#the way he walks past the paps got me on my knees

[billskaarsgard]

Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee in Pam & Tommy

↳ Episode 2

[pascallatte]

Let's go to the beach

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: first sighting of the newly announced couple in public (a compilation of sightings in Hawaii)

Date: 2018 March

Warning/s: age gap, the first "video" was from a pap, the word screeching, not in your pov.

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu, @lilvampirina

a/n: I put this out because I want to but also because I might do something later too since I was inspired by one comment from you guys. Anyways hope you enjoy this !!!

Series Masterlist

Video from @deathalinechase

The wind hit the camera as soon the person started filming, it was obvious that the person was from a far distance hence the total zoom they did to get a clearer and closer look at you guys.

The cast of Triple Frontier: Oscar, Charlie, Garrett and Ben were on the shoreline talking to most probably their instructor for the day. They were all sporting the topless and swim trunks look, seeing that they were being told to dive.

On the far left, under the shade of a large rock and an umbrella, the newly announced couple was seen lying down on the sand, Pedro on his knees, wearing something similar to his cast mates, while you were wearing a black bikini. The two of you were seen talking— most probably teasing each other after you were seen playfully punching his chest as he gracefully fell next to you on the blanket.

The video blacked out but came back almost immediately, just in time to see you lean in for a short kiss, before taking Pedro’s sunglasses. He was called in by staff later on, leaving you in the shade to read your book.

Video from @.shashaila4013

The video started off with the usual, “I unexpectedly met Pedro Pascal and Y/n L/n while on vacation.” Shaila, as per her handle, introduced herself before heading straight to how she met the two.

“So my friends and I were in this place in Hawaii, that was recommended to us by the locals. It was all fun and games before we headed out for a dip at our place. So when we got there there were all these vans and like cars out in the specified parking area, which made our taxi stop and lead us to walk to the beach itself.” She explained showing pictures and videos of her and her friends.

“When we rounded up near this big ass rock, we were stopped by these people in black saying there was a shoot going on. At that moment we were annoyed since it meant we had to walk all the way back, which was a long walk by the way. So on the way back, we decided to just keep walking and exit the other way, AND THIS IS WHERE IT HAPPENED.”

“A friend of mine, Katie, pointed out the cameras and the amount of crew on the beach so being the troublemaker that she is she slipped past the fence for a minute to go and see who was there. So she ran back all smiley and shouting names we weren’t able to hear at first. Katie babbled on seeing that the one from King Arthur was there, along with Ben Affleck. She then like jumped up to join us on the other side, now shouting that she has seen Pedro and Y/n walking in our direction.” She breathes out to calm herself as she reminisced on the feeling.

“Ok, so we didn’t believe her at first. But of course, it had to be true because they really appeared in front of us, hand in hand with two other staff members assisting them. So us being the fangirls that we are screeched our lungs out making them look at us, actually let me just show you the messed up video we took."

As said, screeches were heard as soon as the video was played, you and Pedro were seen standing directly in front of them assuming they were waiting for something or someone. Pedro was seen wearing a loose white shirt and his swimming trunks, while you were wearing this Hawaiian print button-up shirt that was evidently Pedro’s because of the size. Hearing the noise, you turned to look only to make eye contact with Shaila herself. An audible noise was made from the back of her throat before she was seen waving at you. You having fun seeing their reactions waved back which resulted in guess what?… more screeches.

One of the girls asked if they can take pictures with Pedro, which Pedro looked at you first before nodding at them, beckoning them to stand near him. The video stopped at that, making her continue her not-so-short story now.

“The video accidentally ended when we went to them so let me tell you what happened. At first, y/n thought we were going for Pedro alone so she kind of like stranded away from him, but of course Pedro seeing her actions looked at us, like really LOOKED at us. Not in a judgy way but in a why, and kind of like asking way?-" she questioned herself.

"-Before extending a hand out for y/n, she insisted that she was okay, but me being a bigger fan of hers called to her asking if we can take a picture WITH her. She looked at me like with the largest eyes before nodding-“

“-And so yeah we took a couple of pictures after that.” shaila then placed the photos on screen, seeing the genuine smiles you had on your faces. As well as the sweet and protective stance Pedro had on you seeing that in the picture you were surrounded by the group which made him wrap and arm around your waist so that you won’t get squeezed or pulled back due to the people moving around you to fit in the picture.

“Assuming you guys would be asking questions about them, let’s start off with Pedro. Both of them were shocked to see us by the way, I mean who wouldn’t, we were screeching and all. And he looked good as hell by just wearing a plain white shirt. he had the warmest voice I’ve heard coming from a guy and had one of the sweetest smiles. I also didn’t expect he’d be that taller than me given that I was 5’7, but yeah he was towering over us. Now, this is the cute part, y/n was small— like small-small, I think she reached just below my ear which made her look up at us. Her height difference with Pedro was adorable, she just reached up to like under his chin- something like that, al-and-” Smiling wildly at the camera, she buried her face in her pillow. Before getting up as quickly.

“-She’s the sweetest I’m telling you, they were the most humble pair of celebrities I’ve ever met, after we said our thanks and apologies for interrupting them they just like smiled and said thank you back like it was nothing, they also offered us the drinks they ordered, which was the reason as to why they went our direction in the first place. They were also so sweet to each other seeing that Pedro was blocking her out of the sunlight and her asking if he was fine after a minute. They also argued about who’d take the most drinks back but someone helped them so they took like a bag each. Yeah, so that’s the story of how I met my now favourite celebrity couple. Thank you!”

Video from @gabefkundest17

Like the first video, this was shot from a far distance since the area you were in was closed off hours ago for a night celebration.

The sun was already setting at that time, making people go out of their cottages to watch it. Gabe’s group were one of those who went out and at the right timing saw you guys setting up to watch it too.

“It’s really them, I’m telling you.” Assuming this person was Gabe, said looking in the direction of the blocked-off area.

Mumbling was heard coming from a friend of his, making him shake his head. “No, it was leaked they’d be filming in Hawaii, just not which part of Hawaii. If I do get this right you’ll buy me drinks the whole night.”

Gabe was seen walking closer to the shore, almost parallel to you guys, and zoomed in. And at that moment he sucked in a breath hiding his excitement. slapping his friend in front of him, “I told you it was them.”

There in front of them were you and Pedro, laying down on a beach towel near the shore. Music coming from your side of the beach was heard in the video, confirming that it wasn’t just a spot for the two of you. It was uneventful, to say the least before the music switched up into something more lively.

Pedro being the dancer that he is turned to look at you and grinned. Wordlessly, he extended a hand out to you, beckoning for you to go dance with him. The group Gabe was in was silent during the whole interaction, they, however, let out similar squeals when you were seen reaching up and pulled into Pedro’s arms as you both tried to stay on beat, Pedro being the most on par. 

“Aww isn’t that the cutest. If I knew they’d be like this, I would’ve stayed tuned for years.” One friend cooed which made Gabe chuckle. Zooming in a bit more, you were both seen with large grins on your face, laughing when one of you makes a mistake, which the majority of the time was you.

Your little moment was then interrupted when Charlie called to Pedro from afar saying that something was ready. This only made Pedro shout out an audible, “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

He turned to look back at you and walked closer, for him to be able to wrap an arm around your shoulders. You were still laughing when you leaned in closer to him, arm now around his waist. Pedro was seen leaning down to kiss your temple, making you smile up at him before pecking his jaw.

Muffled sounds of excitement were the last things heard on Gabe’s end before he said bye ending the video.

[weirdestbooks]

Nieuw York (Wattpad | Ao3)

Underline is English, Bold is Italian, and Italics is Swedish

1900

A new century was always the perfect time to start working on a new house.

New York was with a group of people he had employed to help him dig out the foundation of his house and build it. While New York had always enjoyed being able to construct his home on his own, but new technological advancements and his lack of understanding of them made it harder to do that. 

At least New York was still keeping his old house in Albany. An electricity-free house that actually makes sense to him would probably be much better than this house outside of New York City. Still, the city never seemed to stop growing, so it was essential to have a place nearby. If anything, it would give his pap a place to stay when he’s in town like he is now.

“Mister New York! My brother found a dead body! He says it looks like it has recently passed. What should we do?” One of the workers called from the other side of the construction site, panic in his voice.

“What?” New York exclaimed, dropping what was in his hands and rushing to the worker. The worker was now comforting his brother, who looked horrified at what he had seen.

“Are you alright?” New York asked the brother, who shook his head. New York turned to face the man who had called him over.

“You two go home. Get some rest. I'm sorry you had to discover this. Rest assured, I will make sure you get into no legal trouble for this. This was not your fault,” New York told them. The man nodded and left, with his brother leaning on him.

New York then peaked into the hole they had been digging and immediately spotted the body. New York knew from the skin colors that it was one of them. A countryhuman that had their life taken from them and wasn’t buried with respect. New York swore. This just got a lot more complicated. His father would have to be notified, and they would have to hope that they could identify the body in case any relatives wanted to claim it. 

New York then approached the workers, standing around with hesitation and fear.

“It’s one of us. I know we were supposed to work on the foundation, but I think we should hold off on that until we can move the body and give them a funeral. I’ll still pay you for today’s work. Enjoy a day off, and thank you for all your help,” New York told the workers. 

“Grazie New York.” Their supervisor said before they began to pack up their equipment.

“And can one of you go to City Hall? My father is there with the mayor and needs to be notified of this.”  New York asked.

“I can do that for you, New York. I have to go by there anyways.” One of the workers said. New York gave him a grateful smile before helping them back up the rest of their things.

New York walked back over to the hole where the half-buried body was. The body was female, with orange, white, and blue skin. Thankfully, The clothes were not fully composed, and a covering remained over her body. She was lying face down, and a wound was visible on her back. Something about her seemed…familiar…like it was scratching at a long-forgotten itch in New York’s brain.

Before he really knew what he was doing, he had walked down to her body. She looked…she looked so much like a recently deceased body. It was strange to think she had been here for at least a hundred years. New York put a hand on her shoulder, her body deathly cold. He slowly turned her face upwards so he could look at it and froze before falling backward in shock.

It was New Netherlands. Him. Past him. 

As soon as he saw that face, he could feel her memories forcing their way up, pressing against his head and causing a pounding in his skull.

“Nee nee nee! Mam, ik ben jou niet, je stierf, ik zie je lichaam, laat me alsjeblieft met rust!” (No no no! Mom, I’m not you, you died, I see your body, please leave me be!) New York said, gripping his hair, as if that would stop everything.

But it did nothing. New York was forced to his knees as the pain in his head reached an overwhelming point. A warm blackness beckoned him, calling for him to let the memories take control. 

New York tried to fight it, but his body was still in front of him, and it pulled out more and more of New Netherlands, convincing him to stop fighting and let the real personification take control.

“Ik ben New York! Ik ben New York! Ik ben-ik ben…” New York trailed off as everything just got dark and fuzzy and faded. The blackness and her memories seemed to work together to make him feel so tired and weak that New York would stop replacing New Netherlands and keep her from his mind.

“Ik ben niet... echt. Ik ben een bedrieger.” New York was vaguely aware of muttering before he faded into the blackness.

—English is now going to be underlined because I’m not google translating all the Dutch—

New Netherlands was so confused. One minute, she and her little brother had been racing each other through town; the next, she was covered in sweat and in a hole and apparently had wings…and a new flag. New Netherlands then looked down and screamed.

There were two different reasons for that. The first was that she was missing her boobs and realized that she was somehow in a man’s body.

The second was that there was a dead body in front of her. The body had the same flag as New Netherlands and her mother, although thankfully, it was too short to be her mother. New Netherlands wanted to get a closer look at the body, but she was trembling too much to do anything other than move and stare. 

“New York? Was that you? Are you okay? The Italian worker said you found a dead countryhuman.” New Netherlands heard a man say. She tore her eyes away from the body and tried to move out of the hole, away from the body, but she just lost her balance and fell. This body was much taller than mine, even if not by much. But the wings made it so hard to walk. 

Then, a shadow suddenly fell over the hole, and she looked up to see a tall man, taller than she had ever seen before, looking at her. Not only that, but he was a countryhuman that bore a flag with red and white stripes and a blue canton with small stars that were in the shape of a bigger star and dark brown hair. His circular glasses seemed to reflect the light and made it impossible to see his eye color. He smiled at New Netherlands and then slid into the hole, carefully avoiding the body.

“Hey York, are you alright?” he asked, reaching out an arm, revealing more stars decorating his arms: blue stars in white stripes and white stars in red stripes, with one big white star in the center or one hand, and a circle of stars on the other.

“What are you saying? I don’t understand.” New Netherlands said, hoping this man knew Dutch, French, or Swedish. If he didn't, it would be much harder to figure out what happened to me. His eyes widened, and his head turned even so slightly towards the dead body.

“Shit. Out of all the states…Hello, New Netherlands. Are you alright?” He asked. He knew Dutch then. That was a major relief. 

“Who—who are you? Did you do this to me? Trap me in this body of this country?” New Netherlands asked. The tall man looked at me with kind, sad eyes.

“New Netherlands, I promise I'm not here to hurt you. I’m only here to take you back to your brother, New Sweden,” the man said. New Netherlands froze. Her brother. Was he hurt? Was he trapped with this man?

“Where is my brother? How do I know I can trust you?” New Netherlands snapped. The man gave her a look full of an emotion she couldn’t place.

“You don’t know. But please do,” he said, holding his hand out to her. New Netherlands stared at it nervously but took it. His hands were rough and scarred compared to mine, which were tiny and dainty. He pulled her up easily, and she stumbled, not used to the weight on her back. 

The surrounding area vanished, and New Netherlands was in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar house. She was in the country world. She pulled away from the man and tripped over something, falling back on the unbelievably soft bed.

“Why did you do that?” New Netherlands snapped. The man held up his hands and looked like he was going to say something before the door burst open, and I flinched. New Netherlands turned to see who that was and saw an unfamiliar country with cow features, but something about him was strangely familiar. 

“It’s not him right now, Delly. It’s New Netherlands. He doesn't trust me in this state. Can you try to calm him down? He found New Netherlands's body, and I need to take care of that before a human takes it,” the man said. The country nodded and then turned to New Netherlands, smiling.

“New Netherlands! My sister! I missed you,” the boy—New Sweden—said. New Netherlands scrambled off the bed and rushed over to give him a hug, clutching him tightly and almost knocking him over. Then she started crying a little before the tears began to rush out. She was so confused and scared, and her brother looked different. Why didn’t she remember what happened to him?

“Sister, you need to sleep. I know…I know things are confusing, but you need rest. I promise I will explain everything to you when you wake up.” New Sweden said as the hug ended, wiping some tears off New Netherlands’ face as he led her back to the bed.

“Okay, brother. Stay? Please?” New Netherlands said. His face brightened.

“Of course I will.” He said back to her in his Dutch. New Netherlands smiled and went to lay on the bed, pulling her brother onto the bed with her as she did so. 

The man smiled and then left the room, allowing New Netherlands to relax more. She felt New Sweden’s new tail wrap around her leg as he gave her a cheeky little smile. New Netherlands felt her expression soften into something fonder, and she pulled him close, placing her head on his chest and making sure she could hear his heartbeat. 

We always slept like this when we slept together.

“Can you sing that one lullaby, bror? The one your adopted human mother would sing to you?” New Netherlands asked. Her brother nodded and then began singing softly in Finnish, the weird language his people spoke. New Netherlands closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off as her brother pulled the soft blankets over them.

“I’m sorry you had to see that York. I promise I will keep you safe.” New Netherlands heard her brother whisper before she drifted off entirely. 

————

New Netherlands woke up to the sound of something breaking and loud thuds, almost as if there was a fight. She jerked upwards, accidentally using New Sweden’s face as a resting spot for her hand.

“Get your dirty hand out of my face, you idiot!” He snapped in a muffled and groggy voice, in a language New Netherlands didn’t know. She removed her hand and shushed her brother. She didn’t know what he was saying, but the fact that there was a fight or something nearby was more important.

“Shush, little brother. Something is happening nearby.” New Netherlands said. New Sweden rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

"That’s probably the others. We are sharing this house with several other colonies. Plymouth and Virginia, and whatnot.” He muttered sleepily. 

“What?” New Netherlands asked, confused and very worried. Was that why he knew that strange language? Was it English? New Sweden was already drifting off again.

“Wake up, you tiny idiot!” New Netherlands said, shaking his shoulder, hoping for some answer. All that did was further remind her of the fact that she was in the wrong body. Remembering this made the weird feeling start again. It was like there were ants crawling all over her. New Netherlands felt really weird moving her body because it just seemed to do something that would remind her that she didn’t have a female body.

Her hair was too short, her chest was too flat, her privates were changed, and she was wearing pants! 

New Netherlands hoped she could get this fixed somehow before she had to use the bathroom.

“Swedes and Finns of New Netherlands, wake the fuck up!” New Netherlands said again, hoping that the distraction of her idiot little brother and wherever they were could take her mind off everything.

“Full names? Really, Chloë?” He asked, sitting up as he rubbed at one of his eyes.

“Karl, you know you can’t just drop things like that on me and then try to sleep again. Why are we with the colonies of other countries?” 

“Because we aren’t New Netherlands anymore. That man—he’s our adoptive father. This is our home, this is your room. I know…you had an accident and forgot. But even if you don’t trust anything here, I swear on my life and my second chance at it that I will protect you, okay?” Her brother said. New Netherlands didn’t know how to respond to that, but she nodded, and New Sweden brightened and looked so happy.

New Netherlands knew there was probably truth to what he said, that England and his lackeys had taken them from their true mother. New Netherlands didn’t know who that man was and why New Sweden decided he was our father, but she wouldn’t put it past that man to have taken advantage of her brother. People had before, and in ways that weren’t just making him think that he had an adoptive father.

But New Netherlands wouldn’t say that, especially if she didn’t understand anything. If this were good, then she would let her brother stay happy.

“Do you want to meet some of them? At least one?” New Sweden asked. New Netherlands bit her lip and then nodded.

“Alright, lillebror. Lead the way,” New Netherlands said. He gave that same bright, sunshiney smile and grabbed her hand as he scrambled out of the bed, dragging her after him. They walked through the halls until New Sweden spotted someone with a yellow flag.

“HEY ASSHOLE! COME SAY HELLO TO YOUR FAVORITE DEAD PEOPLE!” New Sweden yelled at him in the same strange language.

“Hello, Delly. Are you doing okay?” The colony said, walking over.

“I’m fine, NJ.” New Sweden said. New Netherlands thinks he was calling this colony NJ. What does that mean? It’s a weird name. 

“Delly, are you sure you won't slip into New Sweden? Are you sure this is safe? I know Dutch, too. I can talk to her—him, whatever.” This NJ person sounded worried. Was her brother doing something stupid? What were they saying?

“New Netherlands never knew you. She has no reason to trust you. You know that Jersey. She won't trust anyone but me.” That sounded like her name. Why were they saying her name? 

“And what are you doing about the memory gaps? You barely remember anything from when New Sweden became the personification of the Swedes and Finns of New Netherlands. What if you slip up?”

“I remember that New Sweden was somewhat sickly then. I can roll with that. Besides, if I say something like, ‘I was injured, and I have had memory issues since then,’ she’ll believe it.'

“This feels underhanded.”

“It’s not even her. It’s still Yorkie. He’s just trapped in his memories, probably convinced that he doesn’t exist or is an imposter controlling her body. New Netherlands has been dead for a long, long time. Yorkie found her body, you know that. It’s still our brother. We just have to keep him here until he comes back to himself. With the memories in control, he might flee in a panic or try and find the Dutch Republic, who is dead. This is the safest option. You know that.” New Sweden said, and New Netherlands finally had enough of not participating in this conversation.

“What are you talking about?” She asked.

“Life. And my missing brother,” NJ said in perfect Dutch. New Netherlands looked surprised at New Sweden, who smiled.

“New Jersey has picked a decent amount of Dutch over the years.” He explained.

“My land is close to yours, so the Dutch speakers from New Y—Amsterdam visited my place and brought it over. You and I are the Dutch guys. He’s just the baby.” NJ—New Jersey said, jerking his thumb towards New Sweden as he said the last part. New Sweden pouted at that, and New Netherlands laughed.

“Swedes is a baby.” New Netherlands said, wrapping an arm over her brother’s shoulder and smiling at him. 

“You’re both hilarious.” He said sarcastically, pushing her arm off his shoulder before turning to New Jersey.

“I can’t believe you are getting along with your so-called sworn enemy.” He spoke to New Jersey in the same strange language. 

“It’s not really him.” New Jersey answered, “Now, New Netherlands, what do you do for fun? Papa’s got some business to take care of, and we are going to be looking after you for a while, so anything we can do to make your stay in this hellhole more bearable, let us know, and we’ll be happy to help.”

“No…no thank you. I just think I’ll stick with New Sweden until things get worked out. You will get me back my real body…or fix this, right?” New Netherlands asked nervously. New Sweden smiled at me.

“Don’t worry. By the end of the week, you’ll be right as rain. Just trust me.”

“Okay lillebror. I will.”

[tpwkwriter]

Our love.

Oohhh How Ive missed this.

I hope everyone has had and received everything they’ve wished for,this Christmas/festive time if you’ve celebrated❤️🎄

Here’s to a happy new year and new writings! 🥳

Defo tried a different style Not sure on it, got a bit carried away at the end 🤪 hope you enjoy nonetheless x

— — — — — —

Love.

Love was a word that meant different to everybody.

Love was often shown through kisses and warm embraces though this was a way of showing affection also went skin deep.

The love between y/n and Harry was a love that could only be described as a soul mate connection. Caring and nurturing was each others favourite.

Harry’s love language mainly spoke physical contact and acts of service.

Wether it a hand resting absentmindedly on y/n’s thigh as they drove, his arm snaked around her waist when together, or simply his head resting on her at all times. You name it. He did it.

Everyone who knew Harry, knew nothing would stand in his way of caring for his lovie. Not only did his protective side come out but also his caring and gentleman ways did too. “Ready love?” He’d ask slipping his car keys in his pocket. “Mmhmm” she’d hum in response, flying from her seat heading to the door “hang on darlin” he’d say not hesitating to prop down on one knee in front of her “H?” Without an answer he was tying her lose shoelace of her favourite trainers. “Don’t want to fall hmm?” He says rising up and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Of course he was just as sweet when out and about. “Get this side love” he said stopping them both on the path and swapping themselves so that he’s on the side the cars drive past, “see y’do love me, don’t wanna see me get flattened by a car” the girl teased locking hands with him. “Don’t tell anyone, but maybe I do..jus’ a tiny bit” he smirked.

He was also just as protective, even over the simplest of things. For instance.

One morning when you decided to cook up breakfast for the both of you, one thing made H change his mind 🤭

“ ah fuck, that hurt” the girl winced instantly checking the finger she accidentally cut while using the knife. “What lovie??” He said instantly turning around to face his girl. “Cut myself on that stupid thing” she sighed. “Oh baby” he whispered “lemme patch you up and I’ll finish this off” he claimed “harry it’s jus a-“. “Uh uh cant have you missing a finger”

His protective ways could also be seen in social settings.

While walking around London hand in hand, he notices a group of girls who seemed to be very clearly fans, H wouldn’t normally have a problem with greeting or even thanking fans in the street but he always worried of there reaction around y/n. “Stay behind me okay?” He said removing his locked hands from yours and wrapping his around her waist “harry” she giggled “m’pretty sure there a group of 16 year olds” she said referring to the size and maturity levels of the girls “still, there’s always someone thats unhappy that im happy, dont need them telling the paps my girlfriends here” he said using us free hand to pull his hoodie up, “don’t think it’s me there looking for” and just then they were knocked out there thoughts. “Harry!!” One of the girls squealed “please can we get a photo, IM such a fan” she says eagerly handing him her phone “s’Not a problem but please don’t post it until im perhaps out of here?” He politely asks taking the phone “mmhmmmm” she swiftly nods, he reluctantly lets go of his girls hand and takes the selfie. When the fan was rambling on about the amount of shows she had been too He realises there was a couple of girls sneaking pictures, normally he would’ve by passed it but noticing there trying to get y/n in the shot his instincts came out “um yeah thanks, thanks for all the support” he said offering his hand out, as the fan walks back to her group he wastes no time in making sure y/n’s privacy wasn’t invaded.

“Put these on my love, M’sorry” he said hand her sunglasses and his cap while she smiles and places them on he wraps his arm firmly and protectively over her and tries to leave before more people come out.

Though being in a relationship with H was an adventure and an interesting ride, neither of you would change it for the world.

And that’s what love meant to the both of you.

[juletheghoul]

Dulcis Part 2

Here we are everyone - part 2 - please be warned that this doesn't have a happy ending (I don't think anyone expected there to be a happy ending for this story) and I understand that this is quite toxic. So no hard feelings if you're not into that - go ahead and scroll past it. I took some liberties with Carols job, I don't actually remember whether or not her career is mentioned in the movie so it is what it is.

To everyone who took a moment to comment / reblog / message me about this story - thanks so much and I hope you enjoy.

Thanks to my ladies for letting me send you paragraph upon paragraph of my Dave filth. @frannyzooey @foli-vora @mouthymandalorian

Dave (Murder Daddy) York x F!Reader

Pairing: David York x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5K (are we even surprised at this point)

Warnings: **TRIGGER WARNING** NSFW 18+ INFIDELITY! (reader is engaged, David is married) language, Smut, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk, **daddy kink** oral (f receiving) vaginal fingering, squirting, semi-public sex praise & aftercare, heavy guilt, violence / death- let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

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It was disorienting when you woke up. This was not your bed, this was not your room, this is not Charlie.

The both of you must have fallen asleep after everything you’d done. Your phone was still beeping, it was what had woken you up in the first place. You looked at the time - it was two am.

Babe? What the hell is going on? Are you okay?

Jesus Christ.

You had six missed calls from Charlie - you had your phone on silent while you and Dave did...your thing. You quickly called him while Dave slept and hoped he wasn’t on his way home.

The guilt was so intense as you laid there, naked with Dave’s cum dried and flaky on the inside of your thighs. The fact that he answered right away made it worse.

“Babe??” He sounded frantic - genuinely worried, which hurt even more.

“Hey- I’m so sorry, I grabbed dinner and then ended up passing out! I was more tired than I thought.” You laughed lightly - trying to keep your voice down so as not to wake Dave. This all felt so wrong and you suddenly wanted to be far away from everyone and everything. You could hear Jack in the background telling Charlie he was being ridiculous.

“Just glad you’re okay - we usually talk before bed and I was worried that we barely spoke today. Just being paranoid I guess.” You could hear his worry and his relief at having heard from you. Dave turned to face you and you gave him a look that said quiet,he lifted his eyebrows at you. Scooting closer to you.

“Yeah I’m okay babe it’s all good. I’m sorry I wasn’t talkative today-” Your voice hitched at the end of your sentence when Dave started kissing your neck. His hand rubbing at the soft skin of your belly, slowly making its way up to cup your breast possessively. You swallowed hard, this was too much. Charlie kept speaking but you had a lump in your throat as you tried to tell Dave to stop with a look.

He ignored you. Charlie was telling you about his day while Dave made his way between your legs, putting your them on his shoulders. You were trying to close them as Charlie's voice sounded in your ear, but he held them open. He ran a finger through your folds, collecting your arousal and making a show of tasting you.

“That’s awesome babe - did you have fun?” You tried to keep your voice normal but he was kissing your thighs and spreading you open. He looked up at you through his lashes as he speared you with two thick fingers, curling them just so. It was hard to focus with him hitting that spongy spot inside you that made you see stars. You could hear the wet noises your cunt was making and the blush crept up your chest.

“Sorry babe I’m so tired, let me call you tomorrow - love you!” You were trying to close your legs and Dave let you, putting them together over one shoulder. His fingers didn’t stop however, it only made you tighter, made you feel him more this way.

You hung up as Charlie said his goodbyes and you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were so close to falling off the cliff. He stopped then when you hung up and you whimpered. He shifted so he was kneeling, holding your legs together in one arm as he guided himself to your opening.

You moaned at the stretch - you’d lost count how many times he’d fucked you and even though your pussy was puffy and sore you didn’t want him to stop. Your arousal flowing freely despite how tired you were.

“Has he ever made you this wet? Does he know how to fuck this pretty pussy? My pretty pussy?” His strokes were slow and thorough, burying himself to the hilt and slowly pulling all the way out, watching himself disappear fully into your slicked cunt. His balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, a soft pap pap pap accompanying the wet sounds of body sucking him in.

How could you still be this turned on? How could you still be leaking slick onto the ruined bedspread after having him inside you so many times? How the fuck could he ask you this right now? You couldn’t answer, not when it felt so good. He didn’t like that though, you knew the rules.

He pulled all the way out and waited until you answered.

“No - no one has ever fucked me like this, no one has ever made me this wet before, please - please make me cum again, please daddy.” You tried to reach up to pull him close to you but he didn’t let you - he guided himself into you once more and set a brutal pace.

He opened your legs wide - holding them by the back of your thighs - just above your knees. He nearly folded your body in half as he pushed your legs up into your chest. The new angle made you wail, he was hitting something deep, something that made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Does that feel good? Look how cock-dumb you are right now, so fucking pretty, taking my dick so well… god, I could fuck this pussy for hours..” He was snapping his hips, hitting your pelvis hard and it was too much, something huge was happening inside you, you felt it in your stomach and it was spreading, blinding you.

It was like you were floating for a moment, suspended in air as felt yourself pushing him out of your body. You shuddered violently and felt the liquid gush of your orgasm between you.

“Fuck baby, fuck that’s so good. So fucking good...my good girl.” He was stroking himself against your ruined cunt, the thick tip of him rubbing your clit as you shuddered. You felt him cum on your mound but you could barely move. He rubbed his cock through your folds, through your combined liquids. You felt tired, bone tired. You felt filthy, never having been this wanton with anyone before - it was scarily satisfying, and you needed comfort.

Maybe it was his depravity, the way he made you mad with lust but you always needed something after and he knew how to give it to you.

He got up and walked over to his bathroom and cleaned himself up, bringing a warm wet rag with him. This is the only thing Dave did gently.

He opened your legs and cleaned you thoroughly, every trace of himself, every drop of your own arousal. You winced slightly, your pussy was sensitive and sore.

“You did so good baby, such a good girl for me. You took me so well - this pussy was made for me. So perfect and pretty and just for me. You know you’re my favourite right?” He rubbed soothing circles over the soft skin of your belly and it made you uncharacteristically needy for him.

“Yes - Just for you.” You repeated softly. You wanted him closer.

He took the blanket out from under you, it was soaked and he tossed it into the hamper beside the dresser, stopping to grab another from the closet. He covered you with it and got into bed beside you. You half expected him to tell you to get dressed but he didn’t, he laid with you and pulled you into his chest. He rubbed soothing circles onto your back while you listened to his heartbeat in your ear.

“Sleep baby, you deserve it. I’ll drive you home in the morning.” He kissed your forehead - the tenderness after everything you’d done was overwhelming. “Do you need some water?” He seemed to remember how long you’d been in bed together and now that he mentioned it you were parched.

“Yes please -” Before you had finished he was up and out of the room. You looked around, felt the bed underneath you. It smelled like sex and sweat and his wife's perfume.

You should have been ashamed of yourself. The guilt was always present and you felt it now but the slithering thing had wrapped itself around it, choking the life out of it and when you saw him walk into the room with a big glass of water and a little smile you couldn’t be bothered.

“Here- drink this and then we can get some sleep.” He watched as you drank, a guilty look flickering across his face when he saw how thirsty you were, you drained the whole glass and handed it back to him. Wiping a few drops from your chin with the back of your hand.

He got into bed behind you and spooned you, you were tucked into his chest - his hand rubbing your arm while you drifted off, you couldn’t remember ever being this comfortable.

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

All the softness was gone the next morning.

You saw it clearly then, there are two versions of Dave - that you know of.

The confident, cocky powerhouse with a big dick that fucks you like a god and makes you see stars through your pussy. The David that is cool, calm and collected - indifferent and laissez faire about you and your life and the destruction he’s wrought.

Then there’s aftercare David. The soft, soothing David. The one that makes you feel safe and calls you his best girl and makes you want to leave everything behind. Makes you want to worship him and do whatever it takes to hear those words.

My good girl, my best girl

But you aren’t a good girl are you, you’re a cheater. You’re a manipulator and your fiance is worrying about you while you’re getting fucked three ways from Sunday in a married man's bed.

The slithering thing has no loyalties - and it turns on you now in the cold light of day.

You think all these things and more as you get dressed, as you gather any evidence of your night with David in his room, in his marital bed and slink away to wait for him to take you home. You vaguely wonder if he’ll fuck Carol in this bed tonight. Will he think of you?

Does he say those filthy things to her? Does he make her beg and plead and call him daddy? Somehow you don’t think so, and if he does - you definitely shouldn’t care.

You’re quiet on the way home, the guilt and the shame are eating you alive. Consuming you from the inside out and every time you think about what you did, what you let him do to you your stomach roils. You want to scrape David out of your mind and out of your body. Exorcise yourself of him. You can’t even bear to look at him and yet you dread getting out of the car.

Your mind and your body are at war, and he can see it. He can see the way your thighs clench and he can imagine that you're remembering scenes from last night. Can see that you won’t look him in the eye.

Charlie texts you then and it compounds the guilt, makes it solid and gives it heft in your stomach.

Hope you slept well - going on a hike with Jack, talk later - love you xo

You text him back quickly, telling him to be careful and that you loved him too. How can you say these words to him when all you’re thinking about is the pleasant ache at your core? When you’re thinking about inviting David inside - to your haven, to Charlies space. You don’t do it though, you can’t.

When you arrive at your building he pulls into a visitors parking spot and you half expect him to say something filthy and leave you on edge all day but what you don't know is that David is excellent at reading people. He saw your thoughts splayed across your face the whole drive home. What you don’t know is that David doesn't like or love you- David is obsessed with you.

David wants to own you and how you feel about that doesn’t matter to him.

He unlocks the doors after the car is parked and he gives you a moment to collect your things, but only a small moment. He turns to look at you and when you reciprocate he leans over - slowly, watching your mouth as he comes closer and closer.

You know he’s giving you time to pull away but you can’t, even now, even after everything you’ve thought about and the horrible thoughts and the guilt. After all that you cannot pull away.

Instead you lean in too, meeting him halfway and he kisses you roughly, biting your lip, crushing his mouth to yours cruelly. A clashing of teeth and tongues and gasps. His kiss is a reflection of how he feels about you, it’s not soft or loving. It’s all consuming and vulgar and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth. He’s pulling a groan out of you and you can’t help but grab at his hair while he does so and it shames you that even now, you crave him.

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

David didn’t know when the switch had happened.

There were things he knew for a certainty, first was that his marriage was a sham. Maybe he had felt something for Carol long ago, when they first met and he had married her because she was as good as any to be a cover. With the way he made a living, he needed his home life to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Second was that he was fond of his girls, they were the good parts of him and they were to be protected.

Third was that he needed more of you. He’d had a taste of your heat, of your whimpers as he drove into you. You were so responsive and pliable, you took everything he gave you and you still wanted more.

He needs more.

--

“All good on that cellphone you asked me to trace.” His colleague dropped off the files on his desk as he finished typing up his report. Now he would know where you were at all times. Would be able to see everything you did on your phone. He could read every text, every email - could see every call.

There was a little part of his brain that genuinely tried to tell him this was wrong. That you were going to get married to someone else - that he had his own family; but then he could see you writhing underneath him, could hear you begging for him to fuck you harder. Telling him you were his and his alone and he couldn’t give that up.

This was better.

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

It was easy to focus on work the week after. You could make the argument that your weekend with Dave made you better. Yeah right.

You planned so many activities for the kids you barely had time to think about anything - including your wedding planning commitments. You had venues to visit, you had cakes to taste and a rehearsal dinner to plan. You decided to throw yourself into that too.

--

You walked through the grocery store slowly, it was early enough in the day that it was still relatively empty. Your mind bouncing from one trivial thing to the next, going over your list, reminding yourself to do a load of laundry when you get home.

Maybe I'll make pork chops tonight, I really have to clean out the fridge.

It starts out as a prickle across your skin, heavy eyes on you; tracking you through the grocery store. You try to find the source but you can’t so you try to focus on the aisle in front of you. What did you need again?

Peanut butter - that’s right- but it doesn’t go away, it persists until you’re slightly alarmed and you don’t know why.

Your phone dings then and when you check your heart races- it’s Dave.

I want you.

There’s no preamble and you can’t deal with this right now, you can’t just drop everything whenever he messages you; so you ignore it. You’re busy.

When you go to pay the feeling hasn’t gone away, there is something at play here and it’s making you uncomfortable, enough to rush out to your car and look out for your surroundings when you hastily shove your bags into the trunk of your car.

“Why did you ignore me baby?” His voice startles you as you’re closing the trunk. Was it him that had you so keyed up?

“Dave… what are you doing here?” You were a little relieved that it was him, but only a little.

“I came to do some groceries, saw you and texted but you didn’t answer. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were ignoring me, but you aren’t right honey?” He moved closer to you, pinning you with his gaze. There was something cold in his eyes but you felt the arousal burning in your belly regardless.

You’d never know why, but there were warning bells going off in your brain; they were screaming at you to get away as fast as you could but he was staring at your lips and your legs wouldn’t move.

“No, I was just busy. I c-can’t just drop…” your back was curving to get away from him but there was nowhere to go. “I cannot just drop everything when you message me David. I have a life.” You put a little steel into your voice. You were in the middle of the grocery store parking lot for goodness sake.

He didn’t say anything, as he put his hands on your waist - grabbing onto you when he dipped his head to place a chaste kiss on your exposed collar bone. It flustered you and you had to bite the soft sigh but it came out anyway. You were lost then.

He led you to the backseat of your car and opened the door, sitting you inside with your legs still outside the car. The words were at the back of your throat, stuck behind your molars, coming forth to the tip of your tongue but never further. Your mind tried desperately to rebel, to shake you like an unruly child and snap you out of your madness but your body was pliable, changeable to his proverbial wind.

Instead you sat with him crouched in front of you just outside the car - his hands undoing your jeans and bringing them down along with your panties to leave you bare to anyone who happened to look inside your car. It was exhilarating and terrifying the way you let this man expose you this way.

“This pretty little pussy has been on my mind since our special weekend.” you could only open your legs slightly with your jeans around your knees. Enough for him to glide his fingers along your puffy lips, your arousal just bleeding through your folds. You watched him touch you, your body doing absolutely nothing to stop him. “It’s mine isn’t it?” He asked and you vaguely registered yourself nodding as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Look how hard you make me baby, constantly craving this wet cunt.” You could see the heft of him when he palmed himself. The outline of his dick pronounced enough to make you groan. He leaned forward to taste you, parting your seam with his tongue, gliding it against your clit. You moaned out and ran your fingers through his hair, the rest of the world and your surroundings forgotten with the action. He couldn’t get enough, pushing his face harder into your mound to get deeper but it wasn’t enough.

Instead he told you to move into the car so he could sit in your backseat, moving your driver's seat up to make room for his legs and you rushed to obey.

That was the word wasn’t it? That’s what you make me do, obey.

The thought came to you but it almost felt like it was someone else in your mind - explaining it to you as you struggled to get at least one leg free from the confines of your jeans. When he finally sat in the backseat you frantically pulled at his zipper, grasping his cock in your hand and lowering yourself onto him as quickly as you could.

You shared a groan when he was fully sheathed by your wet heat. He bucked up quickly, the both of you so close already; the knowledge that anyone could look in and see you riding him at any time only served to make you leak onto his lap. It made his cock twitch to think that you wanted him enough to let him take you like this - out in the open.

You were just as frantic as you rolled your hips, your fingers clutching at his shirt, his hair, his shoulders; whatever you could reach. His hand snaked up and he wrapped it around your throat, applying the barest amount of pressure and you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you like this? Does my good girl like when I grab her throat?” He squeezed a little and your body answered him by dripping more arousal onto his lap. Your cunt definitely liked it.

“Look at how wet you get, fuck. Are you mine baby?” He asked as he put a little more force into his movements. His feet were planted firmly as he bucked up, you moaned a yes daddy as he held you tightly. “Rub your clit, make yourself cum on my big dick.” He moaned into your ear and once again you obeyed. When your pussy fluttered with your orgasm his thrusts became erratic along with his words. Ramblings about owning you, about you never being able to get rid of him, words whispered fervently onto your skin as he painted your insides with his release.

You came to your senses before he did and you wanted to get dressed.

“I have to go Dave let me get dressed.” You tried to get off him but he held you tightly.

“What if I don’t want you to go? What if I want you to sit on my cock all day? Keep it warm for me.” He was kissing your neck, pulling your shirt down to kiss the tops of your breasts.

“Stop David, I have to go home and so do you. Playtime is over.” You were getting a little braver now that the fog of lust had cleared. He looked at you then and any softness was gone - his eyes grew cold and his hand came to your throat again.

“You said this pussy is mine. Were you lying?” His hand held your throat possessively and you felt him hardening inside you once more.

“What are you talking about? When we fuck you own me, but outside of this I have a life, I’ll be married soon and you have your wife and kids. This cannot continue no matter how much I enjoy it. You know that right? We have to be realistic here.” His eyes narrowed in a way that you didn’t recognize, he had a faraway look and you had to bring him back to you. “I meant what I said before. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, no one has ever fucked me the way you do and I lose my mind around you but you have to know it cannot continue.” You gently pulled his hand away from your throat, and kissed him as softly as you could. You were chasing the comfort he usually gave you.

For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be swayed, but what you soon realized was that you affected him just as much as he affected you. You pulled him close, whimpering into his mouth. There was a heady feeling in the power you felt, at being the one to calm him and you took it as far as you could.

“You know it’s yours daddy, my pussy is only for you. We had a lot of fun, you made me cum so hard. I’m going to be feeling your cock for hours. So big and hard inside me.” You kissed his neck, relishing the feeling of his dick twitching at your words. His hands held you almost violently, as if he couldn't get you close enough.

“It is mine isn’t it.” He spoke into your neck, making you bounce on him again, chasing the friction so he could cum again.

The second time was slower, you were fucking him now. Your hips a slow grind on his cock, his cum and your arousal making it so slippery, so much better. He was whining into your neck and you felt so fucking powerful. You weren’t thinking about the implications of your actions. You weren’t thinking how he would perceive this as your admittance to his ownership over you.

You didn’t realize the mistake you were making.

“It’s mine, you’re mine baby- tell me - fuck - tell me you’re mine.” He groaned the words.

“I’m yours, only yours. My cunt, my tits - my body. Yours all yours.” You whimpered as you came again, clamping down on his cock almost painfully tight. It triggered his own release and as you sat there slowly stroking each other, he was calculating his next move.

——————

You didn’t think about the interaction much, your ability to compartmentalize this part of you - the part you willingly gave to him should have shocked you; but even that was tucked away. When you were home with Charlie - it was a daydream. You never actually did those things? You didn’t open your legs like a whore every time Dave looked at you- that had to be someone else.

It was easy to be distracted with the rehearsal dinner coming up, the two of you finally agreeing on a really nice restaurant downtown. It felt better to have the invitations sent, felt like you were finally doing something to contribute to your own wedding. It made you guilty to think you’d barely done anything in that department but say yes. Charlie had taken care of all of the arrangements up until now, that had to change.

---

You should have felt guilty that all you could think of while you got ready for the rehearsal dinner was the fact that Dave hadn’t reached out since the morning in the parking lot. You should have been relieved, the... indiscretion had run its course and now you were where you were supposed to be. With Charlie… Right?

You could hear him rummaging in the closet, his movements becoming more and more erratic and his voice was rising.

“Babe - have you seen my tie? I could have sworn I hung it with my suit but it’s gone.” He looked through his garment bag furiously and you took pity. You assumed it must have fallen somewhere but you were soon sharing his frustration. It was nowhere to be found.

It was too late to do anything about it now, he wore another tie and you quickly made your way towards the restaurant.

-

It was nice to see everyone there, you had reserved a few tables near the back and your wedding party and close family had all come out to celebrate the two of you. Charlie was in a good mood, his hand finding a way to touch you and keep you close. The slithering thing however - raged. It was thrashing and screaming inside you, seeking out Dave as you drank your wine. You imagined how it would have been if you’d been marrying him instead. You imagined him meeting your family - your mother might have thought you were a bit young for him. Your father might have been impressed that he was well established, a secure job - a good future for you. You could almost feel his hand gripping your thigh under the table - whispering filth into your ear as you tried to eat.

“I’d let that man crack me open like a walnut.” Your best friend and maid of honour broke you out of your daydream to point out a man walking with his family towards a table not far from yours. Had he heard your thoughts? It felt like your stomach fell out of your body when his dark eyes locked on yours.

“Oh god.” It came out involuntarily. Your friend took it as an agreement to her statement.

“Right? What a dilf.” She was swooning - he was so fucking handsome.

Alice caught sight of you then and waved excitedly. You gave her a small wave back.

“You know him?” Your friend grabbed your arm excitedly.

“Yes - that’s my student Alice, her parents Carol and Dave.” It felt wrong to say his name out loud. Like everyone would know all the things you’d done once it was out in the air. You saw Carol smile at you then - saying something to Dave whose eyes had never left yours. Your blood ran cold when they walked over to your table.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. York, how’s your evening going?” You smiled as naturally as you could when they each shook your hand. Both of them smiled and made small talk.

“Hey babe who’s this?” Charlie came over and put his hand on the small of your back.

“Mr. and Mrs. York - this is my fiance Charlie. Charlie, these are the parents of my student Alice.” He shook hands with Carol, and then David. You could feel the flush creeping up your neck seeing them shake hands.

“Please, call me David - I feel like I know your fiance so well - Alice talks about her all the time.” He smiled, the very picture of friendliness. Charlie was all smiles.

My little golden retriever. The slithering thing was cruel tonight.

David smiled at you, while Carol prattled on about what a lovely couple you were - how gorgeous your children would be and how excited she was for you. David smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You could see the cracks in it, especially as Charlie tucked you into his side.

-

When the incredibly awkward meeting was over and you were sitting with your maid of honour again she was reeling, asking you questions about Dave. You had to gently remind her - and yourself - that he was married.

“Yes yes I know - but it’s fun to imagine right? God I bet he has a big dick. I just know he does. Would probably fuck you into the mattress, look at those hands.” She was almost drooling and you really couldn’t blame her. You knew the truth.

As the night went on you were getting more and more flustered as you felt David's eyes on you, he was suffocating you. What the fuck were the odds that he would be here tonight? You thought he might have done it on purpose but that would be insane. How could he possibly know? There was no logical way the knowledge could have gotten back to him. You briefly thought about him surprising you at the grocery store; just a coincidence, right?

You had to get away all of a sudden. With everyone enjoying themselves, with the wine flowing along with the conversation it was easy to slip away to the bathroom. You weren’t alone for long though, someone knocked on the door and kept knocking no matter how many times you said it was busy so you hurried to finish, not wanting to hold up the line.

David pushed you back in when you opened the door and before you could register what was happening he was kissing you. If anyone had asked you later on you would have denied it, but you were just as frantic.

You pulled at his hair and yanked him closer, and then somewhat came to your senses after the initial passion. You were in the bathroom at your wedding rehearsal dinner.

“David - stop, we can’t. I have to get back - Carol and Charlie…” He was hiking up your dress as you spoke and although your words said one thing, your actions said another. You were helping him, opening his belt and pulling down his pants to wrap your hand around his cock.

“Charlie?” His tone was mocking as he ripped your underwear, almost burning your thigh with the force of it. You moaned -

Charlie doesn’t make me feel like this. You couldn’t even summon up the guilt, not with how you were dripping, glossy and wet for him. Not with how hard his cock was for you - not with how he rubbed it through your folds as he hiked your leg high on his hip.

“Charlie doesn’t make you this wet does he baby, doesn’t fuck this wet little pussy like daddy does” He wasn’t gentle, he buried himself to the hilt and it knocked the air out of you. He held onto your throat with one hand as he snapped his hips forward hard and fast, your cunt practically sucking him in. His hand tightened slightly when you didn’t answer him.

“No, no he - fuck - no he doesn’t.” His pace was bruising, it was rough and you didn’t want it to stop. It wasn’t enough for him though.

“You have to remember who this fucking pussy belongs to… I’m going to make you cum while Charlie is outside. You’re going to feel me while you’re with him.” He pulled out and you whimpered, he stood off to the side and put your leg on the toilet then he slid two fingers into your swollen cunt, curling them and hitting that spongy spot with a brutal speed. The pressure was so intense you couldn’t even scream.

“There it is - going to squirt for me?” He was whispering in your ear as his hand almost blurred between your legs. You left your body as you felt the wet gush of your orgasm. It was all over the floor and dripping down your legs.

If he wasn’t holding you, you would have slid down the wall.

“That’s it, what a good girl.” He was back between your legs, slamming himself back into you - your arousal wetting his pant legs but he didn’t care. “Open your fucking mouth.” He snarled into your face, his hand ever present at your throat and you did. He spit into it - “Swallow.” You felt depraved, you felt disgusting, you were wetter than you’d ever fucking been and if he stopped you would have died.

His thrusts were becoming more and more erratic.

“I’m going to cum in this pretty mouth, and then you’re going to kiss Charlie.” He pulled out and you scrambled to get onto your knees. He held you by the hinge of your jaw and stroked himself onto your tongue. You swallowed as much as you could, reaching up to catch whatever dripped out.

“Kiss him when you get to the table, daddy’s watching.” he spoke calmly as he put himself away. He didn’t even bother washing his hands before he slipped out; leaving you to clean up the mess.

---

You looked in the mirror when he left and it was like you were looking at a stranger. Who was this woman looking back at you? With the red marks on her neck, with the ruined underwear that had to be thrown out. Red knees and lips.

That’s you, that’s always been you

The slithering thing was sated and happy, basking in the afterglow of the violent orgasm Dave had ripped from you.

No one noticed you when you went back to your table, the red lips were assumed to be wine stains. The red flush the alcohol. David’s eyes bored into you as you kissed Charlie, terrified he’d know but he didn’t. The slithering thing cheered while you wilted, your conscience finally convincing you that this might have gotten out of control.

The guilt was building and building as they came to say goodbye, Carol congratulating you once more and David shaking Charlie’s hand.

“It’s so funny, I didn’t notice before but I was going to wear a tie just like that tonight.” Charlie was smiling. Even the slithering thing stilled - no longer celebrating as a terrifying thought crept into your mind.

“What a coincidence.” David smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

---

There was an impenetrable fog that obscured every and all thought. A cumulonimbus cloud thick enough to swim through. It covered everything in a gauzy haze and made it so difficult to focus on anything; it caused basic tasks to be completed almost instinctively.

You got home, but didn’t remember how. You took a shower, washed your face. You were in bed with Charlie; comfortable in clean pyjamas and yet still, you couldn’t understand how.

Had David broken into your apartment somehow? Getting into the building - unfortunately - wouldn’t be too hard you could understand that. He could charm his way in, or happen to catch someone as they walked out but how did he get into your unit? Your locks still worked. Neither of you had come home to a broken down door.

How would he even know which unit was ours?

You kept going back and forth within your own mind, wrestling yourself with the logic of it. On the one hand, there was no fucking way he had done this. It was absolutely insane. David York did not break into your apartment just to steal your fiance’s tie. The implications of it were too big for you to handle. It would have meant that he knew about your rehearsal dinner, which logically speaking - he couldn’t. You hadn’t told him.

He would have had to know which day Charlie bought his suit and tie, which again - you knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t know that the dinner was scheduled for tonight and that it would be at that specific restaurant. Were you actually considering that he would somehow manage to find out all of this information and then proceed to use it by wearing the tie - he somehow manager to steal - just to fuck with you? You sighed heavily - thankful that Charlie was blessedly fast asleep.

You were then forced to consider the alternative, which was that he had done just that. Found a way to keep tabs on you. You thought back to all of your interactions with him, painstakingly running through the events through your mind to a time where he would have access to… to what? What could he possibly do? You knew he had some sort of office job. Government? Police? What did he even do? You were startled to realize you didn’t actually know.

The question remained, and multiplied - growing from simply how, to when? His only chance would have been when you were in his home, but even then - what could he have done, the two of you had been together, busy.

You fell asleep

The slithering thing whispered, seeming to make amends and changing its tune with the fear you felt now, along with arousal at the thought of Dave. You’d both been asleep though, hadn't you?

Your phone flashed then - a text message from your best friend - congratulating you and stating how excited she was about the wedding, about how hot that dad had been with some smiley faces. You looked at your phone curiously then. Could this be how?

All of the information about the dinner, about Charlie's shopping trip - it was all here. The invitations had been sent through email. Anyone with access to your phone would know all of the details Dave would have needed to do the things you were -only a little seriously- suspecting him of. It still begs the question though, how could he have access to your phone?

You didn’t fall asleep until very late, looking at your phone with fearful suspicion.

——

It was difficult to concentrate.

Even after a few days, your mind was still clouded with doubt; you didn’t know what to think. It was hard to quantify all of the implications of your mistake and at this point you had no idea what to do about it. There was no way out that wouldn’t be messy.

You never had a choice

When did the slithering thing start sounding like Dave?

The startling realization hit you then, you’d never had any control over the situation; he had successfully invaded every part of you.

The situation had become so dire, so panic-inducing that Charlie had taken notice of your far off expression. You were unusually quiet, lost in thought and guilt alike more often than not.

You tried to reassure him that it was just stress, not getting enough sleep, anxiety over the upcoming wedding but you knew he imagined it was cold-feet. You were ashamed to admit that maybe it was. Maybe after all this, this taste of the forbidden fruit had soured everything else.

Charlie’s optimism became naivety. His willingness to compromise had become a weakness. Dave had poisoned every aspect of your life, ruining you for other men and for what? He’d made you no promises, no assurances of what would happen as a result of your indiscretion but he demanded everything from you; no regard for your life.

The worst part was you knew all of this, you were well aware of exactly what his terms were and you took it with your greedy little hands and your greedy little cunt.

You have no one to blame but yourself

—-

One week until the wedding

Things hadn’t gotten better.

The cure for a guilty conscience however, in your opinion, was working yourself to the point of exhaustion. Throwing every ounce of energy into teaching your class, activities and creative exercises left no room for Dave.

The side effect however was no better, Charlie hovered - borderline berating you for working too hard. You vaguely wondered to yourself if you wanted Charlie to catch you. Maybe he didn’t pay as much attention to you as he should have, maybe you should have been paying more attention to him?

No - this was your guilty conscience trying to deflect your abhorrent behaviour; this was the slithering thing changing it’s tactic by turning you against Charlie. The truth was that Charlie was giving you the benefit of the doubt, he was convinced that this was all pre-wedding jitters which to be fair, it should have been.

---

Five days until the wedding.

You should have been finalizing plans. You should have been excited and jittery and planning your honeymoon - which you hadn’t. You hadn’t said a word about the upcoming ceremony, and if Charlie brought it up you quickly changed the subject.

“I spoke to the florist, everything is all set. All we have to do now is show up.” He said it almost tentatively. Approaching the subject like a bomb technician. You responded with an mhm as you flitted around the kitchen, gathering your supplies for the school day.

“Babe, are you okay?” He faced you head on now, a little grown on his face.

“Of course, just running late.” You didn’t look him in the eye and while this would have worked a few weeks ago, it didn’t today.

“Stop, give me a second- please.” He stood in front of you, holding you by your shoulders so you were forced to confront him. “I’m not sure what’s going on, whether it’s stress from work, or nervous about the wedding but i'm here, it’s me, it’s us.” He was holding you, trying to connect with you on the same level you’d always been connected to each other but there was a wall; it’s name is David.

“Charlie, I’m fine. It’s all good - I’m stressed from work and this whole big wedding thing is giving me anxiety and frankly I don’t have time for this.” You gently pulled away from him, and much to your annoyance - he let you go, sighing heavily.

“You know I love you right?” His voice pulled at your heart, for a moment you were yourself- remembering the sweet boy that made you laugh. The lovely man in front of you who did everything he could to make you happy - but then you imagined David. He wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

“Yes, I know - I love you too. Everything will be fine I promise.” You kissed him quickly as you ran out the door.

-----

Four days until the wedding

You stared at your phone while you waited for the steady trickle of parents, you wanted to smooth things over with Charlie but you didn’t know how to. Worst of all you didn’t actually know whether or not you even wanted to at this point. The thoughts jumbled together maddeningly before being interrupted by the soft knock from the first set of parents for the night. It went smoothly, until it was Carol's turn.

When Carol York walked into your classroom your heart fell into your stomach.

She sat and chatted with you, asking about the wedding and your fiance. It was difficult not to feel awkward - not with all of the truly filthy things you'd let her husband do to you. You studied her while she prattled away about Alice’s grades and home life. Her wedding ring drew your attention first, it was ostentatious. A huge rock on her delicate finger - her bag was designer, so were her shoes.

What does she do? What does David do?

You let her talk, trying to subtly gain some insight into her psyche - maybe you were trying to understand why David was so relentless in his pursuit of you. Maybe you wanted to compare yourself to this woman.

“What do you do Mrs York?” You asked her, trying not to jump onto the subject of her husband right away.

“Oh please, call me Carol! I work for a design firm, mostly commercial buildings and offices. Corporate design you could say.” She smiled, so friendly; you wondered whether it was blissful ignorance or a mutual understanding that it was all for show that kept her and David together. Neither one would have been preferable.

“That’s lovely, and what about Mr. York - what does he do?” If your face had given anything away, she didn’t mention it.

“Oh David works for the government. It’s all terribly bureaucratic and boring. I swear though sometimes it’s like the man works for the CIA with how secretive he can be about his work, like I need to know everything that happens. An office is an office and they’re all the same aren’t they?” Her laugh was soft.

Blissful ignorance the slithering thing decided.

You thought about her a lot after she left, lingering on Davids job and what he could have access to. Was he really CIA? That was a slightly terrifying thought.

Your thoughts circled back around however and the truth of the matter was that neither Carol or Charlie deserved to be treated this way. The knock at the door startled you - your head snapping up to see who was here. The school had been empty with Carol being your last appointment.

“How was the meeting with my wife?” Dave was leaning against the door frame.

Your stomach dropped.

“What are you doing here? Carol just left - did you see her in the parking lot?” The audacity of this man was perplexing, how could he show up here and risk his wife seeing him.

“I saw her leave, she didn’t see me.” He walked over to you but you held your ground - looking up into his handsome face. The shame hit you like a bolt of lightning when he looked into your eyes, it hit you because all of the contemplating - all of the regret and the shame at having done all you had went right out the window.

“So where does Carol think you are right now?” You had to know.

“Same place Charlie thinks you are. At work.” He couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of his voice when saying Charlie's name. It was curious that he could seemingly hate Charlie - he was just your Carol.

“What do you do?” The question bubbled out of your mouth almost of its own volition and you saw his eyes narrow slightly.

“I work for the government.” He didn’t elaborate and his expression said the matter was closed. You had an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach along with the all too familiar ache of arousal his very presence seemed to inspire.

“I’m curious.” You didn’t think you could say more than that, there was a voice in the back of your mind, quieter than the slithering thing but much stronger.

Don’t ask too many questions - he won’t like that

You listened.

“I missed you baby, didn’t you miss me?” The flip had switched when you backed off, this was what he was here for. You couldn't lie to him.

“Yes - I did.” You stared up at him, at his mouth. The plush bottom lip you liked to bite because it made him groan. The tawny skin of his neck - it made you want to stand up on your tippy toes to kiss him there.

“What are you thinking about?” It came out almost playful, was it so obvious?

“Your neck.” There was no point in lying to him. “I want to kiss it.” Your body carried you closer to him and he made space for you in his arms, hugging you close to him. This was uncharacteristic of him. This kind of comfort usually came after he’d wrung every ounce of pleasure and decency from you and it felt so intimate. It felt more vulgar because he was showing how he felt about you. How he wanted to feel about you.

You couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled. How your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. Even though the knowledge that this could not last, this could not end well, this was the best part. Feeling close to him and even more so - feeling wanted by him.

Utterly enveloped by him.

The mood shifted however as it always does when in his presence, and now his face was in the crook of your neck. Seeking out your warmth and your scent and your skin.

“I’ve missed you so much - think about you constantly.” He spoke between fervent kisses that burned you. “Think about your mouth, your tits, your sweet little cunt and I get so hard for you baby.” He was leaving a blazing path with his mouth. His words searing you just as ardently.

“Tell me, tell me how much you want me.” You needed to hear it, maybe it would all be worth it, the pain and the destruction this would invariably cause in your life as well as his. All would be worth it because he wanted you so badly.

“I want you so much, every minute of every day. I can’t focus, I have to have you. You belong to me.” He was crowding you, his hands seeking out every part of you available to him and he pushed you onto your desk to stand between your legs.

The heat was in your belly now, spreading from your skin into your blood and running through your veins. His words were a forest fire and you couldn’t control it so you let yourself burn for him. Your cunt was weeping and you needed to hear more - everything. You needed him to tell you everything, all of the thoughts, all of the suspicions and the fear were lost when he touched you like this. In these moments with him none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

“I think about you too, keep telling me- please.” You yanked him by his hair to taste him, forestalling your request by licking into this mouth - as if wanting to taste the truth in his words. He pulled at your leggings and your underwear all at once, leaving you bare for him.

“This pussy owns me as much as I own it, I want to see it dripping in me. My cum sliding out of it - I have to taste it.” He kneeled in front of you and seeing him looking up at you through dark lashes and hooded, lust blown eyes was almost too much. The slick pooled at your entrance and he groaned at the sight of it.

You could feel the flush creeping up your chest at the way he looked up at you. It was almost blasphemous the way he devoured you. His hands were insistent in the way he held your thighs open for him, draping them over his shoulders. You imagined what you looked like then, with your legs spread for him, your heels digging into his back as you ground your hips into the wet heat of his mouth.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and you almost screamed, the coil in your belly winding itself tighter and tighter as he forcibly dragged you over the edge and into oblivion. He hummed onto your skin as he slid two thick fingers into your silken heat. The stretch of his fingers pumping in that maddening rhythm with the wet glide of his tongue over and over and over- It was too much and you grabbed at his hair violently as your orgasm flooded out of you and into his mouth.

—-

Two days until the wedding.

You were meant to finalize a few things today and Charlie had left early in the morning, mentioning a last minute errand he had to run. That had been hours ago and he hadn’t even called.

There was a knock at your apartment door - Charlie must have forgotten his keys again.

“David, what are you doing here?” You felt the colour drain from your face. He pushed his way inside the apartment.

“I needed to see you.” His voice was level but the bile was rising in your throat. Charlie could walk in at any moment.

“David, now is not the time and this is definitely not the place - how did you know where I lived…?” The hairs on the back of your neck were standing on end - his job came to your mind unbidden. He didn’t answer you.

“I need to touch you, I need to fuck you in your bed - in Charlie’s bed.” He had a violent glint in his eye and it startled you just as much as it aroused you.

“Are you crazy? David..” He crashed his lips into yours, giving you no choice.

You wanted to fight him, you wanted to push him away and demand the answers you needed, but you didn’t. You never fought him. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck to get closer. You sighed into his mouth when his tongue plundered yours.

“Take your fucking clothes off now, be good for daddy.” The words almost came out in a growl and you almost ripped them in your haste to obey, the shirt and bra you had been wearing were now a discarded heap on the floor. Your leggings were wrenched down leaving everything but your calves exposed to his touch. He turned you around roughly and pushed your face into your dining room table, your ass on display for him while he undid his belt.

This was how Charlie found you. Naked and panting for a fully clothed man.

“What the fuck?” His voice wasn’t angry, he was too confused for that. His brain hadn’t registered the scene in its entirety until you were scrambling to get your pants up. Apologizing and telling him it wasn’t what he thought it was, which was a lie. It was exactly what he thought it was.

You were about to get fucked by someone else, in your shared apartment, two days before your wedding.

“This whole time, I thought it was nerves. How could you do this to me? Who the fuck are you?” He spoke to you and Dave and while you tried to explain, tried to get your bra back on - David was silent.

Charlie stormed out before you could do anything and David told you to get dressed, that he would go after him.

You had your bra back on, and were just about to run out the door when David burst through your apartment.

“Call an ambulance. Now.”

----

“You say you were both going to grab some lunch and he fell down the stairwell?” The detective was talking to David who had you tucked into his side, a hand rubbing your back in what he imagined was a soothing gesture.

“That’s right, he slipped and fell when we were making our way down. His shoelace must have been untied.” He didn’t even flinch.

You said nothing while David spoke, but you tried to communicate silently to the detective that something was wrong but he barely looked at you. David had handled everything and you knew then that there was nothing to be done. When the interview came to an end, the detective shook his hand, told you how sorry he was and that they would release the body back to you soon.

All you could do was think about all the time David had said you belonged to him. How he would never let you go, and now the only thing keeping you from him was gone.

You were all his.

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

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[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff. 

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 29

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1858

Warnings:  Pregnancy, labor, delivery, medical proceedures

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 29: Becca

When Natasha went into labor it was about as dramatic as what you’d expect it to be for her.

It was a week before her due date, but well into the zone the doctor’s call full term.  She was uncomfortable and hating it but she still insisted that she be the one that walked the kids to and from school every day so that she could cloak them.  Because it was getting so close to her due date, Clint and Bucky had started to shadow her again.  That meant, rather than a random changing of the guard for the people doing the drop-off and pick-up, it was always Clint, Bucky, and Natasha.

They had been out for around half an hour when they returned.  I was sitting in the living room with Sam and Wanda while she nursed the babies.

Wanda had been such a star with breastfeeding.  With Riley and Pietro I’d ended up needing a bottle supplement which had turned to complete formula diets when they realized the bottle was a much easier way to get lots of milk.  I also remember struggling to feed them both at the same time.

Wanda had no such trouble.  I don’t know if it was just her and she would have been fine no matter what, or if it was the fact her powers pretty much allowed for anything - or a combination of the both - but she could feed both twins at once, never complained, and the babies were steadily gaining weight.

If there was a way for a person to burst through elevator doors, Natasha did it.  All three of us looked over startled as Nat hurried inside, beelining straight to the stairs.  There was a shadow of wetness on her maternity pants and a look of frustration on her face.  

“What’s going on?”  Sam asked his eyes flicking from Natasha who was already halfway up the stairs to Bucky and Clint who were following after her.

“Nat’s water broke while we were dropping the kids off at school.  She started getting contractions on the way back,” Clint explained.

Wanda gave an excited squeak that made Rose give her the dirtiest look a newborn can muster.

“Wow, alright,” Sam said.  “El, you go with them.  FRIDAY, let the others know it’s happening.  And tell Happy, Travis, and Amber that I need to see them.”

“Yes, sir,” FRIDAY replied.

I gave Sam a curious look.  “Well, the kids are going to need to be picked up, I figure if Happy drives one either Travis or Amber. And they’re both going to need to be extra hands-on, because I’m pretty sure Wanda’s going to want to come down and be with Nat too, right, honey?”

“Oh yes,” Wanda agreed.  “I’ll come up to feed these two, but I don’t want to miss that.”

“Alright, I’ll go check on Nat,” I said getting up.  “I’m sure we’re still many, many hours away.  She probably won’t come until tomorrow morning.”

“Wanna bet on the time?”  Sam asked. 

I smirked at him.  “Yeah, alright.  I think 3.30 am.”

“I’m gonna say 11 am.  Rebecca’s going to sleep in,” Sam said.

“Closest to it wins?  If it’s exactly in the middle it can be you,” I suggested.

“Sounds good,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

“What’s the prize?” I asked.

Sam smirked at me.  “I’m sure we can think of something.”

I giggled and headed upstairs to check on Natasha.  I found her in the shower with Bucky, while Clint lazed on the bed.  “How are you doing there, Nat?” I asked.

“Completely mortified,” she said.  “I was talking to one of the other mothers and I just … exploded all over them.  Amniotic fluid went everywhere.  All over her pants legs.  And the floor.  The worst part was that I think the labor started this morning, but I thought it was those Braxton Hicks contractions so I ignored them.”

“That is very dramatic, Tasha,” I teased.  “Perfectly you.”

“I am really glad I have those powers, I tell you,” Natasha said.  “I would have to murder half the population of the planet if pap photos came out with me looking like I wet my pants.”

I smothered a laugh.  “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Careful, El,” Natasha warned.

“Yeah, El, don’t anger the assassin that’s in labor,” Bucky teased.

Natasha got out of the shower and I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her as Bucky turned off the water.

“What no towel for me?”  Bucky asked, stepping out onto the bath mat.

I grabbed another towel and threw it at him.  He caught it laughing and I giggled and turned my attention back to Natasha.  “Have you called the medbay?”

“Yes,” Natasha said.  “I called them on the way home.  They said to wait until five minutes apart and then come down.  I only had -” she looked at Bucky. “-two? Since my water broke, so I think we are a ways off yet.”

She wasn’t kidding.  Most of the rest of the day was spent just as normal.  Only every half hour, give-or-take, Natasha would have a contraction.  Happy and Travis went and collected the kids from school.  By dinner time Natasha was beginning to feel it and opted out of eating anything but she sat at the table with us.  She only winced once during the meal but tried not to let the kids see her discomfort.  Bruce even had time to read Riley and Pietro their bedtime stories before things started to get serious.

At around 11.30 Natasha was in serious pain and not able to hide it anymore.  Given her background and the super-serum her pain tolerance was higher than most, so it was difficult to see her struggling so much with it.

We took turns pacing with her, rubbing her back, and feeding her ice chips.  At around one I ran a bath for her and Steve sat on the edge of the tub and held the nozzle against her back.

By two she couldn’t take it anymore.  We went down to the medbay and Clint supported her while they put in an epidural.  When that kicked in, it was like Nat was a completely different person. She just kicked back in the hospital bed dozed through her contractions and we all spread out around the room doing the same.

We all awkwardly slept where we could, only waking when the nurses came in to check her progress.  At a little after three, they told us it was nearly time for Natasha to push.  They turned off the epidural and the pain of childbirth returned to her in full.  She hunched forward grabbing her knees and bared down.  Sweat clung to her skin and her face flush red.

“That’s it, Natasha,” Doctor Shroeder coached.  “Push.”

There was nothing beautiful or romantic about the way Natasha gave birth.  It wasn’t a magical moment where life miraculously entered the world.  It was messy and bloody and loud.  After half an hour of pushing, Rebecca began to crown, and right away we could see she was going to take after her biological mom more than her biological dad.  She had a little cap of pale red hair that was just visible.

“We can see her, Nat,” Sam said, excitedly.

“Not long now, Tasha,” Bucky added.

“It’s gotten to that freaky horror movie part, Nat,” Clint said.  “You want a mirror so you can see?”

Natasha nodded and Doctor Schroeder grabbed a mirror and held it up for her to see.  “There she is.  Your little redhead girl.”

Natasha smiled and started to sob.  She had gone past the point where she could speak it seemed and everything had gotten too much.  Bucky patted her forehead with a damp cloth.

“Alright, Natasha, next time you feel the urge again, push,” the doctor said.

Natasha bared down.  “I hate you so much, James Barnes,” she moaned as she pushed.

“I know, Tasha,” he said.  “I don’t blame you.”

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Steve praised.

She shot him a look that screamed bloody murder.  “Shut your stupid, positive mouth.”

Tony tried to stifle a laugh as Steve’s cheeks flushed.

It was another two pushes until Rebecca’s head was clear, and only two more after that before she joined us screaming her head off.  “Here she is.  Your daughter has a lot to say.”

Natasha lay back exhausted but looking very pleased with herself.  I was ushered forward and cut the cord and the little squawling baby was put onto Natasha’s chest.  “Hey, Becca,” she croaked.  “You made it.”

Her cries began to settle and she lay staring up at all the faces peering down at her. “You did so well, Natasha,” Wanda praised.  “Look at that perfect little girl.”

“I can’t believe you did this with two and no drugs,” Natasha sighed, caressing Rebecca’s back.

“What time is it?”  Sam asked, reaching over and playing with Rebecca’s hand.

“Her official birth time is 4.23 in the morning,” Doctor Shroeder answered.

“Ha! I win,” I teased.

Sam smirked at me.  “Seems to me, we both win, princess.”

“Okay, okay, enough of that talk in front of the baby,” Bruce joked.

The medical staff fussed around Natasha, giving Rebecca her shots and a shot to Nat to help her deliver the placenta.  We were all too caught up in Rebecca’s presence to pay that much attention.  Though Bruce and I both looked over the placenta fascinated when it was out.

Eventually, the nurses took Rebecca off Natasha to clean her up a little and check her over.  Thor rubbed my back.  “Only one more to go,” he said.

“He can stay put for a little longer,” I said.  “Let him get fully cooked.”

Once Natasha had been taken to her room with Rebecca and she’d showered and changed into her pajamas it was just past breakfast time and Amber and Travis brought Riley, Pietro, Sarah, and Rose down.  It was funny, even though Sarah and Rose were almost three weeks older than Rebecca they were still a little smaller than her.  We once again got Riley and Pietro gifts from the newborn and they were much more interested in opening those than interacting with their new sibling.

“Alright kiddos, you better say goodbye to everyone, it’s time to get to school,” Amber said.

“Do we hafta?”  Riley asked.

Steve shrugged.  “You can stay if you want, but we’re all very tired and everyone will most likely be sleeping.”

Riley seemed to ponder the predicament for a moment and then nodded.  “Otay, we go.”

“Sounds good, bug,” I said and kissed them both goodbye.  “Are you going to say goodbye to all your sisters?”

“Otay,” Pietro said and the two went around kissing first all their parents and then the babies goodbye.

“Bye-bye!” They called as Amber led them from the room.

“Okay but that was really cute,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” I agreed.  “I have to say I am really glad we have FRIDAY recording things because I definitely want framed pictures of them kissing the babies goodbye.”

// NEXT

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 22

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambiguous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

22.

They didn’t speak much in the morning. For once, Angel had decided to set an alarm, and more or less jumped out of bed, the moment his phone began buzzing. His mind seemed as focused as professional soldier’s; and he made even the actual veteran – Coco – seem relaxed in comparison. It had rained during the night, and the air smelled fresh; but didn’t lighten Nina’s mood, as she sat smoking a cigarette on the porch, while the two men packed up Coco’s extra guns. EZ showed up in the van, with Letty and Gaby in the passenger seats. Angel helped Nina in to the seat Letty had previously occupied. The teenager got on her dad’s bike with him, before they all began driving down the street.

Gaby looked worriedly at Nina, as she sat between EZ and her. “Are you alright?”, she asked quietly. “Ezekiel told me what happened…”. “I’m… I don’t know”, Nina muttered. She cleared her throat, wanting to think about anything else than the pain currently surging in her leg. “Are youok? Have you gone on lockdown before?”. “No”, Gabriella said. “This is all very new to me”. “How do they do it up north?”, EZ asked Nina. “I don’t think it’s different than here”, Nina said. EZ frowned, making her question his experience with situations like this as well. “You’ve never done this before either, have you…?”. “No…”, EZ admitted. “It’s never been necessary”. “It’ll be fine”, Nina said, trying to convince herself as well as the two lockdown debutants. “We just have to keep our heads low, and the gates locked… Is your pap’ coming?”. “He says he can protect himself…”, EZ muttered. “But he’ll be by later with the meat he was bringing for the party anyway”. “I’ll try to get him to stay”, Nina said. EZ gave her a thankful smile.

When they arrived at Angel’s place – her place, as Nina reminded herself – the others waited by the vehicles, while she and Angel went inside to gather what they needed. Nina hobbled through the living room, as Angel began closing the windows, after the exterminator visit. Once in the bedroom, Nina began packing some clothes and essentials. She went to get her gun, but remembered that Camille had used it; and that the police probably had taken it for evidence. “Fuck!”, she exclaimed. “What?”, Angel asked, coming running into the bedroom. “My gun… It was the one Camille… It has my prints all over it!”. “EZ told the cops you fought her for it, so the prints shouldn’t be an issue”, Angel said, his voice relieved that he hadn’t found her in trouble. “Is it registered?”. “No, and the serial is filed off… I did grow up with SAMCRO”, Nina grunted. She sighed heavily, and sat down on the bed, to get some weight off her leg. “Is there enough first-aid stuff at the clubhouse?”. “Why?”, Angel asked. Nina shot him a hard look. “You know why”, she replied. “We’re also gonna need a couple of pre-paids in case of emergencies… We’ve got food and drinks, because we were getting ready for the party… I wish there was a proper kitchen, though… And extra guns. Anyone who can shoot should be carrying…”.

Angel crouched in front of her, and took her hands in his own. “Breathe, mami… We got this, ok? You don’t have to worry”. “Well, I am fucking worried!”, Nina growled. “If Bishop had an old lady, it would be her responsibility to keep the people in the clubhouse comfortable. Now I have to…”. “You know what you’re doing… I hear you had a good teacher”, Angel smiled. “Teller’s mom, right? She was good queen…”. “Yeah… most of the time”, Nina muttered. She still felt ambivalent about how Gemma had fulfilled her duties; mainly due to how she’d ended her reign by breaking Jax’s heart, and killing his wife. She’d also been a good friend and surrogate aunt, though; at least in the beginning. “Just do what you always do. We’ll take care of the rest”. “Yeah… You’re gonna go get fucking murdered, while I serve potato-salad to scared hangarounds…”. Angel leaned forward, and caught her lips in a warm kiss. “I’m coming back to you”, he said. “Promise me…”, Nina said. He placed her hand on his chest, just above his heart. “I swear, cuervo…”. He kissed her again, and got to his feet. “I’m gonna go get my extra hardware. Do you remember where I put the Beretta?”. “You can’t remember where you put your guns?”. “Some of them are kinda small… They get lost”, he muttered. Nina rolled her eyes. “Behind the toilet-rolls in the cabinet under the bathroom sink”, she sighed.

Angel left the room, and Nina got to her feet again; leaning against her crutches. “What the fuck?”, Angel yelled. Nina hobbled after him as quickly as she could. “What’s wrong?”, she asked, and tried to look out from behind him, as he stood in the doorway. “What the hell is that?”, Angel said, and pointed at something skinny and furry; cowering in the corner of the shower. Nina gasped, and pushed past him. “Don’t…! It’s just a poor kitty”, she said. Limping slowly forwards, she got to her knees in front of the shaking tabby. “Hey bug…”, she cooed, and stretched out her hand. The cat hissed, before leaning its head forwards to sniff her. “Get the fuck out!”, Angel growled, and took a threatening step forward. “Stop it! You’re scaring it…”, Nina said.

The cat hissed again, but Nina kept her hand out; and after a few moments, it stepped forward, and blinked slowly at her, before pushing its forehead against her hand. It was missing part of its left ear, and from the looks of its pronounced hipbones, it was clear it hadn’t had a proper meal in quite a while. The skin was sagging off it, and bellow its belly. “It’s a stray… Probably has all sorts of diseases”, Angel grunted. “It probably jumped through the window to get out of the rain”, Nina said, ignoring Angel’s displeased tone. “Do we have anything for it to eat?”. “No”, Angel said coldly, and walked over to grab the cat. “I’ll throw it outside. Close the window, so it doesn’t come back in”. Nina looked hard at him. “No!”, she said. “It needs food and care…”. “Nina…”. “You said we could get a cat!”. “Not this one!”, Angel declared. “We can go to a shelter or something. Get a kitten. I’m not taking in some old, ratched…”. His words drowned in Nina’s exclamations of aww, as the tabby once again pressed its head against her hand, and let her scratch it behind its ears. “Angel… Look at him…!”. “How do you know it’s a he?”, Angel grunted. “I’d think you’d recognize a pair of balls when you saw them”, Nina chuckled. The cat stroked its entire body against her thigh. “Such a good bug… That’s your name, isn’t it…? Bug…”.

Angel groaned loudly, and shook his head. “We gotta go”. Nina was lost in cuddling her new friend. “Mami… Nina! We gotta hit the road… Look, we’ll keep the window open. If it’s still here when we come back, we’ll talk about it”. “Please, just put out some food for him…”, Nina pleaded. “But then he’ll stay for sure!”. “Yeah…”. She shot out her lower lip in a pout, and looked pleadingly at Angel. The biker groaned again, and left the bathroom for a few moments, before returning with an open tin of tuna. He dropped it on the floor. “Here… eat, cat”, he grunted. “His name is Bug”, Nina said with a chiding tone. Angel put his arms under hers, and raised her to her feet. “Fine. Bug. Let’s go”, he muttered, and led her out of the bathroom.

At the last second, Nina grabbed Jax’s helmet. She wasn’t planning on riding on the back of any bikes any time soon, due to her leg; but she felt naked without it near her.

EZ met them by the front door, as they were on their way out. “Bro, what took so long?”. “We were adopting a cat”, Angel said. “A cat?”, EZ asked. “His name is Bug…”, Angel replied. “Don’t ask”. Nina smirked, and tugged at his cut, to get him to lean down for a kiss; before they went back to the van.

---

The yard was crowded with bikes when they finally arrived. Bishop and Hank met them on the porch; and Nina was reminded of Taza’s decision to tell the club his secret, the day before. Not seeing him next to the president, made a knot form in her stomach. “What the fuck took you so long?”, Bishop growled. “Cats… bugs…”, Angel muttered. “Don’t ask”, EZ chuckled.

Angel helped Nina up the stairs to the clubhouse. Once inside, they were greeted by the rest of the Mayans, and a few bikers from the Oakland charter. Nina recognized them from SAMCRO parties, but didn’t know any of their names, save Alvarez’s. El Padrino himself gave her a polite nod from his seat by the bar. She scanned the room for Taza, and frowned when she realized he wasn’t inside either. Angel put a hand on her hip. “Go sit down”, he muttered, and went over to talk to Gilly. Chucky pulled out a chair for her, and Nina sat down; soon joined by Letty and Gaby – the latter looking quite uncomfortable with the situation. EZ squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, before going to stand by the wall, behind Bishop. Chucky went outside, to keep an eye on the gate.

Most of the hangarounds Nina knew from around the clubhouse was spread throughout the room. There was a group of women Nina had not met before, stood around a striking middle-aged woman, who looked like Riz. Nina decided she was probably Vicky, and that the women were employees at the brothel. Vicky gave her a curious look, as if challenging her to have a bad opinion of them. Nina simply smiled friendlily; and Vicky’s expression softened, before she nodded in greeting.

Gilly came over to Nina, and handed her a small plastic bag, with white pills. “Oxys”, he muttered. “For your leg”. “Thanks…”, Nina said. Gilly winked at her, and slipped away.

“You know why we’re here”, Bishop said; lifting his voice to catch the attention of the people in the room. “We have a rival club moving in on our territory. Vatos Malditos have been coming for our business, by trying to convince a long-time partner to end our relationship with them; in return for what they claim is a better deal. They even put a rat in our midst; a rat that ended up seriously hurting a member of our family, while trying to kill her”. There was a murmur of curses. Bishop raised his hand to quiet everyone down. “We have to answer this disrespect with force… You’re all here because you’re a part of the family, and because we don’t want anyone else to get hurt. We don’t know that VM won’t send a few guys this way; but as long as you stay within the fences, you’ll be safe”. Hank stepped forward, apparently the de facto VP. “We have the Sons of Anarchy coming down from San Bernadino and Charming. Creeper will stay behind here with a few Sons, for your protection”, he said. Creeper didn’t seem happy about the fact that he wasn’t going with his brothers. He’d probably lost a draw for the post. “If you have any security questions, take it up with him”. “Anything to do with provisions or comfort, you go to our den-mother”, Bishop said, and gestured towards Nina. “Nina isn’t very mobile at the moment, but she can point you in the direction of what you need. She knows this place like her back hand”. Angel shot her a warm smile, and she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Chucky came running in to the clubhouse. “They’re here”, he grinned. A roar of bikes came from the yard, and soon after, Filip stepped inside, followed by Les Packer. Happy, Rat and Tig came in behind them, and Nina saw a group of SAMDINO Sons waiting outside by the bikes. The room was getting crowded. Foregoing custom, Filip strode over to Nina, and pulled her up into his arms. “We didn’t send you back to get shot, luv’”, he said. “I’m ok”, Nina muttered; then winced, when she accidentally put weight on her bad leg. “Fuck’s sake…”, Filip growled. Angel sprang over to support Nina as she got back to her seat. Happy and Tig stepped over to kiss her forehead and squeeze her shoulder, and Rat gave her a shy smile, before they all went to greet Bishop and Alvarez.

After the obligatory back and forth between the patches, Filip, Alvarez and Bishop went into templo, to speak in private for a few moments. Angel headed over to the bar to grab a drink for himself and Nina. While he was gone, Packer came over to greet Nina. He bent down, and gave her a gentle hug. “How are you doing, Neens?”, he asked, and sat down next to her. “I’m alive”, she shrugged with a half-smile. “This is a new setup for you, sweetcheeks”, Packer said. “You comfortable here?”. “Yeah… why?”. “I dunno… You could have been happy in Berdoo as well”, Packer teased. Angel came back with a mug of coffee for Nina, and a beer for himself. “I like the accommodations here”, she smiled, and looked at Angel. “Yeah, I heard…”, Packer said, and raised a brow at the Mayan. “You’d probably have to deal with less gun-shots though. We’re more careful with who we let in our midst”. “It was a mistake that won’t happen again”, Angel grunted, and gave Packer a hard look. “It better not. This isn’t some random croweater you’ve borrowed from Charming”, Packer said. “No. She’s not”, Angel said. “She’s a Mayan old lady”.

Nina rolled her eyes, and pulled out a cigarette. Both men whipped out a lighter, and raced to light them; before holding them in front of her face. “If you two could stop measuring dicks for a moment, you might notice you’re burning off my eyebrows”, Nina sneered. “Sorry, cuervo”, Angel muttered. Nina gave him a slight smile, and a soft kiss, before letting Packer light her smoke. “You still a crow then?”, the SAMDINO president asked, having noticed Angel’s nickname for her. “I’m still me…”, Nina said. “I’ve just got a bigger family now”. “Good for you”, Packer said, and took her hand; giving it a gentle squeeze. “Jax would be happy for you… after he kicked this guy’s ass for diddling his baby-sis”. Angel chuckled at this. “Like he threatened to do you, if you tried anything?”, Nina said. “I didn’t know you were only seventeen at the time!”, Packer laughed. “Bullshit. You arrived the day before my eighteenth birthday-party; and sat at the clubhouse the whole night, looking at your watch to wait for midnight, so I’d be legal”, Nina smirked. “Guilty”, Packer shrugged. “Didn’t do me much good, though; did it…? Teller was a hardass when it came to you. I didn’t stand a chance with him watching over you like a hawk”. They shared a knowing laugh, before Packer looked at Angel. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Reyes. I know when to back off”, he said. “And she’d probably cut my balls off, before you got a chance to, if I tried anything… You’ve got a special lady here”. Angel smiled, relaxing a bit in his seat. “I know…”, he said, and kissed Nina’s temple.

Bishop came out of templo, and nodded to the other bikers. Mayans and Sons alike got to their feet, and began moving towards the ornate door. Angel put a hand on the back of Nina’s head, and caught her lips in a warm kiss; before joining the others. Packer gave her a sly wink, and followed Angel. “Prospect. You too”, Bishop called after EZ. Gabriella gave him a worried look, and he slipped over to give her a quick peck on the cheek, before walking in to templo, and closing the door, once everyone was inside.

Nina got on her feet, and hobbled over to sit down next to the girl. Gaby was visibly shaking, and Nina took her hand. “I know this is all really scary; but we’ll be ok”, she said. Having SAMCRO, SAMDINO and the Mayans all in the same house made her believe her own words more than she had thought she would. “But, what if he gets hurt?”, Gaby asked. “I didn’t even tell him…”. “Tell him what?”, Nina said. Gabriella met her eyes, and they gave away the words she’d had trouble saying. “Oh… Well, I think he knows already; but it wouldn’t hurt his courage and desire to come back whole, if you said it…”. Gaby smiled softly. “I suppose you’re right”, she said.

Letty came over to join them, carrying a couple of cokes for her and Gaby. “Are you talking about your boyfriends?”, she smirked. “You guys could become sisters-in-law!”. “Whoa! Angel and I just got a cat. We’re not talking diamond rings yet”, Nina said. “Good. I don’t think he can afford one”, Leticia teased.

---

After about an hour, the bikers emerged from templo with somber expressions. Angel strode over to Nina, and took her hand. “We’re meeting Palo by the east tunnel”, he muttered. “What’s gonna happen?”, Nina asked nervously. Angel sighed. “We’re not giving him what he wants, so we’re prepared for a fight”. Nina shuddered. Knowing it was a lost cause, she hadn’t been able to keep from at least hoping that Filip and the others would be able to talk the Mayans out of full-on war. Their own experience with rival groups, made them well aware of the devastation something like that could bring a club. Stories of Abel’s kidnapping and Half-Sack’s death – both by the hands of a disgruntled IRA-member – and Gemma’s rape and beating by right-wing psychos, should have been enough fodder for the Mayans to decide to back down, and try to find another way out of the situation. “Shit…”, she hissed. “But what about what Taza told you? Can’t you just use that…?”. “The prez’ didn’t even mention it”, Angel muttered. “I don’t know… its like he’s pretending the conversation never took place”. “Where is Taza?”, Nina asked. “I don’t know… He went home last night. At least he said he was going home…”. Nina frowned. “It’ll be ok", Angel tried. “I gotta go clear some details with Bish…”. He squeezed her hand, and slipped away to go speak with his president.

Filip, Tig and Happy came over to take turns hugging her tightly. “We’ve been here before, muffin”, Tig said. “Walk in the park”, Happy muttered. “Rat’s staying behind with one of the SAMDINO-guys. You’ll be safe”. Filip made her sit down, and crouched in front of her. “You know the drill”, he said meaningfully. “We’re coming back. But if we don’t…”. “I know who to call, and in what order…”, Nina muttered. “Be careful“. “You just keep this clubhouse in shape, and have the beers ready for our return", Filip smiled. He pulled out a black handgun, with a dark wooden handle. The distinct SOA A was carved in to the wood, just over the initials, JT. “That .38 only seems to bring you trouble…”, Filip said, and put it in her hand. “I thought you were saving this for Abel…”, Nina croaked. “Jackie didn’t want guns in his boys’ hands… He didn’t want them in yours either, but seeing as things have turned out…”. Nina stuck the gun down the back of her waistband. “Thank you…”. Filip pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the three SAMCRO bikers headed towards the door with Packer.

Angel came back over to say goodbye. “I hate this, Angel”, Nina croaked. “I know, querida… But this is the way it’s gotta be”, Angel said. He gathered her into his arms, making her lean against him. Their lips instantly met in a frenzied kiss; hungrily devouring each other. Nina breathed Angel in, as if it was the last kiss, they’d ever share; and in all honestly, she was afraid that it might be. Brushing her tongue against Angel’s lower lip, he let it meet his own; tasting her, and letting her taste him. “I love you”, Nina whispered. “Te amo”, Angel replied. “I’m coming back”. He pressed a last kiss against her lips.

Nina saw Gaby whisper something in EZ's ear, and he smiled happily at her. After EZ had kissed his love, Angel gave the girl a warm hug. “I’ll make sure he comes back too”, he said, trying for a smile. Gaby nodded, and Nina took her hand, holding it tightly. Coco kissed Letty’s forehead, and muttered something in her ear, before handing her over to Nina; who wrapped her free arm around the teenager. The Mayan gave Nina a half hug, and followed Angel out the door. “They’ll be ok”, Nina said. “But we need to get ready”.

Once the door was closed behind the men heading out, she gave Creeper a look, and the Mayan raised his voice. “Listen up, people. Nina’s got work for you!”. Gaby handed Nina her crutches, and she hobbled into the middle of the room. “We need people to take care of food. The back room is full of provisions; do what you can with it. Felipe will be here later with meat for the grills. I wanna see him when he does…”. Creeper nodded, and a few of the women moved towards the back room. Gabriella joined them, much to Nina’s joy. “You’re free to the bar, but remember why we’re here. Getting wasted isn’t a good idea… Does anyone have medical experience?”. One of the women from Vicky’s place raised her hand. “I’m in nursing school”, she said. “Great”, Nina smiled. “I’m not saying we’ll need it, but I’d like you to set up a first-aid station, in case we do; and the guys are unable to cross the border for the doc”. “Ok… yeah!”, the woman smiled; seemingly proud that she could contribute with something important. Vicky gave Nina a warm smile. “The rest of you, chip in wherever you can. We all have a responsibility to make our stay here as comfortable and safe as possible… That means, don’t flirt with the guys on watch”. Creeper chuckled at this, and patted Rat’s shoulder. They had the first shift, and headed for the door.

Nina blew out a deep breath, and sat back down. Vicky came over with a refill for her mug. “Welcome to the family”, she smiled, and winked at her.

---

The hours dragged by. They had no word from the men in the field, and every time the door opened, Nina’s heart jumped; hoping that her loved ones would walk in.

While Nina sat on her chair, her leg throbbing in pain, making her unable to walk around, Letty paced the floor for the both of them. “If he dies, I’m gonna fucking kill him!”, she growled. “Then I’ll bury him next to Celia, in her dick-shaped hole in the desert!”. “Letty, sit down”, Nina said. “Why?”. “Because your pacing is giving me a headache”. Leticia sat down, and Nina noticed tears forming in her eyes. “We just started being a family… And now he might…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Nina took her hands. “Coco is a survivor, and he’s gonna do whatever he can to get back to you”, she said. “You think so?”, Letty muttered. “I know so”, Nina smiled. “Your dad loves you, Letty. He’s not gonna leave you”.

Letty wiped her eyes, just in time for Gaby to come over with two plates filled with deliciousness. “I did what I could with what’s here”, she said. “It looks amazing”, Nina said. “But I’m not really hungry”. “You have to eat, if you’re taking pain-medication”, Gaby enthused. “I’m not… I’m trying to keep a level head”. “Just take a fucking pill, Nina”, Letty sighed. “You’re in so much pain, your face is contorted”. “I’m…”, Nina began, before catching the expression on both girls’ faces. “Fine…”, she said, and dug out a pill from the plastic bag in her pocket; downing it with a sip of coffee.

Gaby gave her as bright a smile as she could manage, and pushed the plate of food towards her. Nina took a few bites, when suddenly the door opened, and Felipe stepped inside. He looked around, making it clear it was the first time he’d actually been inside the clubhouse. He frowned slightly, and walked over to Nina. “That guy you call Freak said you wanted to talk to me”, he said. “Creeper”, Nina smiled. “Sure", Felipe said. “Letty, will you help me get the meat?”, Gaby said, and the two girls went out the door. “Please sit. I can’t really stand right now", Nina said. Felipe took the chair just around the corner of the table from her. “I need to get back to the shop…”, he muttered. “You can’t take the day off?”, Nina asked. “The weekend is coming up”, Felipe grunted. “People have family coming for dinner…”. “You’re family”, Nina said. “To these people?”, Felipe asked, and looked at the people in the room. His tone wasn’t disapproving, but he did seem uncomfortable at the view of the scantily clad hangarounds setting up drinks and food; and the nursing student, who was currently preparing bandages, while wearing a barely-there tube top, and a short denim skirt. “To me…”, Nina said, and took Felipe’s hand. “To Gaby…”. They both looked towards Gabriella, who sent them a warm smile, as she came through the door with a container of what looked like steaks.

Felipe sighed deeply. “I told EZ and Angel, I can protect myself”, he said. “Then… stay here and protect us as well”, Nina said. “We don’t know what’s happening out there. It’s dangerous for all of us to be out in the open. Angel and EZ might…”. She chewed her lips and swallowed thickly, trying to suppress tears. “Please stay here with us, suegro”. A smile ghosted Felipe’s lips. “That’s where we’re at, then?”, he said. “You and Angel, I mean”. “I’m… I love him. I really do”. Felipe chuckled. “He’s lucky to have you”, he said. He shot a look at the food prepping station, and rolled his eyes. “Gabriella, lo estás tallando de la manera incorrecta! I told you; follow the bone… Never mind, I’ll show you”. The old butcher got to his feet, and went to take over the carving of the meat. Nina let out a relieved sigh. Felipe was staying.

Needing to get some air, she got to her feet, and used her crutches to move towards the door. A smiling hangaround sprang over to open it for her, and Nina thanked her quietly; before stepping outside. The sky was grey. Apparently, the rain the night before was coming back; she could smell it on the air. She sat down on one of the chairs on the porch, and dug out her cigarettes. Opening the packet, she saw that Coco must have done a reverse pickpocketing when he hugged her; as he’d left her a perfectly rolled joint. She smiled to herself, and considered lighting up; before deciding against it. The oxy was already doing its work, and her leg felt better by the minute. Lighting a cigarette instead, she took a deep huff. The yard was too quiet. The windchimes hung next to the door of the clubhouse, which were usually deafened by the usual sounds of metal screeching and bikes roaring, was all she could hear.

Pulling out Jackson’s gun, she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She ran her thumb over the letters he’d carved in to the handle. “I remember when you did this”, she said quietly. “Back when you were still stupid enough to think you were immortal…”.

… “What if you lose it? The police will track you down, dumbass!”, Nina said. “I’ll be fine, darlin’”, Jax said, grinning brightly. “Besides, I gotta leave my mark on this world somehow!”. Nina rolled her eyes at him, and picked her book up. “You’re gonna shoot someone, and they’ll track the gun to you”, she growled. Jax chuckled, and stuck the gun down the front of his waistband. “If you don’t shoot your dick off, first”, she muttered. He frowned, and put the gun in the back of his jeans instead. “What are you reading? Teenage-vampire shit?”, he asked. “Screw you… It’s Hamlet. For school”. “O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!”, Jax exclaimed. Nina couldn’t help but smile. “Careful with that gun, or you’ll have me saying: Goodnight, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest…”. Jax got to his feet, and headed towards the ladder going down from the roof. “We’re meeting up with some Mexican guys… They need our help with something”, he said. “Finish your homework, little sister. We gotta keep your ass out of CaraCara”. He stopped dead in his tracks, and walked back to her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love”. “I love you too… But you’re still a dumbass”, Nina smiled…

“I wish you were here…”, she whispered. “But where ever you are – if there’s anything you can do to keep him safe… all of them… Please”.

She jolted in her seat, when Creeper appeared next to her, a phone in hand. “It’s for you”, he muttered. Nina took the phone, and put it to her ear. Creeper gave her frowning and confused look, before walking into the clubhouse, leaving her alone. “Hello?”. “Nina?”. “Taza?”. “Yeah, it’s me; sweetheart… Do you wanna help me end this war before it starts?”.

---

If you’ve followed this story this far, thank you! Also; It’s my birthday! Make it an even better one, by leaving a comment.

- no lady

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

[farfromharry]

summary: just 4 times tom was an amazing dad

tom holland x reader

1.

"hey, what's wrong angel?" he frowned.

"my tummy hurts." he knelt down next to her bed and pushed some of the loose strands of hair, that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her ear.

"stay here baby, let me go get you some medicine." on his way down to the kitchen tom quickly checked on the 1 year old in his crib. he smiled at the sleeping boy before rushing down the stairs to grab the medicine bottle out of the cupboard.

he made his way back up the stairs and to his daughters room where she was clutching her stomach with a frown on her face. he helped her take the medicine, checking her temperature.

"why don't we go cuddle on the couch and watch beauty and the beast?" she nodded her head and tom carefully lifted her from her bed. once downstairs tom gently placed her down on the couch.

"i'm just gonna get theo." she nodded.

tom came back down a few minutes later and made sure theo wouldn't fall off the couch as he slept, while scarlett had her head resting on his lap with a fluffy blanket thrown over her small body, and a smile on his face.

2.

tom absolutely adored being a dad. right from the second scarlett was born almost 4 years ago. however, one thing he did hate was how paparazzi always tried to take pictures.

tom hated the idea of these people scaring his children so while in public he did everything he could to try and hide them from their view.

tom and scarlett were currently on their way to meet you, theo and nikki at a restaurant and tom was simply trying to walk to his car; the paps however had a different idea.

"tom! tom!" tom grew protective of his daughter and made sure her head was hidden in his neck, covering as much of her as he could with his jacket.

the men started to get closer, almost shoving the large camera's in their faces. tom grew angry and his fatherly instinct took over.

"mate can you back off, you're agitating her." the guy either didn't listen or didn't take the hint because he was still shoving the camera in tom's face.

"we just want a picture."

"i said no." he was practically seething with anger. "have some fucking respect." tom growled.

3.

"there's my little monster." tom attacked theo's belly with tickles, the babies contagious laughter flowing through the room. the boy was laid in the middle of yours and tom's bed, to make sure he wouldn't fall, while you folded some clothes.

the size of the bed compared to theo made him look even more tiny than he was, a giggle slipping past your lips. tom glanced at you before attacking the boy's cheeks with soft kisses.

he carefully lifted him up and into his arms, resting his small head against his chest and stroking his back.

"are you coming down for movie night, scarlett's picking one out." he kissed your bare shoulder and you nodded, butterflies erupting in your tummy, even after having 2 kids with the man.

"i'll be down in a few." he nodded and began talking away to theo as the two walked downstairs. you finished up what you were doing and made your way to the rest of your family.

your heart warmed at the sight of tom laying down on the couch, scarlett's head resting in his lap and a sleeping theo on his chest.

"isn't this a cute sight?" he smiled at you while scarlett shifted to move towards you. she climbed into your lap and you finally took notice of the movie set up and ready to be played.

"really tom, onward again?"

4.

you weren’t the only one that loved it when tom got days off, it meant he could occupy the kids while you finally got some work done. he would normally take them both to the park, however this particular morning theo had woken up with a slight cold and you both decided it was best if he stayed home.

tom and scarlett made their way to the park though, the little girl grinning in excitement as it got closer and closer in her view.

“just remember angel, be careful, don’t want you to hurt yourself.” she nodded and ran towards the play area while tom sat down on one of the benches. he watched his baby girl with a large smile on his face as she made friends and happily played on the climbing frames.

all was going well until the girl lost her footing and fell off the frame, sobs wracking her small body as she hit the floor.

tom was up in an instant, rushing over to his whimpering angel. he lifted her into his arms, holding her against his chest as she cried.

“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he stroked her back gently, not completely sure where the cause of pain was.

“where does it hurt, princess?” the little girl pulled back and wiped her cheeks.

“m-my knee.” tom nodded and took her over to the bench he had been sitting on. he sat her down and lifted her tiny leg to rest on his knee. he frowned seeing the graze that was bleeding slightly, but sending a smile to scarlett.

“let’s get you home and cleaned up, you’ll feel all better soon.”

“p-promise?”

“promise.”

[epicstuckyficrecs]

2020 Half-year fic rec for Steve Rogers’ birthday!

I made a poll on Twitter to know if people would be interested in me doing a half-year “best of” fic rec like I did last year , and the response was overwhelmingly positive, so here it is! 😊 These are my favorite fics of the year so far! (in no particular order)

Complete

Two Colors, White and Gold by Carelica (Canon-Divergent | 36K | Explicit): He’s here, he’s alive. His hand is on a tree.

Deep Sea Diving by AidaRonan/ @bisexualstarbucky​ (Shrunkyclunks | 5,4K | Explicit): Steve’s wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

Some things you do for money by pushdragon (BDSM AU | 72K | Explicit): Steve’s wholesome take on domination has suddenly become the hottest thing in the business. He should be cashing in on his newfound celebrity, but instead he’s distracted by the guy who works odd shifts in the club’s bar, fresh out of prison and damaged in ways that don’t show.

the hand you want to hold is a weapon (and you’re nothing but skin) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-WS, Sex Pollen | 13K | Explicit): Steve gets sex-pollened. He handles it just fine, and then Bucky shows up.

Dear Mr. Postman by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 52K | Teen): “I’m um—your mailman,” Bucky says, lamely. Or—Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend. 

good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.or: bucky has not let steve rogers fuck him since his sophomore year (Part 1 of himbo-verse)

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? 

That Boy Is a Problem by 2bestfriends  (Modern AU | 10K | Explicit): In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve’s dick and he’s really into it. (The leash is a metaphor. For now.)

bullet in a gun (but in the end, my time will come) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-Endgame, Canon-divergent | 25K | Explicit): Post-Thanos, Bucky Barnes has happily settled into a life of peace and pining. That’s when alternate versions of the best friend he’s secretly in love with start showing up.

Like it’s the Only Thing I’ll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (ABO AU | 39K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky’s apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.

A Company Man by mambo/ @whtaft (Modern AU | 75K | Explicit): No matter what it is, the truth is the same: Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, a married man.

How to Fuck With (and Feed) Your Soulmate by BlueSimplicity/ @bluesimplicity73​ (Soulmate AU, Shrunkyclunks | 114K | Explicit): It’s called the Grey Space; a patch of skin marking you as blessed and the first sign you have a soulmate. Steve Rogers didn’t have one when he crashed into the ice. But he did when he woke up in the future. The second sign is the Sense, a sharing of one the senses to help soulmates find each other. Steve’s Sense, taste, is rare, but he loves a challenge and a soulmate is a gift from the Fates. Except instead of a blessing, it’s a curse, since his soulmate is a dick. Bucky Barnes loves food and a homecooked meal is something he cherishes. When his Grey Space starts to itch, Bucky can’t help his excitement, since the Sense he and his soulmate share is taste. But not for long. Whoever he’s bound to has the blandest diet in the world, ignoring all Bucky’s messages. After weeks of putting up with tasteless food, Bucky decides to strike back.

Strangers in the Street by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Canon divergent | 15K | Teen): Every five years, Bucky meets the same tall, blond stranger.

Departure by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (Arrival AU | 80K | Mature): Captain America is recruited by the U.S. government to assist a linguist and her team of scientists in communicating with aliens after twelve mysterious space ships appear across the globe overnight.

Compatible - A Romantic Science Fiction Thriller in Four Parts by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 33K | Explicit): When young nanotech engineer Bucky Barnes finds himself falling head first in love with none other than Steve Rogers, he ends up getting a lot more of the Alpha than he– or science– could ever have imagined possible.

WIP

four dreams in a row where you were burned by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (canon divergent, post-Endgame, 1945 alternate timeline | 10/? | 58K | Mature): When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

A Matter of Trust by chicklette/ @chicklette​ (Singer Bucky, Fake relationship | 7/13 | 26K | Explicit): At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top. Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

Bespoke by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, ABO AU | 6/10 | 61K | Explicit): “I love you, too. So fucking much,” Steve answered. His voice sounded cracked and exhausted, an exposed nerve ending in the shape of a man. “Some days I still don’t believe you’re real. Feels— feels like somehow, I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know you.” Bucky smiled softly at that and felt his heart threaten to explode. Still straddling his lap, he reached a hand up to cup Steve’s cheek. “You’ve always known me,” he stated, simply. “I was made for you, remember?” (Part 2 of Compatible)

Series

couldn't get the boy to kill me by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, SHIELD Agent Bucky | 12 works, complete | 74K | Explicit): Captain America and the Winter Soldier are a terrifying duo on the field, working together with a well-oiled precision that tears through their enemies. Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are distant coworkers, all polite nods and mission briefings. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are fire and gasoline; it never ends well.

the hero's shoulders by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, Post-CW, canon divergent | 3 works, not complete | 32K | Explicit): Sequel series to couldn't get the boy to kill me

~

Honorable mention for Where The Interstate Ends by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ because it was posted last year but I only read it recently!

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Six | Dogbass (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Updates might be delayed/advanced occasionally due to the holidays from here on, meaning the usual schedule should go back to normal by mid January!

• • •

"Here ya go."

"Thank you."

The consistent tremble of your hand complicates your ability to so much as open the can he's handed out to you. Regardless, you stay quiet and struggle with each attempt you make in opening it, though he offers to do that for you not long after your third try. You hand it over and take it back after it's open and after you've managed to calm yourself a little more through deep and silent breaths.

"We really shouldn't go today with the state you're in," Sans says, sitting next to you on the bench, although leaving enough space for a third person to sit right between you. Whether he's trying to keep distance due to your condition or the fact that you're still just acquaintances -- or both -- is unknown to you, but you're grateful for it. The space helps with your dizziness and the persistent feeling of having every little thing overwhelm you, from the heat of the sun to the loudness of the park and its crowds. "The tour's mostly walkin' for hours, so it's not the best idea if you're all dizzy and stuff." His irises fall on your drink as soon as you finish drinking it. "Need another one? There's also ice cream and donuts if you're up for it." 

"I'm fine." You smile and stand up to go throw the can away. Walking still feels like balancing yourself on an ever-thinning thread, but you have a little more coordination now, sufficient for you not to appear drunk, nor for you to cling onto a complete stranger like you had just a few moments ago when getting down from the bus. It's pathetic to think you had to use the monster for support while going down a few steps, when Frisk managed to travel all over the Underground all on their own and without your guidance. Still, you set those thoughts aside with the reminder that you're still weak and that your health's taken a toll large enough to last for a few more weeks before your full recovery. 

You sit back down with Sans and observe the dogs running around the park, some in groups with others of their kind, some playing fetch and tug-of-war with their owners, and some asking for belly rubs from strangers.

"About the envelope…" you say, trailing off mid-sentence.

"What about it?" Sans asks, looking at you again.

Reluctance causes a noticeable delay in what you want to say and an increase in the intensity of your symptoms, these dulled temporarily by the juice's high fructose and vitamin content. "What's… What's the money for, if it's not for fixing my phone?"

"For your health." His face nearly softens up as he says that, though it goes back to its usual, stoic self when he adds, "You must've taken a few days off just to deal with Frisk's situation, and you've hadda use your own sick days, too, so we all pitched in to help you with that."

"We?" You quirk a brow and frown as you think back on the envelope and all the notes you'd read. None of them hinted at the money being from any other person besides him, and it was the only item inside the envelope that didn't have an individual note attached to it. "Wasn't it all from you?"

The flicker of his irises already gives you the answer, surprise revealing itself with how his gaze widens. "Wasn't there a note stuck to it? It's supposed to be from Tori, Paps, and me."

Though knowing it's much more likely they all pitched in with one hundred each rather than it all being from him alone, you have no memory of any other notes, and even less one related to the money. Curiosity strikes, but you try not to jump to conclusions yet. "There wasn't any. Maybe... Maybe it got mixed up with the other notes?"

"The money was in a different envelope though. Did Paps give you just one letter only?"

"Yeah, but it had the notebook, permit, tickets, and all that."

"Then he must've done somethin' with it."

You both stay quiet as you contemplate the situation. 

So, long story short, his brother had taken both envelopes and smushed them into one. It makes sense thinking back on how the letter looked like it was about to burst, but the reason for him to do that and the missing note are two whole other anomalies you've left to find any answers for. It's possible the note could've simply fallen off while Papyrus passed all the items into one letter, but why would he even do that in the first place?

Those questions make rounds about your mind, until you remember the conversation you had with him on the train. Sans seems to realize something, too, and you both act in coordination to your epiphanies by looking away from each other in a subtle manner and scooting back to your side of the bench until reaching the edge, leaving even more space between you. The likelihood of his brother attempting to set you up is apparent, but neither of you acknowledge it to each other. If that hadn't been an innocent and honest mistake, then Papyrus really was trying to push his brother into dating by making him appear a lot more well-off and giving than he seemed. 

"Uh, I-

"Maybe-"

Whatever forced and awkward conversation you're both about to initiate is interrupted by a large Samoyed, big, fluffy, and full of energy. He throws himself on the bench space left between you and leaves his stomach out in display, likely waiting for attention like all the other dogs running after unsuspecting strangers without any pets of their own. His tail wags faster than lightning, and he barks until you give him what he requests, even more when the monster next to you gives him head scratches to go with your belly rubs. The dog's face is pure bliss throughout, and the tense atmosphere fades the longer you pet him.

When you both stop, the dogs stays in that position for a while, body left limp from all the pets. The tense atmosphere returns in an instant, and even more so when you both attempt to boop his snout. That only results in you brushing your hand with the monster's while the dog left underneath licks at both of them, once more helping end the awkwardness of the situation.

"Should we go back now?" you ask, finally capable of pushing through the tension. The ice breaks further as Sans nods, and you both stand up, leaving the dog at the bench, owner left unknown. It's strange to think you're so close yet so far away from the Underground. If it weren't for the state of your physical health, you would've only needed to walk a few more steps, past the dog park and through the gates. 

A high-pitched woof from behind makes you turn around and expect a Chihuahua to come running at you full speed, though it turns out to be the same dog from before. He's back to his energetic state, complete with his tail wagging faster than before and his tongue now stuck out. He follows even as you walk backwards and stares with a tilted head and confused expression when you stop moving. Sans notices you've fallen behind by the time he's a few feet away and turns back around to assess the situation, first with confusion and then with a chuckle. 

"Think this one's a stray?" Sans asks. He then approaches the dog and gets down on one knee to pat him on the head, gaining a few satisfied barks from him. His irises focus on the dog's neck when he adds, "There's no collar on him." He looks up at you next. "Maybe we could do somethin' about it next time we come back 'ere?" 

"Sure," you reply, smiling. "Looks like he's already interested in us, anyway."

"That, or he just wants more pets." The skeleton stands up and signals for the dog to keep himself firm in place, complementing his actions by talking to him directly. "Stay." He takes a few steps back to test the dog, who responds by taking a few forward, following the monster now. "Stay," he repeats, to no avail. "(Y/N) needs to go back home and rest." Sans points with his irises towards you when he says your name, breaking formalities to communicate with the dog. "Alright?"

As if leaving the job of dog whisperer unnamed in the information he'd given you, Sans's words seem to have an immediate effect on the Samoyed, who gives one sharp bark once and nods. He then turns around and walks off, leaving you be. Even the monster looks caught off guard by the results, though he laughs it off while you smile. Your gaze and his own draw themselves to the dog continuing to make his way back to the park, until he reaches the bench you'd both sat on. "Didn't think that'd work."

He slips his hands in his pockets and resumes the walk with you towards the bus stop, mood thankfully much lighter between you even as you both reach your destination and wait with no other people around besides him nearby. His irises narrow as he looks up at you, focusing on your face. "You allergic to dogs?" he asks, grinning. "Your face's all puffy."

Checking yourself through your phone's camera is more than necessary to know what he means by that, and when you do, you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from bursting out a laugh. "...Y- Yeah," you mutter, words followed by a sheepish smile. "I forgot."

"You forgot you're allergic to dogs?"

"They're too cute for me to worry about that." Your defense is quick and unfaltering as you grin down at him. "And it's only a mild allergy anyway. It's cats I'm more allergic to, but even then I can't help myself when it comes to being around animals -- specially big and fluffy ones!"

"Can't argue with that," he says, chuckling. "You bring a compelling statement." He looks towards the bus when it arrives and continues with, "Wanna stop by a pharmacy before we go?"

"It's alright," you reply, shaking your head. "I think I have some medicine with me."

"In that satchel you're always carryin' around?"

"It's in case anything happens while I'm out with Frisk."

"Even when they're not around?"

"Yes. What if someone else needs it?"

He grins and walks with you to the bus. "You really are a first-time (mom/dad), huh?" 

You settle down with him on the seats nearest to the door and place your bag over your lap to prevent occupying another seat. "...What makes you think that?"

"Tori and I go way back. Though we only saw each other in person just recently, we got to know each other long before that, and she told me all about how it was like, both with her biological son and her adoptive kid. She was just like you when she took care of the first fallen human. And even though she'd already had a son before that, she went back to first-time mom mode with the one she adopted, since she didn't really know how humans worked back then."

Though you're curious to know how they knew each other without seeing each other's faces, you imagine something similar to online friendships and pass it off as that for now. It'd be far too much to ask for any details on that, based on how wistful and melancholic his tone alone sounds. "So you're saying I'm worrying too much?" you ask, grounding your curiosity for the moment.

He nods. "But there's no problem with that so long as it ain't taken to extremes."

"Like overprotective and all that?"

"Yeah." He stands up when the bus fills itself to the brim, leaving a few people to stand and one person to sit down where he's just gotten up from. "I'd say you're fine, though."

"Oh, yeah?" you challenge, smile turning to a grin. "And what makes you say that?" 

"You've been willing to listen to me so far, and you're still wanting to understand us despite everythin' you know about us already. That's not really somethin' someone overprotective would do."

"Move over," a man says, interrupting your conversation with the monster. He stands right in the middle of Sans and you, and he directs a glare at you only, fueled by exasperation. Compared to the man Sans had given up his seat for, who'd been limping all the way with a bad leg to the hand-bars, he seems fine; tired, but able to stand firm even as the bus keeps moving on. "Being sick in the head's not a valid reason for you to take up a seat all for yourself."

"Excuse me?" you ask, narrowing your gaze at him. "Care to elaborate on that, sir?"

"You're (L/N) aren't you?" he asks back, scoffing. "Gotta be real screwed up to talk with a guy like him when your kid went missing and ended up in that same place he lived in." His anger's unforgiving, and he hardly cares to register how much attention he's drawing to himself and you. "Why couldn't they tell you about it? Ever question yourself that? If monsters are so advanced enough to build a whole damn robot more human than any android I've seen up here, they could've given you a call or somethin' to tell you your kid's alive and well. Ever stopped to think about it? Or do you care that little over your kid's well-being? Stop for a moment and think about why they didn't try to help your kid outta the Underground." He stops only to catch his breath and increase the intensity of his tone and words. "So what if there was a magic spell keeping them trapped? And so what if they couldn't do nothin' about it? I'd be damn happy if they'd at least try to tell me my kid was okay!"

You keep quiet as you contemplate his words. Even Sans seems struck by them, and simply one quick glance exchanged between you lets you know he's waiting for you to give your judgment on the situation. He doesn't intervene, though he keeps himself close enough to help out, most likely in case the situation were to escalate any further.

"I'm trying to listen to their side of the story before I make any accusations."

"And what does that help you with?" His grimace worsens and he takes a few steps closer, almost cornering you between him and your seat. "Are you dense, or do you not notice how they're tryin' to soften you up by being nice? Bet you a guy like him wouldn't give a damn over a limping human if he knew they were the key to getting outta the Underground." He glares at the skeleton when he says that and turns back to you afterwards. "Don't you see how he looks at you? He's-"

The man's argument drowns out with the rest of the bus's noises, now filled with loud murmurs from the crowd and their unrelenting stares, all of them directed at you. You want to say something, but panic overwhelms all other feelings and any possible, rational thoughts. Your breaths turn ragged and scarce, and the world around you begins to spin. All other words you can decipher from your mind are thoughts on how you're failing as a person and as a parent, more specifically -- on how each and every step you take's one huge mistake and a piece of evidence to prove you're not good enough.

If your best isn't good enough, then what's there left to do?

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• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: A Touch of Midnight

Wolmeric Week #5: Home

A/N: OKAY THIS SHOULDN’T MAKE ANYONE CRY. \o/

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7 || Bonus!

RATING: G WORD COUNT: 1512 WARNINGS: None! Cross-posted to AO3

---

Near to midnight and Borel Manor was still and quiet, the only sound the steady ticking of the grandfather chronometer that sat in the entrance foyer and could be heard in nearly every room of the building. Hersande and Baptistaux had kept a few oil lamps on for her, creating a small illuminated path up to the master bedroom, and Synnove smiled softly as she picked up the lamp on the pier table next to the front doors.

The carbuncles rubbed against her legs—Tyr her hip, Ivar her knee, Galette her shin, and the twins her ankles—and then beelined right for the stairs in a mass of softly glowing aetheric fur and tails. As Ivar bounded upstairs first, Galette picked up a yawning Roksana while Tyr gently scruffed Amandina, who took the opportunity as she dangled to rub her eyes with her paws before ascending after their ruby brother. Their summoner followed more sedately, turning off the remaining lamps as she passed, carefully grasping the bannister as she climbed upward.

Her quintet of children quietly chittered their goodnights to her (poor little Roksana’s aetheric harmonic came out a barely intelligible mumble, and Amandina’s was broken by the huge yaaaaawn her jaw cracked on), and then headed further down the hall to their room. Synnove blew a kiss after them and turned for the master bedroom, undoing the toggles of her jacket as she walked. When she reached the door, she grasped the handle and gently turned it, then pushed the door open slowly so the hinges wouldn’t creak in protest. For all the oiling Baptistaux did, age and the cold still conspired to the render the manor potentially loud in the middle of the night.

But tonight, the door swung open smoothly with barely a whisper, and she slid inside, setting the lamp on an end table and her pack on the floor next to her vanity. As she slid her jacket off, carefully draping it over the vanity’s matching chair, she turned towards the bed, another smile on her face—and blinked, her brow furrowing.

…Where was Aymeric?

Her eyes darted around the shadowed bedroom as she thought. It was—it was definitely Fireday, and her knight was supposed to be focused on Parliamentary matters this week instead of military. He had even groused to her about his upcoming meeting with the Counts de Durandaire and Dzemael—his least favorite combination of the Heads of the High Houses—and Master Aucheforne of the House of Commons over their linkpearl at lunch. Even if he forgot to call her again if he was kept late, Norlaise would absolutely tattle on him, so Aymeric should be home, but there was no handsome elezen waiting for her in their bed.

A quiet but firm mew got her attention.

Synnove looked down to meet the solemn blue gaze of Lady Crème. The Ala Kharan queen sat primly at her feet, long fluffy tail curled demurely over her paws, and mewed again, insistently.

She crouched down and gently brushed her knuckles between the cat’s ears. “Good evening, my lady,” she crooned. “Could you tell me where your most devoted servant is?”

Lady Crème squinted her eyes shut for a moment, accepting the attention as her due, and then headbutted her hand and stood, padding gracefully from the room. Synnove turned off the oil lamp and obediently followed.

The true lady of Borel Manor led her down the hall—quite dark now, but the white of Lady Crème’s fur was a beacon that kept her from unintentionally veering off course and stubbing her toes—in the opposite direction of the carbuncles’ room, and came to a stop next to the stairs leading up to the third floor. Synnove sighed, shaking her head, and bent down to gently heft the Ala Kharan cat into her arms. “Oh, dear,” she murmured to Lady Crème, “it must have been a bad day.”

Lady Crème mrowled her agreement, and softly papped her cheek with a paw.

As with many Ishgardian noble houses, Borel Manor had been built up rather than out, a specific luxury for the families who had claimed plots in open air, a rarity now even in the Pillars. And the Borels had always been a relatively small family; for the past two generations, it was the first and second floors that saw the most use—even Hersande and Baptistaux’s bedroom was on the second floor, in a discreet corner easily accessed by the back staircase down to the kitchens and stillroom—with the third floor opened only if more guest rooms were necessary. The fourth floor was the attic space, with some spillover storage rooms on the third, and but it had been up there that she and Aymeric had worked to convert one of the attics into a cozy little hideaway when they needed more privacy, or quiet.

Synnove tucked Lady Crème more firmly into the crook of her arm and ascended the stairs to the third floor, then walked down the hallway and turned into another to reach the stairs up to the attics. (Not for the first time, she cursed whichever Borel ancestor had so thoroughly torn apart the manor interior and arranged the stairwells at the ends of whichever halls they had wanted.) The fourth-floor landing was claustrophobic, utterly pitch black, but small enough at least that flailing out her free hand had it smacking into the door of the refurbished attic. Hissing at the lance of pain from her unhappy knuckles, she slid her hand along the door until she found the handle and could pull the latch.

Dimmed light spilled out onto the landing, the attic’s new lightning-crystal powered chandelier turned to its lowest setting. It was more than enough for her purpose, at least, and Synnove stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Immediately visible, in the comfortable alcove bed on the opposite end of the room, was Aymeric, back to the door, shoulders rigid with tension. A sympathetic hiss escaped her lips, and she carefully set Lady Crème on the floor. The old queen chirped and sat, beginning to wash her paw, as the Highlander tiptoed closer to the alcove.

Synnove leaned over Aymeric, reaching out to gently brush her fingers through his hair. Her knight grunted and cracked a bloodshot eye open to look at her; pain lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and mouth, and he was unusually pale. She made another sympathetic, a croon this time, and very carefully crawled over him into the alcove bed, laying down on her side and cupping his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” she said sadly, pitching her voice as low as possible without having to resort to a raspy whisper that would just grate on his ears, “how long have you had this migraine?”

“Mid-afternoon,” Aymeric said, grimacing and very, very slowly, began to ilm closer to her. “It began as a regular headache, but it exploded after my meeting ended. Was able to come home early, and I came up here to attempt to sleep it off.”

“Didn’t go well, I see,” Synnove murmured, wiggling the rest of the way forward until her knight could shove his face into her neck with a gusty sigh. She threw one arm around his shoulder and dug her fingers into the base of his neck, and wedged the other arm beneath his head as a makeshift pillow while threading those fingers into his hair and slowly petting his head. Aymeric groaned, partially relaxing into her hold.

“Was stupid,” he muttered. “Should have eaten first, especially since it was Baptistaux and Hersande’s night off. Woke up a bell or two ago, I think; couldn’t move. Hurt too much.”

She kissed his forehead and cuddled him closer, continuing to massage and stroke his head in the spots that usually helped release some of the tension. Her poor Aymeric; he’d likely need to take the day tomorrow to finish recovering. He rarely had a migraine this bad, but it was always awful when they struck, and so far, they had proved infuriatingly resistant to potions.

A trill caught her attention, and Lady Crème leapt into the alcove, landing so lightly the bedding didn’t dip at all. She sniffed curiously at Aymeric’s hair, and Synnove felt her beloved twitch—and then Lady Crème very gently draped herself atop Aymeric’s head (and Synnove’s hand), curling her paws under herself, and began purring ferociously.

Aymeric made a noise of surprise, and then an enormous sigh of aching relief escaped him, warming her throat and clavicles as he turned into boneless mush in her arms. Synnove smiled and worked her hand free so she could lay it on Lady Crème’s back while the other now pet the top of her knight’s spine.

“Good girl,” she said to the cat, who squinted her blue eyes shut at the compliment.

“Thank you both,” Aymeric said with a yawn.

“Welcome, darling.”

Mrowl.

And together, both of the Lord Commander’s ladies lulled him into a comfortable sleep.

[arcanescholar]

Hard To Find The Right Words

Omori Post True Good Ending Spoilers. 

Aubrey having a tough time, etc etc. Enjoy maybe??? Might get more chapters later if I feel like it???????????? FUCK????????????

Ch 2 

On the long, long list of “shit Aubrey’s had to put up with” for the past few days…

This special, insidious sort of dizziness has gotta be a new one. Seriously, give a girl a break right? Who the fuck is able to handle this many highs and lows at once? It’s enough to make her head spin, and the hospital taking her bat away wasn’t helping matters.

The words that tumbled from Sunny’s placid, stony expression, his singular eye barely betraying the shaky, unsteady difficulty in handling recounting the story, made her stomach turn.

Shit, what a time to be thinking about what she had for lunch. If it comes back up right now she might straight up die of embarrassment y’know?

She couldn’t even turn her attention to Kel or Hero but, with the way the younger had to take a step back and struggle to find any words, and how the elder seemed to freeze like a statue, she had a feeling they were in just as bad of a spot.

“… and, that’s what happened.”

Sunny finally finishes recounting his story, and before he can say another word, Hero is already lunging, Ken barely able to snag his less-in-shape brother before he gets the chance to do whatever he was about to.

Aubrey, though…?

Years of anger, years of hatred and fury and bottled up impatience, a near lifetime of bitterness bubbles in her gut and sends her vision swimming.

Huh.

She just remembered, it was pizza.

Weird, why is Sunny getting so much taller? Kel? Hero? How come her knees started hurting suddenly-

Oh.

Oh, her legs gave out. That makes sense. God, her hair’s getting in her eyes, was it already starting to lose its color? Why is it so hard to focus on anything right now? She should be pissed! She should be picking up hospital equipment and chucking it out a window right now! So why can’t she move?! Why?!

For once, Aubrey can’t summon up her anger. For the first time in who only knows how long, she feels like the scared little girl that had to hide away when holes got punched into walls, that covered her head in her room and squeezed herself into a corner with her rabbit when the arguing got too loud. Her breath catches in her throat and refuses to let up. Is she going to die?

She can’t handle this again. Not now. She’s not strong enough, she’s not tough enough to deal with this-

….

Pap

… A hand rests against her head. That brief touch is enough to peel back the veil and drag focus back kicking and screaming into reality. She almost reflexively goes to turn and smack the hand out of the way, only to realize part way through her turn that it was just Basil’s arm, flopping out from the mattress and accidentally brushing against her head for a moment. The boy was still asleep, still a mess of injuries that made her nearly throw up seeing him in that state.

She might have bullied him, fantasized about beating him to an inch of his life, thought about crushing that bat of hers against his skull more times than she could count. She might have turned that weapon on Kel and Sunny both at least once before, but…

Seeing him like this, seeing Sunny with that eye patch, having lost sight in one of his eyes for what might be the rest of his life?

…

She takes Basil’s hand in hers and carefully stands up. Hero and Kel had been shouting for at least a minute now, she’s not sure how long it’s been since they started processing what happened in their own way. A shove is all Hero needs to finally get out of Kel’s grip, giving him time to damn near sprint out of the room, tackling the door hard enough to almost knock it off of its hinges before dashing out of the room.

Almost without thinking, Kel dips out, rushing after his brother with words that only come across like muffled noises in Aubrey’s ears.

… … …

There was a time when she confided in Mari, a time when she spoke to her about what was happening back at home, she remembered the pain in the older girl’s face, and the words she told her as she let Aubrey rest her head in her lap one quiet afternoon, just between the two of them.

“It’s not my place to say, but… If I could, I’d adopt you right now and give you the biggest welcome to the family hug I could…! Family should never hurt family. No one should ever raise a hand to a loved one and mean it, and the fact that they’re scaring you like that just isn’t right…” The older sister murmured at the time. Aubrey remembers now, Mari brushed her fingers through her hair in a really specific and special way that she almost forgot about.

It was like tracing little circles into her skin with her fingers, like trying to massage the fear from her brain, reaching in deep and grasping the wellspring of her despair and coaxing it out to let her think clearly again…

“When you get older… When things seem tough and scary and you don’t know what to do, that you feel like you’ve got nowhere else you can turn to. You might want to get mad, you might get really furious at having to deal with so much as a kid, but… Promise me, you won’t turn that anger on your friends, okay? Take a breath-”

… Haaaaahhh…

“-center yourself-”

Aubrey gives Basil’s hand a light squeeze. She can hear the hum of medical equipment and the sound of Hero and Kel’s footsteps retreating again.

“-and remember all the precious people you have in your life.”

She wasn’t the sort to pay the most attention to school, but, in this moment, a line she read in a book she had to read a few weeks back crosses her mind again.

“They asked, ‘do you love her to death’? And I said ‘speak of her over my grave, and watch how she brings me back to life’.” (1)

Funny how things dredge up in your memory at the weirdest possible moments, she thinks. For the first time, she’s starting to understand at least some of what those words really mean. 

…

After a moment, she carefully tucks Basil’s hand back into the bed, before letting loose a light huff through her nose. He’s still sleeping, if a bit more fitfully from all the noise.

“… Kh. Don’t gotta remind me like that y’know? Puts a bad taste in my mouth…” She nearly spits, trying to mask herself with bitterness.

It wouldn’t be long before hospital security came to drag Sunny back to his bed and cut this conversation short, she had to act fast.

She steps forward, and without hesitation, reaches up… and presses her hand on Sunny’s head, rubbing her fingers through his hair, tracing circles and massaging with a silent, stony expression that matches his own. She was still sick to her stomach, her balance was still terrifically uneasy, but…

“… I’ll come talk to you again later, okay?”

She pulls her hand back, and gives him a light punch to his shoulder before stepping out of the room.

“For what it’s worth…” She says, pausing in the door frame as she hears the sounds of shoes squeaking against tile flooring as the hospital staff finally approaches to do their damn jobs.

“I kinda get it. I understand it. I’ve been there. I’m not good at talking about this kind of thing, but, if you need to talk, I can give listening a try... this time.”

Sunny was going to leave after he recovered enough for the hospital to let him loose with his frankly fucking negligent mom. There was nothing she could do that would change that, but…

At least for now, at least while he was still recovering in the hospital, she could finally, actually speak to him.

“… Thanks for opening up Sunny. Give Hero a bit. That guy’s so strung up trying to be the best of us that I guess even he’s gotta snap at some point right?”

Says the girl trying to play mom-friend to the most broken-ass friend group in the tristate area. Christ, trying to be a decent person sucks. How the fuck did Hero pull it off for so damn long?

“Aubrey…”

“Yeah Sunny?”

“… thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Kh, fuck that, I almost drowned both you and Basil. If I started whining about accidents that happened in fits of rage I’d be the worst hypocrite in history, y’know?”

“…”

“Talk to Basil and let him know what happened if he wakes up before the staff drag you back to your room or something. I’ll let ‘em know you need a sec.”

With that, she carefully shuts the door.

What she says to the staff, what kind of look she gives them is growled with enough force and tinged with enough protective violence that it gives them just enough pause for the young boys to exchange an all too important smile of mutual understanding. 

Even if Aubrey never saw it, that little moment of clarity between them saved both of their lives in a way she’d refuse to take credit for helping make happen, knowing her.

A busted, crappy, cracked-screen phone buzzes to life as she walks past the staff. God, she fucking hates it here. The way her shoes hit the tiles, the way the equipment sounds, the fact that every time she’s come here, she’s ended up crying for some reason or another-

Shit, here come the water works now. Damn it Aubrey, at least make it out the door first-

A trip and a tumble nearly sends her falling straight to the floor but, she snaps out her hand just in time to snatch onto a handrail on the side of one of the hallways, her head still spinning as she sags against the floor, her phone toppling out of her jacket’s pocket and landing on its back with a loud, spinning clatter, settling in upside down to her perspective. Tear drops spatter onto the screen, distorting the light and scattering rainbow patterns across its surface. Gah. Add that to the damage. This just isn’t her day. 

Behind a call notification, her background shows the cork board in her room with the pictures she yanked out of Basil’s album after saving them from their near ruined state, mixed in with pictures of her and her other friends she made in the time that passed since. A little bubble on the screen bounces about, showing a picture of Kim flashing a peace sign with a bright eyed wink that reflects in Aubrey’s tired eyes, refracting as it passes underneath her teardrops.  “… Hhfffhh…”

She eventually picks her phone up off the ground and answers it. A hospital staffer looks about ready to tell her off for using her phone in the hallway but, lets be honest.

The kind of glare Aubrey gives off as she very deliberately swipes her finger across the screen to accept the call is the sort that would give most adults pause.

“… Hey.”

“Aubrey!!!! You finally picked up!!!”

“…”

“I was so worried when I heard about what happened! Kh, stupid hospital not letting us in…!”

“…”

“… Aubrey? Are you there? I can kinda hear you breathing so you probably didn’t butt-accept the call or something!”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m here.”

“Jeez, how come you weren’t saying anything? Did those ner-”

An audible pause. Kim clears her throat after a second.

“Sorry, uh, did those guys get out of the woods okay…? I kinda only caught the cliffnotes of you going to the hospital from that text you sent me so…”

“They’re fine.”

Aubrey steps outside the hospital’s visiting center doors and finally breathes fresh air for the first time in what felt like days.

“Or… They’re as fine as they can be. Sort of. Kinda.” She continues, stepping over to one of the benches outside and taking a seat, drinking in the sounds of chirping birds, gentle breezes, swaying trees, and the sensation of warm sunlight… It was a beautiful day, and she didn’t feel nearly good enough to appreciate any of it.

“That’s good at least yeah? Uh… Hrmggh. I’m bad at this kinda thing but… Uh. If there’s anything you need to talk about, you can hit me and the others up at any time yeah?”

Kim’s voice was surprisingly tender, tender enough that it manages to draw a sniff out from Aubrey, forcing her to bring a hand up to her eyes and rub it across them to make sure she didn’t show any tears yet god damn it-

Ugh. Where’s Kel’s Taurine soaked brain anyway. He’s better about handling this kinda energy! Does- shit, does he even like energy drinks?

“Aubreeeeey, if you keep going silent I’m gonna think someone kidnapped you y’know. Gotta pull the whole gang together, beat up on the nearest creepos till we find you! The Maverick’s got a Style Meter App on his phone that does those shouts from that one game so we’ll even get t’ have our own hype-men-”

The thought of Michael in a parking lot with a buffer sword in one hand and a phone in the other trying to do combos for a video to put on his Way Too Many Social Media accounts hits Aubrey with a second hand cringe that nearly brings her to her knees.

“UGGGHHHH!” Aubrey finally cracks, a doofy grin hitting her lips despite her audible mental suffering, slumping back in the chair and nearly sliding out of it entirely, a few tears finally trickling down her eyes as her body releases its tension at last.

“I can’t believe that try hard seriously sprung for something like that. If he tries that shit in public in front of me I’m making’ his screen look like mine.” Aubrey finally grumbles, adjusting her bow. “… Right, I left my bat at home. Ugh.”

“There we go! Now you’re talking’ again. Jeez, way to make a girl worry… Charlene was getting ready to find some flowers to give to you too, the sweetheart.”

“She’s more of an angel than Angel is…”

“Right?! Maybe we should make Angel give up on his nickname-”

“Don’t bother, Charlene’d never let him do it.”

“You’re so right it’s actually kinda annoying.”

“She’s the best of us, y’know.”

“…”

“…”

“So, can you like, talk about what happened at all now or…?”

“… Hang out spot, by the lake, be there in 20.”

“Should I bring the rest of the group-”

“Not this time, Kim.”

The call ends without another word, another ping showing on her phone’s screen showing string of texts from Kel.

JrangeOoe: hey!!!!! ;v;

JrangeOoe: sorry i left you alone with sunny and basil there, hero was having a really bad freak out

JrangeOoe: mom and dad and i are workin with him now, gonna try to calm him down will be back at hospital to give basil and sunny another visit later

JrangeOoe: gonna be honest, this is giving me a little time to figure this stuff out too so, thanks hero for the panic i guess??????

JrangeOoe: ugh no that’s not fair

JrangeOoe: anyway, if you need to chill and get some ginos later i found 10 bucks in a visiting center couch and was trying to hide it but

JrangeOoe: today’s a “spread the wealth” sorta day

It took a couple of moments of hesitation, but…

headhooligan: dinner, maybe

headhooligan: fuck this whole dumbs week

headhooligan: i got some spare cash so i’ll chip in too to get hero something if it’ll help

headhooligan: also what the fuck how are you so calm about this are your parents not trying to work you through this too or something?!

JrangeOoe: uh

JrangeOoe: no but i think hero needs it more right now!!!

JrangeOoe: i dunno how i feel, i guess i’m just to worried about everyone else to think about it?

JrangeOoe: *too

JrangeOoe: i’ll catch you later for dinner tho, if i can get hero to calm down enough to feel safe leaving him be with mom and dad

JrangeOoe: get a feelings jam up in here

JrangeOoe: pizza and ice cream or whatever

JrangeOoe: not at your place tho tbh your mom kinda freaks me out like a lot

headhooligan: >:/

JrangeOoe: what? it’s the truth!

With a roll of her eyes, Aubrey stuffs her phone away, wrenching her bike out of its lock from the hospital’s parking lot bike rack and mounting up. She takes one, final, long look at the hospital’s monolithic facade, and thinks about just how high up that building goes before shaking her head, and pedaling off.

The whole ride home, all she can do is play back today’s events again, and again, and again. Hear the same story in Sunny’s stilted monotone, again, and again, and again.

Every instinct, every trained gut reaction, every beaten in urge and desire tells her she should hate him.

He stole her from everyone, he murdered her, broke her skull against the floor like some raging animal then strung her up like a horror show for everyone to see just to avoid consequences with Basil’s help-

… But…

That panic that gripped her chest when Basil fell in the water from her shove just a few days ago, the terror at taking not one life, but two when Sunny jumped in after him, still unable to swim.

“…”

Her pedaling gets harder, more forceful, making the aging, damaged frame of her hand me down, fourth hand bike creak and groan in protest, hair billowing behind her in a tangled mess of poorly kept locks…

What should be anger gives way to an oddly calm understanding, what should be hatred and fury and violence wraps itself so tightly in its own chaotic energy that all she can do is…

…

There’s not a cloud in the sky, but raindrops spatter on concrete and asphalt where she rides, leaving a trail of sorrow four years in the making, finally given “closure”, finally released.

—-

(1) Credit to Mahmoud Darwish for this legendary line.

[anythingandeverything1d]

Stressed Out

You were escorted into the arena by two guards, they each had an arm on you and were pushing their way through the crowd of screaming fans who had collected outside while you were arriving. People were pointing, recording, and taking pictures of you, all while trying to grab onto you and follow you inside. Your body was exhausted, mentally and physically. You were beyond stressed and you felt as if your body was losing the battle of life. You made it inside and took a breath, leaning against the cold brick wall. The guards stood nearby, giving you space but making sure you were okay. Harry hadn't arrived yet, but you wish he had gotten there first. You wanted nothing more than a warm hug and someone to tell you everything was going to be okay. Your body was shaking, your heart rate had doubled and you felt as if you could barely breathe. 

You slumped to the floor, your back still against the wall, your face buried in your knees. You closed your eyes and thought back to simpler times. The days where Harry would surprise you at home, he would walk in carrying flowers and cupcakes, the biggest smile on his face. You would stay inside and watch movies all night while ordering pizza and laughing while he told you all of the dad jokes he had come up with on the plane. You would sleep in until noon, snuggling in bed most of the day and catching up on everything you had missed while he had been gone. In the afternoon you would get dressed only to go out to your favorite park and walk around, ending up at your favorite ice cream parlor where Harry would sample each and every flavor until deciding to get the exact same one he always got, Christmas Pudding. Those were the days. The days when your relationship was still private and fans only speculated what was going on. 

You and Harry had been dating for over a year now, and originally your plan was to keep the relationship a secret and as private as possible. Of course Harry’s fans were dedicated and involved, they had quickly speculated that the two of you were dating but nothing had been posted or confirmed. Thats the way you liked things, you could still go out to the store and not be swarmed with people or have to have guards tag along with you. It had been a month or so ago, you and Harry had gone out to dinner and a pap caught the two of you mid kiss. The news spread quickly and then Harry had confirmed it in an interview and then also mentioned you would be touring with him. Now halfway through the tour, you were breaking down. Fans had taken quite the liking to you, which at first you had been grateful for, but now it was a little overwhelming for someone who wasn't quite used to being in the spotlight and was considered “normal”. 

“(y/n)!” Harrys concerned voice echoed through the walls backstage. You looked up, tears in your eyes as he knelt in front of you. He opened his arms and you climbed into them, breaking into sobs. “Shhh...its okay love.” he whispered into your hair. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You tried controlling your breathing but were struggling. You gripped him tighter and tried explaining. “Th-they-they-they were all around us and-and-they -they wouldn't let go. They just kept pulling on me and I-I couldn't see where we were going. Everywhere I looked-there was -there was a phone recording me and-”

“Shh...Im sorry babe. I should've been there.” Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead and just held you until you had calmed down a little. Your breathing had improved and he had pulled you to your feet, escorting you to the dressing room. You sat on the couch and looked in the mirror. You had big black bags under your eyes which were now red and puffy from crying, you looked a lot thinner, and you almost didn't recognize yourself.  Harry was running his fingers through his hair, you knew you were the cause of his stress which only made you feel worse about everything. He looked at you and sighed, walking over. “I think you should try getting some rest...I have rehearsal but after we can get dinner okay?” You nodded and he wrapped his blanket around your body, tucking you in. He kissed you softly and smiled, “Get some sleep babe, it’ll make you feel better.” you smiled and whispered I love you as he walked out. As soon as the door had closed you sat up. You hadn't actually gotten more than an hours worth of sleep every night for over a week now. Part of it was due to stress, the other part was that you just didn't sleep well when you weren't in your own bed. Normally when you were traveling with Harry he slept with you, making you feel at home and sleep fairly normally. This tour however had been different. He would go from performing to writing and recording, leaving very little time together. On top of not sleeping, you hadn't really been eating either. The thought of food made you feel sick, you felt like someone was always either judging what you were eating, how you were eating, or why you were eating. You had been judged on your weight, your body, and your looks more than you could count. You received more comments on your body image than you ever thought possible and it had made you extremely self conscious. 

A little over an hour later you heard a knock at the door. You stood up confused, Harry would've just walked in... You opened it and found a man smiling. “Hi, you must be (y/n)?”

“Yeah...”

“I’m Dr. Ken. Mr. Styles talked to me earlier.”

“Okay...is Harry okay?”

“Harry’s fine yes, I’m actually here for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, Harry was a little concerned...he mentioned you may have been feeling overwhelmed lately. You may not be sleeping well, or eating...” 

You didn't answer just crossed your arms and stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry but-”

“Dr. Ken.” Harry’s voice cut in from around the corner. He was sweaty from rehearsal, his shirt slung over his shoulder. Harry shook Dr. Kens hand and invited him into the room. You stood in the doorway not moving or talking and he came over with an exhausted look on his face. “Babe...”

“Harry what the hell.”

“You're not okay! You need to talk to someone, you are actually scaring me. I worry that one day you're going to drop over dead from not eating or not getting any sleep. Its not okay...I don't want to lose you...I don't want you to go home..but you cant continue on like this. I cant watch you kill yourself. I cant lose you.” You bit your lip, tears forming in your eyes. You had no idea Harry was so worried. You hadn't even realized that he had realized you weren't doing well. Harry hugged you and gripped your hand tightly while pulling you over to the couch. “Let him help...” Harry whispered. 

You looked into his green eyes and nodded. You never wanted to hurt or stress Harry out. Dr. Ken sat next to you taking your vitals. He seemed a little concerned but didn't say anything. Harry stood behind the couch pacing anxiously. “(y/n) your body is extremely dehydrated...when was the last time you had some water today?”

You thought about it, and weren't exactly sure. Normally you drank more water than your body every needed but you had no idea the last time you had taken a drink. “I’m not sure..”

“Harry, why don't you grab her a water. She needs to get fluids into her body..” Harry nodded and grabbed two bottles of water. He handed one to you, and dropped the other next to your side. You took a sip, appeasing Harry for a moment. 

“So why don't you tell me a little bit about how you've felt the past few weeks.” Dr. ken asked. You looked back at Harry anxiously. You were afraid at how he was going to react.. you knew he loved you but what if he thought you couldn't handle the spotlight...what if that was the end of the line and he ended things with you because of it. Dr. Ken sensed your apprehension and nodded to Harry. Harry didn't want to leave, he was very reluctant but after an encouraging nod from Dr. Ken he sighed deeply. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I have to get ready for the show. If you need anything, don't feel bad about interrupting okay?”

You nodded and he kissed you softly. You smiled and watched him leave. Dr. Ken looked at you again with a gentle smile. “Lets try again, what have you been feeling lately?” You sighed and let it out. You told him about the stress with fans, your body image, being perfect, being someone Harry should date. You told him about not being comfortable on tour, not spending time with Harry, your anxiety about being overcrowded when out and about. Everything building up in your body was spilling out. You felt a weight roll off your shoulder. Dr. Ken said nothing, he wasn't taking notes, wasn't judging you. He was just listening. He listened to you talk for almost an hour. You shared how you were afraid to talk to Harry about everything because you thought he would leave you. You mentioned how you felt that you couldn't live up to fans expectations. You cried about missing simpler times with Harry. He handed you a tissue and smiled. “(y/n) has Harry ever seemed unhappy with you?”

“No, but-”

“Has he ever said anything about fans not liking you?”

“No.”

“Have you talked to him at all about these fears?”

You sighed. “No.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don't want to stress him out. I don't want to throw off his game while on tour. I don't want him to hate me...”

“Has he ever said anything about hating you?”

“No...”

“(y/n) I think something that might make both you and Harry feel better is talking to him about everything.” You nodded and looked down at your feet. “I also think that you may benefit from going home and not continuing on with the tour..” You didnt say anything. You knew he was right about both things. You needed to talk to Harry. You also needed to go home. You couldnt continue on like this anymore. 

“I know..” you sighed. He smiled and patted your hand.

“Your health is more important than up keeping his expectations of you. If he's that upset about you leaving...he's not the one anyway.” You smiled sadly at him and nodded. 

“You're right... Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I’m going to leave you my number. Call anytime okay? I mean it..even if it's just to complain about Harry. I don't want you holding things in like this anymore. Understood?”

“Understood.” you smiled as he stood up and collected his things. “Thank you Dr. Ken.”

“Anytime.” He walked out, leaving you alone in the room. You waited for Harry patiently, trying to think of what to say. You were so involved in your thoughts you almost didn't hear him walk in. He sat next to you and ran his fingers through his hair. “How was the show?”

“Not my best...I had other things on my mind.” He smiled sadly and you nodded. 

“Harry I need to talk to you about some things...” Harry looked sick, but he nodded. You grabbed his hands and looked at him. His green eyes were searching yours for clues. You took a deep breath. “I think...I think I need to go home.”

“Go home? Like as in leave the tour?”

“Yeah...” you bit your lip and Harry looked confused. 

“But-”

“No...Haz I really need to get everything off my chest. The last month has been so hard-like harder than I ever thought. I don't feel like we have spent any time together...you don't even sleep with me...On top of that, I don't feel like I can live up to your image. I cant make fans happy. I’m not pretty enough for you...”

“Babe thats insane.” Harry cut in. “You are beautiful. I love every part of you. And you make fans happy, they all love seeing you-”

“Harry. People send me death threats daily. They say I’m ugly and fat, and they say I bring down your image and well maybe they are right maybe I-”

“You make me the best person I can be...You are the most beautiful thing about me (y/n)...I’m sorry..I didn't realize this was happening but I want you to understand that none of that is true.” you smiled and nodded.

“I know but it's been hard. I feel like I want to be better for you, and I know you love me. I know you think I’m beautiful. But in this environment I just feel like I need to be more. I cant get away from people. I cant even go out to lunch without people taking my picture and posting it somewhere online. I know thats a part of you. I know you're used to it but I’m not.” You took another breath. “I don't want to leave...I really don't. But Harry I cant go on like this. My body feels like its giving up and I-”

You were crying. You wanted Harry to understand. He pulled you into his arms and cuddled you closely. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“(y/n) I want you to be okay...I want us to work and if you need a break from this...well I am going to support that...”

“Youre not mad? You don't hate me?”

“I could never hate you. I don't want you to be stressed out all of the time. I want my happy, smiley, goofy, girl back. I want to see you stuffing your face with cookies and fighting me for the last piece of pizza.” You laughed and nodded. “If going home helps bring that back, I’m all for it. And I’m sorry I’ve been absent...I should have spent more time with you.”

“It’s okay...I know you're busy.”

“Thats not an excuse though...”

You kissed him softly and smiled. “I think-I think I want to go home tonight.”

He nodded and nuzzled your cheek with his nose. “Then we will get on a plane tonight.”

“We?”

“I cancelled the last few shows of the tour...you're more important. I want to be home with you...I want to make sure youre okay. I want us to get back to where we were. If I have to take some time off, then thats worth it to me.”

You smiled but shook your head. “But the fans?”

“They will understand...”

“Harry.”

“(y/n) Its not negotiable.... We are going home.”

You nodded. “Let’s go home then.”

---

This was a request. Idk how I feel about it yet lol

xoxo

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Lovin’ You’s the Antidote

Just in case, trigger warning for mentions of: depression, anxiety, family issues/abandonment.

*gif not mine*

“You look amazing.” Harry says as he gives you a hug and a kiss on the side of your head.

You were wearing a simple black top, jeans, and loafers. You were a simple girl, and that’s what Harry likes most about you.

You blush and look down, fixing your hair. “Thank you. You look great as well.” He was wearing long cream flared pants with a black t shirt. His hair looked amazing as always; his curls seeming much more curlier than usual.

You were a quiet girl. Not shy per se, you just don’t talk much; you’d rather listen. It takes a lot for some people to break you out of your shell. And as much as you like Harry, your feelings for him don’t differ than anyone else. You’ve had a hard time trusting people in the past and you just don’t want to get your heart broken.

Harry is somewhat frustrated with that because he knows you don’t talk much. He wants to get to know you, like really get to know you. He hasn’t even gotten to kiss you yet because of how closed off you are, and it’s been four dates with about four hangouts on the side for about two months. But you’ve let him kiss you on the cheek and forehead, but never where he really wants to kiss you.

And it’s not like you don’t talk to him at all. You’ve told him basic things he needed to know about you like hobbies, where you work, favorite food, your favorite time of the day, etc., but you never go deeper than that. He is still glad that you’re there to listen. Some people in the past always seem to brush off what he says or talk over him, and he’s happy that you don’t complain about him talking.

Harry knew you were a simple person. You’ve told him that you’d much rather prefer sitting in a park rather than a fancy restaurant, and he appreciated that. It was definitely different than the other girls he’s dated, but he never told them that he’d rather have a nice and quiet conversation somewhere secluded than bringing them out to a fancy restaurant where paps are involved.

So he took you to a hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop that you knew you would appreciate more. He liked that about you; how you were always so appreciative of the little things and supportive of the small local vendors that some people in LA wouldn’t think twice about going to.

As you two were looking over the menu, you mentioned how you briefly saw Gemma walking down the streets when she was in town, but you didn’t go up to her because you felt as if it were awkward and you were nervous, obviously, and you’ve never met her before, just know how she looks like because of the pictures Harry has shown you.

“Ahh, you’re fine. She’s the second kindest woman I know, right behind my mum, of course. So, no need to be nervous. They do know that I’m seeing someone, however. But they’re the sweetest people you’ll ever come to know. I’m actually quite excited about going up there for the holidays and all that. Mum makes this amazing roast that I’ll have to get you to try, and our family friends come over or we go to their house, and we do a family game night, which I take pretty seriously as I’m the competitive kind of player. But everyone is super lovely and we have an amazing time together. If you’re up for it, you can come with! I’ll have to ask mum and everyone else of course, but I’m sure they’ll love more company.” Harry ends his ramble with a smile, knowing as if he was talking a bit too much. And although, you don’t mind it, you love hearing Harry talk, you’re a bit overwhelmed with everything.

“That all seems very lovely.” You say with a nervous smile and look down at your menu, completing ignoring his offer about going with him to his family’s. Harry notices and decides to change the subject.

“So… what about you? Going to your family’s-”

“Stop. Just stop.” You interrupt.

“Sorry?” Harry asks confused as he sensed your switch in moods.

“You’ve always asked about my family ever since the first date and I don’t answer the question. Don’t you get the hint that I don’t want to talk about them or…?” Harry gulps, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry. Truly I am. It’s just that… we’ve been on four dates already and hung out multiple times, and I still feel like I don’t even know you yet.”

“Well, sometimes it’s best that way, don’t you think?” You say rather harshly and Harry sighs. You close the menu and Harry looks at you. “Do you mind taking me home?”

“Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped-”

“I’m just not in the mood to eat right now. Can you take me home please? Or I can call an Uber.” Your eyes welled up, and he feels bad for pressing the subject.

“No, no. I’ll take you home.” Harry got up from his seat and put a $20 bill out on the table even though you didn't order anything.

The car ride was silent. Tension filled the car quick once you two got in and you wanted to jump out ever since. You’re sure this is the longest car ride you’ve ever been in, even though you live about 15 minutes away from the shop.

Once the car stops, you’re quick to open the door and get out. You look at him for possibly the last time because you think he probably won’t want to see you again. “Thanks for the ride.” You say and shut the door. You quickly walk to your front door, but Harry calls out for you.

You turn around and see him hunched over with the middle console with the passenger window open. “I’m hoping someday you’ll be able to trust me and open up. But if not, then I understand. But I’m sorry again.” You nod and give him a sad smile and proceed to turn around to open the door. Once you’re in, you see Harry still there, watching you go inside. You give him a small wave, which you don’t even know if he can see that far, and close the door. You look out your window behind the curtain and see him finally drive off, sighing to yourself because of how that ended.

“I mean, he was—is a great guy. But I really think that was our last date— I don’t know if that counts as a date because it ended right when it started, and I screwed up something that could have possibly been a long term thing.” You sighed.

“You didn’t screw it up. You don’t even know if he never wants to see you again, but I think you should let him in, yknow?” You hear your sister speak through the phone.

“I don’t know…” you debate as you look up at your ceiling while you’re spread across the whole bed.

“Listen, lil sis. You can’t keep comparing the people that’s current in your life to the people from your past. They’re in the past for a reason. Harry seemed like a great guy since the moment you called me after your first date, and he seems to care a lot about you. C’mon… take that chance and move forward.” You know she’s right (and that’s not because she’s a therapist). “You’ve been trapped and you’re waiting for the right time to unlock yourself from the cage, but you’re the only one with the key.”

“Call him, okay? I’ve gotta go, but keep me updated on the wedding plans!” She teases and you can’t help but crack a smile.

“Oh shut up.”

It’s been two days since the last time you saw him, and you found yourself on his doorstep, waiting for yourself to knock and face him. You were going to give it a week, but you couldn’t keep sitting at your apartment and drown in the guilt that’s kept you up.

As you raise your hand to knock, the door swings open, revealing Harry who makes you go weak in the knees.

“Oh, hey.” He says in surprise. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Y-Yeah. Sorry, I should’ve called.”

“No worries. What brings you by?”

“I was wondering if you were busy so we could talk?” You look down, waiting for his rejection. Of course he’s busy, you think, he was already on his way out.

“No, no. I was just on my way to get some groceries at the market, but I can do that later. Did you want to come in?” Your eyes widen.

“Uh, do you want to go down to the beach?” Harry thinks and wonders why you’d rather go out.

“Yeah, sure. Your car or mine?”

“I actually walked here, so if you don’t mind-”

“You walked? That’s like a 20 minute walk and I’m on top of the hill.” He looks at you concerningly.

“It’s not a big deal. I just really needed to talk to you.” Harry nods and he can’t help but blush. He thinks he must mean something to her if she’s willing to walk that far for him.

“Okay, well… shall we?”

As Harry drives, you notice how he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly and all you want to do is to tell him to relax, but you look forward, watching him enter the highway.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You hear him whisper under his breath.

“What happened?”

“I took the wrong route.” You take a look around you and you notice you’re driving along the coast of Pacific Coast Highway. The sun is shining and hitting your faces as it reflects off the water in Malibu: your favorite time of the day.

“You can just turn around?”

“This highway goes on for miles, it-”

“Harry.” He stops talking and glances at you. You gently put your hand on his arm, somehow calming him down.

“Let’s just… drive?”

Harry nods as he calms down a bit, continuing to drive on the highway that seems to last a lifetime that will take you to the end of god knows where. But it’s okay because you’re with him.

As Harry parks in a lot that overlooks the ocean, you both get out of the car and he follows you quickly as you’re already on a path that leads towards the beach. Harry walks slightly behind you, feeling as if he’s walking around eggshells around you.

You lead to the beach and bend down to take your sandals off, Harry doing the same with his shoes. You walk on the sand that makes you feel at peace. You walk towards the big rocks that sit in front of the beach houses and you take a seat on the rock that was safe enough to climb and Harry does the same.

You both look out at the ocean, watching the sun set on a chilly Sunday. You had gone to the beach many times when you felt scared. The sun setting seeming to calm you down wherever you are, and being on the beach made it seem like you were closer to it, calming your nerves and anxiety down.

It’s quiet between the both of you as you embrace the silence and truly be in the moment as you watch beautiful sight in front of you and beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I’m sorry for not talking much, not opening up as much.” You don’t look at him (more afraid to look at him because you know you’ll start crying anytime soon) as you keep looking out at the ocean. Harry feels his heart physically ache and turns to look at you, making you look at him.

“It’s okay, I understand. I know it’s hard to open up to people, but I just want to say sorry that I keep bringing the subject up.” You feel your heart flutter and give him a small smile.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. The subject of family is scary to talk about for me and I was just overwhelmed when you kept talking about yours. And it made me think how much I want what you have.” Harry raises his eyebrows, but he learned not to ask anymore. He’d just wait for you to say whatever you want.

You took a deep breath, “I’m scared to open up because the last time I did... they went behind my back and spilled everything. ‘They’ meaning my ex.”

“I’m sorry if I was pressing the subject. You don’t have to talk to me about-”

“I want to. I need to. I keep living in the past and I don’t want to anymore.” All Harry can do is nod. “I want to open up... I do. I’m just scared.”

“There’s no need to be scared, baby. It’s just me.” Harry comforts you, and your heart can’t help but skip a beat when he called you baby. He puts his hand on your knee and caresses it with his thumb.

“ So… I don’t have any real parents. Ever since I could remember, I was jumping around from foster home to foster home and I’ve never really had a stable home before. Right before I turned 18, there was this one couple that miraculously wanted to adopt me and take me into their home and older kids don’t really get adopted, but a year and into living with them, I was getting comfortable. I was finally accepting that I had a home. But then they passed away and then I turned 18, and I was on my own.”

Harry grabs your hand as he sees you’re trying to calm yourself down. You wrap your hand around his as well, and you look up at him. He looks at you, not with pity, but someone who’s just wants to be there for you. He’s giving you the whole floor to talk and he’s there to listen, to support you.

“I got a job not too far away from here, actually, saved enough and got a very small apartment. I hated it, I hated being alone. So I went back to the adoption center and asked if they knew who my real parents were. They didn’t give me their names at first, for some reason, but I kept asking and I started crying, and eventually they felt bad and gave me their names. I found out that they had passed away when I was 15. I started doing research on my family and then I found out I had an older sister. I don’t know how I found her. The universe probably gave me a free pass. But I found her and it took me a while to message her, but I eventually did and… we look alike, yknow?” You smile at how similar you look like to your loving sister. “She was given up to my aunt, my birth mother’s sister, by our parents, but they had a falling out and never talked since, that’s why they didn’t know about me. But after my sister and I decided to meet up for the first time, we’ve been inseparable ever since. She doesn’t live too far away from me, about an hour. She has a family and everything.”

“I’d love to meet her.” Harry immediately regrets his words as it’s too fast to meet families. “Only if you’d like. I don’t-”

“I’d love for you two to meet.” You smile in reassurance. Harry smiles back nervously.

“My ex… I met him when I was 19 at the place I used to work at. He used to come in every week and he became a regular, and I worked everyday so of course I would remember him. But anyways, we dated for about a year and a half. When I noticed that it started going downhill, I talked to him about it like you’re supposed to do when relationships go down—I don’t know, it was my first relationship ever and I just knew you had to do that because of movies. Anyways, when I went to go talk to him, he broke up with me. He said he didn’t love me anymore… I was crushed. I didn't know what I did or how I could’ve made it better. But a week later, I downloaded social media and followed all of my— or his friends, and saw that he practically posted my whole life on the internet. Everything that I told him: my situation with family, my sister, my living situation, everything. I don't know why he did it; I still don’t know why. But he was just a total asshole.” You chuckle and Harry nods, slightly seeing red because he wants to find your ex and punch him where it hurts. How could anyone do that to such an angel?

“But I went on lockdown and became depressed. I didn’t want to see anyone. I vowed that I would never open up to anyone like that anymore. It hurts, sometimes it still does, and that happened like 6 years ago?”

Harry moves closer to you. “You have every right to be hurt, but you don’t deserve that. Ever.” You nod, finally understanding that you deserve so much better than what your ex did to you. You sniffle and look up at him.

“I used to come here after work after everything that had happened. I got off when the sun was setting and I ran everyday to this exact spot on this exact rock to watch the sun set. It relaxed me; it calmed my nerves. It became my safe place and it probably always will be. The sun and the ocean has been there for me more than anyone I came across, besides my sister. But that’s why I wanted to take you here, why I wanted to tell you everything here.” Harry puts his arm around you and you turn to face him in his hold.

“Thank you… for opening up. Thank you for everything you told me, I know it must’ve been hard.” He kisses your forehead.

“Thank you for being so patient with me, and I’m sorry for pushing you away.” Harry hugs you tighter and you hug him back. After a few moments, you let go and looks up at him.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” He cups you’re cheeks and wipes the tears that have fallen.

“You don’t have to be anymore. I’m here.” His forehead meets yours and he closes his eyes.

“I want this, Harry. I want this so bad.” You say, referring to the relationship and love that will blossom into something so beautiful. One hand grabs his wrist that holds your face and you put your other hand on one side of his face.

“It’s yours, love. You can have it.” Your lips are practically brushing together. Harry wants to kiss you so bad and you’re waiting for him to kiss you too, but you know he’s being hesitant because of you. So you lean in and meet his lips, kissing him for the first time like there’s no tomorrow.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer; needing to feel him closer. Your lips move in sync with his as sparks rage through your body, making the kiss more electrifying with adoration. And you’re sure that it’s a feeling you want to feel all the time when you’re with him.

He pulls away slowly and you whimper at the loss of contact. He looks at you and smiles.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He bites his lip and you smile shyly and thank him.

The sun was in the middle of setting and he looks at you with so much love as the light hits your face beautifully. Your eyes illuminating with specs of gold coming out from them.

You can tell he’s getting lost with just looking at you, and you’ve never had someone look at you so closely before. You peck his lip, “What?”

“Golden, baby. You’re so golden.”

[songfell-ut]

I give up, here’s Chapter 17

I should’ve posted this a week ago, but I’ve been like “nuuu it’s cool no one minds a 25,000-word chapter” and yeah here’s only 15k that I finally split off into its own thing. Chapter is here, hi @lostmypotatoes

The Grand Hall lived up to its name: Frisk had never been to the nicer parts of the humans’ castle, but there was no way it could be more amazing than this place, which had a ceiling hundreds of feet tall blanketed with tiny lights, speckled marble columns that reached nearly all the way up, and beautiful murals on the walls showing forests, rivers, even the ocean! Monsters stood in long lines along a central aisle of sparkling white sand, so new that it had obviously been made for the humans’ visit, stretching up a gentle slope to the foot of the grand staircase leading into the Underground.

Queen Toriel had taken Frisk from the house in the Ruins through a snowy town – how did it snow inside the mountain? – and on her first-ever boat ride, which ended all too soon in a place called “Waterfall”; from there, they hurried down to the Grand Hall just in time for the Royal Guard to announce the human delegation. Luckily, instead of having to walk through all those monsters, they used a partly-hidden network of hallways to emerge right at the head of the staircase. Toriel gave the child one more pat, telling her to be good and stay where she was, before the Queen walked out to take her place beside Asgore, nodding to the guards.

Frisk was glad she didn’t have to talk to the King yet; he looked like a bigger, hairier, scarier version of his wife or son, scowling and fidgeting around until Toriel cleared her throat. They stood just in front of Prince Asriel, who noticed the child and gave her a friendly nod before he turned to face the aisle. Frisk crept out far enough to look around the rest of the cavern, wondering why humans talked about the Underground as if it was some kind of filthy mudhole. It was such a beautiful place, with boat rides and snow and twinkling lights…

Something like trumpets sounded, and the Grand Hall’s enormous bronze gates swung open. The monsters all put on their politest expressions as the delegation came through the entrance and headed up the aisle, with the frontmost humans stopping at the bottom of the staircase. “Greetings,” boomed King Asgore, extending his arms and flaring his purple cape out like great wings. “Welcome to the Underground, one and all!”

On cue, the monsters broke into cheers and applause. As the echoes faded, a fussy-looking human stepped forward to give a long speech about greetings and honor and honorable blah blah blah; it was starting to get boring when he was cut short by a cry of “Mama!” and someone rushing past him.

“Chara!” Forgetting her dignity, the Queen of monsters hitched up her robe to run to her estranged daughter. They nearly crashed into each other halfway down the stairs, Toriel’s crown falling askew as the human leapt into her embrace. There was a lot of murmuring and more genuine applause, which swelled into a full ovation as Toriel sank to her knees, holding on as though her child was drowning and her arms were a life preserver.

Asriel had also hurried down to meet his sister, and Asgore was starting toward them when it happened: Chara looked up for the briefest second, and when she saw Frisk near the head of the stairs, the woman’s eyes flashed sheer hatred, as though she wanted her dead on the spot.

Frisk jerked back so hard that she stumbled and nearly fell. When she caught her balance, she found herself looking down at Asgore; he was staring at Chara, and followed the woman’s gaze back up to Frisk. For a long second, the King regarded the human child with a question in his eyes, as though he wanted to say something, but knew better; then Chara was all teary smiles again, hugging Asriel and extending an arm to “Papa!”

The applause grew even louder as Asgore joined them, parents and siblings joyously reunited, and Frisk could have cried with rage. Why did Chara have to hate her for being there when she was lucky enough to have her own perfect family? Couldn’t Frisk have had more than a couple of minutes with those wonderful monsters before Chara stole them back?

It was too much. The child sniffled, and turned to trudge back down the hallway, trying not to think of what her mother was going to say when she found out where Frisk had been.

But as she approached the branching path that led to the Grand Hall floor, she came to a sudden halt: someone further down the hall was shouting, “I’M TELLING YOU, IT IS DEFINITELY THIS WAY!”

“sure, bro,” another person mumbled, his deeper voice echoing up the passage.

“SANS, PLEASE! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY THE CORRECT DIRECTION THIS TIME! THERE IS NO NEED TO LOOK AT ME IN THAT TONE OF VOICE!”

“relax, pap. i’m just impressed you know all these different ways to go.”

The voices weren’t moving—she was trapped up here. Frisk held her breath as the louder person demanded, “REALLY? THEN WHY ARE YOU GIVING ME THAT SMIRK?”

“…uh, bro? this is how I always—”

“DON’T LIE TO ME, BROTHER! THE GREAT PAPYRUS KNOWS WHAT A SMIRK LOOKS LIKE! IT’S A REGULAR SMILE, BUT IN THAT TONE OF VOICE!!”

“you got me. it means ‘pap is the coolest and knows all the directions.’ you like it?”

“…I SEE! NYEH-HEH. YES, I DO LIKE IT! FROM NOW ON, YOU MAY SMIRK ALL YOU WANT!”

“aww, thanks, bro. you’re the best…and that’s the tooth.”

The joke was so dumb that Frisk had to laugh. Whoever it was, they sounded friendly enough, not to mention silly. Were they humans she hadn’t talked to on the way here? Or—

“DID YOU HEAR THAT, BROTHER?” She jumped as the voice came closer. “IS SOMEONE THERE? SOMEONE WITH EXTREMELY BAD TASTE?”

“hey! i think they’ve got great taste. i mean, they obviously speak our tongue.”

Frisk laughed again, and was only a little afraid when the strange pair came into view. They were skeletons—not just thin people, but actual, literal bones that walked and talked. One was very tall, dressed in showy red boots and some kind of fake armor, while the other was much shorter, in clothes far too casual for an event like this. Why was he wearing pink slippers?

Both of them were also looking her over. With the tiny little lights in his sockets trained on Frisk, the taller one bent down to whisper to his brother. “OH MY GOD, SANS!” he yelled. “IS THAT A HUMAN?”

The short one stared at her for a moment, then nodded, and somehow closed one socket in a wink. “i dunno, pap. he doesn’t look that monstrous to me. who’re you, kid?”

“My name is F—Kris,” she said, giving them a bow, “and you’re right. I’m a human.”

“OF COURSE I AM RIGHT, HUMAN, FOR I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! HOW PLEASANT FOR YOU TO MEET ME!” The tall skeleton struck a heroic pose. “HAVE NO FEAR! WE MONSTERS HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE AND THEN BECOME FRIENDS! THEREFORE, YOU MAY SIMPLY REFER TO ME AS ‘PAPYRUS,’ EVEN IF IT IS ONLY HALFWAY CORRECT.” He indicated the other skeleton. “THIS IS MY OLDER BROTHER, SANS. DO NOT BE DISTRAUGHT THAT HE IS NOT AS GREAT AS I AM, AND TRY TO BEAR WITH HIS TERRIBLE JOKES, NYEHH.” Nudge. “SANS! SAY SOMETHING THAT IS NOT TERRIBLE!”

Sans was watching her carefully; he looked like he was smiling, but Frisk had the feeling it was just how his face was made. He wasn’t happy to see her at all. “sure,” he said coolly. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.” Papyrus nudged him again, and Sans sighed, as if resigning himself to his fate. “yeah, i know what his majesty said.” He put on a wider grin. “welp, nice to meet you, kris.”

Fakeness or not, the monsters she’d met so far were still much better than any humans she knew. So Frisk smiled shyly at him, and whispered, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Sans.”

His smile dropped a little. They regarded each other for a few seconds; to her delight, his mouth rose again in genuine approval. “heh. you seem like a nice kid.” Shrug. “pap’s right. we’re all gonna be pals, so…”

Papyrus looked pleased as Sans took his hand from his jacket pocket. But as Frisk reached out to shake it, Pap’s smile suddenly vanished. “WAAAIT A MOMENT,” the taller brother said suspiciously. “SANS, DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT—”

Too late. The moment Frisk grasped the skeleton’s hand, something erupted in a palm-tickling explosion of Pfffffftttttppppppfffffffff…ffffffppp…pppf…pp……p.

Silence.

“OH. MY. GOD,” Papyrus said in the voice of doom, and rounded on his brother. “SANS, YOU IMBECILE! YOU HAVE BROKEN THE HUMAN! LOOK, IT ISN’T MOVING! IT—”

Frisk couldn’t hold it in: she howled with laughter, and only got louder as Sans pulled his hand back to reveal the rubbery, air-filled contraption that had made the rude noise. “what can i say? it’s always funny,” he said proudly. “quite a gas.”

“HOW COULD YOU, BROTHER?! THIS IS A CLEAR VIOLATION OF ACQUAINTANCE ETIQUETTE!” raged Papyrus. “HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO ASCEND THE HEIGHTS OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP NOW THAT YOUR IDIOTIC PRANK HAS DAMAGED THE SMALL HUMAN?!” Papyrus stabbed a gloved finger at Frisk, who was now doubled over. “IF THIS IS HOW YOU ARE GOING TO BEHAVE, YOU MIGHT AS WELL GO HOME NOW! YES, HOME! YOU CAN PICK UP YOUR ROOM IN CASE WE HAVE HUMAN GUESTS!”

“i dunno, bro,” said Sans, winking at Frisk again. “it’s probably too heavy for me. you should get it instead.”

“NYEHHH! I MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT GET IT!”

“aw, pap, don’t be so hard on yourself. i’m sure if you just try harder—”

“LEAVE!! NOW!!!”

Funny as the brothers were, that seemed harsh to Frisk—the nearest houses had to be pretty far away from the Grand Hall, and making Sans walk all the way back because of a few jokes was a little much. She eyed Papyrus doubtfully, wondering if he was like humans after all.

“it’s fine, kiddo,” Sans told her, as if reading her thoughts. He winked one more time. “don’t worry, i know a shortcut. so, eye will see ya later.”

Before Frisk could react, Sans was…gone. Baffled, she looked around, then up at Papyrus. “HM? OH, YES. SANS HAS DEVELOPED HIS MAGIC EXACTLY ENOUGH TO BE AS LAZY AS POSSIBLE,” the tall skeleton said distastefully. “I CAN ONLY HOPE HE IS ACTUALLY CLEANING HIS ROOM NOW. MORE LIKELY, HE IS—”

There was a sound of clapping and cheering from the Grand Hall. “THAT’S RIGHT!” Papyrus threw his red scarf over his collarbone. “COME ALONG, HUMAN! I SHALL INTRODUCE YOU TO THE OTHER MONSTERS! YOU WILL BE DELIGHTED TO MEET THEM, ESPECIALLY THE ROYAL GUARD, AND THE FEELING WILL BE MUTUAL! NYEH-HEH! FOLLOW ME, NEW ACQUAINTANCE!”

“Um…” Frisk bit her lip. Papyrus was a lot to take in, especially without warning, but he didn’t seem to be faking his enthusiasm, or his kindness. Frisk looked at him, made up her mind, and smiled again. “Can we be friends now?” she asked, holding up her hand.

The skeleton’s cheekbones turned bright pink, somehow, eye sockets going wide and glittery. “REALLY?!? WOWIE! I CAN’T BELIEVE I—” He made a noise like a cough. “I MEAN…O-OF COURSE YOU WANT TO BE MY FRIEND, KRIS! I AM EXTREMELY GREAT.” Papyrus leaned down a little to take her hand. “COME ALONG! AS A FRIEND OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS, YOU SHALL BE KNOWN AND LOVED BY ALL! NYEH-HEH-HEH!”

Frisk sure hoped so, especially if the other monsters were as nice as he was. Even if they weren’t, she’d already made new friends, exactly like she was supposed to. Mama couldn’t be mad at her for that, and Chara couldn’t take them away from her!

 ~

 The dream with Asriel was a fitting end to a frustrating night. Sans had picked the biggest inn he could find and asked for a room with the biggest bed they had, only to find that it still wasn’t big enough for him. He didn’t want to try sleeping in his disguise, which meant another night stretched out on the floor, longing for the massive bed in the High Priestess’ quarters. He never would have thought he’d want to go back to the humans’ castle—that damn bed had spoiled him for life! Not to mention that when he was sleeping in it, he had Frisk all to himself…

He had just started dozing off when the door to the next room opened and closed, a couple of human voices whispering back and forth. Sans made the mistake of concluding that that was it, and was completely unprepared for the sounds that exploded through the wall a minute later.

Sans was not an expert on human…anything, but he knew was he was hearing, and that he was hearing it very very loudly. At that point, he had several options; after mulling exactly one of them over, he sat up and ran a thread of magic through the lamp fixture over the bed, worming it through the conduits in the wall and into the next room. From there, he could feel the vibrations of the bed moving – ugh – and spread his magic in a thin layer under one side of the mattress; then he twitched his hand, and grinned at the shrieks and thuds of the couple being dumped onto the floor.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t need to do anything else. The humans got dressed in a hurry, grabbed their things, and left, and did not come back. Sans let his magic dissipate and settled down, feeling a little smug, but mostly annoyed that the sounds were still stuck in his head.

The giant skeleton tossed and turned, dreamed, and got up in the morning a lot later than he intended; he was so unrested, and so disturbed at having seen Asriel – had it been real? Why and how would the Prince visit him of all people? Why now? – that he barely remembered to put his chain back on before he left the room. He forgot to ask directions when he checked out and had to grump his way around town at random, looking for the stables the warehouse lady had mentioned. He had to get the carts and horses, then go to all the stupid places and get the stupid things…

Well, this wasn’t the right way: he was on a street lined with cute little cafes and humans sitting around in fancy metal chairs. He stopped to get his bearings, and nearly swore as his stomach growled. At least there were food stands everywhere…but what the hell was a “crepe”?

A minute later, he found a place to sit down and gnaw on a couple of folded-over, chocolatey things, which were actually pretty good. There wasn’t much to do as he ate but people-watch, which would have been kind of neat if the people in question weren’t humans. They followed the overall pattern he’d observed at the castle, where the men were loud and stupid-looking, while the women were also loud and ranged from scrawny to actually-lumpy to extremely lumpy. Even the ones with nice faces were still too…human, without any soothing voices, or graceful movements, or sweet expressions…

It made him wonder yet again if Frisk’s SOUL was the real reason he’d been so drawn to her; the first time he’d seen it, he was scared shitless, and then he wanted to rip it out for strictly non-romantic purposes. Was it because she’d reminded him so much of Kris? Or would he have just eventually fallen in love with any human who was powerful enough for him, even if she was a gross person on the outside or inside?

…Nope. It was because she was Frisk. Satisfied with that line of introspection, Sans finished the second crepe and tossed the wrappers in a trash can, forgetting that she wasn’t there to yell at him for littering. Time to ask someone for directions to a more useful part of town.

The first person he talked to just shrugged, and the next pointed him the wrong way entirely, but an irate half-hour later, Sans was back on the right track. This street seemed much dingier, with fewer people around; it smelled weird, too, like horse pee and desperation.

Maybe that was why someone had started following him. Sans smiled to himself, wiggling his fingers inside his coat pockets. Should he get further into the back alleyways before he confronted the guy, or—

“Heya.”

Sans glanced to his right. A man in his early twenties was standing by a side street, nodding at him. “C’mon this way,” he said. “Got somethin’ to show you.”

           “I don’t think so, pal,” said the disguised boss monster. “Whatever ya want, you’re wastin’ yer time. Don’t have any cash on me.” Without waiting for an answer, he speed-walked further ahead, grinning as he heard a soft whistle behind him.

           Sure enough, someone was waiting right around the next corner, an older man in nice clothes. “Excuse me, sir,” he said loudly, “but do you have the time?”

           Sans thought of the old woman again and snorted. “Nope,” he replied, and tried to walk around him.

           The man quick-stepped back into Sans’ way. “My. Her Eminence doesn’t pay you enough to buy a watch?” he asked innocently.

           What the hell? He wasn’t wearing the armband. “Who said anythin’ about—”

The distraction almost worked: the guy made a sudden feint toward him, and if Sans had been any less alert, he’d have backed right into the human sneaking up to grab his neck with a wire loop. Instead, Sans pivoted and slammed an elbow into his would-be assailant so hard that he felt the guy’s ribs crack. The man who’d stopped him cursed under his breath, turning to run.

Almost absent-mindedly, Sans waved a finger in the fleeing human’s direction. There was a shnk of bone erupting from the pavement, and a muffled scream as the man’s ankle was impaled mid-flight. The rest of his body yanked to a stop and hit the ground in a twisted heap.

Footsteps pounded toward them, and Sans turned to face the first guy who’d talked to him, then one other human. They sized up the situation and moved to either side of him, one armed with some kind of club and the other sporting a huge knife.

Sans gave a low laugh as bloodlust started bubbling to the surface. Finally! This was what he’d been waiting for! No more playing cute and harmless! No more letting people do whatever the hell they wanted with him! No witnesses!

Really, the only problem was that it was too easy. Sans let the one with the knife get in close, then grabbed his arm and broke it at the elbow, spinning the would-be assassin around and shoving him into the guy with the club. Both humans hit the ground, but the knife guy was up in a moment, scrabbling for his weapon with his good hand. Sans kicked the knife away, pinned both of his palms to the ground with a couple more bones, and lifted the remaining human by the neck with his magic.

Was that it? He glanced around at the one with the wire loop – on the ground, struggling to breathe – then the guy with the impaled ankle, who seemed to have passed out. The third was staring at his hands and making weird noises – not very knife of him, ha ha – and the last one dangled a few inches off the ground, clawing at the red mist around his throat.

Sans hummed under his breath, surveying the four men with an artistic eye. Well! Where to begin? Might as well start with the one he was holding up. The human windpipe was so fragile that one good crunch would do it…but no one said it’d have to be a quick crunch. Sans began to apply pressure, slow and hard, and grinned as the man’s eyes bulged in terror—

           Out of nowhere, he froze mid-squeeze as a strange emotion hit him. It was…nostalgia, and then—guilt? That was it; the longer Sans stared at the captive human, the less he enjoyed the guy’s fear and despair. He knew exactly what it felt like to be trapped by someone stronger, didn’t he? Back in his jail cell, cowering behind a human witch’s barrier, knowing she could do any damn thing she pleased to him—had he looked like this to her?

           Sans shook his head in irritation. What was he thinking? That was different! He wasn’t Frisk, and these guys had tried to kill him!

           …just like he’d tried to kill her before and after she stopped him from hurting anyone. What had she done to retaliate? Kept him safe, given him her own stupidly oversized bed, let him sleep for over a day, and fed him more in one sitting than he’d eaten in goddamn weeks.

Sans tried again to shake it off, to rationalize that no one in their right mind would hold a psycho like him to Frisk’s standards, but when he looked again at the human in his grasp…

No, dammit! These assholes had attacked him out of nowhere, and he’d defended himself! Surely she wouldn’t expect him to just stand there and get murdered?

…But none of these guys could move under their own power anymore, much less hurt him. Now Sans could see Frisk snarling up at him in all her tiny, furious glory: “If you kill anyone and you cannot look me in the eye to tell me why it was necessary, I don't want you to come back at all!”

           Argh! It wasn’t fair! She wasn’t here to stop him—she would never even know! Why should he quit right when it was finally getting good? Couldn’t he at least nick ‘em a few more times, enough to make them sorry? They might be pretty sorry already, but… “But,” Sans mumbled out loud, scowling.

Now he was thinking of Dr. Serif. The boss monster could practically hear his cool, smug voice: “But what, Sans?”

           Tch. If he had to be hearing things, he’d much rather it be Frisk. He knew he should’ve taken a shortcut back to the Underground last night. Then he could’ve seen her and…done…something? Maybe he wouldn’t be so damn frustrated now, his mind jumping all over the place…

           “Sans.”

Oh, shit. What about the fortune-teller? “Don’t kill anyone.” That guy had been right about stuff so far; would something happen to Frisk if Sans ignored his stupid, cheap advice? For all he knew, it could—

           “SANS.”

           “What?” he snapped. “Whaddya want, Doc…tor?” He gaped at Dr. Serif, who was standing only a few yards away, arms folded. “The fuck are you doin’ here?” demanded Sans, releasing the human from mid-air and ignoring his wheezing.

Dr. Serif came closer and made two gestures. A skeletal hand popped up and seized the fallen human by the throat, glowing green before vanishing. “He should live,” the royal sorcerer said crisply. He glanced at the man whose hands were affixed to the pavement, and the one up ahead. “In the meantime, do you plan to leave these gentlemen like that?”

           Sans was still mad that he couldn’t leave them dead, but… He made a disgusted noise, and the bones all vanished. “Ya gonna tell me why you’re here, or what?”

           “What.” Dr. Serif walked past Sans and snapped his fingers. Two pairs of disembodied hands sprang out of thin air, and one latched onto each human’s head; to Sans’ immense discomfort, the hands glowed blue, and each man obediently got up with sluggish, jerky motions – even the one with the shattered ankle –  to come sit in a row, legs crossed like schoolchildren. “Why did you attack this man?” Dr. Serif inquired. “Only speak if you have useful information.”

The human with the broken ribs mumbled, “He’s the High Priestess’ agent,” in a voice that made Sans feel even weirder. There was good old-fashioned violence, and there was this. “Gonna hold him for ransom and lure in the skeleton.”

“Do not lie to me.” The humans jerked, eyes going glassy as the blue intensified. “This is not an instrument of live capture,” said the royal sorcerer, retrieving the wire loop with yet another hand. “Why do you, or your employers, want him dead?”

There was a round of silence. Evidently, no one knew, or probably cared. They’d had their orders, and that was that.

Sans stepped closer. “Were you the ones going after Frisk a few weeks ago—the High Priestess? Are you gonna try it again?”

“Wasn’t us,” said one.

“No one’s supposed to kill her anymore,” said another, and his associates nodded slowly.

Dr. Serif blinked a few times. “According to who, and since when?”

“Last week. Someone paid the Assassin’s Guild to blacklist her. She’s untouchable—anyone who goes after her gets a bounty put on his head.”

Sans had never seen the royal sorcerer so taken aback. “I didn’t know that was even possible. It would cost several hundred thou—no, a million dinar to make it worth their while,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea who did it?”

More silence. Meanwhile, Sans was not that surprised to find out there was a formal guild for murderers. Humans were such fucking scumbags.

“Are you affiliated with poachers, then?” was Dr. Serif’s next question.

“Yeah,” they all said at once.

The doctor’s foot tapped a few times. “Does your attack on the priestess’ agent have to do with the timing of his delivery to the Underground? Fewer monsters will be venturing outside if food is being brought directly to them—I assume you wanted to prevent this?”

Sans watched the men’s faces stay blank. That was probably too many words for them. “What’re you gonna do if ya can’t catch any monsters?” he asked instead.

The blue light intensified again, and someone finally mumbled, “Ransom. The High Priestess will pay to get her agent back. She won’t know he’s dead yet.”

Dr. Serif frowned. “And you’re hoping she’ll send the boss monster to rescue him?”

Nods. “It’s worth a hell of a lot of money.”

There was an odd pause. “For his magic?” the doctor asked.

“And ransom. She’s screwin’ it,” one man said tonelessly.

Dr. Serif grabbed Sans’ shoulder to restrain him. “Surely you’re not taking that rumor seriously,” he said. “It can’t be worth the danger of trying to capture such a powerful monster—he was relatively weak when he was first caught, and two men still died of their injuries.”

“Lady payin’ us says it’s true. She doesn’t want Her Eminence arrested for mis…missen—”

“Miscegenation?” growled Sans.

“Yeah. That. She wants us to catch it, but not kill it. We’ll keep it and get a shitload of magic, then sell it back later. Win-win.”

“Hm. So, your employer is a woman who wants to help the High Priestess? What is her name?”

No one answered. The blue light flickered, and one man finally said, “Dunno. We just got a few letters, and payment up front. Pretty sure it’s a rich lady ‘cause of the handwriting and the way the paper smelled, but we don’t know for sure.”

The doctor stared the man down, still holding Sans’ shoulder. “And she has hired you to hold the skeleton prisoner…for how long, exactly? And through what means?”

The human shrugged. “She said she’d tell us more once we killed this guy.”

Dr. Serif thought about it for a moment, then snapped his fingers again. The skeletal hands tightened, and Sans watched the men writhe in tandem and fall sideways like puppets with cut strings. “Well, that was more interesting than expected,” said the royal sorcerer. His hand tightened on Sans’ shoulder. “Come along.”

Sans shut his eyes as magic surged around them. It didn’t have the rushing-through-space feel of his shortcuts; this was more as if the ground had jumped out from beneath their feet and just as quickly hopped back into place. He opened his eyes and started. “Where—”

They were standing outside a large, well-kept stable. The doctor released him, saying, “I must commend you for not killing any of those men. We’ve acquired valuable information, and once they wake up, word will get around that the High Priestess’ agent is not to be trifled with.” He smiled, ever so slightly. “They will not recall I was even there.”

Sans gestured impatiently. “What the fuck was that about? Someone wants human-me dead, but they just wanna borrow real me to keep Frisk outta jail? An’ someone else’s paid out the ass to keep her alive? What’s—”

“It could well be the same person.” The royal sorcerer brushed some dust off his robe. “What is miscegenation?” he asked curtly.

Sans’ toes curled. “Boning a monster. It’s a literal crime. I heard somebody talking about it last night.”

“Interesting,” the doctor said slowly. “No one spreading that rumor in the city seems to know about it yet.” Sigh. “If you overheard it here, I suppose it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows.”

Sans didn’t want to talk about that right now, or ever. “How long were you following me?” he asked instead.

Pause. “Long enough.”

The boss monster didn’t like that, either. “Whatever,” Sans mumbled. “But thanks fer gettin’ all that stuff out of ‘em. You’re pretty freaky, but I guess ya come in handy.”

He heard the familiar sound of someone ignoring a pun, and then “You’re welcome.” Dr. Serif crossed his arms. “I was sent here to intercept you and the High Priestess. Given that I have not seen Her Eminence with you, may I assume you were foolish enough to come alone?”

           “Uh…”

           “As you were also foolish enough to leave the castle when and how you both did, I am not surprised.”

           Sans snorted. “Ya think that was my idea?”

           “No, but this almost certainly was.” The royal sorcerer gestured to the smushed roll of papers in Sans’ front pocket. “Come along. There should be three carts on reserve in Frisk’s name here, for when you were supposed to have picked them up on your way to the Underground.”

           Sans followed him into the stable. “What, ya didn’t like us bailin’ on you?” he asked, taking childish pleasure in the older skeleton’s annoyance.

           The doctor reached back without looking and took the papers from Sans’ pocket. “Hello,” Dr. Serif said cordially to the human behind the counter, who stepped right up to assist them.

           This turned out to be prophetic: the doctor not only accompanied him everywhere for the rest of the morning and afternoon, he took complete charge. He made things so much smoother that Sans couldn’t even be mad about it; people listened to him, and he could fully answer their questions while Sans inspected the cargo and supervised the loading. The doctor also signed the bills of lading, reminding Sans after the first visit that as a perfectly normal human and not a monster in disguise, he was not “Sans” and needed to pick a pseudonym already.

           They had almost no time to eat lunch or dinner, electing to grab a couple of sandwiches as the drivers brought the carts to the second-to-last warehouse. “So, was it your idea to swoop in on us like this?” Sans asked. “I know it was annoying to wake up and have us gone, but—”

           “His Majesty is extremely unamused by his daughter’s behavior,” said the royal sorcerer, in a tone that wiped the smirk off Sans’ face. “To be very honest, I am glad I will not be there when Her Eminence receives this.” He extracted a long, expensive-looking envelope from his robe. “His Majesty assembled the paperwork yesterday for—”

           “The adoption thing?” Sans interrupted. “Is it true?”

           Dr. Serif made a face. “No matter where I go, the speed of gossip remains constant.” Another sigh. “Whatever you’ve heard is likely true. Should Frisk’s mission prove successful, His Majesty is prepared not only to pardon her theft, but place her directly in the line of succession.”

           Sans took a long sip of water, trying and failing to figure that one out. “I thought ya said he was pissed off at her. Why…?”

           “Tell me, Sans. Knowing Frisk, do you think she would appreciate being pressured into accepting such a heavy responsibility, especially in anticipation of her little brother’s death? His Majesty knows exactly how she will feel about it.” Dr. Serif paused for a huge bite of his sandwich. “Also, he may personally be unhappy with her actions, but he knows better than anyone that if she can outmaneuver him, then she is worthy of the throne.”

           Fuck. “Yeah, when ya put it like that—”

           The royal sorcerer glanced at him. “Out of curiosity, when did you learn that the King was her father?”

           “Not till we were almost t’the Underground. I kinda found out by accident.”

           Dr. Serif half-smiled. “It’s been common knowledge ever since she was brought to St. Brigid’s. And…by any chance, did she ever tell you anything about her mother?”

           Sans had to whack himself in the chest as the last wad of his sandwich threatened to get stuck in his windpipe. Why did human bodies use the same damn tube for breathing and eating? “Only that she’s dead,” he rasped. “Why?”

           “Wipe your hands, please, and put this somewhere safe until you can give it to her.” Dr. Serif held out the gilt envelope. “It contains copies of all the relevant documents, including an investiture of nobility—she would technically become a duchess first, then Crown Princess upon the death of the King or the Prince.”

Sans scrubbed his hands on his shirt and took the envelope. He was thinking so hard that he almost didn’t notice Frisk’s full name in fancy cursive across the front; then he looked again, and stared at it for a minute, and finally said, “Huh.”

           “You don’t seem entirely surprised,” the doctor observed, sounding almost disappointed. “Have you already heard something to that effect?”

           “Yeah. I had a long talk with Grillby the other day, and…I wasn’t gonna ask Frisk, but I was kinda wondering, and then she said…” Had the King done the calligraphy himself? “I never did hear her last name. I figured the High Priestess just doesn’t need one.”

           “It was not hers to use for most of her life, and I would be very surprised if she chose to do so now, or ever. According to what I have gleaned from Rosa, the name does not have pleasant associations for Frisk—another fact of which the King is very aware.”

           “Holy shit.” Sans looked at the envelope again. “He’s callin’ her that ta piss her off?”

           “It is technically her legal name and belongs on a document of this importance. So, yes.”

           “Shit.” Sans scratched the back of his head, thinking even harder. “So whoever filled out the paperwork for him knows her name, too? Which means everyone is gonna know about it by the time we get back?”

           The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming back with her, then?” He let the question hang in the air, and Sans ignored it till Dr. Serif continued, “You are correct. I am genuinely sorry to leave this with you, but you will have to give her the news before you return, or else she will be completely blindsided. Please don’t do that to her.”

           Sans wasn’t going to admit that the thought had already crossed his mind: throw the envelope away, let her enjoy the rest of her time in the Underground, and feign astonishment when they got back – hopefully triumphant – and found out she’d someday have the power to do literally anything she pleased, such as freeing monsters with a single decree.

           Except…she was already helping monsters, and had already spent three lonely, stressful years as High Priestess. How much worse would her life be if she became the actual Queen? Would it technically fit that second fortune? Fear stabbed him so hard that he could barely breathe—what if she got surrounded by advisers and hangers-on determined to harass him away from her? There was no telling how long her father and half-brother would be around, and they probably wouldn’t let her keep a pet skeleton around, not to mention a suspiciously bony kid…

           Sans couldn’t help it. Dr. Serif eyed him warily as the boss monster snickered again: a fucking crime. It was too perfect.

           The carts were ready now. The boss monster tucked the fancy envelope into an inner pocket and resolved to quit thinking about it for now. Frisk could handle this; she’d know what to do. If she didn’t, they’d figure it out together.

 ~

             Thankfully, the rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful. By the time they were ready to head back to the Underground, the sun was just touching the horizon.

           Everything had fit into three large-ish carts, which Frisk had accurately predicted would be a better idea than two really huge ones. The drivers were nervous about starting so late in the day, but Dr. Serif had implied that they were just headed to the city, the road to which was well-lit and patrolled by watchmen. Sans got a huge kick out of seeing the humans’ faces when the procession reached the outskirts of the village, went about a hundred yards, and came to a sudden halt. “You may remove the horses now,” said the doctor. “Please return to the village. Here is a small gratuity for your trouble.”

           If the humans had questions, they were effectively answered by the five-hundred-dinar pieces Dr. Serif placed in each of their hands. They unhitched the horses and jogged them back in the fast-fading light without a backward glance, leaving the loaded carts sitting in the road.

           From there, the disguised monsters waited until no one was in sight – not difficult, given the hour and the cold – and then enacted the plan they’d agreed upon earlier: Sans encased the lightest cart in a film of red magic, thought carefully about the place by the river where Undyne had attacked him, and teleported the whole thing there. No more than ten seconds later, a large patch of blackness crept over the pale bedrock; Gaster rose from it head-first, followed by the carts, and everything settled into place as the ground shimmered back into ordinary rock-ness.

           “What the crap?” Sans pulled his chain off. “How do you even have that much magic?”

           Gaster brushed himself off again with two extra hands, keeping his own tucked beneath his flowing black coat. He glided in a circle around the carts, checking that they had made the journey safely, and nodded. “Surely you’re not worn out from one spell?”

           “No, but I’m a damn boss monster!”

           The older skeleton smiled. A hand appeared in front of Sans, holding a gray orb slightly bigger than the hole in its palm. “Humans use these to store magic. Keep at least one on your person at all times and let it absorb your ambient power. Put it away when full, then repeat the process. Do so regularly, and you will soon have a supply built up for contingencies exactly like this.” The hand vanished. “Has Her Eminence used the teleportation spell I gave her yet?”

           Sans remembered the brooch she’d gotten on All Souls Day, and shook his head. “I don’t think so, but she wears it a lot.”

           “Good.” Gaster looked at the nearly-night sky. “Lead the way.”

           The boss monster wondered exactly how many more of those stones Gaster had squirreled away in whatever fold of subspace he was using, and contented himself with the fact that the creepy bastard still seemed to be on their side—Sans hadn’t forgotten the fortune about bewaring him, but right now, he didn’t have much choice. Even the lightest of the carts was much heavier than the wagons full of monsters had been, and as tired as he was, he doubted he could’ve pulled or teleported them all on his own.

Gaster’s extra hands were pulling and pushing two of the carts with apparent ease as they followed the river. Sans tried to think of something that would pass the time without leading to invasive questions, and finally thought to ask, “The solar panel demonstration went okay?”

           “Oh, yes.” Gaster’s voice was neutral, and it was impossible to read his expression in profile. “Someone attempted to sabotage it by cutting several of the wires on the main panel, so I used my own magic as a substitute. It was most impressive, if I say so myself.”

           That sounded like one problem too many. They had enough crap to deal with in the Underground without worrying about sabotage or the King being passive-aggressive or some random lady who wanted to keep him away from Frisk! Get in line, he thought bitterly.

           “How is Her Eminence’s mission going?” asked Gaster, as if reading his mind.

           “Pretty good, I think. Asgore hasn’t met with her yet, but he’s letting her do whatever.” Sans felt the corners of his mouth lift. “She’s spent a couple nights with Undyne and Alphys at Toriel’s house, havin’ some girl time. They went shopping yesterday, ‘n pro’ly today.”

           Gaster nodded. “I don’t know how you intended to do this alone,” he said, glancing at the carts, “but given your accelerated timeline, I suppose it was the best way to let her enjoy herself for a day or two. It will also help her cause if the monsters see a great deal of her firsthand.”

           Sans knew what he meant—all Frisk had to do to win them over was be herself. He didn’t notice that he was smiling until he felt Gaster’s stare; the other skeleton was suddenly in front of him, drifting backwards as Sans walked. “Don’t mind me,” murmured the royal sorcerer, examining the boss monster’s sternum.

           “What’s my LV?” Sans asked bluntly.

           Gaster reappeared beside the cart. “You are at LV 16.”

           Sans was…almost surprised. Gaster gave him a hard look. “The first time I checked, you were—”

           A sound off to their left made both skeletons stop to listen. It was faint, but unmistakable. “Keep going,” Gaster said, and they picked up the pace, both assuming their disguises.

           There was no question of outrunning the humans, so they let the sound of hoofbeats gradually overtake them. “Well, well,” said the first rider, pulling up in front of the carts and forcing them to stop. Two more poachers rode up alongside, and three more brought up the rear. Each man had a coil of chain slung over his shoulder, and their leader carried a heavy crossbow. “What are you doing out here so late?” he demanded. “Where you headed with all that?”

           “The Underground,” Dr. Serif said calmly. “We have no monsters or valuables with us, so if you would kindl—”

           “Bullshit.” The leader nodded to the other men. “Search ‘em. There’s gotta be—”

           Sans didn’t even see what happened next: an unseen force yanked each man out of the saddle to hit the bedrock, filling the air with thumps, whinnying, and curses. “This is your last warning,” said Dr. Serif, still sounding very reasonable. “Leave us, or you will suffer.”

           When the men didn’t answer – except for more profanity – the doctor made a gesture. This time, Sans glimpsed the skeletal hands smacking the horses on the rump, one after another; the animals screamed in panic, nearly trampling their riders as they bolted in different directions.

The poachers gaped at each other, then at the human-shaped skeletons. “What the fuck are you?” demanded the leader. With no warning, he whipped up his crossbow to fire at—

           —Gaster, whose body had vanished, leaving nothing but an eerie smile and empty sockets. “Well, then,” he murmured, his eyes lighting blue and yellow. He glanced at Sans. “Please go on without me. I will see you back at the castle in…” He paused, counting on a set of hands. “…nine days.” The fingers snapped once, twice, thrice. “My regards to Her Eminence.”

           Sans opened his mouth to object, and the ground dropped out from beneath him.

 ~

             Silence descended in his wake, leaving the poachers in abject terror. Without the carts’ lanterns, it was impossible to see anything but the light in Gaster’s sockets. “Well,” the monster said. He looked at the men with mild curiosity, like a child with a jar full of insects. The leader jerked as a hand suddenly latched onto his face. “Can I trust you to keep this little encounter a secret?” asked Gaster.

The man nodded frantically, clawing at the hand as blood began welling under its phalanges. The others nodded, too, babbling reassurance.

“Good,” the skeleton said pleasantly. The humans had exactly enough time to start hoping before his eye-lights dilated, illuminating the hideous, masklike face. “What a pity that I do not believe you.”

There was a gruesome sound, and another, and another, and another. Silence; a tide of magic rose and swept over the bedrock, leaving nothing behind but a few splashes of blood.

Gaster nodded in satisfaction and turned to rinse his hands in the river, humming Sans’ favorite song. He paused long enough to chuckle to himself, then brushed his coat off once more, extracted a fresh stone from his coat, and vanished.

 ~

             The sentries outside the Grand Hall’s gates rolled their eyes as another knock came from within. “Any sign of him?” someone asked through the crack.

           “No,” the rabbit monster snapped. “For the last time, you don’t need to keep asking every ten minutes! We’ll tell you when he—”

           A long, low sound from the opposite direction cut him short. “Sans?” called the guard.

           “The one an’ only,” a gruff voice answered over the rise. In the still, cold air, they could now hear the sound of wheels on sandy rock, and the labored breathing of a boss monster managing three heavily laden carts by himself. “Can I get some damn help here?”

           Twenty minutes later, Sans had recovered enough to get up from the cavern floor and hobble through the swarm of hungry monsters by the gates, some of whom had been waiting all day for their share of the food. “You guys don’t need to inspect it,” the colossal skeleton informed the guards, who were busy walking around the carts and poking them at random. “Me an’…someone I trust watched ‘em load it up.”

           The rabbit guard looked at his partner, then at Sans. “This came from humans, right? It’s probably gotta be—”

           “It’s gotta get out to people now,” Sans growled. He pointed at someone randomly. “Go get more help, whoever’s awake. I’m gonna go find Her Majesty.”

           “No need,” said a clear voice. The monsters all bowed out of the way as Toriel stepped off the patchy gray sand of the central aisle. “I am glad to see you back safely, Sans. Thank you so much for your efforts,” said the former Queen. “Please, get some sleep. I will handle the rest.”

           Sans was so tired that he could barely stay upright, but he shook his head. “I’m gonna check in with Asgore first.” Toriel’s face darkened, and he sighed. “C’mon, To—Your Majesty, ya know he’ll freak out if he finds out this came in without ‘im knowing.”

           The other boss monster sighed, closing her eyes. “True. And if you go now, you may run into the Captain and Dr. Alphys. They will also want to know you’ve arrived safely. But after that, I want you go straight home! Do you hear me?”

           He did, but sleep could wait: if those two were at Asgore’s house, then Frisk might be, too. His magic flared up, and without another thought, the skeleton took himself straight there.

           Remembering how easily the women had detected him before, Sans aimed for the end of the house near the master bedroom, and caught himself with only a slight stagger into the wall. Voices were coming from the living room; the boss monster waited for his vision to clear, then pushed himself upright and crept down the hall to listen.

           “It is lovely,” Asgore was murmuring. There was a musical clinking of fine metal and china—the King must be looking at the tea service Frisk had picked out for him.

           “Yeah, she was pretty proud of it. Everything she’s brought has been awesome,” agreed Undyne.

Sans scowled. Frisk wasn’t here after all. Well, he didn’t have enough magic to zero in on wherever she was, and Undyne was still talking, so he might as well eavesdrop. “She got me some targets, and comi—uh, battle strategies, and stuff for my scales. It was really thoughtful,” said the Royal Guard Captain.

           “And I can finally finish Adventure Lady!” Alphys exclaimed. “C-can you believe it?!”

           To Sans’ surprise, Asgore chuckled. He didn’t think the King knew how to do that anymore. “I’m glad to hear it, Doctor. I know how much that was bothering you.” Clink. “What about the agricultural implements Sans mentioned?”

“Yes, Y-Your Majesty. We spent a few hours today looking them over—she knows how to treat plants so that they can go days without being watered! We t-talked about different chemicals that can improve the quality of our soil, specific nutrients for whichever crops we decide to plant first, and all the seeds she brought. The next step is to decide which fields to convert to pasture if we want to raise c-cattle or sheep.”

“Hmm. Yes, that would be wonderful.” Sans heard tea being poured and china clinking again. “What else has she been up to?” asked the King.

“We went shopping for clothes yesterday,” the Captain said, “and Mettaton is teaching her how to dance. It was pretty fun—did you hear he wants to have a big party before she leaves?”

“Yes, I have. Some festivities could be good for our people, but…we’ll see.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “And just so you know, Majesty, we’ve spent the past couple nights at the Ruins.”

A long pause. “I…see. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Undyne said quietly. “Everyone did.”

“That…” Asgore heaved a great sigh. “That’s good to hear. What about today?”

Undyne’s chair creaked. “Today was a little more complicated. She checked on some of the people she brought back—not that she busted in on anyone,” the fish monster added hastily. “She only got started ‘cause Vulkin asked her to come visit.”

Asgore made a startled noise. “Vulkin wanted to see her? Why?”

Sans wanted to run in and shake the King like the idiot he was, but he edged back and tried to think nicer thoughts as Undyne answered, “She said Frisk was the only human who ever gave a crap about them, basically, and her family wanted to meet her. We ended up staying for over an hour.” Another pause. “Also, Majesty…Frisk’s got this thing she does where she can hum something at you, and it’s…really nice. Not hypnosis or anything sneaky, it just…” Sans could almost hear Undyne shrug. “Right before we left, Vulkin started getting worked up, and Frisk calmed her down just like that.”

“She’s done it for us, too, right before bedtime,” said Alphys. “I haven’t s-slept so well in forever.”

“Hm. She has other abilities, then, besides creating barriers?” He poured more tea. “Have you investigated her capabilities in that respect?”

“N-No, Your Majesty. She wanted to have your permission before she made any, even j-just to study them in the lab.”

Sans got the feeling that Asgore was a little put out by Frisk conducting herself so well. “If you believe she is trustworthy,” said the King, “then by all means, study her barriers as fully as you can. The knowledge may prove…useful.” More clinking. “Thank you for your time, both of you. Get some rest. And…” His voice softened. “Please thank her for the gift.”

The giant skeleton smiled a little. Before they could get up and notice him lurking in the hall, Sans used the tiniest wisp of magic – all that he had left – to whisk himself outside to the courtyard. He waited by the tree, foot raised as if in mid-step; when the door opened, Asgore saw him and started. “Sans! You’re back!”

“Hey, Majesty.” Sans raised a genuinely weary hand. “Yeah, I just got in with all the stuff. Everything’s fine. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you very much,” the King said heartily, another trace of his old self showing. “I’ll be down right away.”

“Uh.” The bigger boss monster fake-coughed. “Please don’t, Yer Majesty. Someone’s already got it under control.”

Blink. “Some…oh.”

“Hey, you,” Undyne said, moving around Asgore and hopping down the stairs in one easy bound. “How’d it go? Are you okay?”

“It’s fine, ‘m just worn out.” Sans let out a full-force yawn. “I’ll walk back with you guys,” he said as Alphys came down the steps.

“All right, then,” Asgore murmured. “Thank you again, Sans.” The skeleton nodded, and they politely waited for the door to close before turning to leave.

“Don’t even think about it” was the first thing out of Undyne’s mouth. “She’s asleep already.”

Sans was too tired not to ask, “Where? Tori’s again?”

“I’m not telling you!” snapped the fish-woman. “We had a lot of fun yesterday, but today was pretty rough on her.” She eyed him as they stepped into the elevator and waited for the grating to close. “You don’t look so hot, either.”

“I will be in a minute.” Sans swayed on his feet as the elevator descended. “After all, we’re goin’ to Hotland.”

Undyne twitched. “Nope. We’re not doing those.”

“Aww, c’mon, fish-face.” Yawn. “I’m just gettin’ warmed up.”

Twitch. “I’m serious, boss. Drop it.”

“Drop it like…it’s hot?”

“I SAID—”

The elevator ground to a halt, and he felt Alphys tug on his coat. “L-let’s go to my lab, Sans. You can take a nap and get some magic back befo—not yet!”

Sans had the impression of falling and something grabbing him, but he didn’t pay much attention till Undyne heaved him onto the lab’s concrete floor. “Ow,” he tried to say, but it was too much effort; he decided to pass out instead.

 ~

             They weren’t heading to the family’s main house; for some reason, Asriel had insisted she come with him to the one in the Ruins, where he and his mother had been living before the delegation arrived. He’d told her that he had a surprise for her, but he was so anxious that she didn’t think it was going to be a good one.

           Good or not, she had to admit that when Asriel opened the bedroom door and motioned her inside, she was very surprised: she backpedaled so hard that she crashed into his legs.

           “It’s all right,” said Chara, very quietly, from her seat on the bed. “I wouldn’t be glad to see me, either.”

           “Chara,” Asriel protested.

           “It’s true.” The woman watched Frisk lean into Asriel, clutching his robe with one small hand. “Isn’t it, Frisk?” she added.

           The child inhaled sharply, looking up at the Prince in alarm. “It’s all right,” he told her, smiling with such affection that she had to smile back. “I know all about you, Frisk. You’re ten years old, and you’re a girl, and you belong here. In fact, you could say you’ve come home.” He looked at Chara, beaming. “Right, sis?”

 ~

             Sans must have teleported from the lab at some point – maybe in his sleep – because when he properly awoke, he was in his own room. The boss monster sat up and turned the light on with a speck of magic. A glance at the clock made him do a double take: how was it almost ten o’clock?! Sans sprang to his feet and zipped down to the living room.

           No one was there, but he heard children running around outside, with the occasional shriek of happiness, or anger, or possibly disembowelment—he never could tell with kids. There was Papyrus’ voice, and Undyne’s; then he heard Frisk, and without thinking, he took another shortcut out beside the house.

           Before San could get his bearings, a handful of snow hit him upside the head. “Morning, boss!” shouted Undyne. “About time!”

           “GOOD MORNING, BROTHER!” Papyrus raised his head from beneath a pile of children. “WE ARE AT WAR! WOULD YOU CARE TO JOIN US?”

           Sans blinked. “War?”

           “Yes, indeed,” Frisk said gravely, and he looked up to see her standing on the balcony, not far above his eye level. Magic rippled through him in gentle waves as she smiled. “Is everyone ready?” she asked the monsters.

           The giant skeleton came forward for a better view as the children sprang to their feet, or paws, or seahorse tail. Frisk dipped something into a narrow bottle, raised it to her mouth, and leaned over the railing to blow a stream of huge, wobbly, fast-floating bubbles.

           In an instant, the kids were charging after them, leaping and clawing and even biting them joyfully out of the air. Frisk dipped the stick again and angled herself toward Papyrus to blow another round of bubbles; instead of popping them, the younger skeleton surrounded each one in blue and sent them flying in all directions, which was Undyne’s cue to materialize a short spear and leap after them, yelling, “Come back here, you cowards!”

           When the last bubble had been vanquished, Frisk made even more of them, almost obscuring the pack of children; this time, Papyrus used his magic to grab all the bubbles, and instead of chasing after them, the kids tackled him again. Undyne coordinated the assault, directing her troops to surround the enemy and attack as a unit, ignoring Papyrus’ protests of being muuuurdered and that she could not have his pirate-ship bed once he was dust, because for the hundredth time even if she did have an eyepatch that did not mean she deserved to be a pirate more than him. Then everyone scattered again for Frisk to send another batch the kids’ way, and two more groups for Papyrus to keep away from Undyne.

It was hard to say who was enjoying themselves the most. Sans hadn’t seen his brother playing like this in…how long? Even some of the adult monsters were coming over to watch, standing around and chatting with each other, or asking Frisk how she’d made the bubbles and happily accepting the extra bottles she tossed down for them. It was like she’d never left…

A thought struck him, and he backed further away from the house to crane his neck all the way upward. There it was, the thin brown haze of negative energy that’d been accumulating since he absorbed the last round of it. …But—

Sans had avoided looking too directly at Frisk, and tried to take another quick peek now, only for his eyes to lock onto her. She’d taken off her cloak, revealing one of probably many new outfits: a dark-green velvet dress that accented the curves of her bust and hips, silver earrings that shimmered as she bent down to refill the bottle, and gray boots that reminded him of the fact that she had feet.

And when he finally managed to look back up toward her face, he was ambushed by the sight of a black choker. The damn thing looked like a collar, but it wasn’t even trying to be practical; it was just a little bit of lace hugging her neck, and a flagrant reminder that most things wearing collars had nothing else on. He’d contemplated keeping her as a pet, once upon a time, before he even—

           Suddenly, Undyne vaulted onto his shoulder, crashing his nasal ridge into the bottom edge of the balcony. The Royal Guard Captain rapped him on the skull with the butt of her spear, dispelling the last of his lust-induced stupor. “Quit staring, moron,” she hissed, and gestured to Frisk. “C’mon, lady, we need more bad guys to kill,” the fish monster said in a normal tone, raising her voice to finish, “unless Papyrus is too weak to keep going!”

           “I AM NOT!” The skeleton stomped his foot in feeble rage, trying to catch his breath as Undyne leapt down. “BUT PERHAPS…PERHAPS WE COULD TAKE A BREAK, FOR THE CHILDREN?” Two small monsters ran circles around him as he desperately added, “THEY SEEM VERY TIRED, NYEH-HEH!”

           Frisk bit her lip, and Sans wanted more than ever to scoop her up for a giant hug—not only was it always hot when she did that, it meant she wanted to help Pap without hurting his feelings. Luckily for everyone, his mouth-related thoughts suddenly turned in a more wholesome direction. “Hey,” Sans murmured, catching her attention. “Ya know what you oughta do?”

           The others stopped as Frisk leaned down to hear him whisper. “That’s a wonderful idea,” the priestess said warmly, and Sans felt his skull turn red. “Here, Undyne, I want the children to help me try something,” Frisk told her, dipping the wand again. “You two can supervise.”

           Papyrus was happy to accept his new role, and Sans also paid close attention to Frisk’s lips as she blew a long, low stream of smaller bubbles. The kids grabbed at them and squealed as a sound followed each pop—to their delight, every bubble now contained a tiny burst of music.

           Undyne reached out to poke one. “What, did you whistle into ‘em?” She jumped at the sudden sound, then laughed, popping another one. “That’s so damn cool!”

           “Sans thought of it,” Frisk said. She was grinning from ear to ear, almost prancing in place. “Here!” This time, instead of a single pitch, she whistled a scale of several notes, sliding up and back down; when the children popped them, it produced a whole tangle of sounds. The adult monsters drew closer as more bubbles drifted and burst, scattering bits of music through the chilly air.

“Yo!” cried Monster Kid, bounding nearly straight up for emphasis. “Guys! Let’s try to make ‘em into a song again!”

The adults chuckled and shook their heads, but the children loved the idea. And as it turned out, they were right: the sheer futility of trying to break the bubbles in the right order was so much fun that, before they knew it, nearly every monster in the field was chasing after them. No one could hear much of anything over all the shouting and laughter, but that was okay. Everything was okay.

“Sans?”

Still smiling, the giant skeleton turned to face Toriel, noting that she was coming from the ferry and not the Ruins. “What’s all this?” she asked.

“We’re slaughtering our foes in glorious battle,” a cute little bunny said in passing. “It sounds pretty!”

“LIKE THIS, YOUR MAJESTY!” Papyrus demonstrated with a couple of quick jabs.

Toriel’s eyes widened as the sounds made a faint chord. “How wonderful!” She looked in amazement at the crowd of happy, energetic monsters. “You haven’t even received your rations yet—is this an early celebration?”

“Nah, it’s just fun,” Undyne said cheerfully. “People were fighting over who was gonna get what, and the kids were upset, so Frisk showed ‘em how she could make this stuff. Next thing you know—” Quick as scaled lightning, the Captain flicked an energy-toothpick at a bubble overhead, grinning at the resultant chime. “F sharp! Nice.” With a salute to Toriel, Undyne was off again, lifting a couple of random children onto her shoulders.

“How wonderful,” Toriel said again. She sighed, looking fondly up at the balcony. Frisk was starting to puff a bit, but clearly determined to keep going. “What a fine young woman she’s become! It’s almost like having Chara back with us.”

Sans shuffled his slippered feet. He knew it was the highest compliment Toriel could give, but the comparison really rubbed him the wrong way. Not only had he heard a lot of things recently, he couldn’t shake the dream he’d just had—the Prince so eager to have Frisk and Chara back together, and the child trying to be good, but unable to hide her fear and uncertainty…

And speaking of Asriel: “Tell her I’m sorry.” What was that about? Who was—

Suddenly, the dreams clicked together in his mind like puzzle pieces. Asriel had tricked Frisk into meeting with Chara, knowing perfectly well that the poor kid didn’t want to. Was he only sorry for that, or had something else happened afterward, awful enough to make Asriel want to apologize from beyond the friggin’ grave?

Toriel was saying something, and the skeleton shook his head. “Sorry, Tori. What was that?”

She cleared her throat. “I was asking if you’ve met the boy who’s courting her. Frisk said he’s very kind, and wealthy, but…she didn’t seem terribly enthusiastic.”

           Sans almost laughed out loud. So much crap was going on that he’d actually forgotten about that guy! “Had some girl talk, huh?” he asked carelessly, shoving his emotions way, way back down and hoping his eyes weren’t glowing.

           The goat monster chuckled, still watching the field. “We stayed up the other night to discuss where to distribute all the food you were bringing. Afterward, yes, we did talk about her love life.”

           He made an indifferent noise. He was fine. He could do this. “I met the guy once,” he said. “Kinda boring, but I guess he could be worse.”

           Toriel nodded. Her ear twitched as a longer, sweeter trill came from above—Frisk was pulling out all the stops, Sans thought proudly. “Were you there when she spoke to the fortune-teller?” she asked.

The skeleton made himself shrug, as if he wasn’t screaming internally. Stupid girl talk! How much had Frisk told her?

Well, the fact that Toriel hadn’t murdered the shit out of him meant she probably didn’t know everything yet. How she was failing to connect the dots between Frisk and Sans’ human love interest was beyond him, but he’d keep playing along for now. “Yeah, I went with her to that festival,” he said. “Pretty weird stuff. Apparently, she’s on track to have a kid soon.”

           Toriel grimaced. “I certainly hope not. Frisk is much too young for that kind of responsibility.”

           Sans snorted, and Toriel turned to glare at him. “Sorry, but ya haven’t seen her in action,” he said. “The first time I met her, she kept me from killin’ a whole bunch of people, all by herself, an’ she wouldn’t let ‘em kill me back. She got all bloody fixin’ up some kid who came to ‘er for help at two in the morning, she’s payin’ everything for three or four different orphanages that I know of, she keeps tabs on anyone in the whole damn kingdom who might need help, and she’s workin’ on freein’ us, too.” He shook his head. “She’s not a little kid anymore, Tori. She’s got so much crap ta deal with, and she’s been takin’ care of it all on her own. As long as she finds the right guy, it’s…”

           He had to stop before he got any more worked up. Luckily, Toriel was too deep in thought to notice. “That does sound impressive, but you’re right. Her happiness depends on whether she can find a good husband, one she can trust to stand by her and care about her children—”

           Now they were both grim and silent. “Just a few more,” the human called from above them.

She sounded so breathless that Sans shook his head, reaching up to tap on the railing. “Hey, Frisk? Quit it before ya pass out.”

           Toriel listened for a moment, then nodded. Sans watched her stride out to the middle of the field and clap her hands. “Everyone,” she said, “I am glad you’ve enjoyed yourselves, but please return to your homes now. The Royal Guard will be here shortly to deliver your share of the supplies that Frisk arranged for us and Sans brought in last night.” The former Queen nodded benignly in their direction. “Thank you, both of you.”

The giant skeleton was rather embarrassed by the round of applause that followed, though Frisk seemed to take it in stride. Then again, it could be the fact that she was barely conscious. “Time to come in, Pap,” Sans said, jerking his head as the monsters bid each other cheerful farewells and went their separate ways. The children still seemed more excited about the bubbles than the prospect of food—were the poor little bastards just used to being hungry by now?

           There was no need to ask Undyne to take care of Frisk: she had already jumped straight onto the balcony and was assisting the human inside. Sans teleported into the living room, where he immediately got in the way of the Captain half-carrying her down to the couch. “’m fine,” Frisk muttered.

Sans leaned over her, scowling. “Ya need your breath, kid. Don’t use it all up next time.” Now that he was closer, he could also see dark circles under her eyes. “How much sleep didja get last night?” he demanded, and looked at Undyne. “Were you guys at Tori’s house?”

“No,” the goat monster said, shutting the door behind her and coming to sit beside Frisk. “Mettaton kept her up so late that she spent the night at the resort.” Toriel’s hand came up, glowing green, and brushed Frisk’s cheek. “If you had stayed with me, child, I’d have made sure you rested properly.”

The priestess rubbed some feeling back into her lips. “I beg to differ,” she said a moment later. “Remember how afraid I was to fall asleep that second night? Undyne was already mad because I caught her cheating at cards—”

The Captain swelled like a pufferfish. “For the last time, I didn’t frickin’ cheat! My 6 got stuck behind my queen, and I didn’t know it was there when you asked for it!”

“Mmmm-hm.” Frisk let her head fall against Toriel’s shoulder as the goat monster stroked her hair. Sans had to look away, more irritated than ever—how stupid was it to be jealous of someone mothering her? Especially considering what she’d had for an actual mom…

“Anyway,” said Undyne. She glanced at Sans, saw his expression, and whacked him again to get his attention. “You know what your damn human did to me?” Frisk smirked as Undyne pantomimed writing huge letters across her own face. “GO FISH. Is that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard, or what?”

Sans snickered. “What? She was probably just being supportive. You know, ‘go—”

Frisk and Toriel dissolved into laughter as the Captain smacked her forehead with one webbed hand. “Argh! That’s the same dumb thing she said!”

“It’s all right,” the human said, in what Sans gleefully recognized as her pre-pun voice. “I guess our humor is just that sofishticated.”

“NOOOOO,” moaned Papyrus, who had just come inside. “NOT YOU, TOO, NYEHH!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Sans, winking at Toriel as she covered her face with one hand. “Are you mad enough to krill someone?”

“SO HELP ME, YOU TWO, I WILL LEAVE THIS HOUSE AND NEVER—”

“But it’s so nice to sea you,” Frisk said, and Sans snorted so hard that he had to sit down before he fell over. Toriel was giggling uncontrollably, clutching her sides; Undyne just shook her head and retreated into the storage room behind the kitchen cabinet.

Papyrus looked mollified. “YES, I KNOW. BUT I—” He stopped, and they nearly died as they watched it hit him. “GRAAAAH! IF HER MAJESTY WAS NOT HERE, I’D—”

“It’s all right, Papyrus,” Toriel said behind her hand. “I know I can trust you to control your temper.” Papyrus nodded, and the goat monster added, “You’ve always been a pacifisht!”

Undyne poked her head into the kitchen, raising her voice over the din: “Pap! Get away from those nerds and come help me! We need to make room for your stuff when it gets here.”

The younger skeleton sighed dramatically, even for him. “NYEH-HEH! I SUPPOSE I MAY AS WELL. AT LEAST SOMEONE AROUND HERE WILL BE DOING SOMETHING USEFUL!”

“Thank you. You’re the least shellfish person we know,” squeaked Frisk, at which Papyrus made an incoherent sound and stormed off into the kitchen.

Sans was pounding the floor, the women nearly sobbing. “Children—children, please,” Toriel said weakly, wiping her eyes. “Really, it’s time to calm down now.” A long pause… “We can’t keep kraken up like this!”

“Oh my God, they’re gonna kill themselves,” Undyne grumbled from the storage room. They had closed the cabinet door, but it wasn’t soundproof enough. “Let’s move some of this stuff to the shed, and…hey, what’s this?” She picked up a heavy package lying in the back corner. “Huh. Looks like one of Frisk’s. Pap, go ask—”

“SANS! POSSIBLY FRISK!” Papyrus charged into the living room, hoisting the box over his head and nearly tripping over his brother. “IS THIS A FORGOTTEN PUZZLE?! MAY I OPEN IT TO KEEP IT COMPANY?”

“Oh!” Frisk gave a last snrk and accepted a clean handkerchief from Toriel to wipe her face. “Actually, Papyrus, that one is for Sans.”

“Wha?” The giant skeleton sat up and quirked a brow at her. “What’re you talkin’ about? I was with ya when we bought all this crap, and I don’t remember you gettin’ me anything.”

“That’s because you weren’t paying attention,” the priestess retorted.

…She had a point. There had been quite a few times when they were in a shop and he was so bored that she could’ve been plotting the death of all monsterkind without him noticing.

“SURPRISE PUZZLES ARE THE BEST KIND! OPEN IT ALREADY!” urged Papyrus, shoving the gift at his brother’s face.

“Yeah, boss,” Undyne said from the kitchen. “Don’t be so damn shy.”

“I’m not bein’ shy! I just…I wasn’t expectin’ it.” Scowling, Sans grabbed the package and dug his phalanges into the lid. One good rip would get this over w—

“Sans!” Frisk’s voice made him hunch his shoulders like a guilty kid. “If you tear it open like that and break something, I will end you! Do you understand?”

The others watched the colossal skeleton set the package down gently, unwrapping the paper and moving it aside as though it was made of glass. Toriel and Undyne exchanged disbelieving glances as Sans located the box’s tucked-in corners, eased them loose, and picked at the ribbons tying it shut.

But a moment later, as he removed the last layers of tissue paper, their amusement faded into gasps and murmurs. Inside the box lay a chessboard gleaming in white marble and flawless onyx, each of the pieces individually wrapped and set in neat rows.

Undyne chose one at random and peeled the paper away to reveal a knight astride a black pegasus, wings spread and hooves ready to strike. “Whoa!” She picked another, this one a rook carved in the shape of a ruined tower, complete with crumbling bricks and a few tiny bird’s nests in the windows. “Where’d you find this?! Are you gonna teach him how to play?”

“We did most nights back at the castle.” Frisk shrugged. “He beat me every time.”

“Incredible,” murmured Toriel. She took the knight and held it up to examine the sculpting of its plumelike tail. “Humans have such an amazing capacity for beauty. I never could understand…” The goat monster sighed, handing the piece back. “What do you think, Sans?”

Sans couldn’t answer. He’d calmed down a lot after all the fish puns, and he would have been fine just hanging out with everyone until the Royal Guard came by. He hadn’t known Frisk was going to give him anything, much less something beautiful and thoughtful and completely perfect—like her, dammit. How was he supposed to stop feeling all these feelings when she kept doing things?

The pause became more and more uncomfortable as he glowered at the chessboard, heat building around his SOUL until he wanted more than ever to just rip his clothes off right there. “PSST! BROTHER!” Papyrus nudged him. “YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SAY, ‘THANK YOU FOR THE MAGNIFICENT PUZZLE, NYEH-HEH! I SHOULD ASK THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO PLAY IT WITH ME, AND WEEP GENTLY WHEN I LOSE!’”

Sans fidgeted, and Frisk looked expectant. “This’s…ya know, ya didn’t hafta waste a bunch more money on somethin’ we—” His head snapped up, startling everyone. “Hey, there’s the Royal Guard! They probably need help, right? Let’s go help!”

“SANS,” Papyrus began, and huffed as his brother disappeared. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I TOLD HIM TO SAY AT ALL! HOW DID HE GET IT SO VERY WRONG?”

 ~

             Sans was not surprised by the others’ reactions when they joined him a few minutes later at the cart by the town Christmas tree. He could only imagine what they’d been saying, though the glare Undyne was giving him made her opinion pretty clear.

           “Good day,” Toriel said to the cat monster holding the supply list, ignoring Sans entirely. The cart had just come through Waterfall, the sacks and crates patterned with condensation that was already freezing into ice crystals. “I have a very selfish request,” the former Queen continued. “As you know, I was awake for the entire night, and I am extremely weary. I would like to bring my share home with me now, unless of course you need me to—”

           “You were up the whole night, Lady Toriel?” Frisk repeated, one hand on the side of the cart. She frowned, then rounded on Sans so fast that he flinched. “You want to be helpful, don’t you? Then you can take her and her things back to the Ruins!” An imperious gesture at the three guards. “The list, please,” she ordered in her High Priestess voice.

The cat-lady handed it over, bemused. The tiny human ran her finger down the page, nodded, and turned to the cart. “It should all in that crate, there, and that stack of—look where I’m pointing! Yes, that one, and those over there. No, don’t put it—”

           Sans obeyed her as fast as he could, setting the boxes neatly beside Toriel. Frisk checked them over again, then handed the list back to the feline guard. “That should be correct, but if you find any discrepancies, let me know. Has everything gone according to plan so far? No thefts or serious disputes?”

           “No, milady,” the guard replied. “We should be finished by this evening at the latest.”

Frisk smiled. “Excellent work. Please keep it up.”

The Royal Guard all saluted. Toriel’s eyebrows were raised, and Sans wished she’d look at him so he could mouth Told you so. “Good job, guys,” said Undyne, not bothering to hide her grin. “It looks like you’ve got this under control, so Frisk and I are gonna go see Alphys now. You coming, Pap?”

           “HMM.” He glanced from her to his brother and crossed his arms, clearly torn. “SHOULDN’T I STAY AND HELP PUT OUR FOOD AWAY?”

           “Oh, but Sans wants to help so much, we shouldn’t take that from him.” Undyne looked daggers – spears? – at the giant skeleton. “He can come right back here and do it after he drops off Her Majesty. Right?”

           Dammit. “Right,” grunted Sans.

           Frisk was already starting to turn away. He cast around for an excuse to talk to her again, and said, “Hey.” She glanced at him as he rummaged in his inner pockets. “Ya want those invoices back?”

           The priestess frowned at him. He hated it when she did that, especially when he deserved it. “I suppose it could be useful when I talk to His Majesty.” She started to extend a hand, and her eyes widened. “That’s right,” she said to the guards. “Did you give him my note?”

           “Yes.” The dragon guard cleared his throat. “He said no.”

           “What R02 meant to say,” the cat monster, “is that King Asgore regrets he will not be available to speak with anyone today.”

           “But he does want to talk to Sans,” the rabbit said helpfully, “and Dr. Alphys.”

           “I see,” Frisk murmured. “Thank you.” As Undyne glared at R01, the human stepped back, pulling her cloak around her. “You’d better keep them to show His Majesty, then.”

           Sans shrugged, rolled the papers back up, and opened his coat wider to find exactly where they’d been. All he could think about was reaching over to tug down her choker where it was riding too high on her throat; he forgot what else was in his pockets till he noticed her staring at something inside his coat. His SOUL tingled in alarm: the King’s golden envelope was sticking up partway, with the letters FRISK D showing. “Sans? What is that?”

           “…Uh.” Fuck. It was too late to disappear again. He glanced around at everyone listening, and at Frisk, who was already unhappy because of him. Was this really the time to tell her what her father was planning, and that the humans all knew her name now? “It’s…I-I’ll show ya later, I promise. There’s a bunch of stuff we’ve gotta talk about.”

Her frown deepened. “Agreed.” Just like that, Frisk turned to smile at Papyrus. “Shall we?”

“CERTAINLY!” He gallantly held his arm out to her, neither of them noticing how Sans’ socket twitched.

Before the bigger skeleton could say something stupid, a touch on his radius made him spin around. “If you could take me home now, I would greatly appreciate it,” Toriel said quietly.

“Sure.” He gave Frisk one last glance. “Have fun, guys.”

Undyne made another face at him, and Papyrus waved. “GOODBYE, SANS! HAVE FUN! PLEASE BE USEFUL TO HER MAJESTY AND NOT RUN OFF AGAIN BECAUSE YOU ARE EMOTIONALLY INCOMPETENT!”

Sans twitched again, and Frisk smirked. “Have a good rest, Lady Toriel,” she said over her shoulder.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Toriel replied cheerfully. But the moment the trio was out of sight, the goat monster’s smile vanished. “Back to the Ruins, please,” she said coolly.

Sans had a headache already. “Yes’m,” he mumbled. At least all this inner turmoil meant he was generating plenty of magic: she laid a hand on his arm, he made a swiping gesture at the crates, and they were all standing in the entryway of Toriel’s house, easy as butterscotch-cinnamon pie.

“I wish I could do that,” the goat monster commented, not for the first time. “Can you bring those to the kitchen for me?” She strode ahead, briskly opening cabinets and moving things aside to make room. “Also, please tell me what the matter is.”

Sans grunted, twitching a finger to waft the crates over. “Do me a favor, Tori, and gimme a check. You can probably see it for yerself.”

Toriel obligingly turned and squinted at his SOUL. “Good heavens,” she said after a moment, and looked up at him. “Sans, what in the world…?”

           If it looked half as turbulent as it felt, then it was probably pretty scary. “I wasn’t kiddin’ the other night,” he muttered.

“I…didn’t think you were. Still…” She rubbed her eyes, swaying a little with sheer tiredness. “I did want to ask you something. I heard you telling the guards last night that you inspected the carts alongside someone you trusted. By any chance, was that…?”

Well, there was a convenient misunderstanding if he’d ever heard one. “Was that what? Someone I’m totally nuts about an’ hafta stay away from because she’s a human, and just friggin’ deal with it?” He rapped on his chest. “Does it look like I’m dealin’ with it?”

           “No, you are not.” Toriel crossed her arms at the waist. “Sans. I know this must be difficult for you, but—”

“Let’s play pretend for a minute,” he said conversationally. “Imagine I came up to you sometime real soon with a human an’ said, ‘Here ya go, meet the wife.’” Just saying the word made his SOUL ache further. “What would you do?”

           Her eyes narrowed to golden slits. “It would depend,” Toriel said with deceptive calmness, “whether you would prefer I be kind, or truthful. Do you want my blessing to try and find happiness for a few short years, and to be even more alone in the world once she d—”

           That did it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tori! Ya think I don’t know how screwed I am?” Sans snarled, and her mouth fell open. “I didn’t tell you about this so you could give me a kick in the goddamn teeth! I told ya ‘cause I wanted to talk with somebody who might have some idea what I’m goin’ through! If that’s too much to ask, just fuckin’ forget about it!”

           “I am sorry, Sans! I truly am!” There was a puff of smoke as Toriel threw her hands up. “If you could marry a human, I would be the first to congratulate you! But as things are…” Her face contorted. “What does my opinion even matter? You know that I have no power here, no matter how many people keep calling me ‘Majesty’! I can do nothing to help you!”

           “You could still be my goddamn friend! That’s all I wanted!” He kicked at nothing. “But no, yer so worried about botherin’ little ol’ Gorey that—”

           Whump.

           Sans stared at the scorch mark at his feet, a smoking, blackened ring on the tiles. Then he looked at Toriel, whose hand was still aimed at the floor, her chest heaving as though she’d run the entire length of the Underground. “Do not. Talk to me. About. Asgore,” she said through gritted fangs. “That wretched man has already cost me my entire family! Do you think I enjoy catering to his paranoia and living in fear that someone else I care for will be banished, or die? What do you think he would do if you were to wed a human? What would happen to you, and to her? If Asgore decided you were truly a threat—”

He could feel his eyes burning, and didn’t trust himself to say anything. Toriel gulped. “It is not safe for you to marry a human, Sans. It is not safe for any human down here! You’ve seen it for yourself! Frisk is the only one he will even tolerate, and he could still…” Another shake of her head, ears flapping against her cheeks. “You know Asgore. All he has to do is ignore her until she leaves. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?” The goat-woman buried her face in her hands. “Those damned men would just shrug and say that she failed in her mission, and I would never see her again! I can’t lose anyone else, Sans! I can’t—”

           The skeleton’s anger subsided as he watched the former Queen’s shoulders rise and fall. He took a couple of steps toward her, sliding his hands into his pockets. “What happened with Chara?” he asked quietly. “Why wouldn’t he let her come back?”

           Toriel’s fingers curled, claws digging into her muzzle. “It wasn’t her fault,” she muttered, eyes hard and dry. “He said he didn’t blame her, but he still agreed to send her away. And when that bastard human would not marry her as he promised, Chara needed us—she needed her family! But Asgore said she was lying, and he sent her away again! I didn’t see my little girl for ten years, Sans! And then—”

           Sans stayed silent. Toriel let her arms fall, and slid down against the cabinet until she was slumped on the kitchen floor. “I got her back, and it was too late. She hated us both,” she said dully. “She died hating me, Sans. And she was right. I couldn’t protect her from Asgore, and when the accident happened, I could not protect her or Asriel. I was right there, and I could do nothing! All I did was send the humans away, and he even begrudged me that!” The goat monster gripped her robe, nearly puncturing the fabric. “Now my only friend comes to me for a sympathetic ear, and what do I do? I sneer at him for confiding in me and complain about my troubles!” She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m completely useless, as always.”

           “Don’t say that, Tori! Remember that one little thing where ya kept the humans from declarin’ war on us an’ sealing the whole damn Underground? Besides…” Sans shuddered as something else came to him. “For all we know, he woulda had Kris killed, too.” He crouched to her eye level. “You saved Frisk’s life, Tori. Are you sayin’ that wasn’t worth somethin’?”

She swallowed again. “I…I don’t—”

“An’ she grew up to be High Priestess, and she saved my life when I got caught. If it wasn’t for you, she’d be dead, and I’d be dead or worse.” He shook his head. “If she was dead, we wouldn’t be gettin’ any food deliveries, or monsters comin’ home, or random bubble parties—” Despite himself, he chuckled. “Or fish puns—”

           Toriel managed a smile. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Poor Papyrus.” She gave a long, deep sigh. “I may have saved her life, but as far as I am concerned, you are the reason she has come back to us. Thank you, Sans.” The goat monster got to her feet and wiped her eyes again on her sleeve. “I…I still don’t know what to tell you about your human. I haven’t even asked you her name, what she is like, how far your relationship has progressed—may I assume you intend to keep courting her?”

           “Uh…” Sans ducked his head, scuffing his slipper over the burned floor tiles. “Tell you the truth, she’s kinda the one courtin’ me.”

           “Sans!” the goat monster scolded him. “You’ve found a woman with enough magic, strength of mind, and good taste to fall in love with you, and you’re letting her do all the work?”

           The skeleton scratched his neck vertebrae. “…Yeah?”

           Toriel gave him one of her squinty, pursed-mouth glares, and he held up his hands. “I know, I know! It’s just…there’s all this stuff, but it’s her, an’ I never met a her before, an’ I—”

“All right, all right.” Toriel sighed again. “I still wish you would change your mind, but I understand that it’s not so simple.” She couldn’t conceal a yawn. “We can talk more when I’ve had some rest. I promise.” To his surprise, she took his hand and gave it a good squeeze. “In the meantime, go and help the Royal Guards, and then apologize to Frisk. That was the most lovely gift imaginable, and you behaved as though she’d handed you a steaming pile of—”

           “Yeah, yeah.” Sans lifted one shoulder. “Okay, Ma, I promise I’ll be good. Go get some sleep.”

           “Yes, dear. And, Sans—” She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret. “I hate to be intrusive, but…if everyone is gathered again this evening, could I please join you? If it’s all right with the others?”

           Sans made a rude noise. “Of course I’ll come ‘n get you. We’re almost halfway through her offishal visit.”

           Toriel laughed. “Well, water you still doing here? Go on!”

He chucked, raising a hand. “‘Kay. See ya, Toriel.”

           “Thank you, Sans.” She swatted at him playfully, letting him dodge out of the way. “Now, shoo!”