melted from the inside-out. The last twelve hours have been a lot to take in, and for some time Dick lets the empty hum of cruising down the mostly-deserted highway fill his brain.

Things start filtering in eventually: Rachel sniffing, the creak of leather as she shifts in her seat, the whine of the engine, the cold bite of air through the crack in his window, the vibrations of his seat, the steering wheel under his hands—even the way his hair falls over his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back with cold sweat, the sense-memory of hot, sticky blood on his hands. Each of them plucks at his over-stretched nerves until he can’t stand it anymore: he grits his teeth and fantasises, very briefly, about ripping the steering wheel out and screaming until he loses his voice.

Instead, he says: “you hungry?”

Rachel looks at him warily. There’re flecks of blood on her chin and near her hairline, and Dick’s gut clenches at the sight. God, she’s a kid who’s just had two people murdered gruesomely in front of her, and here he is, no real destination in mind, about to get her snacks like they’re on a camping trip from hell. That’s not even counting the mysterious demonic force inside her body or the fact that she’s being chased by an honest-to-god cult—she needs actual help, like something someone from the League can provide, not a washed-up sidekick with anger issues who’s just barely keeping his life on track. What was he even thinking, just up and running like this without a plan, Bruce would be so—

Well.

Well, shit. So much for fuck batman—even his own brain was betraying him.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rachel mumbles to the dashboard.

Okay—okay. Dick can work with that. Make a plan. Step one. “There’s a rest-stop a couple of miles down the road,” he says, his voice sounding remarkably steady even to him, “we can stop for a bathroom break and some snacks. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Rachel says, still not looking at him.

When they stop, Rachel goes straight to the bathroom, and Dick takes a moment to breathe in the shadow of the convenience store. Clearly he needs to investigate what’s going on here, but before that, he needs to figure out what he’s going to do with Rachel. He doesn’t have the resources to protect her on his own (doesn’t think he can stand another second of being helpless as she clings to him, horrified and desperate), but he’s burned his bridges so thoroughly with most heroes—meta or otherwise—that he can hardly think of anybody who would welcome his presence as anything other than an insultingly transparent way to exploit their fraying goodwill. Besides, most heroes are well-connected to the League, and he absolutely in no way wants any of this to reach Bruce’s ears.

(there’s a part of him that thinks that Batman knows anyway. The thought makes his chest tighten and his skin prickles with barely reigned-in panic.)

In the end, he really only knows a couple of people who are still active heroes, and who couldn’t give a shit about what the Justice League thought, or knew. And even if they give him shit for showing up unannounced at their door after all these years—he deserves it all and more—they’re not going to turn away someone in actual need of help. Not even him.

Rachel’s walking towards him, her breath misting in the chill air, sweater sleeves tugged over her hands. “So,” she says, her voice trembling just a little, “are we going back to Detroit?”

“No.” He smiles at her, and for the first time in a while, feels the tightness in his chest ease just enough to allow in a semblance of the light and purpose that filled him the first time he jumped off the edge of a building as Robin. “We’re going to Washington.”

This is the end, Hank says, wracked with pain and crooked in all the wrong places. He smiles as he says it, though the smile is crooked, too, cracked through the centre with exhaustion and uncertainty. This one final operation and we’re fucking set for the rest of our lives.

Dawn nods, smiles, only half paying attention to the building schematics on the table. Inside, her heart thunders with anticipation, and her knee jiggles as she draws bright red, thick lines for the path that she will take right to the heart of the fight. Hank’s bait; a flashing beacon to draw fire (and another scar, and another scar, and another scar) while Dawn swoops in, taking down gunrunner after asshole after trafficker, feeling their bones crunch underneath her boot. It’s one thing to come home, weary down to your very bones, phantom punches still raining down on your body with every step you take; and quite another to be in the eye of the storm, spilling blood and laughter and thinking: this is all I’ve ever wanted—

“Babe?” Hank asks. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She gets up and walks towards him, cupping his face in her hands. Instantly, his rough edges soften, and he leans into her touch. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how if this is the last time we do this, we’ve got to give it everything.”

“Those fuckers won’t know what hit them,” Hank tells her, and Dawn thrills to the glint in his eye.

When Dick finally lets go of her, Rachel is reminded of peeling bandages and raw skin (sunken, sightless eyes and blood bubbling endlessly out of an open mouth) and she instinctively catches at his sleeve, not quite ready to have him leave.

He turns, and for a moment he glows blood red, just like the child in her dreams who saw his parents fall to their deaths, helpless. “Rachel,” he says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Rachel thinks of the nights Melissa would say that to her, utterly exhausted, shoulders slumped under limp hair. She even meant it, sometimes.

THEY NEVER MEAN IT.

“I know,” she says, letting go of his sleeve and gathering the hastily-drawn crosses around her along with what’s left of her composure, “I’m sorry. I just—I thought I saw the—the thing that made the other guy explode, and, and I don’t know, I thought maybe it’s here, or maybe because I’m here, more bad things are going to happen—”

“Hey, hey. Listen.” Dick gives her his most reassuring smile, but this time she notices that he doesn’t touch her. “I know you’re freaked, and you have every right to be, but I just got some leads to work on, and we’re going to figure this out, okay? I promise you that there’s nothing scary here—except maybe pizza that’s going to go cold very soon.” He gets up, tilts his head to the door.

HE PUTS ON A GOOD ACT, BUT HE’S NOT YOU.

She nods and follows him out of the bathroom. They eat in silence for a while, as Dick goes through several more papers that his computer spits out. She stares at him, nibbling at her piece, appetite entirely gone. He seems utterly unperturbed at the pictures that he’s looking through—though he is a detective, and (she hopes) he’s probably seen worse things. The only weird thing, honestly, is that he’s helping her at all after everything.

“Um,” Dick says suddenly. “You want to watch more TV?”

I want to know what’s going on, but you’re not telling me. “I’m okay, thanks,” she says.

Dick flashes her an awkward smile and goes right back to his papers. In any case, it’s better than what Melissa would usually do after Rachel had one of her… episodes, which was lock herself in her room and pray, then pretend nothing ever happened, as if Rachel couldn’t see her red-rimmed eyes, her flinches, her furtive looks whenever she thought Rachel wasn’t looking—

AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT HER. AND JUST WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO HIM—

Rachel shudders. “Are we leaving?” she asks, if just to get out of her own head for a minute.

“Soon,” Dick says distractedly, flipping through another report. He doesn’t even look at her.

Well. At least that’s familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Dick says. “I’ll clean that up.”

And it’s that—more than showing up after dropping off the face of the earth for years, more than bringing some overpowered teenager to their doorstep, more than even cosying up to Dawn like he’s still fucking eighteen—the way he coolly dismisses the fucked-up thing that’s just happened like it never happened at all, that really pisses Hank off. He’s already looking for a broom and dustpan, and all Hank wants to do is punch that neutral expression right off his pointy face.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Hank says instead.

This is where Dick will come back with a wry smile and something meaningless and utterly infuriating like so I’ve been told, but Dick surprises Hank by saying, “I know. I’m sorry.” He drags a hand over his face. He looks tired, his hair tousled and greasy, dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in a while. “I shouldn’t have—I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “About taking that kid in, or bringing her here?”

Dick is silent for a long moment. Then, in a moment of raw honesty that’s so far removed from his smug billionaire circus kid shtick that it throws Hank for a loop, “Both, I guess.”

“Well.” Hank turns around and rummages for the broom, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s what we do, right? Help people no matter how fucked-up and dangerous it gets?”

(no matter how much it kills you, piece by piece—)

“Even if you are an asshole?”

“Especially if you are an asshole,” Hank says firmly, and hands him the broom.

They’re gone.

It isn’t immediately obvious; every struggling, hard-won breath is like being stabbed over and over again, but enough time passes that Amy is aware that there is no fresh agony being inflicted on her, nor can she hear the voices of her assailants anymore. Another eternity is spent processing this and the fact that her body feels… broken on a level that she had never thought was possible.

(God. She knew partnering with a Gotham detective was going to be dangerous, but she didn’t think he would actually bring a piece of that godforsaken city with him—)

Her phone’s not far away—she can see the screen blinking to life by the couch as messages come in. She begins the slow, excruciating process of dragging herself there with one arm—the other utterly useless. Her wounds burn as they drag over the carpet and she almost passes out entirely several times, but somehow, she gets there, and presses 911 with trembling fingers.

“Please,” she whispers through a mouthful of blood to the operator who answers. “I don’t want to die.”

A hand closes over Dick’s shoulder, and for one long, hysterical moment, he expects to look up and see the imposing shadow of Bruce Wayne. Instead, it’s Hank, face half-obscured by blood dripping from a head wound and twisted into a rictus of agony so sharp it freezes Dick’s breath in his lungs.

“Dawn,” Hank whimpers, falling to his knees by her side, holding her hand. She’s past responding to him now, straining to breathe past the blood bubbling up her throat. Dick’s hands ache from chest compressions, but he isn’t sure any more if they would help.

“The ambulance is on its way,” he says, hoarsely.

Hank nods, never taking his eyes off Dawn. He cups her face with his hand, the movement so gentle that Dick feels like he’s intruding on an unspeakably private moment. “I don’t want you here when it comes,” he says.

Dick nods, numb. He stumbles to his feet, dizzy, feeling cold and hollow in all the places he’d kept under wraps for so, so long. He wants to fall to his knees and sob, wants to reach out and pull Hank by his shirt and snarl that he never meant for any of this to happen, wants to rage and vomit and despair. But the part of him that’s already planning ways to chase down their attackers, the part chiselled into shape by Batman and years of buried trauma, snaps into place, lifts his head, and makes him say, “All right. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He turns and leaves, the sound of snapping wire still echoing in his ears.

#titans #my fic #dick grayson #rachel roth #hank hall #dawn granger #amy rohrbach

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jpmyrlin-blog · 4 years

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I haven't lost my Marbles, but I think there's a hole in my pouch!

This hobby began very innocently, when I found that pouch at a Goodwill store. I didn't own a single marble at the time. I saw it in a glass case near the registers. My curiosity got the best of me, and I was really just interested in the pouch itself. It was obviously hand-made, and had seen its share of use. When I asked the clerk to see it, she promptly unlocked the display case after fumbling with a key fob with about a dozen keys on it. She had to move a pair of Binoculars to get to it, but, as soon as she picked it up, the sound it made instantly brought me back to my childhood. I don't know if it was obvious or not, but I felt myself almost urging her to hand it to me like a kid waiting for someone to hand him some penny candy. The lady knew it was old and fragile, so she handled it with kid gloves. As she finally, and gently placed the pouch into my waiting hands, the unmistakable clickety-clack sound of glass marbles sounded out once again, and I swear my heart skipped a beat at that very moment. It was like I was just transported back in time.

Nervously, I very gently loosened the knotted cord on the Buckskin pouch. I couldn't believe how dry it was. I thought it would break in an instant, but it didn't. The bag itself was parched too. It had obviously been in storage forever. Flakes of the loose, dry skin were threatening to jump off as I was stretching the top of it, to finally get a look inside at those noisemakers and memory enhancers. The store lights shone into the bag for the first time since...well, who knows, but they revealed a familiar scene to me. I would have been happy to find a few handfuls of old marbles. What I was awarded with was a day in the life of a fun-loving kid.

Marbles?...This kid was GOOD! He must have been the neighborhood champ that everyone dreaded to play in a game of "Keepsies". From the looks of it he had taken everyone's prized mibs from them. The collection he had amassed was amazing. Germans of all colors, Bennies, Popeyes, beautiful Marble Kings, Peltier Rainbos of every imaginable color, and there in the middle, proud as can be... an INDIAN! WOW! That would have earned him legend status. What's crazy? The entire bags' content was filthy, like the kid had gotten home, and just threw his pouch in a corner after another successful day. Oh, not to diminish the rest of the contents, but the bag also had a full set of Tiddly Winks, a complete set of Jacks and Ball, and a pristeen set of dice. Like I said, it's like he went out on top never to pick up the pouch again. Probably hung on to it forever, even told stories through the years.

It's sad to think about one of his family members clearing out his home, and without a thought, just discard what probably played a major part of this man's youth. I cherish it. I call him Sam. Thank you, Sam!

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alittletournesol · 5 years

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Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 32/33

Chapter 32 : In your arms [M]

“The Princess won’t go to sleep if it’s not you who put her to bed, your Grace.”

Kibum stood at his quarters’ door, alone as his husband was having a talk with his mother and the General at the moment, and his expression lit up with pride. He was just about to lie comfortably in his bed, welcoming the blankets that had just been changed to fit autumn’s cool nights, but the coming of his former nanny had made all his tiredness vanish with these few words. The relationship he was developing with his daughter since they had come back to Jinju was making his days and nights warmer, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“She’s already rebelling, isn’t she ?” He giggled, remembering how the woman would often cursing his sister and him as children when they wouldn’t want to go to bed either. “It’s like you will never really get rid of us, in a way.”

“You were still more obedient than your sister when it came to bedtime.” The nanny smiled. “I will wait for you in her chamber, if that’s alright ?”

“Tell her I’m coming, and please don’t use it as a threat like I’m going to scold her when I arrive.”

“Remembering my old tactics, I see…”

With a knowing look, the Prince closed his door and went to withdrew one of his dressing gowns from the wardrobe. He was already wearing his night shirt but if he had to walk in the corridors by night, he might as well prevent himself from catching a cold. Once he tied the silk, emerald green belt around his waist, and adjusted his long hair in his back, he put his slippers on and took the oil lamp from his bedside table. Making sure the glass globe was fixed, he left his room and made his way to the little girl’s own bedroom.

The corridors were quiet, almost all employees had joined their apartments by now. Only remained the few butlers who would turn all lights out once everyone would have gone to bed. In no time, Kibum was knocking at a wooden door and entering, smiling when he saw the smile on Sooyun’s lips. She was standing in her crib, grabbing hold of the bars to keep her balance, and her pouty face lit up when she noticed the man coming her way.

“You can go to bed, nanny.” The Prince gently dismissed the old woman, who pinched the baby’s cheek before bowing and leaving. “And what do you think you’re doing, little one ?”

Putting the lamp aside, he approached the crib and instantly lifted his daughter, placing a kiss on her cheek. Despite her enjoyment of having him around, it was noticeable how tired she was, her sleepy eyes looking smaller than usual. With a few caring words, Kibum held her against his chest, keeping her warm in his arms as he started walking in the room. Setting a slow pace, he took his time rocking her to sleep while caressing her dark hair. It was getting long for her age, black strands growing faster than one would have thought… but she was beautiful like this, especially when her grandmother would braid her.

With her small arms attached to her father’s neck, and her head resting on his shoulder, Sooyun was slowly letting herself dive into a well deserved sleep. Though, her eyes opened a bit when she noticed the door slightly opening, light piercing through the frame. Kibum turned around to see who was coming to them, also to protect the princess’ eyes and allow her to fall asleep despite everything.

“Can we come in ?” Jonghyun’s blond head was peeking out and his eyes shined with goodwill. “I’m with Jinki.”

“Sure, she’s about to sleep.” The Prince whispered, intimating the proper tone to use if they were to join him.

The teacher nodded and slipped inside, immediately followed by his partner. The General had removed the metallic parts of his outfit to make his steps quieter, and this simple but considerate gesture moved the raven haired man. Both newcomers approached him, casting a look at the baby and smiling ; they were fond of Sooyun, particularly when she was so calm — her babbling could last very long during the day, and as cute as it was, it quickly trying their patience.

“Is the meeting over ?” Kibum asked, still rocking his daughter but his hand caressing her back now.

“It is, and it was surprising, to say the least.” Jinki replied, his cheeks still tinted with pink. “I wasn’t expecting to hear such news.”

“Your father and the Queen had been obvious for some months, though… I was certain your perspicacity had made you notice them a while ago.”

“When it comes to the matters of the heart…” Jonghyun started, holding back a laughter, “he’s rather oblivious.”

“Don’t make me curse in front of the princess.”

The General’s sulky expression made the two other men quietly giggle, his uneasiness tangible in the room. For sure, he couldn’t have expected this late meeting with his father, the King and his mother, to be about a love confession… and he was still feeling dumbfounded, deep inside. It had all been on Minho’s initiative, the latter having enough of these lovebirds trying to hide their mutual feelings for the sake of who knew what.

But the parents’ worries were understandable ; they were both widowed for years now, yet they struggled to see their blooming relationship as appropriate. It wasn’t only about their late husband and wife, but about their respective children : although the latter were grown adults, they still feared their reaction and thus, had hid everything for a bit more than three years. However, admitting to everything had been such a relief, especially in front of their sons who — despite Jinki’s shock — fully supported them.

“Jinju’s rules forbid a widowed ruler to remarry.” The General explained. “I didn’t even know about it but Minho did, and he proposed them to leave the palace for a while. To take time for themselves, and to travel to Pugye.”

“Pugye ?” Kibum asked. “Why this kingdom in particular ?”

“It’s the only one that allows remarriage in itself, so… I guess they will make it official and come back as husband and wife.”

“Does it mean anything in terms of status, once they’ll return ?”

“The Queen Mother will lose her power as a member of the royal family, and as potential regent.” Jonghyun recited. “If anything should happen to the King before Sooyun is old enough to succeed him, you would take the throne, but if you were to disappear as well… the Royal Council would handle the regency.”

“And that is when the Queen tried to refuse, right ?”

“Your perspicacity will always impress me, your Grace.” Jinki quietly laughed. “It startled everyone, however, Minho assured that he’s planning a massive change for the Royal Council. So it was better accepted.”

“I understand that we will soon have a newly wed couple in the palace ?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“I will make sure to congratulate them before they leave then. And, well… congratulations to you, my dear General.”

“Me ? Why so ?”

“You just earned a Queen as your stepmother, and a King as your stepbrother.”

“Oh fuck.”

Jonghyun nudged his partner so hard the latter realized his words and covered his mouth with his hands, blushing to the point even his ears turned red. He bowed several times to apologize, making the Prince softly laugh before he showed his daughter ; she had fallen asleep.

*****************

Minho was alone in his quarters, his wet head above the small tub he had just used to wash his face. He had just come back from his small meeting, only to find the room empty though his husband’s clothes were resting on the bench at the foot of their bed. Where would have the latter gone, wearing only his night shirt, at that hour ? But that wasn’t the main thought running in the King’s mind at the moment. No, he was trying to cool his own body’s temperature with the fresh water.

It had been really hard to focus on all of this evening’s matters, to pretend he was fully listening to whoever was talking to him, when the only image he had been having in mind for hours… was the silhouette of the Prince, standing above him and threatening his chin with a sword. He had never felt so turned on by a scene that had merely last a few seconds, and now that he was alone in a private place… he could embrace this feeling.

But Kibum wasn’t there yet.

It only tried his patience, and Minho had already proven many times that he was no patient man. On the opposite, waiting for the door to open on the man he loved was only adding fuel to the fire his body had become. He was standing there, all his clothes scattered on the floor and his hair untied, the strands around his face wet as drops of water were still running down his cheeks and chin.

Would he come soon ?

The King splashed his face once again, relishing the short, cold sensation on his skin. He felt embarrassed by himself, as he realized he was aroused though he was all alone in the room. Straightening up, he turned around to grab a towel and wiped the water, rubbing his hair as well. He was almost tempted to open the window, perhaps the fresh air of the night would cool his body more than just water. He contemplated the idea long enough…

The door suddenly opened and his ears twitched when he recognized the humming voice. It even felt like he could smell his husband’s scent now, and that was when he wondered if he wasn’t going a bit too crazy about it. He turned over once more, finally seeing the Prince who was offering him his back at the moment, closing the door and making sure not to make too much noise. But when the latter eventually moved, their eyes met.

“My godfathers !” Kibum cursed as he got startled, curiously not expecting the other man to be there and staring at him. “You scared me, I thought you were still…”

It was at this instant he realized what he had in front of him. Though he hadn’t any time to react, because his husband had already crossed the room to reach him and captured his face between his big, warm hands.

“Minho, what—”

He got shut up by fleshy lips strongly pressing against his, drawing him into a feverish kiss he hadn’t quite expected — or maybe he had, from the moment he had seen his naked lover staring at him. He still gasped and let a whiny noise escape his mouth when his back collided with the door as a result of the strength Minho grabbed him with. But the latter didn’t pay attention to it, as he opened the other man’s lips with his tongue, one of his hand leaving his cheek to circle the thin waist.

Kibum found himself pressed against the wooden panel, trapped by the King’s strong, naked body against him. His senses went numb as he returned the kiss, tongues meeting and messily intertwining as if it was their last kiss — he didn’t understand what had suddenly gone into the other man, though he wasn’t complaining. Before he could even adjust himself to the kiss, his mouth was freed and hungry lips went to his neck, the touch making him weak in the knees.

He was at Minho’s mercy, the latter pushing his dressing gown open and uncovering his shoulders. The Prince shivered and tried removing it all, but his wrists were caught and pinned above his head by a strong hand. His lips got claimed once more, as he felt a second hand grabbing his thigh and stroking it under his shirt. That felt delicious. He couldn’t say anything, for his husband didn’t allow him any form of time to even pronounce a word.

The hand on his thigh went up, and Kibum gasped in the kiss when it grazed his crotch, his hips jolting forwards as the most instinctive reaction to this touch. The King broke their kiss at the same time he closed his fingers on the other man’s arousal, the Prince opening his eyes and diving into the depths of Minho’s dark irises. Their faces were flushed, their lips wet and swollen from the passionate kisses, but they stared into each other’s eyes as the older man was being stroked against the door, unable to move, stuck in the most pleasant trap.

Kibum had known many feelings when it came to sex, but it was the first time he felt so powerless yet holding Minho in the palm of his hand at the same time. His instincts were telling him to take control, but he had that strange, new sensation that craved the opposite ; the King had rarely showed himself so eager, so aroused before… and his elder wanted to see where he could bring them both.

As a sigh escaped his lips and he bit his lower one, heat growing in his lower abdomen by seconds passing, the Prince noticed a quick glint in his lover’s eyes. The second after, the latter had disappeared from before his face, letting go of his wrists and falling down to his knees. His night shirt was raised by two impatient hands, uncovering the skin of his thighs until his chest. But the fabric was light and kept falling, Kibum repressed a laughter as he made one of his arms slip out of his gown to hold his shirt on his torso himself.

The picture that followed would have had its place in these ancient, secret and so forbidden books whose pages were painted with many forms of erotic sceneries.

His back still pressed against the closed door of the royal quarters, the older man had his emerald green dressing gown half dangling from his body, for only his left forearm was still covered at the moment. His nightshirt wasn’t covering much skin anymore, but he gripped the fabric and messily made it pass above his head to get rid of it, the whole thing now hanging from his still clothed arm. Only his long, dark hair could now metaphorically serve as clothes, black cascades falling on his skin and sticking there with his forming sweat.

He was beautiful without being asked, but his husband for sure added life to the erotism of this royal painting. In all his naked glory, tanned skin gleaming with sweat from this arousal he had kept to himself for too long, his knees were growing red from the friction with the carpet. But he couldn’t care less, as the only thing that mattered at the moment was his Prince’s pleasure ; he only lived to please him that night, and he shall fulfill this duty with the deserved passion.

Everything had gone so fast to Kibum that he hadn’t quite realized when Minho had taken him in his mouth, his swollen lips around him sending him in cloud nine. His legs threatened to abandon him, but his husband’s hand was firmly gripping his thigh and maintained him on spot. It was like the latter was making sure he would have nothing to care about except for what he would feel… and feel, that, he was.

Slightly arching his back, the Prince let a soft moan escape his throat and this sound alone served as the most sensual pleasure for the King. The younger man soon felt slender fingers approach his face, grazing his cheeks and pushing a few strands of dark brown hair behind his ear. This gentle gesture contrasted so much with his own abrupt actions that a shiver shook his whole body and he looked up. His darkened eyes met with his husband’s sweet irises, the latter’s stare conveying such a warmth that Minho’s heart missed a beat.

The thin hand went from his ear to his cheek, until a gracious finger lifted his chin to make him come back to his senses, getting back on his feet. The King obeyed the gesture and pressed a hand against the wood to keep his balance, his strong body overhanging the thiner one and their skin grazing each other as their chests rose with each synchronized breath they took.

Kibum slowly freed his arm from its last piece of clothing, both the gown and shirt falling on the floor and leaving him as naked as Minho. His waist was circled by the latter’s arm and brought closer, and the older man couldn’t help but laugh ; such impatience, tonight. With a torturous slowness, he raised his hand to his husband’s cheek and caressed it, while the other one wandered on his back.

“You’re different, tonight.” The Prince whispered, his eyes searching for any kind of explanation on the King’s features. “Is there anything you want to tell me ?”

“Is my body not telling enough of what I want ?” The other man said, a smile on his lips as he turned his head to kiss the palm near his face.

“You surely know how to talk with your body, and this will never not seduce me… but this time, I want to hear you.”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all evening long… do you think I’m able to talk right now, when all I want is you to take me to bed ?”

“Now that’s interesting, my King… tell me more.”

Saying this, Kibum pressed his palm against Minho’s chest, softly pushing him backwards while staying as close to him as possible. The younger man let him do, his steps soon finding the bed and his body falling on the mattress as he pulled his husband with him. Both of them quietly laughed, and the Prince held himself on his stretched arms to overhang the King, their eyes never leaving each other. There clearly was something new in those dark irises that looked up towards him, as if he was the only one in the world.

“You beat me, earlier.” Minho eventually said, his hoarse voice coming more like a whisper than he would have wanted it to. “You were impressive.”

“A very good teacher made me the swordsman I am.” Kibum replied. “Did it please you, you who can’t tolerate to lose ?”

“More than you can imagine… I would let you win a thousand times more if it meant to see you look at me like that again, looking so beautiful and strong.”

“What have I done with you, Minho…”

“Everything. Almost… everything.”

“Almost ?”

“Y-Yes… there is something you’ve never done with me and… I can’t think of anything else tonight. Do you… do you get me ?”

“Who wouldn’t, love… tonight ? Are you sure ?”

“With you, I’m always sure.”

With a tender smile, the Prince lowered himself to press their lips together, erasing all the roughness from earlier. The King closed his arms around the warm body above him, hugging his lover close while he returned a soft kiss, this softness conveying everything he could think about. As strange as it was, his arousal was still the same as a few minutes before, but his body now expressed it with less strength, less haste.

That was Kibum’s power on him, a single word, a single touch could soothe him, pacifying his ardent emotions. As to appease the burning fire of his body, his elder left his lips to press gentle, slow kisses on his face, going from his forehead to his cheeks, drawing a line along his jaw until he had his own face buried in his neck. Minho let him do, willing to feel. The lips attached to his skin were deliciously wet, but it was their softness that felt the best ; he couldn’t get tired of them, since the very first time they had kissed him.

Before he could even think, his own lips were captured again into a kiss he couldn’t describe with words. He lacked words at that exact moment, as he was being kissed at the same time long fingers were caressing his thigh.

“Are you okay ?” The Prince eventually asked, breaking their kiss and looking at him in the eyes while he placed a hand on his neck. “It’s beating fast in there…”

“I’m fine, promise.” The King smiled, stealing a kiss from his husband. “I’m not scared. Were you ?”

“The first time ? A bit, but it’s all about trust. Do you trust me ?”

“I always trust you.”

“Then, promise me to stop me if there is anything I do that disturbs you. Anything.”

“I promise you.”

“Alright…” Kibum kissed him gently, for some long seconds, until he withdrew again. “It will be better if you… if you’re showing me your back, for now.”

“Like this ?”

Without thinking much, Minho slid on the mattress to have more space for his long legs, and lied on his stomach. He didn’t know what to do with his arms and the situation made his lover laugh a bit, before the latter approached and placed the pillow under his head. The younger man immediately hugged it, just like he often did when sleeping, and he waited. He didn’t really know what he was waiting for, because everything was always going smoothly when it was him preparing his husband. The habit, perhaps ?

Would he do well ? What if he wasn’t feeling at ease and ruined everything ? What if he couldn’t do it ? What it—

“You’re tensing up…” His husband’s soothing voice came to his ears, making the King realise that he was kneeling above him, his face just near his. “You’re worried.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” Minho confessed, his voice coming out as a shy whisper.

“You won’t, clear your head of that worry. Even if we were to stop everything, you will never disappoint me, alright ? We’re not doing anything you don’t want to, I promise you.”

“I trust you.”

With a smile, Kibum gently moved the thick brown hair away from the younger man’s nape and lowered himself to press his lips against the warm skin. His hands were on Minho’s sides, caressing here and there in order to appease his tensed muscles. The King understood what his husband was doing and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensations and clearing his mind to only focus on them. There was no other sound in the room than the kisses and caresses on his skin, and he found himself relaxing from them alone.

He was extremely sensible when it came to sounds, and he knew the Prince had found out since the day he had fallen asleep in bright day, with his head on the other man’s lap, while the latter was softly turning the pages of his book. He felt the warmth of lips slowly going down his nape to pursue their treasure hunt on his shoulder blade. As he could imagine the path Kibum’s mouth was drawing on his back, he remembered his scar, that scar he never really talked about but secretly found ugly.

He reminisced the bathes together, the moments of afterglow when his husband would let his fingers wander around the old wound, tracing its edges… Minho had felt ashamed at first, since it was a constant reminder of how stupid he had been for disobeying his father, and how he had put his childhood friend in trouble. But more than that, it was like a stain that broke the harmony of his skin, of his shape, this long line… nothing like the pretty scar on Kibum’s eyebrow.

He didn’t have many complexes but this ugly scar certainly was the worst one… but when lips fell on the top of the pink, in relief flesh, he opened his eyes.

“My silly warrior…” The Prince whispered, his voice colored with amusement. “I love this one, who could guess it was caused by a clumsy sword… when it’s so beautiful and looks like the stem of the highest flowers in our garden…”

As if proving his words, the older man covered the scar with kisses, letting his lips trace it as if it was the softest thing in the world. The King found himself smiling, while his heartbeat grew a bit stronger when pondering this innocent statement. So it wasn’t repulsive ? It was beautiful enough for his husband to cover it with kisses the way he does on every part of his body ?

“Your back might be my favourite part of your body…”

Kibum’s muttered words, added to even more kisses and caresses, managed to erase all Minho’s ugly thoughts about himself, and he sighed with relief and comfort at the same time. Lips kept going down his back, and he shivered when they lingered over its hollow, the sensation overwhelming him. He didn’t even tense up again when he felt a hand caressing his butt, for it felt like following on from everything before. On the opposite, his shivers intensified and he let a soft sigh out, his toes curling on the mattress with a rather pleasant apprehension.

“Will you kneel a bit for me…?” The Prince asked while his hands gently stroked the back of the other man’s thighs to encourage him.

“Like this…?” The King asked in return as he bent his legs to have his hips raised. “More…?”

“No, it’s perfect like this. Remember your promise ?”

Minho nodded but the smile on his lips showed everything but fear or worry. His flushed cheeks made his husband giggle ; he himself knew how this position could be a bit embarrassing, even after many times. The King waited for a few seconds, wondering what his elder was doing until he heard the familiar unscrewing of the small oil jar. He could have asked himself many things at that exact moment : will it hurt ? Will he jerk away at the last moment ?

But the only wonder he had when hearing slender fingers gather a knob of oil was… will it be very cold ?

He hadn’t time to reflect on this question, because he felt a hand closing around his shaft and gasped with surprise. He didn’t turn his head, but he felt Kibum’s warmth enough to guess he was kneeling beside him, gently stroking him with one hand while the other one was resting on his buttock. After a few seconds of just touching him between his thighs, drawing muffled sighs out of his mouth, Minho couldn’t repress another gasp when he felt a texture he knew very well, sliding between his buttocks.

It felt so weird, but he was glad he had got it wrong earlier ; it wasn’t cold at all, for the Prince had warmed the mixture with his fingers before approaching him. He was now slowly massaging his rim, coating it and making sure the strange sensation was balanced with the pleasure his stroking would make his husband feel. He knew exactly what to do, and this only made the King’s trust in him grow stronger.

“Is this fine ?” The older man asked as his fingers were still gently rubbing around the hole, the sensation changing a bit whenever he would come there. “I know, it might feel a bit weird…”

“Yeah, a bit…” Minho replied before he got startled by the sound he made without any warning, when a stroke combined to his entrance being aroused sent a sort of wave through his body. “G-Gods…”

“I’ll go inside, alright ? Slowly, just like you do with me. Remember your promise.”

No sooner said than done, Kibum withdrew his hands to grab more oil with one, the other one holding his lover’s buttock spread. With his thumb, he rubbed again around that sensitive area and when he heard a sigh coming from the pillow, he smiled and softly, gently, pressed a finger against the entrance. As expected for a first time, Minho had a natural reflex but he managed to relax as much as possible, allowing the phalanx to push deeper.

The pace was slow and though it felt rather weird, the King got surprised ; weird, but not unpleasant. Closing his eyes, he let sensations overpowering his emotions, listening to his body. He could clearly feel the oil massaging his insides, as his husband’s finger was moving until it wasn’t strange anymore. It even felt… not enough ? Yes, that’s what the knot in his lower abdomen was asking fore : more.

As if reading his mind, Kibum pressed a second finger. Despite his gentleness, Minho had to shut his eyes open because it didn’t feel as weirdly good as the first one. But he didn’t complain, because he could finally feel what his husband felt, and his sensitive side found that wonderful. He had lost track of time, but he soon felt the burning sensation being replaced by what he had felt just a few seconds before ; it felt good.

“Don’t forget to breathe, love…” The Prince smiled, making the other man notice that he had indeed stopped breathing. “I’m going with a third, alright…?”

When the third finger pushed inside, the King gasped ; that one hurt more than the previous ones. But he remembered every other night, he remembered of the pain would quickly vanish from his lover’s face to make space for this expression he found heavenly beautiful. But he also knew this one took a bit longer to adjust to, and so, he grunted a bit. But his patience was rewarded, when his gritted teeth slowly relaxed, and a moan escaped his throat.

The slicking sounds were rather strange to hear, but they were familiar in a pleasant way. The pain had disappeared, and the oil’s warmth was deliciously pleasurable. Kibum kept moving his fingers, allowing them deeper with each second passing until his husband was starting to pant under him. There, now he would feel good. But the Prince didn’t want to immediately replace this foreplay, so he kept going.

He had something in mind, but it had been quite long since he had last done this so it took him a minute…

“O-Oh…!” He heard Minho choke in the pillow and smiled, as he pushed again. “F-For fuck’s sake…!”

Kibum found himself feeling deeply aroused by the noises his husband made, all thanks to him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Minho’s face ; flushed, covered with sweat already, with lips parted and his hand firmly holding the pillow. He was beautiful, there was no other word. His panting grew faster as the Prince was still pushing his fingers against a spot that definitely sent him on cloud nine.

He couldn't open his eyes anymore, he felt like if he did, he would pass out.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to be hit in his stomach by this familiar sensation. That tight knot that seemed to travel lower and could only mean one thing. Before he could even realise and try preventing it, the King let out a hoarse moan and his body tensed, his hole puckering around his lover’s fingers despite him. Panting, he came on the mattress without being able to warn himself nor his husband, but it didn’t seem to bother the latter, who kept pressing inside, yet more gently.

With his hands clenched into fists near his face and his legs shaking, Minho breathed loudly, feeling his release and immediately wondering why it had to go wrong. After a few seconds, he felt Kibum’s fingers leaving him and he seemed to realise ; he was out of breath, but he didn’t understand. He kept his face pressed against the pillow, unable to look up… and that caused the Prince to caresse his lower back and frown.

“Minho ?” He called, his voice still so sweet as if he hadn’t just ruined everything. “Minho, what is it ?”

“I’m so sorry…” The younger man panted, unable to catch his breath for the moment as his orgasm was still shaking him from inside. “I fucked up…”

“What ?”

Kibum frowned even more and came closer, catching his husband’s arms and slowly turning him over. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed how red the King’s face was, just before the latter hid it with his arms. With an incredible gentleness, the Prince put his hands on them and delicately forced them open to reveal Minho’s head. But the latter kept his eyes closed like he didn’t want to look at his lover.

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Minho.” The older man said, unable not to smile. “Come on, open those eyes of yours, you did nothing wrong.”

“But I came too soon…” The King eventually looked at his husband, and there was pure frustration dancing in them. “You didn’t even… you didn’t…”

“And what is so wrong about it ? You felt good and you came, that’s the goal of all of this.”

“But it was just…”

“Foreplay, yes, but it’s a whole new sensation to you so your body is receptive and really sensitive. It’s normal. Hey, don’t look away.”

Kibum cupped his lover’s face and made him look at him. For a second, he pressed their lips together and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.

“It’s all right, love.” He smiled. “You just felt good, and there is nothing wrong with it, you didn’t come too soon, you came at the moment that felt right for you. It happens to everyone, especially for a first time. Did it feel good ?”

“It did, but…”

“No but needed then. Don’t feel sorry for me because you felt pleasure, never feel sorry for that, alright ? I’m pleased if you’re please, and… I did say it was foreplay, so if you still want to… we can resume…?”

“We can…?”

“You’re so adorable, of course we can. Do you still want to have me…?”

Unable to say a word, Minho vigorously nodded and his cheeks flushed again, making the Prince laugh and peck his lips. It quickly turned into a long, lascivious kiss that managed to bring the King back to his arousal and make him forget this unusual frustration. When they broke the kiss, the younger man was about to turn over but his husband stopped him, earning a questioning look.

Kibum just shook his head.

“I want to see you when we make love.”

The way his almond-shapes eyes seemed to sparkle when he pronounced his words made Minho feel loved beyond compare, and his heart missed a beat to resume with greater intensity. He held himself up on his elbows to watch his husband kneel back between his legs, generously coating himself with the oil before looking at him. The King immediately blushed, what made the other man laugh before he approached, pushing him back on the mattress.

With careful hands, he raised his strong thighs and pressed against their inside to push them, almost bending Minho in a half as he placed himself above him, their faces close and their eyes diving into each other. The younger man felt movements and brushes against his lower half, as his husband was blindly guiding himself forwards. When he felt something pressing against his entrance, he took a deep breath.

“Are you ready ?” Kibum asked, his care never reducing as placed a chaste kiss on the knee that was at his face’s level.

“Yeah…” His lover replied, nodding to support his words. “Yeah, take me…”

“Your wish is my command, my King…”

Saying this, the Prince leaned on even more to kiss his husband, the latter seeming to lift himself up from the pillow to meet him halfway. Minho’s breath got taken away when he felt his elder pushing inside of him ; as slowly as he was going and despite the long preparation, the pain was still quite perceptible and the younger man had to break their kiss to sharply inhale.

It only took a few seconds for Kibum to be fully inside, but it felt way longer. When he realized, the King raised his eyebrows ; already ? he thought, and that made his lover giggle — his thoughts were way too noticeable on his features, his face couldn’t lie. To confirm what he was thinking, the Prince lowered himself and pressed their lips together once more, softly, as if careful not to break them.

Minho smiled and returned the kiss, cupping his husband’s cheeks and keeping him close. He slightly gasped when he felt the other man move inside him, with care and gentleness, not rushing everything. It could take hours, he didn’t give a damn. It means the world to be in his King’s arms for a mere second. After a few seconds, his hips steady a slow pace to allow the younger man to adjust himself to this whole new feeling, and pleasure started painting his face with the warmest colours.

It took a minute or two for Minho to start panting, quietly asking for more, and Kibum fulfilled this request by gradually speeding his thrusts up. He was sighing himself, his voice sounding lower when he moaned and adding to his husband’s hearing pleasure. The latter let an expressive sound out when he felt the same astonishing sensation than earlier, a noise that combined a surprised gasp and a pleasured moan. The Prince captured his lips to breathe his moans and sighs, possessive for all these short, sharp sounds that let him know how good he was making his lover feel.

The King’s legs were trembling and his chest abruptly rose with each breath in, and he slid his hand between their bodies to grab his own arousal and amplify this delicious feeling. This time, he didn’t care if he came soon, because when he did, he was taken to seventh heaven and he knew he was bringing Kibum with him. The latter’s moans grew sharper in his ear and he held him close, his release staining their chests and already making feel so good…

But the best feeling came when he felt his husband reach his own orgasm. As strange as it felt, Minho was happy and didn’t let go of the other man, even when the Prince slowed his pace until his thighs were too painful to keep moving. The King kept his eyes closed, because he didn’t want to see the wooden ceiling ; no, he was pleased with what he saw behind his closed eyelids. Stars on a dark sky, nebulas forming because he had kept his eyes shut for too long… but at that moment, it was the best illustration of what he was feeling.

“I love you…” He heard Kibum breathe in his ear, and he relaxed his body to welcome him in his arms.

“I love you too.” The younger man replied with the same tone, hugging his husband tight. “I love you so much I could marry you again.”

“Silly…”

Minho smiled and buried his face in the other man’s neck. He wanted to stay like this forever, and he definitely wasn’t silly.

*****************

“He did what ?”

Jonghyun stood gaping for a moment before he realized his friend definitely wasn’t waiting for him. It was still early in the morning, perhaps too early considering he had fallen asleep only four hours before, but he didn’t think he was tired to the point of turning deaf. Though he could, since his beloved partner was snoring quite loudly lately, with his stuffed up nose… perhaps he should prepare some beverages for cold as soon as possible.

The blond man shook his head to snap out of it and ran after the Prince, who was heading back to his daughter’s room with clean laundry and towels in hands. On their way, they ran into the nanny and two house girls who let them know that the small tub was ready to be filled, though the water was still a bit hot. The presence of the old woman in the corridor instead of the baby’s bedroom didn’t seem to surprise Kibum… much to the teacher’s surprise.

“Thank you, I will take care of what is left.” The black haired man told the women. “You may go and make sure everything is getting prepared safely for her Majesty’s journey abroad.”

The employees agreed and bowed before they escaped quite fast, making Jonghyun aware that he definitely was in a better environment when alone at his home… not in this never-ending tumult of people running here and there to attend to their duties. It was rather impressive that a free spirit like his friend could remain completely calm and immune to panic in such a constant atmosphere.

Speaking of him, the Prince had resumed his walking, almost leaving his friend behind once more.

“By the Gods, will you stop !” The teacher eventually snapped. “Stop right there ! It’s barely seven in the morning, you can’t just drop a bomb and leave with no explanation.”

“You’re overreacting, hyung.” Kibum laughed but acknowledged the comment and stopped walking for a moment. “I can’t make it clearer, though !”

“Fine, but you’ll have to repeat it so I can assimilate that.”

His bright smile never left the raven haired man’s lips and his eyes were sparkling, making his friend’s heart beat with a good dose of happiness for at least a month.

“Minho proposed to me again.” The Prince eventually repeated, his irises shining even more. “This morning, it was the first thing he said.”

“Details, details.” Jonghyun requested, growing impatient.

“Well, we woke up together as usual and we stayed quiet for a moment, to allow us some time to emerge. And when I wished him a good morning, he just asked me to marry him again.”

“What kind of night did you two spend for him to be like this right in the morning…”

“That has nothing to do with that ! I thought he was joking because… well he already said something like that yesterday but it was more an hypothetical thing, you see ? I laughed but he didn’t. He was just… looking at me, and he asked again. He said he was serious, that our wedding was no political arrangement anymore and that we should renew our vows for our first anniversary.”

“Have a real wedding, consensual and deprived of any bad feelings… That is utterly disgusting.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I’m so lying. This is wonderful, I presume you said yes ?”

“Of course I said yes ! But you’re the only one to know for the time being, so please don’t shout it from the rooftops.”

Smiling, the blond man pretended to zip his lips and throw the key away, but he couldn’t help hugging his friend to show his happiness. Kibum laughed and returned the embrace as much as he could, since his arms were busy, and he eventually dismissed the teacher to run to his daughter’s bedroom. He was awaited, and he had taken a bit too long already. When he arrived, his already large smile grew wider as he found Sooyun sitting on Minho’s shoulders, her tiny hands secured in her father’s large ones as he was spinning round and round.

Her laughter echoed in the room as the most pleasant sound ever, and the Prince left these two have fun together while he prepared the little girl’s bath. The water was indeed a bit hot, but the nanny had made sure to bring a bucket of cold water, to balance the temperature. Once it seemed perfect, the King stopped playing and approached the tub, removing Sooyun’s night clothes and slowly sitting her in the water.

Immediately, she started waving her arms and hitting the liquid, enjoying herself like for every single bath. Minho’s hand was placed behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards, while Kibum filled a little jug to wet their daughter’s hair. They couldn’t always be there for her bath or her meals, their respective duties often keeping them busy, but whenever they could take care of the little girl, they would dismiss absolutely everyone else and enjoy a moment with just the three of them.

“I told Jonghyun.” The older man eventually confessed. “I couldn’t hold myself back.”

“Should I be mad at you for this ?” The King smiled, looking at his husband. “I take it as a compliment. What did he say ?”

“Pretended to be disgusted by such a big amount of love, but he’s really glad. I thought it was for the best to keep the biggest announcement to ourselves for the time being.”

“So you agree with what I proposed ? You don’t say yes just because you love me, right ?”

“No, I promise you I’m not. The more I think about it, the more I enjoy the idea… I mean, we’ve been to every kingdom and met every ruler, they renewed their allegiance and we spent really nice moments with each of them. Or almost.”

“That was for Prince Siwon.”

“But he’ll be invited as well, it could be… entertaining.”

“So we’re doing it. We’re getting married once more and this time, we invite the Four Kingdom’s rulers.”

“Yes, we’re doing it.”

Both men smiled at each other and stopped talking, only exchanging with their eyes as they were both realizing what they had just decided. After all, they had defied all laws to keep their marriage, and nothing could force them to annul it now. It just didn’t seem official considering the first circumstances, and they wanted to renew their vows while meaning them. Kibum wanted to bow to his King without being forced to do so, and Minho wanted to drink from the same glass with his Prince, this time placing his lips where his would have drunk.

Unfortunately, their contemplation of their future wedding was savagely interrupted by water splashed straight to their face. Sooyun had enough of not getting any attention.

_____________

Epilogue

#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #NC-17 #smut #jongyu #jonghyun #onew #jinki

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