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call-me-aesthetic · 3 years ago

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If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

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vvideonasties · 4 years ago

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clear-cut

"Good morning," Jon says.

"Um," Martin replies.

Jon then realises that him holding a pair of scissors so close to his eyes not long after ranting about gouging them out would be rather concerning at first glance.

word count: 2k

pairing: jonmartin

warnings: discussion of canon related trauma, thoughts about body autonomy

While rifling through the kitchen drawers, Jon is unsurprised by the plethora of blades Daisy owns. There’s every kind of knife you could fathom and, thankfully, a few pairs of scissors. Grabbing what appears to be the sharpest pair (though they all look pretty damn sharp), he heads to the bathroom. He clutches the white of the porcelain sink and stares into the mirror impassively.

He used to actually quite like his long hair. He’d play with it while he was working, twirling the thick locks around his fingers and untangling knots absentmindedly. When he’d get frustrated he’d pull it out of its tie and tug at it. It was a strange way to ground himself.

Now, though. It’s been used too much for other people’s gain, has been in too many people’s hands for it to truly belong to him. The gravity it provided began to dissipate when Daisy attacked him - she’d grabbed a chunk of it and used it to yank back his head to expose the vulnerable expanse of his neck. As he’d stood there under the mercy of her blade, shaking and pleading, the stinging in his scalp lingered the entire time. It only got worse from there - the awful attempt at tenderness displayed by the Stranger as Nikola brushed aside a few strands to gain access to more flesh, to paste moisturiser onto it with her stiff fingers. The dirt he couldn’t quite scrub out of it after he left the Buried, even when he sat in the tub for hours on end. Even when the water began to run clear, he could still feel the clumps weighing him down, making his head loll to the side with it.

After all that, it wasn’t much to him. He’d wash it, dry it, tie it up. Try not to think of it.

Jon stares down at the gleaming scissors in the sink determinedly. Cutting it off won’t solve much, if anything at all, but it would make him feel a little more comfortable. It’s one of the only things he can control about himself at the moment. If he doesn’t like the way it looks, then fine. It’ll grow back.

His hand flexes and clenches into a fist. Tighten, relax, tighten, relax.

He reaches for the scissors and holds a piece of hair in front of his face, the blades open, hungry, ready to receive.

Then there comes a short, polite cough. He turns to see Martin standing just outside the bathroom, eyes a little wider than normal.

"Good morning," Jon says.

"Um," Martin replies.

Jon then realises that him holding a pair of scissors so close to his eyes not long after ranting about gouging them out would be rather concerning at first glance.

“I’m cutting my hair,” he clarifies, and Martin seems to relax at that.

“Okay.” A pause. “Why?”

He puts down the scissors and shrugs, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Just felt like it,” he says, which is kind of true. “Not particularly attached to it anymore.”

Martin hums, taking him at his word. He walks over on socked feet, close enough that Jon can feel the heat radiating from him. There’s a brief moment where his hands pass over the scissors.

“I could help?”

Jon turns to face him completely, brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, it’s just that I have experience? Kind of? I cut my own, and I used to cut my mum’s as well...” Martin’s mouth twists downwards at that, and Jon just frowns harder. “I won’t give you my mum’s style, I promise!” He jokes weakly. It falls flat, and the whole atmosphere feels stilted.

“Okay. Why not.”

“...Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your whole-”

“It’s fine. I could use some help reaching the back anyway.” As much as he just wants to lop all of it off, he doesn’t want it to look messy.

Martin seems to brighten, probably at the relief of having something to focus on, and he walks off to grab a chair from the small dining table as Jon hovers awkwardly. He positions it in the living room, close to the small TV they’ve been using sporadically. They’ve been steadily working their way through the small cabinet full of DVDs underneath it. However, Jon isn’t exactly sure how long they’re going to be staying, so they might have to...ration them. The week they’ve been here hasn’t exactly been the most vibrant when it comes to entertainment. Maybe one day they’ll relent and open up the dusty box of Monopoly. That could very well be a major test of their relationship, though.

At least, Jon thinks this is a relationship. They haven’t talked about it all that much. All that mattered in the beginning was escaping the Lonely, leaving London, then getting settled here. They’re fumbling around blindly in the dark, and all Jon knows is he wants to hold onto Martin as tightly as possible.

That little train of thought is interrupted by the small clink of Martin taking the scissors off of the sink and grabbing a towel from the rack. He gestures to the chair, inviting Jon to sit, and when he does so he feels the towel being gently wrapped around his shoulders.

There’s the brief sensation of Jon’s hair being pulled at, only slightly, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Okay?” Martin whispers. He understands without knowing, somehow, and Jon is glad that he can’t see the way his face is taut with apprehension, tinged with pain.

“Okay,” he whispers back, trying to emulate Martin’s tone.

“Can I use your tie?” His voice is still soft, and Jon should feel patronised, but he mostly feels soothed. “Just so it’s easier to cut through.”

Jon wordlessly removes the tie from his wrist and hands it over. He tries to hide the little shiver that passes over him when their fingers brush. Martin begins to hum a tune as he gathers the hair up into one handful (not like they did, he would never, it’s Martin, always so good to him), then creates a loose ponytail that falls to his shoulders.

“Fine so far?” Jon nods tentatively. “Alright then.”

There’s the distinct sound of the blades opening, and in one fluid motion Jon feels the weight he’d been carrying leave him.

“There.” Martin comes into view, holding the thick, dark ponytail aloft, smiling crookedly.

“Oh,” he croaks. “That’s...a lot.” His hand comes up to brush his the side of his head, then travels down and grasps at thin air where hair was a second ago. The cut seems to stop at his jaw, the small strands remaining ghosting over his skin.

“It is. Can I keep going?”

Jon, hand still close to his head, makes a noise of assent. Martin takes a second to throw away what’s been cut then returns. He sinks his hands into Jon's scalp, massaging the tension out of it, and Jon makes an unbidden noise of satisfaction that causes his motions to still.

"God, sorry, did I hurt-"

"No! No, it's okay. It felt nice." It felt really nice.

Martin clicks his tongue and continues for a while longer, fingers digging into Jon’s scalp over and over in a wonderful, rhythmic motion until Jon is practically boneless and falling asleep in the chair. He wonders if there’s a not-weird way to ask for this again outside of a hair cutting context.

“So how short are we going here? You kind of have a bob right now,” Martin laughs.

Jon hadn’t really thought about that. He just wanted it off, away, binned and out of his face. He shrugs. “I don’t know, short? Whatever you think will suit me.”

“Any hairstyle would suit you,” Martin points out, like it’s nothing. Jon smiles. “But I’ll do my best.”

A few moments of Martin muttering to himself and circling around the chair is followed by the coolness of the dual blades against the curve of Jon’s ear, the shhk of them pressing together giving him goosebumps. He clearly has done this many times before, given the confident way he navigates the scissors. Jon certainly couldn’t have done this alone, at least not without making a fool out of himself. Martin brushes some hair away from the nape of his neck. His hands are very warm.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with short hair.”

Jon turns to him, puzzled. “Really?”

The thing with Jon is, when he cares about someone a lot, he tends to insert them in all of his memories, assuming that they’ve always been around (he also has the memory of a goldfish, but he’s sure that’s a whole other thing). Martin has become such an integral part of his life, standing neatly by his side like it’s nothing. Like he was meant to be there and always has.

“It has been quite a few years now, I suppose. Last I remember it was this short I was still in research.” When he goes to touch his head again he notes that he can feel for his ears without having to move a mountain of hair aside.

“Better late than never, I guess! I’m gonna move to the front now.”

Martin has to position himself at an awkward angle to use the scissors properly, his back practically curved into a C shape. His gaze is focused and intense, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Hair falls on Jon’s face as he snips, making him wrinkle his nose and grimace.

“Sorry. You can wash it off soon.”

Jon nods minutely. Then he sneezes. Martin just smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, then continues.

He remembers why he rarely went to get a professional haircut now. That strange intimacy that comes with someone being so close to you - a stranger - it always disturbed him. The idle chatter that made him grit his teeth, how they’d act like they knew him. Then he didn’t have the time or energy to cut it himself after...everything.

Now he’s looking at Martin, though. It’s odd, yes. Intimate? Definitely. He doesn’t know whether to close his eyes or keep them open. But he’s always found it very hard to turn his gaze away from Martin regardless.

His eyes are a lovely shade of deep blue, and he has far too many scars alongside the smattering of freckles on his face. He looks tired. Very much so. There’s crows feet at the corners of his eyes and lines on his forehead. He notes absently that he actually has a thick beard, too. Of course he noticed it beforehand - he’s felt it scratching the back of his neck when he wakes in the morning with Martin’s arms around him - but it’s worth pointing out. It makes him look much older, especially since the grey in it seems to be overtaking the red.

Martin stands up straight and runs his hands through Jon’s hair a few times before standing back, head tilted to the side.

“I think we’re done. It’s not amazing, but.”

Jon is already shrugging off the towel and heading to the bathroom mirror, feeling weirdly nervous.

He certainly looks different. Unfortunately, though he searched high and low for them, Daisy doesn’t own any clippers. Martin did the best he could with what he had - he’s kept it a bit longer towards the front, some strands grazing his forehead, but the rest is cropped closely to his scalp. Jon tentatively touches it and leans forward. He tries to grasp a chunk of it, see if it’s long enough to pull. He fails.

“It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Jon says firmly. “It’s just what I needed.” He walks back over to Martin and wraps his arms around him instinctively, sighing with contentment when he responds in kind.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into Martin’s t-shirt.

“Of course.” Martin is stroking the back of his neck gently. “You look very handsome.”

Jon’s face burns at the compliment, and he chooses to hide it further rather than reply. They stand there for a while, hair scattered around the floor like autumn leaves, and it feels like a new beginning.

#lil writes #jonmartin #ive been thinking a lot about hair and people's relationship to their hair recently. like. why it means so much to some of us #and it morphed into this #hair is one of the few things we can control since its physical and mostly our own #idk i just feel like its a good way for jon to reclaim some part of himself. it certainly feels that way for me so maybe i am Projecting #anyways! take it!#i was actually gonna write a sequel about martin and his hair but focusing on the hc i have that he grows a beard in s4 so he doesnt have-#to see his own face as much. but lets see how this one is received first!#tumblr is such a bad place to post fic because feedback is so sparse. god.#ILL SHUT UP NOW BYE #oh wait i need to tag #the magnus archives

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grey-water-colors · 3 years ago

Text

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

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

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

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

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

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

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

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

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

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

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

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

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic #mcu #x reader #x female reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel universe #the avengers

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

Text

A/N: I liked this request so much, I’m making it into a (short) series. Maybe three/four parts. This is mostly going to be a comedy, so feel free to leave any critiques you have in the comments! If you want to be tagged for the series just lmk!

You met Nightwing first. You were a hostage during a bank robbery that had gone bad. Not that you were worried, you were sure any second now a superhero would come bursting through that door to save the day.

This is the third time this week you’ve been inconvenienced by a villain. You pull out your textbook. All these villains are really starting to get in the way of your study schedule.

If you’re going to be stuck here for a while, you might as well catch up on studying for your test. You can’t have read more than ten pages when Nightwing comes bursting down from the ceiling.

Hooray, at long last your hero has arrived.

You’re about to pack up your things and get ready to leave when you notice someone’s holding a book out to you.It’s Nightwing in all his glory, scanning the cover of you book.

He looks younger than you had thought, in fact you can even see a few dots of acne on the sides of his face. He’s so close you can smell his aftershave too.

“Gotham university? Cool! I go th-“ suddenly his mouth clamors shut. “I-I mean, it’s really good to see more woman getting a good education and developing themselves” it’s a weird compliment, especially considering women in this city tend to be more educated than men considering the Wayne Foundation’s work. But you don’t want to make a big deal out of it.

“Thanks” You take your book back and head on your way. It’s only later that night when you’re about to wind down for the night finishing the chapter you started during the bank robbery, that you notice Nightwing autographed the cover

“What does he expect me to do? Tear of the cover and frame it?” You shake your head, but you can’t help but laugh. What a funny man.

You meet Dick Grayson shortly after. Well, meet is the wrong word. You’d say it was more like Dick Grayson met you.

You always knew of him, everyone did. He’s the school’s golden boy after all. All dimpled smiles, and shiny baby blue eyes, he had a legion of women trailing after him everywhere he went.

A golden boy who, for some reason chose to sit next to you in the 10 a.m lecture course, abandoning his usual spot surrounded by his fan girls.

You usually sit in the middle, not too close, and not to far. An inconspicuous place, for a person who doesn’t want to attract too much attention.

“Woah is that Nightwing‘s autograph?” The golden boy’s grinning as he looks at your text book. You can feel the eyes bore into you. “How did you get it?”

“I was a hostage in a bank robbery” the words leave your mouth in a monotone. It’s only after you’ve said it that you realize you have most of the classes attention now.

Right, inconspicuous.

“Are you okay? That must have been pretty rough.” Another classmate asks, her names Cassie or Cassandra or something. Almond shaped eyes bore into you as you shrug.

“Stuff like that happens all the time in Gotham, it isn’t that big of a deal”

Everyone in class thinks you’re super cool after that.

“Hey (Y/N), you wanna join our study group?” It’s a few of the girls from your class, Cassandra the girl from earlier, and a blonde name Stephanie. You know her name because she’s always getting called on by the professor for not paying attention.

You’ve seen them hanging out together before, and you found yourself a little jealous of their friendship. Maybe the three of you can be friends like that too.

“Sure”

The night air is warm, it’s hard to believe it will be fall in a few more weeks.

“This humidity is crazy” Dick says rubbing his neck.

It’s even harder to believe the golden boy is walking next to you too.

When you showed up at the apartment in the nicer part of campus, you weren’t expecting to see Dick open the door. You should have realized, of course Dick’s friends with the coolest girls on your class. And of course they host their study group out of his apartment. Being Bruce Wayne’s adopted son certainly comes with it perks. His apartment was so fancy, it had a chandelier in the foyer.

Still it was kinda fun. Though honestly calling it a “study group” was going too far. It was basically ten minutes of studying and two hours of chatting. Then all of a sudden Stephanie and Cassandra wanted snacks and alcohol. Frowning as they rummaged through Dick’s kitchen only to find cereal and milk.

And that’s how you ended up here, walking side by side with the golden boy himself. You’re walking on the outskirts of campus in the nicer part of town, heading towards the convenience store.

You’re not really sure why he had to come along, probably because it isn’t safe to walk alone so late at night.

“So you met Nightwing huh?” Dick says to break the awkward silence. You can’t help but raise an eyebrow. He’s weirdly obsessed with that hero.

“Yeah, why are you a fan?” You ask, you don’t miss the slight blush that forms on his face.

“Kinda yeah, what was he like?” His eyes are bright as he looks at you, the blush only creeping onto his face further. You think back, it was a brief encounter, you didn’t really think anything of it.

“He has acne” You can tell by the look on Dick’s face that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Y-yeah and what’s wrong with that? It must be from stress, and it must be hard keeping a good diet when you’re fighting crime all the time.” Dick’s flustered. He’s getting awfully defensive for a complete stranger.

Suddenly it hits you like a lightening bolt. The golden boy had a crush on Nightwing. You totally get it, all those muscles in that skin tight suit, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little turned on yourself just thinking about it. You steal another glance of his blushing face. If anyone has a chance with Nightwing it’s Dick. Who wouldn’t be weak to that smile and charm? You totally ship it.

You place a hand on his shoulder, baby blue eyes meet your own. You’re looking at him with such serious eyes, he wonders if you’re going to tell him something reassuring about acne or how Nightwing is an an amazing hero.

“I support you.” You tell him with a thumbs up.

Richard has no idea what you’re talking about, but he doesn’t want to embarrass you.

Then all at once it hits him, like a lightening bolt. (The sane lightening bolt that struck you a few minutes prior) He must have given away that he’s Nightwing! You’re really smart, he’s noticed you’re name on the dean’s list almost every semester.

But how’d you figure it out?

His hand flutters to the side of his face, fingertips brushing over the few pimples that popped up last week. You must have realized who he was since the acne spot matched the place it was on Nightwing!

He stares at the thumbs up you gave him. this must be you showing support for his vigilante activities!

He feels his eyes water slightly as he nods. He’s always known you were a gentle and kind soul. But he can’t believe you’re supportive as well, he feels himself falling even further in love with you.

“Would you mind keeping it a secret?, it’s good to know I have a friend like you to support me but not everyone does, yknow?” You nod, he’s Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. It makes sense those old-money geezers have narrow minded views on love. They probably want him to be with a nice girl from a wealthy family.

It must have been so painful for him growing up, hiding who he really was. Wishing he could just be loved the way he is, but knowing deep down that there were parts of him those people would never accept. Your heart aches for him.

“Don’t worry, just follow your dreams, I’ll keep your secret!” There’s fire in your eyes, and Dick brushes away the tears that have formed in the corner of your eyes.

The two of you board the miscommunication train without another thought, walking side by side with completely different interpretations of the conversation you just shared.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom when you get back, after heaving two large bags of snacks onto the dining room table.

Stephanie looks at Dick expectantly when she hears the bathroom door shut.

“So how’d it go? Did you guys get closer?” She practically bouncing as a smile spreads across Dick’s face.

“You know, I think we did!” He’s practically beaming, his grin so wide it almost consumes his face. Stephanie lets out a squeal and Dick laughs.

Well you two are closer now, but not for the reason he thinks.

You’re washing your hands, taking in your reflection. You’re not really sure why, but you have this feeling that school’s going to get a lot more interesting now.

#batman imagine #dc comics imagine #bruce wayne imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dc comics #batman imagines #red hood imagine #superhero imagines #dick grayson imagines #dick gryason imagine #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing headcanon #nightwing imagine #superhero--imagines

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byulsgrease · 3 years ago

Note

Is it cool if I make a request? :D

Something with Byulyi & F!Reader (being really close friends for a long time w/ mutual feelings towards eachother) having their first kiss in the rain? Just fluffy stuff 😄

ahh beloved anon you read my mind bc I was recently thinking about kissing in the rain! probably cuz there's another heat wave incoming and I'm here wishing it would snow in the middle of august

the panoramic almost makes me miss pining/flirting, but I would 100% simp for any of my mutuals tbh 🤔

so yes, this req is very cool with me. helps break up the smut 😳 hope you enjoy :D

love's like a movie

(moonbyul x gender neutral reader, ~1.2k words)

cw: food mention, but what's new? pure fluff otherwise

a/n: been listening to movie by btob a little too much lately

Byulyi had always been a charmer with a heart of gold. Every girl she managed to befriend pined after her swagger, straight or not. People frequently wondered if they wanted to be with her, or just be her. Her greasiness never failed to garner an eyeroll from you at this point, wondering how people in her life were so taken by her silly girl-crush facade. Of course you found it hypnotizing and kinda hot just like everyone else, but it would inflate her ego a little too much for your liking if you ever let on.

Using each other's thighs as pillows to nap on. Buying each other coffee during busy weeks, having memorized each other's order. Being down to spend time together at any time, regardless of how mundane the occasion - everything from walking her dogs to running errands. Big bear hugs and pecks on the cheek during big triumphs, meaningful embraces and a listening ear during the hard times. Everything that comes with any long-term relationship, having known her now for longer than you could remember.

The confession, if you could even call it one, was more like a shared understanding. The first "I love you" exchange happened long ago in causal conversation. The intent behind it grew and changed alongside your growth as people, but the core significance of the phrase always remained. As the years rolled on it just became obvious that no one loved you like she did, and vice versa.

Of course the unspoken nature of the relationship sometimes begged more questions than answers. Your cryptic attempts at trying to figure out where her head was at were mostly countered with a wink and a non-answer, but you were pretty sure she was on the same page. But the tiniest doubt always seemed to creep in at the most opportune moments - and there was that constant nagging in your mind of whether you could stand to create an awkward situation, let alone lose her. But all the wondering and worrying occupied far too much of your brain space over time, so you finally resolved to put it to the test.

~~~

"I'm hungry but I don't wanna get up," she complains, body sprawled out on the couch, absentmindedly spinning her glasses in her hand. Glancing out the window, it's one of those weird days where the weather can't make up its mind. That type of partly cloudy that gives way to dark gray and showers, and then 15 minutes later it's sunny again, like the rain never happened. "I'd walk to the convenience store but don't wanna get caught in the rain. Murphy's law, right?"

"Yeah, but if you wanna go you should go now, the rain just let up." A garbled noise emanates from the couch, but she knows you're right. She suddenly raises her head to look at you, expression noticeably brighter.

"You'll come with, right? Let's go! You've been inside all day anyway."

"Fine, fine." How could you say no to her? a snack? You reach a hand out to her and she takes it to pull herself off the couch. Even a simple handhold makes your heart skip a beat after all this time. Your head subtly shakes, kicking yourself and wishing you could just keep cool like her rings touching your skin. Her hand stays in yours as you lead her to the door, just an excuse to hang on a little longer. It drops only for you to hand her a windbreaker hanging off a hook on the wall and putting your arms through the sleeves of your own, arms swishing against the smoothness of the waterproof fabric.

You're not outside for more than 5 minutes when the sky goes dark again. Byul marches on, determined to get her snack fix. She already left the house, no point in turning around now.

The surprisingly aggressive rain begins as you both scramble to get your hoods up, droplets pattering down onto your thinly covered heads. Should've brought an umbrella, but the store's not too much farther. Somehow the casual stroll silently transitions into a power-walk, shoes splashing puddle water that dots the cuffs of your jeans.

Completely unannounced, clouds suddenly part and the suggestion of sun rays peek through the sky. You stop in your tracks and stare at each other, incredulous at the sheer unpredictability of the weather. Shrugs are exchanged and you're absolutely soaked, socks squishing in your sneakers. But there's no one you'd rather be on this wild walk with. May as well finish what you started— or well, take your chances— on the weather and her.

She stares up at the sky with wonder through her dewy droplet-covered glasses. Can she see? It’s probably better if she can’t in case I embarrass myself. She chuckles, finally speaking. "Why do I feel like I'm in a mov—" Her comment abruptly ends when you find the courage to link both your hands behind her neck, your lips clumsily crashing into hers. She hums against you, surprised, before she processes what's happening and relaxes into you.

You pull back a little, noses just brushing. "Oops, sorry. Was supposed to be more graceful than that," you whisper meekly, eyes not daring to meet hers. Honestly, it came and went too quickly, your racing heart and mind forgot to enjoy the moment. Her hands find the small of your back to pull you in closer, a floaty feeling moving through you while resting your arms on her shoulders. Whether her touch calms you down or makes you want to set yourself on fire, you have no clue.

She grins and inquires, "Mm, like this?" The pads of her fingers on your back press in, tenderly bringing her lips back to meet yours. The softness and warmth from being pressed together has you absolutely melting into her, completely forgetting about getting drenched by the rain. How like her to show you up. But could you really complain about finally kissing the girl you had loved for so long?

Again, the moment feels fleeting when she pulls away, heat in your faces shared by your touching foreheads. It's silly, standing wrapped in each other's arms smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk. But you couldn't care less.

"I was saying, why do I feel l like I'm in a movie? At least, before you interrupted me," she chides sarcastically.

"You can't tell me it wasn't a welcome interruption." Her face scrunches, acknowledging your point but not wanting to concede.

"Certainly an unexpected one."

"So it is like a movie."

"I was talking about the weather," Your smile falls into a glower, pulling back to stare at her dead-on. She can't help but laugh at the corner she's talked you into, beaming proudly.

"I can't with you," giving her the biggest eyeroll and shaking your head incredulously, but that can't cover up the fluttery feeling that eventually grows into a dumb-founded grin. "Can we go get our snacks now?"

"Yeah, let's go before it starts raining again," giving a cautious glance to the sky. You swear you can hear her repeatedly humming "love's like a movie~" as you walk hand in hand towards the convenience store.

#i want a snack #convenience stores in asia hit diff #requested #girl group fluff #mamamoo imagines #moonbyul imagines #mamamoo fluff #moonbyul x reader #mamamoo x reader #moonbyul fluff #mamamoo moonbyul #moon byulyi #gg fluff #kpop fluff #girl group fic #mamamoo fic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #mamamoo scenarios

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Five: They Told Me That The End Is Near

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count: 3195

Author’s Note: I’m about to fuck yall all kinda of ways-- buckle in babies cause shit is GETTING FUCKED

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

Welcome to the final show Hope you're wearing your best clothes You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky You look pretty good down here But you ain't really good

She hates everything about labeling his days as “good” or “bad”-- this stupid emphasis on each thing that he does and how well he can perform it. The doctors will ask how he is, nearly expecting to be told something other than like he’s dying, and that always frustrates her beyond words. She can feel Hotch tense each time, looking to her in his desperate attempt to conjure a lie they will believe. “Good” or “bad” and he wants to say “okay” so that they don’t poke him more. So they don’t stand him up in the room and run their hands down his sides feeling for more swollen nodes and inclinations to infections or whatever other bad nonsense will rear its ugly head.

Mostly, she hates how there are “bad” days and there are days that aren’t gut-wrenchingly horrible but they aren’t “good” either.

Tuesday he’d smiled and sat for three hours with Reid. The genius turned on the sofa to face Hotch in the recliner, rocking himself gently as he spoke about anything and everything on his mind. Emily had watched them for a moment from the kitchen, shocked at the painless ease Hotch was sitting with. Enjoying something close to normalcy as Reid doesn’t look at Hotch and see the sickness overcoming his pale skin. Doesn’t see how tired he is or how weak. He’s just Hotch and they’re sitting in the living room talking about quantum mechanics and then attachment theory and diagnosing schizophrenia.

For three hours there is so much normalcy to their chaotic lives. For three hours there is “good” and for the remaining hours after Reid leaves there is something close to right in the middle. It’s fighting tooth and nail over some supplements he’s supposed to have in this meal replacement that tastes like chalk. She chases the fight with vodka and he locks himself in his office to drink the meal replacement in the sort of isolation that affords him endless frustration with no outward consequence. He ends up sitting in there and hoping she forgives him for being such a pain in the ass. He knows she probably will.

Then he does something stupid, something entirely brought on by impulse.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

He can’t finish the job on his own, the clippers shaking painfully in his grip. His arm hurts and he can’t stand long enough to get the whole thing even. “It’s falling out, anyway.” He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he should be lucky he made it to this age without losing it. He tries not to think about it, mostly. To the way that his father used to smile at him and rustle it just to see the strands sit in all kinds of directions. How Haley would curl against him, arm over his shoulders, and brushing the strands as they talk.

But it’s just… hair. Mostly.

And “good” had melted into bad as Emily stood over him, running the clippers through his remaining hair. She’d cried and he had too but he had the free hands to wipe those tears before she could see them. She’s always the strong one, the least he can do is pretend for a moment.

Standing behind him, she can see every bone in his back. His pale skin stretched over each vertebra, like the hard pressure across knuckles clenched tightly. The plethora of scars in various stages of healing-- several from tubes and wires and tests and others from the childhood he refuses to speak of. A canvas with a story right there for her to see. There are no real secrets between them anymore.

The last bit of hair falls and she looks at what they’ve done. “You’ll have to wear a hat,” she tells him. She steps out of the tub, using his shoulder to balance herself. “I always thought you had a weird-shaped head but now I know.” There’s nothing abnormal about his head, she’s just thinking about how cold he always is. That at least now he’s got an excuse to wear a beanie inside and how he’ll look like a dork with the assortment of color and variations Garcia’s going to knit the second she catches wind of this.

She offers him her hands so that he can stand too and it’s a testament to their proximity that his shirtlessness isn’t strange. She’s watched his skin ease apart under the pressure of a scalpel. Sat beside him on the bathroom floor, head on his shoulder as the night moved on but they both knew he’d be back here all together too soon to get up. The scars are nothing to the vulnerability that he’s shown her.

Standing she… she sees the protrusion of his collarbone. Of the harshness, the invasion of the central line snaking into him. It overcomes her and she pulls him into her. Throwing an arm over one shoulder and around the other, pinning him against her. “I love you,” she whispers turning her face into his neck.

Her warmth seeps into him, in every place that her skin rests against his. The desperation in her tone makes him smile, the way that she holds him. He’s empathetic to her pain but it feels good to be held, to be loved like something someone is terrified to lose. “You know,” he says. “I kind of figured. You’ve stayed around too long for someone who, supposedly, hates me.”

She laughs. How many times had she gone out of her way to mumble “I hate you” at him? For waking her up to make her go back to bed so that she doesn’t spend her whole night on the floor as miserable as him. To have something to say in the face of the scary things that happen, when he squeezes her hand too tight or when he’s that numb calm she knows is no good.

“I do hate you,” she sniffles.

He laughs. An actual laugh. “Good,” he replies, wrapping his arms around her. “Good.”

Wednesday he makes her French Toast with a black beanie pulled down over his ears, one she’d seen only in the winter to stave off the threat of the ear infections the icy fingers of the wind give him. They talk while they eat and it’s a truly monumental thing to be shared between them-- a meal.

There’s something about sitting there and watching him perfect some glorified egg bread that annoys her. Knowing that likely, tomorrow this will be like a slap to the face. A taunt to see him now and then. Today he will the Aaron that she knows. The Aaron that peers over her shoulder while she’s trying to do things, baiting her into pointless arguments with his bad French and even worse German. To the Aaron who walks soundless and who grins when he turns up silently behind her and makes her yelp with a jump.

She watches the ease in which he takes to his french toast bleed away like the color in his face until lunch brings one of those meal replacements and he can’t do it. Then she finds the french toast she thought he’d eaten in the trash where he’d purposely tried to cover it. Knows that next week they’ll find the meal replacements didn’t work and do something else to his poor body. Cut another hole, insert another tube.

She hears him fall that night.

After hearing him laugh loudly over some stupid thing she’d said.

After playfully fighting with him over stealing one of his sweaters-- he has so many it’s not going to kill him to let her borrow one.

After just sitting with him on the couch for hours listening to music and sitting in the dark.

She hears him fall and, worst of all, she hears how hard he tries to cover it up. The sound is not as distinct as it should be with no crash that rattles dishes or a harsh thud. A stumble, really, a softer thump as he leaned into the wall for support but found none.

“Aaron.”

He’s sitting up against the wall, shoulders sunk in and head hanging. When he looks up she sees the blood pouring down his face, the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. “...can’t stop it.” He coughs, wiping at the blood across his lips. “It won’t stop, Emily.”

She runs to the bathroom, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and not thinking twice about manipulating his face in her hands. One hand holding the back of his head while the other dabs the blood up. “We’re supposed to go to the hospital when this happens,” she reminds him. He’ll need platelets or something invasive but more than likely he’ll be submitted to an hour-long wait in the E.R. to be told it was the right thing to come in but altogether unnecessary.

He groans, not in pain but in the general theme of the awfulness he knows will ensue if she makes the decision they will be going to the hospital. To the cold beds and the wheelchairs.

“Water and bed,” she says, instead of what he’d thought would be her asking where his shoes and coat are. She smirks at him, knowing what he’s thinking and seeing the surprise written across his face. “We’ll tell them Tuesday about it,” she assures him. Tuesday when they’re probably going to tell them he needs to come back in another day. When they see the supplements aren’t working and he’ll probably need something invasive and painful. Then they’ll deal with the nose bleeds popping back (and that cough she’s noticed but has let convince himself she hasn’t noticed).

“Bed,” she says again when the words seem like they haven’t processed.

“Bed,” he repeats thickly, her fingers clamped over his nose thickening the nasally quality of his voice.

They shuffle down the hall, Emily’s fingers curled around his hip and his arm over her shoulder. Heads bent in towards one another. He whispers an apology, feet hardly leaving the ground, and leaning on her a little too much. He imagines the beginning. When he’d laid on his bed, thinking about her and thinking about his father. The way the cancer had eaten his father away and he can see in the mirror, he watches closely and knows the same thing is happening to him.

His father had done what he can’t-- ended it.

It had been Aaron who found him. So strange to see such a violent man seemingly… peaceful. His memory is a patchwork of things, his childhood full of too many greys of undetermined moments, but that sight. Seeing his father’s lifeless body in the high-backed office chair he’d spent so many waking hours in has been unforgettable.

He can’t do that. He won’t make Emily see that or leave that sort of memory for Jack. It’s important to him that it be like this.

“You have to sit up.” She props him up on pillows, ignoring his complaints. The blood has slowed and there’s nearly no point in wiping it away. He just watches her, vacantly staring back as she tucks the blankets around his chest. “Sleep,” she instructs, kissing his forehead. “Do you want me to stay?” He knows she will. She’ll sleep right here beside if he asks but… no. He’ll be okay.

It snows.

He watches it from the only window in his room, she’d pulled the curtains back before she fell asleep. He sees her and her giant shadow with the yellowing light from the street pouring in, eating out the deep consuming darkness looming over him. Until today he’d only ever suspected she was dragging his office chair into his room but he’d never caught her, always waking up after she’d moved the chair back and gone back to her own room. Leaving behind only the three deep dents in the carpet where she’d sat for hours. There had been so many nights he’d spent sitting and watching Jack sleep as a baby-- some irrational fear that the baby would stop breathing in the middle of the night and so long as he was watching Jack would keep breathing. He needn’t ask silly questions, he knows she’s using the same irrational approach.

Clenching his teeth he tries to bite down against a cough breaking out, afraid to wake her some such peaceful slumber. He pulls himself upright, curling down as his temples throb, and his body shakes violently beyond his control. A goal in-sight-- the water on his nightstand and getting Emily back to bed-- he powers through it and overcoming the weakness of his body feels so satisfyingly familiar. To days when there was pain but no cancer and he loves the triumphant that washes over him.

The water is warm and stale, left there by Emily yesterday when she’d forced him to take his medicine (even though he thought he’d throw it back up and he had). It kills the ache of his throat, dry and bitter, and he clears his throat softly to take the rest away.

“Emily,” he whispers. Moving his lips cracks the dried blood on his face he grimaces as he smells the thick scent of the blood. “Emily, get up.” He won’t leave her to sleep in this chair all night. He’s made the mistake plenty of times, knows it’s no good. “Come on,” he touches her arm, palm against her bare skin. She jumps his touch is so cold. “Sorry, sorry--”

She really sees him and jumps even harder. Yelping in shock. “Oh! Oh, God!” She wraps her arms around her chest, breathing quickly, startled. “Fuck Aaron,” she shouts. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He rubs his nose, tries to dislodge the blood.

“Is-- Is something wrong?” She pushes her hair back from her face, “are you okay?”

God. He’s hurt her irreparably, hasn’t he?

“Nothing.” He offers his hand, even if the hand trembles visibly enough in the low light. “Nothing, I promise.” She takes his hand, allowing him to guide her up. “You shouldn’t sleep in that chair,” he informs her softly but still with that distinct fussiness to his voice.

She looks back to the chair and up at him, “I guess I’ve finally been caught.”

He smiles. The first time he’d put two and two together he was angry. Overly frustrated, seething over something so… sweet. She’d sat with him through the night, watching him sleep, just trying to be close and he’d been mad. Not now, though, now he can see how tired he is. He can feel her hand still clutching his. “It’s okay,” he shrugs. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

She frowns, brows crinkling as she looks around them in confusion. Sleep riddled brain torn between the rational thought that concludes he’s right, she should go to bed, and the worry she’d felt hours ago about leaving him in this room. She’s not sure what to do now, which thought to travel and act upon.

“Do you--” he looks down at the thrown back covers on his bed. Remembers this wouldn’t be the first time she’s slept in that bed beside him. Likely more than just the memories he can think of now, unprompted. He blushes, embarrassed he even had the thought but she looks down to and nods.

She doesn’t want to leave him alone.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

They start side by side, neither entirely comfortable. She falls back to sleep first. He can feel her breath even back out and within a few minutes she turns over towards him, her hand resting over his wrist. He looks back to his office chair, the giant back of the old thing. She’s so afraid to lose him, they all are. He can feel it in every little thing that they do. How Dave lingers a little more after each visit, hugs him a little longer. The way Derek looks at him, how close he stands. Even in Spencer and Jack who soak up his attention like flowers to the sun. Turning and facing him, finding him wherever he is to enjoy just one more moment. Hanging on to his every word.

He wakes soaked in sweat, shaking as Emily talks to someone rushed, too quickly to sound anything but frantic. Afraid.

He opens his eyes as a sea of red flushes through the room, the shrill of an ambulance breaking up the serene silence the snow has muffled the Earth with.

“Aaron?”

She’d woken to him struggling to breathe. Both had turned over in the night and while she’d turned toward him, he’d turned away from her. Her arm over his hip, her head against his back, they were nearly welded together. If not for the proximity-- his arm pulling hers closer, her leg in-between his, she likely wouldn’t have heard him at all. But she’d felt him jerk in his sleep, fighting his body for air.

And he wouldn’t wake up.

“Aaron?” she calls a second time. She should go open the front door, let the EMTs in but she’d seen a sliver of his eye. His cheek is cold against her palm but she cries, tears streaming when he opens his eyes. When he turns his face into her palm. “There you are,” she beams. His eyes slide back shut. “Stay awake,” she asks, her nerves getting the best of her and she shakes him. Pleased when his eyes open back up and find her. “Stay awake, don’t you want to see the snow?”

The stretcher is cold and he mourns the loss of his thick comforter but the drugs flooding into his blood makes him loose, pliable. He doesn’t fight being taken from his bed, even if he longingly looks back for it. Lets them strap his legs down place an oxygen mask over his face. The snow means nothing to him. He hates it, honestly, but as they step outside, Emily tossing his winter coat of him like a blanket, he looks up at it falling down on him.

Her hand slips away and he looks back for her, confused. She stands in the street, face turned to the fat snowflakes falling around her. All the light coming from street lamps high above her head. He’s reminded of a lifetime ago. When she’d gone against his orders and gone to investigate Michael’s death with a ferocity he hadn’t seen coming. When she’d avoided his eye and said she’d understand if he wanted her badge and gun after that little show. She’d forced his hand, made him call the Vatican, and consider his own allegiances. To when they were two very different people than they are now-- younger, naive… alone.

She catches up to them, slipping her hand back into his. Her fingers freezing cold as they curl around his. “Don’t you love it?” she asks. She looks back out, watching until the doors shut behind them and all she has is a tiny window.

He doesn’t but she does.

She looks young, weightless.

In a way, yes, he does love it.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #tw cancer

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writingtoforgetreality · 5 years ago

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I just want us to be safe – Chapter 1 (Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader)

Next Chapter / I just want us to be safe-Masterlist

Summary: You were the 20-year-old daughter of Andy Barber. Nine months after a one-night-stand, your biological mother decided to give the responsibility to him. Yet, you were happy with your small family. One day, though, a scary event occured & somehow you involuntarily started being a part of this.

Words: 2,089

Warnings: none just yet, maybe a bit of swearing bc that`s me, angst if you squint

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were (Y/N) Barber. Daughter of the assistent attorney, Andy Barber. You were 20 years old & used to attend Newton high school, like your younger brother Jacob did. Now, your background is a bit more complicated. Technically, Jacob was not your biological brother. Neither was Laurie, Jacob’s mother & Andy’s wife, your biological mother. Some time ago, when your dad had not been dating Laurie yet, he had a one-night-stand with some girl he had met at a bar. Just one night, he had not seen her after that encounter. What he did not know though: the girl got pregnant & nine months later, Andy found a small basket at his doorstep. There you were, wrapped in a blanket. There was a letter, too. Your biological mother had not been ready for a child but she knew Andy would handle you just fine. And, being the guy Andy was, he obviously took you in. You were his daughter to say the last. He made sure to take a paternity test & yep, you were his daughter.

Now, do not get me wrong, you grew up with Laurie being your mother & yet, you had never, not even once, called her “mom“. You simply did not feel ready to do so & neither your dad nor Laurie pushed you into something you were not comfortable with. When you were 6 years old, Jacob was born & ever since then, you had made sure to protect him at all costs. Your dad loved seeing you with Jacob & he loved the bond you two shared. Laurie was sure that you would be more open about her being your mother after that but nope. Your guess was that you still felt neglected by your biological mother & did not want to let another “mother figure“ get close to you. Your dad never lied to you about anything. He tried to explain to you from the very beginning how your biological mother “abandoned“ you & that Laurie was & will always be your mom. While Andy did not lie to you, the two of you had kept a secret from Jacob & Laurie. Your dad said that they did not need to know & he did not want them to see him in a different light. It was not his fault that his dad had been a criminal though. It was not his fault your grandfather killed, stabbed to be exact, a girl. He had been suffering for his actions in jail, for a very long time. You had agreed on keeping it for you, never doubting your dad. You knew he only had good intentions.

After graduating from Newton High, you got into law school near your home. You wanted to follow your dad’s footsteps. He did not force you to approach the same career & let you choose a path yourself. He would lie if he said that he was not proud of you for wanting to do the same as him though. Law school was absolutely amazing, you loved going there every day, loved coming home to tell the new things you learned at your dinner table. People say sometimes you know when a decision is right, you have a gut feeling about it. You were sure: this was YOUR way. Even though your family was quite wealthy, never having a problem about money whatsoever, you still wanted to have a part-time job during college. Earning your own money simply felt amazing. Your dad & Laurie were so proud of you for being so independent.

Here you were, a nice family, a house, the best future ahead. But life does not always roll that way, does it? Every time when Jacob had a problem in school or with homework, studying for an upcoming exam, he would knock on your door, waiting for you to yell “Come in! I told you there’s no need to knock, Jay.“ Jay. You always called him that. He was your little brother & while others called him “Jake“ or simply “Jacob“, you wanted to have something for yourself. Jay it was. Anyway, after coming into your room, asking if you were busy, the two of you always ended up doing school stuff together. It was more fun to have company & Jacob was always thankful for you helping him out. Of course you would, you never had a problem in high school, always bringing home good grades. You liked helping him wherever you could.

Your alarm woke you up at 6 am. Time to get up, get ready & head to college. Usually, dad would take you with him in the mornings since his work is close to your school. Today, though, you had to take your own car to drive to school, you had to work at your local diner afterwards. Yes, you did purchase that car on your own. After saving enough money, you decided on a small black car, not really caring too much about the brand. All that mattered was that it was not too pricey & that it worked. Of course your parents offered you to buy you that car but you wanted to do this on your own. And would you look at that, you managed to buy it without being broke. As you finished showering, putting makeup on & deciding on an outfit, you made your way downstairs where dad & Jacob were already seated. Laurie was most likely out on her daily morning run. You did not understand how someone could go jogging voluntarily. It kept you healthy but at what cost?

“G’morning male beings of this household.“ you greeted them & earned a chuckle from dad. You were not a morning person but that was not your family’s fault so you would brush off your grogginess in order not to say something you might regret later. Jacob was busy writing away on his phone. Gosh, this boy & his damned phone.

“Good morning, angel. How did you sleep?” your dad shot you a grin. He had been calling you “angel“ ever since you were little & you absolutely loved this nickname.

“Like a princess, as always.“ you answered. Some might say you were a sarcastic piece of shit & you know what, maybe they were right. You were a lot like your dad & you liked yourself & your goofiness. You could be serious when it was needed though, your personality was perfectly balanced.

“Hello? Earth to Jay?“ you waved your hand in front of his face to gain his attention but his eyes were glued on his screen still.

“Morning.“ was the only word you got out of him.

“Okay, what girl are you texting? Do I know her? Does she have an older sister? Brother, maybe? Is she hot?“ you teased him & Jacob sent you a glare which made you giggle.

“I’m just texting Derek.“ Jacob stated.

“Wow…And I thought I was the one who hated mornings.“ you stated, mostly to yourself but your dad heard you & started laughing. Even Jacob let out a low giggle.

While the three of you held a conversation, Laurie got back home, greeting you & asking you about your plans for today.

“Do I need to take any of you to school?“ dad asked.

“Um, actually, I’ll be driving myself today. I’ll be back home a bit later, gotta earn that bread, y’know?“ you smirked at both, your dad & Laurie to wait for their reactions. Seeing them laugh was one of your favorite things in this world, especially when you were the reason.

“Sure thing, just text me when you know how late it’ll be.“ dad waited for you to nod, looked at Jacob & asked “What about you, buddy?“

“I’ll be walking today.“

“You sure, you know it’s no probl-” but before dad could finish, Jacob cut him off.

“I’m fine with walking.“

“Okay, just be safe.“

Checking the time, you saw that you should keep going so you went over to dad & Laurie, gave each of them a kiss on the cheek, went over to Jacob, messed up his hair a bit which earned you a groan & finally made your way outside to your car. You hopped in, turned on the engine & started driving off. Every time you would drive yourself, you always stopped at Starbucks for a quick breakfast. Your breakfast mostly consisted of a nice coffee. No offense, but the coffee you got at home just was not it. And let’s be honest: Nobody survives college without having coffee.

Finishing all of you classes for the day, you & a few of your colleagues exited the building. Usually, when you were at college, you did not look at your phone at all, finding it too distracting when you had to focus on something else. But as soon as you unlocked your phone, you knew something was off. You had two calls from Jacob, which was weird since he barely ever called you, & 5 missed calls from dad. Fuck, something was not right. You excused yourself from your friend group, teling them you had to go to work earlier, while in reality, you moved to your car, opened it & got inside. As soon as you closed your door, you called Jacob first. He picked up almost immeadiately.

“(Y/N)? Thank god, I’ve tried calling you.“ he sounded a bit shaken up? That was off.

“Yeah, I know, sorry `bout that, Jay. You know how I ignore my phone during classes but anyway…What’s up? Are you okay?” you started growing concerned now.

“Newton High is locked down. Apparently they found a 14-year-old stabbed in the woods. I am fine though.“ his voice was quiet, almost like he did not want anyone else to hear. Your heart stopped a beat. There was a killer running around town. Who the hell would stab a teenager? Who the hell would stab anyone to begin with?

“Have you talked to dad yet?“ you really did not know what else to say. You were just glad your little brother was alright. That was all that mattered right now.

“Yes, he’s on it. He said he wanted to call you. Have YOU talked to him?“

“Not yet, I’ll call him now, just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me if something’s wrong or if you`re scared, okay?“ your heart was literally racing. Yeah, your brother was fine but the victim was his age & Jacob usually took the way through the woods to get to school. The mere thought of your brother being the one who had been murdered scared you like crazy.

“Will do. Thanks, (Y/N). Bye.“

“Bye, Jay.“ you ended the call & let yourself breathe for a moment. Not even once in your life did you think something like this could happen in your neighborhood. You lived in one oft he safest areas in the country & yet this brutal event had happened so close to home. The world was a scary place. A few minutes later, after calming down as good as it was possible, you dialed dad’s number. He would most likely knew more. To be honest, you were not sure if you really wanted to know more about this case but on the other hand,you were curious. Of course you were, you wanted to do this as your future job. His phone rang twice before he picked up.

“(Y/N)? Angel?“ he did not sound scared, just relieved to hear your voice.

“Yeah, it’s me, dad. I’m fine, talked to Jay. He told me what happened. Well, as much as he knew, of course. What the hell is going on?“ you were rambling. You always were when you grew nervous or anxious.

“Breathe, angel. Look, there’s a lot going on. Could you come home, like, right now? I called your boss, she said it was fine if you took the evening off.“ he knew you would say you needed to go to work so he had called the diner you worked at to explain the situation.

“I’ll be home in ten.“

“Drive safe.“ your dad always made sure you were okay, trying to protect you as much as he could. He would do everything for his family to be safe.

“Always.“ & with that, you ended the call. Everthing inside you screamed to go over the speed limit but your dad’s words popped into your mind again. He would not want this. You would survive another ten minutes before coming home.

~to be continued~

Published 04/30/2020 by Cathy

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lavenderwatercolor · 5 years ago

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That's What Girls Like Me Like, Arthur Fleck x Reader

Ask: I have never put a request in for a fic before, but here goes! Since Arthur canonically is a virgin, has childlike innocence and no idea how to interact with women, I'd love to read a fic about a friend helping him to understand what a woman would 'like'. Like having a 'mock' date, dancing, holding hands. But they wind up as a little more than friends; 'teaching and learning' is more of an excuse to get closer with each other since they'd secretly wanted it, but were too shy.

Warning: Cursing

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: Thank you for this adorable request! I hope you enjoy it, sweetie!

***

You’d known Arthur for a while, it was funny how you met, actually. You’d been on the way to work and he’d bumped into you, spilling your hot coffee all over your shirt. You were about to explode on him but when you saw how guilty he looked you bit your tongue.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god,” Arthur had gasped, stepping away from you.

“It’s fine,” You huffed, pulling your shirt away from your body just enough to get a breeze in. “It’s a black shirt, I’ll be fine.”

“Jesus, are you okay?” The look on his face was enough to cheer you up, it was almost funny how scared he appeared. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine. But you owe me another coffee.”

And now here you were, eating dinner in his mother's apartment. It wasn’t anything fancy, just your leftovers from lunch, pasta and breadsticks.

“Do women really like that?” Arthur asked in response to a man in a movie who had been going over the top to impress a girl.

You weren’t even watching the movie, you’d been too occupied reading a magazine that had come in the mail. “Hmm?” You glanced up from the glossy paper, digging your fork into your plate.

“Like, would you want someone coming to your place of work with flowers and chocolate?” He asked nervously, twiddling his fingers.

A laugh escaped your lips and you had to cover your mouth to finish chewing. “Uhm,” You swallowed your food and took a sip of water. “I don’t know. It depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

You looked at him then, eyebrows raised and a playful smirk on your lips. “What’s your sudden interest in what women like?”

He looked back to the T.V and shrugged, visibly timid.

Oh, now you were interested. “What, is there someone you like?” You leaned forward in the love seat with your full attention on him. Arthur had never talked about his personal life like that, and to be honest, you’d never thought about it. But now that you were thinking about it, you were more than intrigued.

It took a while but he nodded, earning an excited gasp from you.

“Well, let me tell you what women like.” You slid off the chair and joined him on the couch. “We’re not all the same, obviously, but I think I can speak for most of us when I say small acts are the best. You know, a call after work to tell them you’ve been thinking about them. If you… Uhm, oh, if you see something that reminds you of them get it. Like a flower in the park, a cute shirt, a music tape, you know. Little things. At least that’s what I like.” You realized you were rambling and laughed. But Arthur took in every word, nodding and taking mental notes.

“Have you ever been on a date?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve had a few.” You’d had more than a few but you didn’t want to intimidate him. “Have you?”

Silence. Then he shook his head.

“Well, how about tomorrow after work you stop by my place. We can pretend to have a date and I’ll show you how it’s done, okay?”

His face brightened and he smiled, nodding. “Okay. Yeah.”

***

He took the mock date seriously. He put on some of his better clothes and took extra time with his hair, even going as far as buying you flowers. He picked out a kind he thought you’d like, that’s what you said, right?

You opened your door and had to choke back a gasp. Wow, he sure could clean up nice. When he cleared his throat you realized you’d been staring and he was holding out a bouquet of flowers for you. “Arthur, wow, for me?”

“Yeah, I saw them and thought of you. That’s what girls like, right?”

You took the flowers and nodded, unable to keep the ecstatic smile off your face. “Yes, I do. We do, I mean. We like that a lot.” You stumbled over your words and stepped to the side to let him in. “Well, dinner is almost done, so, sit down, and,” You were almost breathless. “Yeah.”

To save both of you from your awful awkwardness you went into the kitchen to get the food out of the oven. You had to take a moment and breathe, cursing yourself for how worked up you’d gotten. What was wrong with you? It wasn’t a real date, you were helping him woo over another woman.

After you set the food out and made each other's plates you stood back from the table, making sure everything was perfect. “Okay, stand up.”

He furrowed his brows but did what you said, standing from his chair.

“Pull out my chair and scoot it in for me.”

Oh, right. He scoffed at the obviousness of it, that’s why he was here, to learn. He walked over to the other side of the table and pulled your chair out, finding himself smiling as he pushed it in under you.

“Thank you, Arthur, what a gentleman.” You teased and he laughed, a real laugh. It wasn’t the painful laugh you’d heard him suffer through so many times.

When he sat down he ran over things in his mind, what did people normally talk about on dates? Before he could think too hard you spoke.

“Ask me how my day was.” You whispered and he sucked in a breath, thankful you were going to be leading.

“How was your day?”

“It was wonderful.” You answered and picked up your fork. “I saw a man walking his dogs on the way home and he let me pet them.”

“Oh.” Arthur raised a brow and began eating. “That’s great. What kind of dogs?”

“A German Sheppard and a pug.” You smiled when you remembered how cute they both were. “Do you like dogs?”

Arthur shrugged and finished chewing before he answered. “I’m more of a cat person.”

“Perfect.”

“Hmm?”

“Establishing the small things about your personality, that’s exactly what you talk about.” You took a sip of water, locking eyes with him over the table. “Now, ask me what I do for fun.”

He knew what you did for fun but he asked anyway. He found out something he didn’t know about you though, something that piqued his interest.

“You really like doing that?” He asked, breaking character again. “You like people watching?”

“Yeah! I like seeing into peoples lives, I know it’s a little weird but there are so many interesting people out there and it’s nice to get a glimpse of that. You hear things you normally wouldn’t.”

Soon you both forgot you weren’t on an actual date and you lost yourselves in conversation. You learned things about him you hadn’t known and probably would have never found out if not for the date. He told you he wanted to be a comedian and he told you a few jokes, getting quite a few laughs in return.

“Well, Arthur.” You said to him as he stood in your doorway. “Whoever you’re practicing for is very lucky.”

He beamed at you leaning against your doorframe and smiled, looking to the ground. ‘It’s you. You.’ He thought but said nothing.

“You know, after a date goes this well, you usually kiss her before you go.” You were mostly teasing but fuck, you really wanted to kiss him.

Arthur tried to hold himself back, truly, he did, but as soon as you said that he leaned in, his nose grazing yours, lips barely brushing. You reached up to meet him. His lips were so soft and so were yours, they felt so perfect against each other. It lasted a good seven seconds before he pulled back, just as breathless as you.

“Like that?” He whispered after, his green eyes flickering back and forth over your face.

“Yeah. Just like that.”

When he left you leaned on the door, a content blissful smile on your face. Then it hit you. Fuck. Oh no. You had caught feelings.

***

Music filled your house, some song you’d never heard by some singer you’d never heard of. Arthur liked it though, and although he’d never admit it to you it reminded him of you. It was the first song he’d heard after he met you, it wasn’t his normal type of music but it just screamed (Y/N).

Your head resting against his chest as the two of you swayed in your living room had to be Heaven. Arthur wasn’t religious in the slightest but if there was a Heaven, it would have to be this. Right? So peaceful and sincere. He hadn’t felt that way in… well, ever. He’d never felt that way before.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Your voice was soft and vibrated against his chest pleasantly.

“No, do you think she’d like to dance like this?” The change of subject was subtle enough for you not to notice.

“I like it.”

Arthur leaned down just enough to set his chin on the top of your head. He wanted to tell you so desperately that you were the one he was doing all this for.

Little did he know you felt the exact same way.

The past few weeks you’d grown extremely close with Arthur, the mock-dates had soon lost their original purpose and were just an excuse to be around each other. You were both so starved of affection neither of you said anything out of fear the sessions would end.

But god, you wanted to say something. You wanted to see if the feeling was mutual, you wanted to know if your kisses meant more than practice. Maybe you were being foolish and blind but without verbal affirmation you were unsure.

“This is nice.” You forced the words out of your mouth, testing the waters to see where he stood.

He hummed, in agreement maybe? But he said nothing. He wanted you to continue.

“Arthur,” You pulled back from him so you could see his face. You needed to see it when you said what was on your mind. “Am I the girl you’ve been practicing for?”

“What?” He mumbled in confusion with furrowed brows.

You parted from his arms and turned. Were you wrong all along? “Oh, god, I’m so stupid.”

Arthur’s face fell and he reached out to touch your shoulder as he struggled for the right words. “(Y/N), I’m sorry,” He interpreted it the wrong way, thinking you had found him out and were disgusted at what he’d been doing. “I couldn’t think of any other way,” That's when the first attack happened. The first in a while. He covered his mouth and turned around while his body shook.

You didn’t say anything, you just waited for him to finish, now facing him with your hand nervously clasping your neck. Well, this wasn’t going as planned. You’d said all the wrong things. What did he mean, though? ‘Any other way’? Any other way to what?

When the laughter finally subsided he inhaled deeply, building up the courage to look back at you. “Yes. You’re the girl.”

The way your face lit up was something he wished he could make happen every day. He was a little confused at your reaction until you rushed back to him, rising up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his gently resting on your sides.

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” He stuttered when you broke the kiss to catch your breath.

“That wouldn’t be a very funny joke.” You shook your head and kissed him again, turning your head slightly to deepen it.

When the two of you finally parted he let out a small chuckle of his own doing. “Do you want to go on a real date?”

“They all felt pretty real to me.”

His lips turned up into the purest smile, it made your heart soar every time you saw it. “Well, what else do you like?”

The endless possibilities of what that question meant, it had your mind running in thousands of directions.

You licked your lips, they were still buzzing from the friction of his. “You want me to teach you?”

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker 2019 #joker #joker x reader #arthur fleck fluff #joker fluff #myfanfic

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songfell-ut · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 10, one month in!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frisk looked daggers at him. "Has he?"

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

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

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

So, that just left...who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get out!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone was in her office.

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

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

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

A gulping breath. "Please, my lady—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dangerous? How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...But...but doesn't he—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More importantly, where was Sans?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Nuh-uh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#songfell whoo lemme at the next one

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alexboehm55144 · 4 years ago

Text

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 26 - Respite

Haida and Retsuko were on shore leave, holding paws and taking a stroll down one of the many coastal paths in Zootopia. The reminders of the war were still on their minds, the thoughts of a spy network in the city, and the fact that the wreckage of Chinese and American ships sat just off the coast.

But these thoughts were secondary, the pair were just having fun together, enjoying some ice cream they had bought from a shop.

Retsuko had gotten ice cream with liquor in it, saying she needed it to relieve some stress and unwind.

Haida had gotten coffee-flavored ice cream, and his red panda girlfriend chuckled when the hyena ordered it, citing that his favorite drink was canned coffee.

“What would you like to do?” Retsuko asked, “when this is all over?”

“Well, I think I’ll keep my current job. I assume we are still needed.”

“I agree. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. Of course in my last job, I met you.”

Haida blushes a bit & scratched the back of his head, which was something he did when embarrassed.

The pair found a bench to sit on and stared out at the harbor. Sea birds flew overhead and hunted fish in the water. Engineering crews worked on the wreckage of ships and aircraft in the bay, planning to tow them out to sea to become artificial reefs.

“What else?” Retsuko asked, “I know it might be hard to think about your whole life.”

The hyena was quiet for a moment, prompting Retsuko to speak.

“Don’t feel like you have to answer.”

The hyena’s mind raced. He didn’t know much about what he wanted to do in the far future of his life.

“Well... I don't know everything I'm going to do in my life....”

The hyena struggled with his words, but seeing the beautiful red panda in front of him, he was able to find what he wanted to say.

“....but I do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A slight gasp escaped Retsuko's lips, as Haida took Retsuko's paw in his own. It felt cold and slightly wet, as she had been holding the ice cream in that hand. But the hyena didn't care, he enjoyed the red panda's touch.

Retsuko looked at Haida's hand and thought to herself. She loved him, and every time the pair was together she was enjoying herself. If the hyena wanted to spend their lives together, then that meant every day of her life would be enjoyable and happy.

“I’d also like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The red panda stood up on the bench to get closer to the hyena and gently put a kiss on his lips.

Haida blushed and was stunned for a moment. However, he had gotten more comfortable around Retsuko, & was able to regain his composure quickly.

“Come on, let’s go find a karaoke bar around here.”

The red panda smiled, her hyena knew what she liked.

000

ZIA HQ had been targeted by the Chinese during the first invasion, but since then it had been repaired. Bullet holes in concrete had been filled, and shattered glass panes had been replaced. Some ZIA personnel had gotten killed during both assaults on the city, but the agency had since been supplemented with recruits.

Jack and Skye were currently in their shared office, a rabbit & foxed size room with a window that faced out onto a stone pathway outside the building. 2 desks with computers were set up, along with some file cabinets and a few other random bits of furniture. On the wall sat a large conspiracy board with pictures, maps, and sticky notes. It did include the Dark Heroes, and information on the Chinese.

Skye was just returning from a lion run fast food restaurant named burger pride, while Jack had stayed in the office and worked on some things

“How was your training session earlier?” Skye asked, setting a brown paper bag & a drink down on her mate’s desk.

“It was good, although it would have been more fun if you were there.” Jack flirted.

“Ha! Although your accuracy would suffer since you’d just be staring at me all the time. I know you do that.”

“Is it that obvious?!”

Skye laughed, and opened the bag on her desk, taking out a burger covered in aluminum foil, and unwrapping it to reveal the delicious meal. Jack did the same, quickly biting into the burger.

“Is this plant-based?” The rabbit asked, seeing that the wrapping foil had a small green sticker with a plant on it.

Skye nodded.

“The menu said it was a plant-based substitute, perfect for prey creatures.” The fox paused to take another bite of her burger and chew. “Mine is real meat.”

She pointed to a small red sticker that showed an icon of a steak. The burger was made from unevolved cows and provided all the proteins that a carnivore needed in their diet.

Jack took a sip of the Pawpsi cola in his cup, & pondered what the real meat burger tasted like. He stood up from his desk and went over to Skye.

“Let me take a bite of yours.”

“What?”

“I want to see what yours tastes like.”

“Go away,” Skye said playfully, holding her burger up & out of reach.

But Jack just hopped up and swiped the food out of her paw before taking a large bite.

“Mmm... can’t taste the difference. The plant substitute is a very close approximation.”

“Well if you get to taste mine, then I get to taste yours.”

She plucked Jack’s burger from his paw and bit into it.

“Yeah your right, I can’t even tell it’s plant-based.”

“I still want it back.”

The pair playfully tried to reclaim their food from each other, eventually succeeding and laughing at their immaturity.

“I love you,” Skye said with a full mouth.

Her bunny responded, his mouth also full.

“I love you too.”

000

“We’re getting some weird looks,” Eris said, her and Laval walking down a street, through the meadowlands area of Zootopia.

“Toothdee told me this area was mostly inhabited by prey animals. I guess that could explain the weird looks.”

“Or they’ve just never seen an evolved eagle before,” Eris said.

“I don’t know, I’m getting some stares too.”

The pair had wanted to get out and explore more of Zootopia, and toothdee had recommended the meadowlands to them as somewhere to visit. Their current location was comprised of small stone buildings that were overgrown with plants. Not a result of neglect, but instead just attempts to incorporate civilization with nature. Prey animals such as goats walked the streets. While most were too busy to care about Laval and Eris, others found it appropriate to give them weird glances. Fortunately, the 2 would not have to be the subject of awkward looks for much longer, as they left the street and turned onto a trail through a grove of trees. The ground turned from pavement to dirt, and the leaves stretched overhead.

“You notice how lions here have a different style of mane than those in Chima?” Eris said.

“I have, I wonder if it’s a cultural thing or something. Just a different style of mane wearing.”

“Don’t forget Kion wears his in a mohawk.”

“Oh yeah, true. The lions here remind me of my dad. Maybe because his mane is kinda similar to theirs, in that it has more hair.”

Laval paused and then spoke again.

“I wonder what my dad is doing in Chima right now. I miss him.”

Seeing that Laval was feeling a bit sad, Eris reached down and gripped Laval’s hand with her own, making the lion brush a bit and causing a slight smile to cross his face.

“He’s proud of you.” The eagle said. “Think of all you’ve done for Chima and the world.”

There was another pause as Laval thought for a moment, and the smile stayed on his face.

“Thank you.”

The pair reached a large hill, next to a stone cliff, with a view looking out on rolling fields of grass and rivers that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sky was darkened by clouds from an approaching storm, and the wind blew through the grass, causing patterns that looked like waves.

Laval took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh and damp air. Eris stretched her wings, took a running start, and took into the sky. She soared high above the grass and rivers, gazing at the magnificence of nature. The eagle dove down and flew low above the river, looking at her reflection on the water. She reached her hand into the river and created a trail of water as she continued to fly along.

“I wish I had wings,” Laval said to himself, watching Eris dance across the sky.

The eagle soon returned after a few moments, landing next to her lion.

“Do you have to show off, wing girl?” Laval asked playfully.

The pair sat together, looking out at the rolling grass hills, the wavy rivers, and the turbulent sky. It wasn’t sunny or particularly colorful but was pretty in its own way.

“Ok, what’s a prettier view?” Eris asked “this or the view from Spiral mountain.”

“Hmmm... Spiral mountain,” Laval answered. “Of course, nothing is as pretty as you.”

The eagle blushed and covered her face with a wing.

“Do you miss home?” The lion asked, still thinking about his father.

“Yes, I do. But we’ve left our home behind before, to do some good somewhere else.”

“True, plus we have some of the best of friends with us, and plenty of battles to test our skills.”

“See, things aren’t so bad.”

There was a loud clap of thunder, causing both Laval and Eris to look up to the dark skies above.

Raindrops began to pelt down, making the pair groan as the raindrops started to hit. Eris brought her wings up as shields to cover the pair, protecting them from being drenched.

“Let’s get out of here,” Eris said, and the two retreated to the safety of a dry area.

000

“Sure, I got 4 tickets to the Gazelle concert tonight,” Nick said. “What’s it to you?”

He and JayJay were currently alone in a hallway on the typhoon, & Nick had 4 tickets sticking out of his back pocket.

“I want 2 of them,” JayJay said

“Why?” “I want to have a good time with Alex. That’s all you need to know.”

“I don’t know if a concert is his thing, he’s a real introvert.”

The wolf groaned and shook her head.

“Just, name your price for 2 tickets.”

“Well, do you have anything you think I could use?”

A smirk crossed JayJay’s face. She excused herself and told Nick to wait, before leaving him in the hallway. A few minutes later she returned with 2 quivers, one in each hand, each filled with arrows. The wolf proudly held them up, a smile on her muzzle.

“I already have one of those,” Nick said

JayJay rolled her eyes and tilted the quivers so Nick could see the projectiles inside. He took an arrow out of one of them & examined it. At the head, the arrow didn’t widen before tapering to a point. The diameter of the shaft tapered to a point that looked like the head of a bullet.

“Bullet point arrows,” Nick said. “Impressive.”

JayJay nodded towards the other quiver, and the fox put the bullet point arrow back in its quiver & turned to the second one. Removing an arrow from this quiver, he saw that it had a very wide head that was jagged, and designed to inflict as much damage as possible. The arrow itself was also finely crafted, and extremely sharp.

“Death arrows,” Nick said, examining the object. “Expensive, but very finely made.”

“You can have one quiver.” JayJay said, “in return for 2 of those gazelle tickets.”

The fox rubbed his chin & thought for a moment.

“Death arrows”

Nick reached into his back pocket and produced 2 of the tickets. He passed them to JayJay, took the quiver of death arrows, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Front row, Judy and I will be there as well.”

The wolf looked at the tickets to make sure they were genuine, before thanking her ally & walking away. She was giddy with joy and practically jumped in the air as she went down the hallway.

“A pleasure doing business with you.” The fox said, looking at the quiver of death arrows.

JayJay immediately searched for her mate and discovered him in Toothdee’s cabin, the two were playing some game on their computers.

The wolf knocked on the wall, alerting the 2 to her presence.

“Alex, could I see you for a moment.”

The Heroes captain joined the wolf outside in the hall, noting that JayJay had a large smile on her face & was radiating excitement.

“What is it?”

“I have 2 tickets for the gazelle concert tonight, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

“I don’t know, large crowds aren’t my thing.”

“Please, I’d like to do something special with you, and I’ve told you how much I love dancing.” The Heroes leader thought for a moment, looking at JayJay’s face. She was smiling widely and her eyes were bright. The captain sighed and gave in, he couldn’t resist that adorable look of excitement.

“Ok, fine. If it would make you happy.”

“Yes!” JayJay said, pumping her fist in the air, before giving the human the ticket. “Ok, it’s in a couple of hours, come get me an hour before the show.”

“Will do,” Alex said, looking over the ticket, and returning to Toothdee.

000

A few hours later, it was not Alex who went and got JayJay, but rather JayJay who went and got Alex. She was very excited, and couldn’t wait any longer.

The pair caught a train to the stadium where Gazelle was singing and made small talk as they navigated through the crowd of mammals headed into the building. Out of either affection or not wanting to get separated, the Heroes captain took his mate’s paw in his hand. The female wolf smiled and leaned against the human’s shoulder. As the pair made their way into the stadium, they heard a familiar sound from behind them.

“Well, look who it is.”

Alex and JayJay turned to see Nick and Judy, walking up in the line behind them. The 2 had arms around each other, and both were dressed in casual, light fitting clothes. Even Nick, who usually only wore Hawaiian shirts.

“Alex? Didn’t think you’d be here,” Judy said.

“Well, someone wanted to do something special and fun with me.”

JayJay smiled happily at the comment.

“Aww, is it ok if we join you?”

“By all means.”

The 2 pairs merged into 1 group, but both couples still held onto each other as they continued to walk.

“Thank you for doing this.” Captain Boehm said, turning to the wolf on his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure,” JayJay responded.

“Say, where did you get the tickets?”

JayJay pointed to Nick, who smiled slyly and played it cool.

“Ah, there we go. That explains everything.”

The arena was circular, with a circular platform at the center that the performer stood on. The platform was surrounded by water, both as a decorative measure, and a security measure. On the walls of the arena were dozens of small open windows, either so people inside could see out, or just part of an interesting design.

The group of four mammals found their spaces, which were in a pit, slightly below the platform where the performer stood. There were many other mammals all around them, but the spots were premium seating, or rather, standing.

After a few minutes, the arena darkened, and everyone grew silent. Water fountains activated, and lights turned on, as the figure of a female Gazelle in a glittering red dress came on stage, lifted onto the central platform by a small elevator in the stage.

“Hello, Zootopia!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, as the pop star began her first song.

Soon the melody picked up, and the 4 young heroes started to happily dance along. Dancing was much like combat, a beautiful display of movement and actions, perfectly in sync.

Just like when they were walking into the building, Judy and Nick danced together, while JayJay and Alex did the same.

The blue wolf was totally in her element, spinning and moving rapidly. The color and speed impressing her 3 companions.

Judy also pushed Nick along, silently prompting him to dance. The fox obliged and smiled slyly whenever he was encouraged to dance.

The 2 boys were not really as into the dancing at the girls, but they were still having fun, which was the most important thing.

All of a sudden, the lovely sound of the music was overpowered by a much louder noise, one that was like gas and sound moving extremely fast. Even Gazelle stopped singing and looked up to the top of the stadium, to see a large ball of fire engulfing part of the arena.

000000000

Sorry it took a while to get this chapter out. Blame my college work. Though I hope everyone still enjoys reading this!

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krreader · 5 years ago

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create your own happy ending.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: soulmate!au ; language genre: angst ; fluff

summary: there is no right or wrong when it comes to happy endings. each and every one of them is different and both you and taehyung had to realize that.

a/n: eleven pages and I cried at quite a few of them so that’s always a good sign lol. I hope you like it and thank you for the request ♥

You opened your eyes, staring at the white of your ceiling with a hint of disappointment when you realized that it had once again been a dream.

It was weird that it was always Taehyung, but you explained it with the fact that he was probably just your bias. It was normal. Your friends dreamt about their favorite idols/actors/singers all the time. But whatever you were dreaming, somehow Taehyung always found his way into your dreams.

Whether he was the 'main' actor in your dream, or just someone who passed by in the background, he was absolutely always there.

Sometimes you were enemies, other times you were friends and often you were lovers. Those were your favorite dreams, by far.

“I'm serious you guys, my soulmate is so freaking handsome. I can't wait to meet him in real life,” your friend said over coffee a few hours later.

“I had three dreams about Jimin last week.. do you guys think he's my soulmate?” another asked, but the rest of them just snorted.

“As if any of us are their soulmates.”

That's why you never told them about your dreams, because they would react the same way. They would laugh in your face, tell you you were insane for even thinking of this possibility, because how could you, a normal person, be the soulmate of someone like Kim Taehyung?

“(Y/N) never talks about her soulmate,” suddenly all eyes were on you. And you were seriously uncomfortable, “How come?”

“Well, I..-” you cleared your throat and straightened your back, “I just don't believe in the whole thing, you know?”

You kind of did.. deep down, you knew that he was your soulmate. But you didn’t want to accept that yet, because you knew you had absolutely zero chance with him.

“Good for you, hun. If the thing actually works, then we'll all meet our soulmates eventually anyways. And if we don't, then we'll just be successful and happy on our own.”

You all toasted to that.

Even though.. a soulmate would be nice.

Jimin smiled a little when Taehyung woke up from his slumber, the plane still high in the air.

“Sleep well?”

But Taehyung just shrugged. He didn't get a lot of rest lately, mostly because he refused to go to sleep.

And it wasn't because he was too busy, but because he was afraid of what, or rather who, he would meet in his dream. Because it was always the same one who appeared.

“You shouldn't be afraid of your soulmate, you know?”

“I'm not afraid of her,” he quickly said.

That's not what this was about.

The issue was that he didn't know her, that meant she wasn't in this industry and that meant he had no chance of being with her because of who he was. Who he had decided to become when he was younger. Fans would never accept it, he would not have enough time and he’d always feel like everyone else was judging him.

It was like each happy ending had to be the same, otherwise it wouldn’t work.

Most idols somehow managed to find someone who was even just remotely in the industry, or someone who they knew they had a chance to be with. A manager, a stylist, a producer, a choreographer, a translator.. someone like that.

Taehyung knew that dreaming about a normal person as his soulmate meant being lonely forever.

Because he refused to be with anyone but his soulmate.

“Who knows,” Jimin continued to browse through his magazine, “Maybe you'll meet her soon.”

“What good will that do?” Taehyung turned back around, now clearly pouting, “We have no chance of being together.”

You and your friends were sitting in the library, studying for an upcoming test, when the doors got smashed open – and that was unusual for a library – and the missing member from your group of friends ran in with something that looked a lot like tickets in her hand.

“I FUCKING WON YOU GUYS!” she screamed, everyone around her immediately shushing her, to which she quickly apologized and then sat down with the rest of you, her legs bouncing up and down nervously.

“You won what?” another friend whispered.

“Remember that stupid game show they always play on the radio in the morning where you can call in and win VIP tickets for you and your friends for concerts and sports games and stuff?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I called this morning and they told me to pick up my tickets right away, because the concert is literally tonight!”

“Hold on,” one of them seemed to understand and was now looking very shocked, “Are they..-?”

“BTS TICKETS!” she screamed once again, the librarian looking very angry at this point.

So angry that you all had to leave because it wasn't just her that was losing it now, but all of your friends.

She got five tickets, so a ticket for each of you.

You'd all go backstage with two members of the radio station, you'd chill in the VIP area and you could watch the concert without fans pushing you around.

But it didn’t quite hit you all until you arrived at the arena later that night.

There were so many fans, you didn't know where the line started and where it ended. But the friend of yours that had won dragged you further away from the crowd, almost to the back of the arena.

That's where the two guys of the radio station waited for you.

“There you guys are, we didn't know if you'd find it,” one of them said with a huge grin, “Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” all of you answered in unison.

Well.. all but you.

Because you had contemplated whether or not you should even go.

Taehyung popped up again and again in your thoughts. You were scared of what you might feel when you'd see him on that stage. When he'd be so far away and wouldn't even realize you were here and yet you'd be looking at him and you'd realize that your excuses had been shit because that man right there was your soulmate and you couldn't lie to yourself any longer.

But backing out on this would have looked weird, because who in the world would miss an opportunity like that, right?

The radio hosts lead you through the entrance without having to wait in line.

You showed your tickets, got your bags checked and then went inside.

Staff members were running around, yelling at each other and clearly preparing for the show ahead.

Your friends were listening to what the radio guys were saying. They explained to them how these shows worked, what had to be done beforehand and how time consuming it all was. And while they were all actually just hoping to meet the boys, they all listened willingly.

Had no other choice, to be honest.

You were a little further behind, looked at everything more carefully than them, mostly just because you were hoping that it would take your mind off the obvious.

Until one of your friends suddenly screamed.

And then you completely froze because there was only one reason they'd get this excited.

“You must be the lucky winners this time,” Namjoon grinned from ear to ear and looked at each of your friends with pure kindness in his eyes, “I'm Namjoon. It's so nice to meet you.”

And then they all came out.

Yoongi, Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin..

They were all there, shaking their hands and smiling at them like the nice people that they were.

And then..-

“And this is our Taehyungie.”

And that's when your heart stopped pounding.

“Mommy? How did know daddy was your soulmate when you met him?” your eight year old self asked when your mother tucked you in one night.

She smiled at you with the happiness in her eyes that she always had when she talked about your father, “Well.. I had seen him in my dreams since I was a little girl, you know? So I knew that he was my soulmate.”

“Did you say I love you right away?”

Your mother chuckled, gently brushing her hand through your hair, “No, but I wanted to. Because I felt it. I remember I looked at him and it was as if my entire life had been leading up to that moment. I remember how my heart stopped beating and how I couldn't breathe anymore because he was just so.. ethereal. I had only seen him in my dreams, so it was surreal seeing him in real life. But I instantly knew that I loved him.”

“And what did daddy do?”

“Well, daddy didn't see me right away because he didn't have his glasses on,” you both laughed at that, but then your mother's voice became soft again, “I was.. so shy. But I knew that I couldn't let him go. I knew that if I did, if I let him walk away, I might never see him again. And.. that would have hurt me really bad.”

“I'm glad you talked to him, mommy,” you said tiredly, “I'm glad he loved you back.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”

You tried to control your breathing, but it was easier said than done. It was if your body was not functioning correctly all of a sudden, your heartbeat was stopping and then suddenly beating so fast again that you felt like it would jump out of your chest at any second, your belly felt like a thousand butterflies were flying around in it and your legs felt like jelly.

And just like your mother..

..you knew.

“Where is..-” your friend asked, finally realizing that someone from your group was missing. She turned around and found you staring at them with wide eyes. Well.. staring at only one of them, “What are you doing, (Y/N)?! Come on!”

But you couldn't move.

You wanted to tell him, run up to him and tell him that you loved him and that was so weird because you didn't even really know him, but at the same time you knew all about him.

Taehyung was looking at you for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at you and then gulped down hard.

But he managed to conceal it a lot better than you did.

He was so used to hiding his real feelings that this was easy for him.

But on the inside.. it looked a lot different.

“Uhm,” Namjoon decided to clear up the suddenly awkward atmosphere with a cough and looked at your friends again, “I think we need to get ready. You guys enjoy the show, okay?”

“We will! Thank you so much! And I hope you have a great time too!” another friend of yours said, two of your group already walking over to you to see if you were having a stroke or something.

Taehyung looked at you for a moment longer, then he turned around and left with the rest of his members.

Your mother's words rang in your ear, you tried forcing yourself to run after him because you would never get another chance like this..

..but you were just a fan.

And just because he was your soulmate didn't mean that you were his. Because there was no way a fan could be the soulmate of an idol..

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

No.. no you really weren't.

“I need some air.”

“You okay?” Jimin sat down next to Tae in the hair and make-up room. He looked.. distraught. Visibly so.

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I don't know.. you just seem.. off,” Jimin licked his lips, “Is it because of those girls? Did they make you uncomfortable? I know that one girl stared at you a lot, but some fans are..-”

“She didn't,” he quickly interrupted, “I'm fine, hyung. Honestly,” and with that he got up and walked out of the room, leaving a confused Jimin behind.

On one hand he had always hoped he'd never get to meet his soulmate because meeting her would mean having to face the harsh reality that it would never work between the two of you.

On the other hand, he had always yearned to see the face of the woman he had been dreaming about for the last years and tell her all the things he wanted her to know.

But you were a fan and he was an idol.

And he had to remind himself of that.

His legs carried him outside, his brain needing air to work properly again.

But soulmates were connected to destiny.

And he should have known that he wouldn't be the only one who was rattled because of that meeting.

“Hey mom,” he heard you say, the phone pressed tightly against your ear, “I uh.. I found my soulmate.”

He could tell that you were holding in tears and he knew that he shouldn't listen in, but..-

“I wish I could be as excited as you are, but it didn't go well. I felt what you once told me you felt when you met dad, but.. when he looked at me it was as if I didn't matter.. which I probably don't,” you said sadly, brushing your sleeve over your nose.

Taehyung's shoulders slumped, his body suddenly feeling numb as he leaned back against the cold iron door.

“I wanted to have a happy ending like you and dad did, but.. I guess I'll just have to be on my own and find my own way,” there was a moment of silence, before you continued, “No, it's okay, you don't have to pick me up. I'll come home soon, I don't think I should be here anyways. Maybe just.. give me a hug when I come home and tell me you love me?”

Taehyung closed his eyes for a moment and to his own surprise, a tear managed to sneak out of his eye that he quickly wiped away.

He felt it too.

All of it.

He knew you were the right one and he hated himself for not being able to tell you. He hated himself for not being able to go to you and ask you to be with him forever, because that's all he wanted.

All he had ever wanted..

..it's always been you.

Unfortunately the more he thought about it, the more he cried, until the tears just wouldn’t stop coming.

And even though he knew he should leave before you turned around and saw him, he didn't.

He didn't move.

Not even when you finally got up from those stairs and wanted to walk back inside, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw him, the tears on his face mirroring yours.

“There are so many things I want to say to you,” he whispered, his jaw beginning to clench and the tears still running out of his eyes.

But you didn't respond, you just stared at him, your own tears not stopping either. If only, the crying actually got worse when he approached you and suddenly stood right in front of you.

And being so close to the one you loved but not being able to touch him and tell him how much they meant to you..

..it was torture.

“And god,” he wanted to laugh, but it turned into a sob instead, “You're so beautiful, (Y/N).”

Now it was your turn to sob, your head dropping and your eyes pressing shut because you realized you were his soulmate too, but.. he couldn't be with you.

You knew it, he didn't have to say it.

You’re just a fan.

“Taehyung?” Jimin peaked through the door, his heart dropping at what he saw, but Taehyung quickly wiped away his tears and turned around to look at his band member, “Uh.. we uh.. need to go on stage soon.”

“Alright,” he nodded, taking a deep breath and looking at you one last time, “I wish I could give you the happy ending you deserve.”

And with that, he walked back inside.

And you broke down, literally.

Your knees gave in, until you were sitting on the cold floor, your sobs becoming uncontrollable and your entire body being in pain and no matter how hard you hugged yourself, you couldn’t give yourself comfort.

You lost your soulmate before you even really had him..

Taehyung was as professional as he always was.

The other members noticed his puffy eyes, but they didn't say anything.

He performed like he usually did, smiled and pretended to be happy, but as soon as he walked off tonight, he left the premises.

The others were a little slower with wrapping things up, assumed that he just wasn't feeling well, but one of them knew that there was something more going on.

That's why Jimin asked his manager to drive him to the hotel too.

And ten minutes later, he knocked on his band members' door, his heart aching at what he saw when Taehyung opened it.

“I know you don't like to drink, but.. I feel like you could use one right about now.”

Jimin walked inside, took off his jacket and watched Taehyung lie down, hugging a pillow as close to his body as possible.

The room was pitch dark, the only lights being the city lights from outside that slightly illuminated the room.

He didn't want to push, so all that Jimin did was lie down next to him and wait for his younger member to talk if he wanted to.

Otherwise he would just be here so that he at least wasn't alone.

“She was my soulmate, Jimin,” he whispered after a while, his voice hoarse from all the crying.

“That girl?”

“Yeah. I knew it the second I saw her..”

Jimin let out a breath and put his hand on Tae's shoulder, squeezing once, “I'm so sorry.”

Usually people congratulated their friends and family upon finding their soulmates, but Jimin and all the other idols knew that if your soulmate wasn't in the industry, you almost never ended up with them because it was simply put almost impossible.

“I heard her talk to her mother on the phone and she was so.. heartbroken. This.. beautiful and kind woman was sitting there, crying because of me. Because of how fucking disgusting and stupid and horrible I am and because..-” when Taehyung began to cry again, Jimin immediately turned him around by his shoulder and pulled him against him, letting him cry into his chest and rubbing his hand up and down his back, letting him know that he wasn’t alone right now

He had a hard time not crying himself, to be honest. It hurt him so much to see one of his brothers be so utterly broken. But he tried to be strong. For him.

“Taehyungie.. ever since we met, you told me how excited you were to meet your soulmate. How excited you were to have your first date with her, then marry her and then start a family with her eventually. How excited you were to start your lives together and share everything and anything with each other. But somewhere along the way, you stopped being excited and became sad instead.”

“Because once I realized she wasn't from this industry, I realized that it would never work!” he sobbed.

“But what if it could? Imagine if your soulmate was another idol, imagine her fans and your fans hating it so much, that the hate would be twice as bad and you could never be happy. Imagine how hard it would be if she was an idol as well and both of your schedules were so packed, that you could almost never see each other. I know that most of the time these relationships work and those of idols and 'normal people' don't, but there are cases where it does work the other way around. And just because everyone in this world tells you it won’t, doesn’t mean that it has to be like that,” his soothing voice made Taehyung slowly calm down, “It wouldn't be easy and I'm sure the two of you would shed a lot of tears over the years, but in the end.. wouldn't it be worth trying?”

The crying stopped.

Slowly.

Because now Taehyung began to think.

If his fans found out that he and you were dating, they would probably be furious, but he could always hide it for as long as he had to. Maybe you were willing to travel with him, maybe he could show you the world and you could experience it all together.. maybe you were willing to try if he meant as much to you as you meant to him..

“Do you really think it could work?”

Honestly? Jimin had no idea, but he felt like Taehyung needed someone to say: “I do.”

“I'm glad you could come,” the radio show host said with a smile, “Your friends told us you hadn't been feeling good and the goodie bag was too heavy for one of them to carry two, so I'm glad you can pick it up.”

To be honest, at first you hadn't even wanted to.

It would be BTS merch that would only remind you of your soulmate that had left you, but you had enough cousins and friends who would die for a bag like that, so you had decided to go and get it.

“If you could just wait in here,” the guy showed you into a conference room, “I'll be back in a sec.”

You nodded with a small smile and turned around, letting out a breath at the view in front of you.

You could overlook the entire city from here.. a calming feeling to the hurt you had been feeling the past days.

The door got opened and then closed again and without turning around you said: “You guys really have a nice view from up here.”

But when you did turned around, it wasn't the guy with the bag that stood in front of you.

“I didn't know how else to contact you,” Taehyung said nervously, “I hope you're not mad.”

“Just.. surprised,” and confused and also ready to cry again because your heart was still in pieces.

He carefully took two steps towards the table, then sat down in one of the chairs, you doing the same in the one next to his.

“I.. wanted to talk to you again.”

“About what?”

“Well.. us.”

“Us?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “You made it pretty clear that there is no us.”

“Relationships in my line of work usually don't last with people from outside of the industry. Fans get crazy mad when they find out we're dating normal people, we idols feel even more pressure because we never feel as if what we can give you is enough and everyone around us is telling us that it isn’t right. That we should be with people that are like us.”

“If you're saying all of this because you're trying to make me feel any better it's not working.”

“I'm saying all of this because I realized that not everyone is the same. That only because the relationship of a friend didn't work with him being an idol and her not being one, doesn't mean that it has to be the same for us too. That the opinion of others shouldn’t matter when it comes to what I’m feeling. That happy endings don’t always have to be the same for everyone. I realized that we both owe it to ourselves to at least.. try.”

He had looked just as broken as you had when you had first seen him, but now he looked.. hopeful.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Because I knew I loved you the second I saw you,” your heart began to speed up at those honest words, “And I would never forgive myself if I didn't even try to lead the life I always wanted with my soulmate.”

At first you just stared into his eyes as if you couldn't quite believe it, maybe your brain even told you not to believe it or you would get hurt again, but then your eyes began to water again without you being able to stop it and you knew that your heart had won the battle.

“Are those.. good or bad tears?” he asked hesitantly.

“They're good tears,” you chuckled, continued to smile while he softly brushed them away, “Very good tears.”

Taehyung was right.

You both owed it to yourselves to at least.. try.

“Mommy? Daddy? Can you tell me a story?” your daughter pouted, both you and Taehyung returning to her bed to sit down again with soft smiles.

“Okay how about.. this one,” Taehyung started, gently brushing his fingers over her cheek, “Once upon a time, there was a man who was very, very lost in his life. He was very sad and very lonely, despite so many people loving him. But he wanted to find a different type of love. He wanted to find his true love so, so much. But at the same time, he was so afraid of that kind of love.”

“Why was he afraid of true love?” she asked with wide eyes.

“Because true love can be scary sometimes. People sometimes tell you that love has to be a certain way for it to be true and pure, but that's not true.. and the man realized that eventually,” he turned his head to look at you, a happy smile on his face, “He realized that no matter what other people said, all that mattered was what he felt for the love of his life and what she felt for him.”

“Does the story have a happy ending?”

“Yes,” you replied, your hand brushing through the back of Taehyung's hair, “The happiest of them all.”

#bts imagine #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #reader #requests

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malcolmwhitly-bright · 5 years ago

Text

Longing for Things Out of Reach

Chapter Two

No one wants to be friends with the cripple.

It’s not completely true. His classmates could not care less about any of the many tools he needs to get around. His speech impediment isn’t that bad anymore and no one notices it except him. He’s pretty ‘ok’ in his classmates’ books. Everyone knows his story, every news station in America gave him his five minutes of fame for turning his father in. His lack of friends has nothing to do with him physically and everything to do with him mentally.

“What do you want me to do, Jessica?”

Malcolm pretends like he can’t hear Gil and his mother arguing in the doorway. They blame one another for his failures but even Malcolm knows it’s all his fault. He’s slower than normal, more than taking his time as he walks to the steps. He doesn’t want to face Gil, doesn’t want to talk about another horrible week at school like next week will be any different.

“Jackie said she’s making burritos,” Ainsley tells him. She’s hot on his heels and he’s expressed several times her doing so makes him feel self-conscious about the way he walks. She remembers this when he catches his foot on the carpet and curses angrily. “Sorry, Mal.”

Malcolm closes his eyes, breathing through his nose for ten seconds before opening them again. His voice is calm, his frustration melting away. “It’s not your fault, I-I wasn’t watching.” With more concentration, he manages to get his left leg over the carpet even if it means he leans heavily into the crutch at his side.

Ainsley watches him falter at the top of the steps. The task is daunting. “Why don’t you move your bedroom downstairs,” she whispers, still worried her words will set him off like a ticking bomb. “No one would think any less of you.” It seemed to be a debate held monthly in their home. Staved off for when Malcolm had one of his severely worse days. Her mother would comfort him as best she can and asks if he’d like her to call Gil. That together they can move his things to the first-floor bedroom.

His cold blue eyes find her and she can see he’s not mad. He shakes his head with a knowing smirk,” I would.” He takes the first step, leaning between the railing and the crutch. What he means is that he knows that his family would come at the drop of a hat to help move his room downstairs but he would feel awful if he moves it. It’s… It’s like being a kid again before his father was sent away. He’s a broken child all over again.

“Hey my little G-man,” Gil rustles Malcolm’s hair and steps away from Jessica to take Malcolm’s overnight bag. Malcolm forces a smile for Jackie who waves at him from where Ainsley is now engaging her in conversation. “How was this week?”

Malcolm trusts his mother has already told the Lieutenant that he missed Tuesday and Wednesday. He forced himself out of bed Tuesday only to fall in the shower like a complete moron when his hip locked up and he was hit with such blinding pain in his knees that he had to army crawl out. He could live without the embarrassment of telling Gil that his mother had found him completely naked on the bathroom floor.

He decides to smile through it, “I fell down the stairs yesterday morning but I aced my calc test.” He leaves out that he was home alone and that it took him ten minutes to find the strength to pull himself upright. His therapist calls this his ‘protective dome’. That only because it’s nicer to give deflections a different name. She doesn’t like his protective dome and he knows it’s because it’s not as protective as he likes to pretend it is. Lying to the people who care about him isn’t helpful for them or for him.

“That’s one less fall than last week,” Ainsley supplies in their silence. She always wants him to appease the ground between Malcolm and others. She’ll smooth over his frustrated comments towards Gil or his mother. She’ll even brush off his mean comments. He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve a lot of things.

“Come on kid,” Gil sighs at Malcolm’s full plate. Malcolm hadn’t even bothered to pick up his fork. Jackie sends him a look from the kitchen, it’s a warning. Gil isn’t in a good mood and Malcolm’s disinterest in life is not going to make it better. “You’re not gonna eat your food? Have you eaten at all today?”

Protective Dome. Don’t tell him more than what he needs to know.

Malcolm shrugs his shoulders, “... had a granola bar.” He can remember the day his life changed forever. One phone call. He wishes he’d never made the phone call. He didn’t save the woman in the basement with him so there was no point. He wishes… He wishes he would have died in that basement, in the teal room.

There would be no crutches, canes, or wheelchairs. There would be no mornings where he’s too weak to stand or in too much pain to think. There’d be nothing. He’d be dead. Maybe he would have grown weaker, died in his sleep. Things probably would have escalated and it would be a slow, painful death but it would be a death. That’s more than he has now.

But he didn’t die. Gil saved him.

Malcolm remembers that night perfectly. The way his father seemed warmer than normal as they made their way down the stairs. He can feel the gurney digging into his back and the needle piercing his flesh. The clouds over his eyes and in his skin.

He can remember the banging as the cops filled the house. His mother and Ainsley’s crying as they realized they were looking for Martin. Better than anything else, he remembers Gil. Warm, strong arms that lifted him from the gurney, a soothing voice through the shouts and cries of the madness around.

Gil.

Gil with his spicy cologne.

Gil with his bear hugs and goatee.

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispers, his eyes falling just short of where Gil’s are. “I… I-” he doesn’t know. There’s no good excuse for his behavior. A heavy hand finds his shoulder and Malcolm looks up to find Gil smiling down at him.

Gil squeezes his shoulder and says nothing as he pulls the plate away. Jackie smiles at him from the kitchen and Malcolm bows his head. His therapist had suggested that perhaps his fear was misplaced. That he needs to stop worrying about freaking his family out and worry more about what’s freaking him out.

More importantly, what led to his attempt.

He can’t remember most of it, his therapist explained that sort of thing can happen when a person is traumatized. It’s the way the brain protects itself. Too bad it didn’t happen to the first ten years of his life, then maybe he wouldn’t have a suicide attempt to remember. His therapist hadn’t found that quip as clever as he did.

He remembers waking in the hospital and the way they looked at him. The way they’re still looking at him now, almost a week later.

He meets Jackie’s eyes, those intuitive blue eyes. Just like his. She brushes past Gil as they switch positions. She settles into the kitchen chair closests to him and his hand in hers. “Is this okay?” She means a hundred things, he knows. That was Jackie, clever. He nods and she runs her finger over the bandage on his wrist. It covers the angry red skin. “What were you thinking?” He understands... She’s not here to criticize his choices. “I’m not your mother, Malcolm.” She wants to understand.

He shakes his head like he can’t fathom an answer. Her eyes don’t move away and her thumb on his pulse makes him tremble with vulnerability. “I’m-” his voice is a rasp of nerves as he looks at her for any indication that he doesn’t have to go on. “I’m not- I’m not normal.” His protective dome of careful half truths be damned.

They both know it’s bigger than that. He knows, right now, as he thinks back to climbing into that too warm water. The way it settled on his chest like the night he found the woman. The razor felt like the needle slipping into his veins and his knees wobbled and his head was fuzzy.

She squeezes his fingers, shaking her head. “You’re seeing it all wrong,” she whispers, hand coming to the side of his head. “Think about the things you can do, the things you can control.” She looks over her shoulder, “if you’re so awful, why does your baby sister think you hung the moon and named stars?” She strokes his cheek, “who cares about normal. I like you better the way you are, dark humor and loud laugh.” She scoots closer, bringing their heads to touch. “You make life worth living, you silly boy.”

He struggles to keep his tears at bay, smiling and laughing oddly as a tear falls down his cheek. Jackie brushes it away and presses her warm palm to his cheek. He looks at her, lower lip trembling. “It-” he hasn’t talked about it. None of them have, not really. “It hurt,” he whispers. “It hurt so much.” She presses her lips to his forehead, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The weight across his shoulders suddenly doesn’t feel as heavy, his heart light.

She unwraps him and he’s suddenly too cool without her right there beside him. Two fingers press under his chin and he lifts his head, smiling when he looks up to Jackie. She smiles with a wink but says nothing, Malcolm already knows. He’s a fighter. He’s smart. He’s the boy who gets knocked down and who gets back up and with love he’s learning to take his time.

“Eat,” Jackie fills the empty space where his plate had been with a peeled orange. She’s not leaving it up for debate. Gil watches him out of the corner of his eye but Jackie doesn’t. Normally, he might venture to say something about Gil’s attention but after everything he’s put the poor man through he doesn’t have the heart.

Ainsley runs into the kitchen stopping when she realizes Gil can hear her. She smiles sheepishly and grins at him. They’re not supposed to run through the house, a problem mostly at Gil and Jackie’s because Ainsley gets so excited about being at their house.

“What is it, Ains?” Gil raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her twisting as she stands in place. His smile is soft as he regards her. It’s only been two weeks since he saw them and yet he missed them both unspeakably. It was weird, the house and station and the back of his car without one of them. No Malcolm to get picky over what station the radio played on or Ainsley to give him those sad little pouty eyes when he says no to stopping for sweets.

She smiles, “I wanna play checkers. Will you play with me?” She can see his hesitation and pulls his hand off her shoulder, squeezing his fingers. “Please, Gil? Please?”

He caves, like always, and lets her pull him to the living room.

Jackie watches the exchange with a smile, “he’s missed having you two around.” Malcolm knows she’s speaking to him but prefers placing another orange slice on his tongue so he doesn't have to engage in discussing exactly why it is they haven’t been over. “I have too.”

It comes back to him, it always does.

Ainsley can’t have horse riding lessons because Jessica doesn’t like missing Malcolm’s physical therapy.

Gil missed two weeks from work because Malcolm decided to slit-

Right. He’s not supposed to think like that. Ainsley can’t have horse riding lessons because she’s already balancing ballet and school. Gil missed time because Malcolm was in the hospital and the station wrote it off because they know the relationship.

Malcolm clears his throat, “she’s talked about it all week.” He can faintly remember on Tuesday when she crawled into his bed with him. Their mother had sent her up with a heated blanket and Ainsley had tucked it around the two of them before settling into his side. She had talked his ear off but hearing her excitement helped with some of the pain.

“And you?” Jackie is the only person that pushes him to express his emotions. She tilts her head and watches him. Gil and Jessica always comment that when Malcolm and Jackie tilt their heads they look exactly alike. That heavy intuitive gaze in their blue eyes.

Malcolm nods, “it’s…” He doesn’t want to say home but… This house is home more than his own could ever be. “It’s good to be home,” he looks down and realizes he’s finished the orange. His stomach rumbles, reminding him just how little he’s eating as of late.

Jackie smiles at the sound and she hands him a plate. This one has two sliced strawberries, half a banana, and another orange. He starts this one with a little more fever, smiling when the orange drips down his chin. She smiles too, “I love you, bright boy.” She rustles his hair.

He looks up at her and he knows she means it. He bites into a strawberry and smiles when he finds it to be sweet. He’ll spend his whole life wondering how it is that her love seeped into everything she made, even the fruits she cuts. “I love you too, Jackie.”

#prodigal son #prodigal son fanfic

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Undone, Chapter 23 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

Summary: Bianca goes to NOLA for Latrice’s wedding, and returns home to a big surprise.

Thank you to our awesome beta readers: @missdandee and @kitschypixel

***

“Okay so, be honest...do I look fat?”

Courtney bursts out laughing, then stops abruptly when she sees Bianca’s hands on her hips, a deep scowl on her face.

“Sorry--I didn’t think you were serious,” she giggles. “Of course not.” Courtney leans back on the sofa cushions, cuddling the dogs to her chest.

“For the record, that is not the correct response to that question,” Bianca informs her, adjusting the straps on her Maid of Honor gown. “You’re a woman, how do you not know that?”

“Sorry,” Courtney shrugs, then offers aa conciliatory smile and adds, “You look beautiful.”

“But...I mean, can you tell I’ve gained weight? Are my sisters gonna be suspicious?”

“I honestly don’t think so.”

“Okay. Good,” Bianca sighs. “Thank god for empire waists.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I know it’s a big deal, and he’s not gonna be with you, so...” Courtney bites her lip. “Will it be weird?”

“Maybe a little, but...I mean, the people I care about already know. And everyone else...will probably just think he’s working, or something. I don’t really care, honestly.” It’s mostly true. Of course, she knows that she might get some awkward questions, questions that she really won’t want to answer. But she tries not to think about that, and more importantly, she doesn’t want Courtney to worry. So she goes on to assure her, “I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Courtney nods, stroking the top of Dede’s head and gazing up at her.

“I kinda wish you were coming,” Bianca adds softly. It’s almost an afterthought, slipping out before Bianca can stop herself. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, realizing how needy she must have sounded.

Courtney takes ahold of her hand and squeezes it.

“That might be a little hard to explain,” she says, trying to deflect from the intensity of her feelings. How much she’s dreading the separation, which she knows full well is ridiculous. It’s going to be a few days. When the fuck did she turn into such a co-dependent mess?

“Yeah,” Bianca agrees, although inside, she’s thinking that it wouldn’t, at all. In fact, it would be the easiest thing in the world to explain. This is Courtney. I accidentally fell in love with her. Oops. She gulps. “Plus it’s probably not gonna be a very vegan-friendly affair.”

“Besides, I need to watch the dogs, right?”

“Right,” Bianca chuckles.

“...but maybe next time,” Courtney says, and deep dimples appear in Bianca’s cheeks.

“Really?”

“I mean, they sound great. I’d love to meet them.” Her voice is light, but the offer seems genuine.

“Yeah that would be…” Bianca’s heart is pounding. She clears her throat. “I’m sure they’d love you.”

“It’ll be really nice, once you’re there. To be home,” Courtney says. Instead of what she wants to say. Fuck propriety, just take me with you.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

***

It is nice, being back, especially since it’s the first time in several years she’s around her old friends and family without Jared. She feels lighter - in spite of the weight gain that will definitely make her sisters suspicious. But even that doesn’t worry her, as she revels in the familiarity of it all. The warmth of these people with whom she grew up.

The hug from her mother, that first day, makes everything worth it. And when she lies down at the end of the night, body sore and aching but absolutely stuffed with all her favorite foods, she realizes that she’s got a valid excuse for looking a little plumper than usual.

Her nagging worries about the Jared Questions that she assumes are coming turn out to be overblown. At the rehearsal dinner, all anyone cares about is her job - does she really get to meet celebrities? Who’s the most difficult on set? Who seems nice but is actually a secret bitch? Can she get a discount on tickets to Universal Studios? She happily answers them all, even the dumb ones.

The ceremony is beautiful, charming, funny - perfectly suited to Latrice and Chris. At the reception, Bianca gets to sit at a table with Vanessa, her favorite (only) younger sister, the two of them cackling up a storm in no time.

Vanessa has no questions about Jared, but she does have a ton about “that sexy blonde you’re shackin’ up with.”

“That’s not exactly the situation,” Bianca tries to explain, but Vanessa isn’t buying it.

“Come on, throw me a bone! She’s the one you wouldn’t shut up about over Thanksgiving, right? Did you meet on set? Did you have some kind of steamy, torrid affair?” she tongues her straw, eyes sparkling.

“No...sorry to burst your bubble,” Bianca tells her.

“Aww, man!” Vanessa slouches, crossing her arms, disappointed. “What a bummer.”

“Sorry, but...the idea of an affair makes you happy?” Vanessa’s husband asks, furrowing his brow.

Vanessa huffs out a huge, put-up sigh, explaining, “No, Brock, the idea of B cheating on that fuckin’ douchebag makes me happy!”

“Wait...I thought you guys loved Jared,” Bianca says.

Vanessa exchanges a Look with DJ, across the table. If anyone knows Jared, it’s him - one of Bianca’s oldest friends, he also happened to live in New York while Bianca was in school there, and used to hang out with her and Jared all the time.

“Well…” DJ begins, clearing his throat, speaking as diplomatically as possible. “I mean, we did our best to accept him, since you loved him, and-”

“We hated that guy,” Vanessa cuts in.

“I didn’t hate him,” Brock offers.

“Shut up, you have no taste. Hated him. Good riddance.” Vanessa tosses back some wine.

“And...we’re real sorry about your impending divorce…?” DJ gives a smile that’s half grimace.

Bianca laughs a little, rising from the table. She would love to bask in the relief that everyone will unquestionably be on her side, but the wedding coordinator is gesturing for her frantically.

“Well...thanks for your support, guys. But I gotta go give a speech.”

“Don’t fuck it up!” Vanessa calls after her, and Bianca turns and gives her the finger before continuing to the front of the room.

She stands at the mic, looking out amongst the crowd of mostly familiar faces, gaze finally landing on Latrice, who beams up at her from her seat at the bridal table.

“Hi, I’m Bianca...but you guys probably know that.” Bianca clears her throat, reminding herself that this is friendly crowd, and to just relax and give the toast for her best friend. “Okay, so. I actually met Latrice in second grade. More specifically, I met her laugh. It was the best sound I’d ever heard, one morning in front of school as we were getting off the bus.”

“I was laughing because you told someone that they looked like a garbage can,” Latrice cuts in, grinning at the memory.

“That was me, bitch!” Vanessa pipes up from the crowd.

“Well, you deserved it!” Bianca shoots back. “You never brushed your hair and you always had that awful Hello Kitty sweatshirt on. Inside out.”

“I was in kindergarten, you asshole!”

The crowd, most of whom know them all, are laughing now, and Bianca makes a face at her sister to shut her up before getting back to the speech she’d prepared.

“Anyway, I heard this laugh. This amazing, gorgeous laugh, and I turned around and saw Latrice, and introduced myself, and it turned out that she was going to be in my class. And so I informed her that we were now best friends.”

“So bossy,” Latrice comments, giggling affectionately.

“And I soon found out that she was the greatest best friend anyone could ever ask for. Kind, funny, generous, smart...and of course, that laugh. I made it my life goal to make her laugh as loud and often as possible. Bonus points for extra inappropriate situations like assemblies and math tests and church. And for many years, I was really proud of myself for being the person who made her laugh the most. Until of course, Chris came around.” Bianca pulls a face.

A few good-natured murmurs of “oooh” and “uh oh…”

“I was a little pissed at this at first. I’m not gonna lie,” Bianca continued. “But soon I got to know Chris too, and unfortunately, he’s so damn likeable, that I had to admit, she’s got amazing taste, in addition to all her other talents. So Chris, thank you for giving my best friend the love and respect and joy that she deserves, more than anyone else I know. Thank you for making her laugh.”

Bianca turns to Latrice, who now has tears streaming down her face.

“I love you so much.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to a beautiful marriage, and lots of laughter.”

As the guests applaud, Latrice jumps up, running towards her friend. Bianca puts down the mic just in time for a huge, tackle-hug, Latrice squeezing her so tight that she feels she might break.

The DJ cranks up the music and soon Bianca finds herself pulled onto the dance floor by both Latrice and Chris. She makes a halfhearted, laughing protest.

“Guys, aren’t they about to serve dinner-”

“Who cares, bitch, I’m the bride!” Latrice spins Bianca, encouraging more guests to join them on the dance floor, an unplanned interruption while the catering staff scurries to get dinner on the tables.

Bianca dances with her a bit before she’s swept away by various other friends and family members, when she takes the opportunity to get another drink and make her way back to their nearly empty table.

“Nice toast.”

Bianca looks up and smiles at Vanessa.

“No thanks to you.”

“So...uh, when were you gonna tell me about the baby?”

Bianca blinks, and Vanessa rolls her eyes, sitting down beside her, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Your tits are out of control. And, that’s your third cranberry juice...”

“How do you know there’s no vodka in here?”

“Is there?”

“...I’m doing a cleanse. You know...detoxing.”

“Ahh...a dairy and butter cleanse?” Vanessa raises her eyebrows. “Don’t play me, I saw you inhale 40 pounds of cheese during the cocktail hour. Good luck tryin’ to shit later, by the way.”

“Vanessa…” Bianca glances around, praying that no one she cares about is in hearing distance.

“Is Jared the father?”

“Yes! What kind of question is-”

“Hey, I’m not judgin’. It just seems like the timing is a little…”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah. You alright?”

Bianca sighs. In an ideal world, she would be basking in the idea of sharing this news. She’d have already told her mother and everyone in her family. They’d be celebrating, thinking about names. Thank god that she has Courtney, or she’d be going crazy.

“He doesn’t know yet. And...it’s still really early, so I don’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say nothin’.”

“Anything.”

“Eat me, bitch.”

Bianca laughs softly, and Vanessa grins, plunking herself down into her lap.

“And I’m real happy about your future spawn.”

Bianca wraps her up into a big hug.

“I love you...little asshole.”

She’s a bit relieved, if she’s honest. That Vanessa knows. That someone knows. It allows her to breathe. To enjoy herself and let loose and have fun the way she used to, and the rest of the weekend zooms by in a happy blur. When she finally boards the plane on Monday, exhausted and full of love, she truly believes that everything will be okay.

***

“Court?” Bianca calls, pulling her suitcase behind her.

There’s no answer, but the dogs come skittering across the wood floor, barking and wagging their tails excitedly.

“Hey babies,” she coos, scooping them up, wondering what Courtney’s up to. Her car’s home, but maybe she’s out on a run? Bianca continues down the hall to the bedrooms. “Whoa…”

Courtney sits in the guest room, hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, surrounded by flat pack furniture, every inch of the floor and bed covered in pieces, head in her hands.

“What’s, uh...goin’ on here?” Bianca asks.

Courtney looks up, eyes teary.

“I was trying to build the crib,” she says. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That’s so sweet.” Bianca chuckles slightly. “And I mean...I am surprised, so-”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a fucking disaster, I just can’t figure out these instructions and I already had to take it apart three times and I-” Courtney’s breath hitches as she tries to hold back her tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Although we may have to revoke your lesbian card if you can’t even handle IKEA,” Bianca teases, then stops.

Courtney isn’t laughing along; she isn’t seeing any humor in the situation. She actually looks distraught. Bianca kneels down beside her.

“Court...hey...” A pang of guilt washes over her as she realizes that this is all her fault. Courtney is 27, and it’s the last day of a holiday weekend. She should be day drinking on a boat, or dancing in front of a barbecue full of veggie burgers - something fun, with music and friends and laughter. Not stressed out over building a crib for a baby that she never asked for.

“I’m so sorry, B.” The look on her face breaks Bianca’s heart. Just exhausted, miserable defeat.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to bring all this stress into your life-”

“You didn’t! I just wanted to do something nice for you, I-”

“You do nice things for me every day,” Bianca tells her, shaking her head. She reaches out to touch her hand softly. “You know what I was thinking when I was in the uber from the airport?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to be home.”

Courtney looks at her for a few moments, not quite believing it.

“Really?”

“Really,” Bianca promises. “You know what else I was thinking?”

Courtney shakes her head.

“I’m really fucking hungry.”

“Oh god, shit, of course you are.” Courtney scrambles up, springing to action. “Um, we still have a bunch of that vegetable soup, and I think there’s some brown rice in the-”

“Courtney, I can fix dinner.”

“But you just took a long flight, and-”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t flying the plane. I was just sitting there, popping those herbal xanax you gave me. And by the way, those things are shit.”

“Sorry,” Courtney says, still a bit teary.

“I’m kidding. I mean, they are shit but...” Bianca trails off. Courtney is still looking a bit frayed and delicate, and maybe making fun of her isn’t what she needs at the moment. She takes a deep breath. “…Look, I know I’ve been a mess...”

When Courtney begins to protest, she holds up her hand.

“No, it’s true. I’ve been a mess. It’s okay to say it. But...I won’t always be a mess. And you’re allowed to have bad days, too. I need to be the one to take care of you sometimes. Okay?”

Courtney finally smiles, taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Okay.”

“There’s just one little...problem.”

“What? Are you okay? What-”

“I need help getting up.”

Courtney starts to laugh, pulling Bianca to her feet. Once they are face to face, Courtney looks at her for a long moment, eyes soft.

“I love you, B.”

For a brief moment, Bianca agonizes about what she means, exactly. What kind of love? Is she still talking about friendship? Is this a confession? What now? But then, she swallows back her swirling insecurities and simply goes with it. She wraps her arms around Courtney’s waist, buries her face in her neck. Breathes.

“I love you too, Court,” she murmurs softly against her skin.

***

Bianca stands at the stove, finishing up a quick stir fry, when Courtney enters the kitchen. Her hair is damp, face scrubbed clean, a look of mild embarrassment playing on her face.

“Hey...feeling any better?”

Courtney nods, fingering a lock of her hair.

“I’m sorry about all that, I was just-” She pauses, biting her lips, then changes course. “That smells good.”

“Come taste…”

She steps up to the stove, allowing Bianca to cup her chin, feeding her a piece of bell pepper off the wooden spoon.

“Seasoning okay? I think it needs more salt.”

“Maybe a tiny bit…” Courtney shifts, still looking uncomfortable.

Bianca focuses back on the stove, humming softly under her breath. When she lifts up her head to speak, it’s at the same time as Courtney.

“You know-”

“I just want-” Courtney stops, laughing a little. “Sorry, you go.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

“I know, but-”

“You think I don’t know, how stressful all of this has been for you? Just because you don’t complain, doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

“It’s not like that, honestly.”

Bianca decides to leave it. Beckons her over to taste the food again.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

Bianca wipes a tiny bit of sauce from Courtney’s lip with her thumb, sucks it into her own mouth without thinking. Her cheeks immediately begin to heat up, and she clears her throat.

“Um, can you grab plates? This is almost-”

“Sure, of course.” Courtney quickly busies herself with setting the table. “Want some coconut water?”

“Alright…” Bianca chuckles. “You know, I actually missed that damn coconut water this weekend.”

Courtney giggles.

“I’m glad you finally understand how good it is.”

“Only that brand though, and only when it’s diluted,” Bianca says, shaking the wooden spoon at her.

“Right, of course.” Courtney flashes her a smile.

When they sit down to eat, Bianca can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. Something unspoken and important. She catches Courtney’s eye and they exchange a long, heated look. Bianca feels her pulse quicken, knows that her cheeks must be at flushed as Courtney’s.

She squirms in her seat, trying unsuccessfully to shove aside her anxieties like she’d done earlier. Finally, she can’t take it anymore.

“What are we doing right now?”

Courtney shakes her head slowly.

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, you wanted to wait. Do you still-”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to know what’s right,” Courtney admits. “I’m just trying to...I’m a bit...conflicted.”

“That’s fair,” Bianca says, but can’t ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. She really thought that something would be different tonight. She’s afraid to let herself hope that it still might be.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative silence, minds spinning. There’s so much they want to say - need to say - to each other, but neither of them knows where to begin.

Later, when Bianca stands at the sink and begins to scrub the pans, Courtney reaches into the hot, soapy water and pries the sponge out of her hand.

“You cooked,” she reasons.

“Okay, but, if you’d cooked, would you let me do the dishes?” Bianca asks.

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Courtney tells her, a smile pulling at her mouth.

“Why not?” Bianca releases the sponge.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Yeah, thank god for that,” she mutters automatically, cringing a little when she sees Courtney’s eyes widen. “I mean, uh...I think I’m enough of a hormonal basket case for both of us.”

Courtney doesn’t respond to that, merely begins scrubbing the small saucepan vigorously.

Bianca sighs, drying her hands.

“Look, I know that you’re...that you have reservations, and I don’t blame you. And I’m not trying to pressure you, or...but my feelings haven’t changed. So, whenever you decide that you want to…” Bianca swallows down the lump rising in her throat. “I’ll be here.”

Courtney continues to scrub, slower now, appears to be mulling over what Bianca’s saying with grave consideration.

“I just want you to be sure,” she finally says.

“I’m sure.”

Courtney turns around and looks her in the eyes.

“And, I’ve never been sure about anything like this. But...yeah, I’m sure about you.”

Her eyes are so soft, so warm, and when Courtney looks at her, all the feelings she’s been pushing away for almost a year come flooding in. She drops the sponge and dries her hands, chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow little breaths.

Bianca waits.

Time seems to slow down as Courtney walks forward, eyes locked with Bianca’s. She stops, both hands reaching up to cup her face, gaze falling to her full lips, then back up to her eyes.

In spite of the heat in the kitchen, the hair prickles on the back of Bianca’s neck, nearly causing her to shiver in anticipation. Courtney’s so close now that she can feel her heartbeat, pounding as rapidly as her own. Her eyes flick down to Bianca’s softly parted lips again, and Bianca can’t help the breathy sigh that escapes her, feeling Courtney’s thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones.

Bianca licks her lips, still waiting, practically trembling now.

As Courtney closes the last bit of distance between them, Bianca’s eyes fall closed, entirely focused on the feel of soft lips pressing against hers, hands still holding her cheeks, grounding her.

It’s nothing like their first kiss, the breathless, intoxicated excitement of finally giving in to their innermost desires, the dangerous thrill of eyes on them. Or even later that night, alone, the desperation of knowing it could be the last time.

This kiss is soft, tentative at first--then slow, leisurely, utterly indulgent. Both of them well aware that they have all the time in the world, allowing themselves to breathe into it, feel every sensation down to their toes. This kiss is every unspoken glance, every disregarded feeling, every secret desire whispered in the dark.

Bianca can’t tell, once they separate, if it’s been seconds, minutes, or hours. All she knows, as Courtney presses a forehead against hers, is how right it feels, how safe and warm and perfect. She wraps her arms tightly around Courtney’s waist, entirely unmotivated to move from this spot, to let go of this moment. Her head drops, nose tucked into Courtney’s neck, inhaling her scent.

Almost unconsciously, her lips begin to trace Courtney’s collarbone, hungry for the taste of her skin. A stifled, high pitched whimper spurs her on, makes her grip Courtney’s waist tighter, kisses turning feverish, their embrace growing heated and sweaty. She backs Courtney up into the table, using the hard wooden surface to keep them both grounded.

Courtney’s fingers tangle deeper into her hair, body arching forward as Bianca’s hands slide up under her shirt. Her skin is still buttery soft from her shower, and Bianca rakes blunt nails up her back, tongue chasing the biting kisses along her neck.

The intensity builds in Bianca’s body, heart pounding so loudly that she almost doesn’t hear the sudden CRASH as a plate shatters to the floor.

“Shit!” Courtney reels back, gasping for air, cheeks a dark red.

Bianca gulps. Regret fills her chest - not at the (now former, RIP) plate, but at the fact that Courtney is no longer in her arms, that she’s tugging her shirt down and sliding off the table.

“Careful, you’ve got bare feet!”

“I’m okay,” Courtney says. “Don’t move; I’ll get a broom.”

“I-”

Bianca’s heart slowly stops pounding, and when Courtney reappears in the doorway, wearing tennis shoes and armed with a broom, she smiles sheepishly at her.

“I’m sorry about your dish.”

“It’s fine.” Courtney glances down, frowning. “You have bare feet, too.”

“Yeah, I know, hand me the-What are you doing?!” she shrieks, as Courtney begins to scoop her up. “You’re not gonna be able to lift me, stop-”

“Shhh…” Courtney carries her out of the kitchen and continues to the living room. Bianca stops squirming, quickly realizing that she isn’t going to drop her.

“This is a little excessive,” Bianca says, feet dangling, now secure in Courtney’s arms. She tilts her head girlishly. “I guess I should stop talking shit about CrossFit, huh?”

“Guess so,” Courtney deposits her onto the sofa and places a kiss lovingly on her forehead. “You can wait here; I’ll finish cleaning up.”

“But-”

Courtney tosses her a wink and scampers back to the kitchen. Bianca’s head drops to the cushions, a smile playing on her face.

***

“...B?”

Bianca’s eyes open slowly, registering that it’s now dark. Courtney kneels down in front of her, a hand on her waist.

“What time is it?” Bianca croaks, rubbing her eyes.

“Almost ten. I thought you’d probably want to move to an actual bed.”

Bianca yawns, nodding, and lets Courtney help her up from the sofa.

After Bianca quickly gets ready for bed, she pads down the hall to the bedroom, noticing a sliver of light coming from Courtney’s room. She knocks on the door, and it swings open a second later.

“Everything okay?”

“Sleep with me,” Bianca requests, following up a split second later with, “Please.”

As an answer, Courtney steps forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Once they’re in bed, limbs tangled together, lips seeking each other out in the dark, Bianca feels so warm and content that her body immediately relaxes, eyes falling shut against her will. She struggles to keep them open, protesting weakly when Courtney stops kissing her and suggests that they should just sleep.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she whines, fingers gripping Courtney’s t-shirt.

“You have a 6 am call tomorrow,” Courtney murmurs into her hair. “And you need to rest.”

Bianca lets out a small whimper, fighting the exhaustion weighing down on her, as Courtney wraps tighter around her.

“It’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time…”

“Mmmhmm…” Bianca finally relents, burying her face in Courtney’s hair as sleep envelopes her.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #latrice royale #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica #concrit welcome

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