#this is making my brain tremble in barely contained terror

[canisalbus]

I fear snoutchete

.

[yukihirata]

This evil is not governed by the rules of man. No, it takes its pleasure in creating terror through total chaos.

(The following contains subject material that may be triggering to some. Themes included are graphic violence and horrific descriptions. Read at your own discretion.)

(Recommended listening: https://youtu.be/fqxOxhekn1Q?si=M9aiOqZ7ZAdokMeE )

Yuki was running. She couldn’t remember why or where she was running to, but her legs pumped and carried her across the dark landscape. Each time her feet plunged into the icy cold water a chill ran up her spine. Her bare feet barely got enough grip on the slick surface under the six inches of water, making each footfall a struggle to remain upright.

All around Yuki she could hear the insistent whispering. The sound nearly drove her to madness, her brain struggling to make out what was being said, only to come up with nothing. The words were alien to her, in a language she had never heard before. Each syllable was like a curse word, offensive to the ears and causing a sickening feeling in her stomach. She wanted nothing more for the whispers to stop so she could focus on her thoughts.

“Run all you want,” a calm male voice said from every direction surrounding Yuki. “You cannot escape me.”

A near deafening explosion went off next to Yuki, showering her with icy cold water and bits of debris. She brought her hands up to protect her face as it rained small chunks of stone onto her. A cry exploded from her as a second one went off, this time to her left. It felt as if the explosions were timed to her footfalls, as a new one would go off whenever she stepped forward. She could not, would not stop. Who knows what would happen if that thing caught her.

Suddenly a figure appeared before her and Yuki screamed with fright. She came to a skidding halt and nearly fell over as she slid forward. It felt as if time slowed down as she continued towards the figure, the explosions spreading outward slowly. Yuki was able to see the bits of stonework in the air as it was rocketed upward. All Yuki could do was stare at the figure as she drew closer and closer with each passing millisecond.

The air was forced out of her lungs as she collided with the shadowy figure. She bounced off the man and went crashing down into the chilly water below. The Raen hit the ground hard, crawling backwards as soon as she was able to move. The figure simply looked down at the girl, its expression unreadable. A pair of silver discs hung in the darkness that made up the figure, watching Yuki’s every move.

“You can’t be here!” Yuki cried out. “I killed you!”

“I am beyond the cycle of life and death. I exist now as I always have. Nothing you can do will ever be enough to stop me. I am the inevitable end of all things. You mortals are nothing more than ants under my boot, dancing for my amusement.”

“Then explain how I was able to defeat you,” Yuki demanded of the figure. She cautiously rose to her feet, trembling both out of fear and for being cold. Her arms hugged her torso as she shivered in the dark, looking at a man who was more of a silhouette than a person. Those silver eyes bore into her soul, causing a permanent feeling of dread to settle into her stomach. Her heart pounded in her chest, practically in her throat.

From the gloom, and hidden by a dense layer of fog, two more figures appeared. They were roughly five feet tall with ghastly white flesh that glistened in the poor illumination of the surrounding area. The two figures were skinny, their long arms dangling at their sides, fingers ending in curved talons. They lacked any facial features, save for two small slits that the creatures appeared to breathe through. Their chests expanded and contrasted rapidly, looking like someone who had just gotten done with a long jog.

Yuki saw these two new additions and swallowed back the fear that crept up her throat. She had seen creatures like these in the past. She knew how deadly they could be. The last time Yuki encountered them she was armed and ready for a fight. Here she had nothing, save for the pajamas on her back. She had no weapon secreted away, no emergency magical trick to pull. Yuki was doomed and she knew it.

“Ahhhhh yes, there it is,” the figure said as it took a step closer. “The fear. The doubt. Desperate for a plan, anything to help you survive.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yuki asked the figure as she brought her hands up, readying herself for the coming fight.

“Becsuse I can,” the figure said, the smile evident in its voice. “Tear her apart my children.”

That was all the provocation the two creatures needed. They let loose high pitched screeches as they shot forward, claws raised and ready to strike. Yuki cried out in surprise and took several steps back, only to have her arms sliced to ribbons by one of the creatures lashing out at her. She felt the blood running from the fresh wounds, droplets of red dripping down into the water, turning it a dark maroon color.

Two flaps of skin raised themselves on the creatures’s faces, exposing a pair of silver discs where their eyes would be to the world. Their mouths went from ear to ear, splitting their faces in two, filled with razor sharp teeth. One of them lashed out and bit Yuki’s arm and held on for dear life as she screamed. The other creature darted forward and drove both of its hands into her chest, talons disappearing under her flesh, penetrating the delicate organs below.

The creature impaling her roared and tore its hands free, ripping out one of Yuki’s lungs and her heart. The other creature snarled and flailed its arms around, slicing Yuki into ribbons. Dozens of fresh lacerations covered Yuki’s body, blood running freely from the fresh wounds and staining what was left of her clothing.

Yuki dropped down to her knees, staring up at the figure and its two creatures. The world around her started to go dark and she tumbled forward, falling face first into the icy cold water below. She lay there in the murky depths, slowly sinking under the surface and down into the depths of hell.

———

Yuki awoke with a start. Her eyes snapped open and she shot upright in her bed, gasping for air. Her hands clutched her chest, taking in fistfuls of her shirt, her knuckles white from the strain. The Raen took a moment to calm herself, having believed herself to be dead. She tossed aside the covers and hoped out of bed and walked into the kitchen.

Bare feet were slipped into a pair of slippers near the stairs leading upstairs, a robe grabbed from off the rack and wrapped around herself. It wasn’t like her to be this cold after waking up, but everything about the dream had felt so real. She could still feel the cold water pressing against her as she sunk below the surface.

A cup of water was poured and Yuki downed it in one go. She set the now empty glass down on the counter and sighed, looking out the window that overlooked Shirogane. Walking over to it, Yuki reached out and picked Kallard’s pack of cigarettes. She shuffled one free and placed it between her lips and lit it with a match. She took a drag from the cigarette and sighed as she exhaled the smoke, a sense of relief washing over her. For some reason smoking helped calm her nerves, a bad habit she had picked up while Kallard was still alive.

When Yuki was done smoking she snuffed it out in an ash tray laid out on the windowsill. She looked back into the bedroom, knowing sleep would be impossible now. So, Yuki walked into the living room, grabbed her Kallard plush and plopped down onto her cat shaped sofa. She sat there for some time, just thinking and trying to unwind after that horrible night terror. Was it real? Was he really back?

The only thing Yuki knew was that he was coming and death followed in his wake. Death was coming for her and she was powerless to stop it.

[krsonmar]

I just realized how I want the series to end. Throughout the series, the Vampiric Council pop their heads in to make their presence known, but otherwise let our little Staten Island rockstars do whatever. Basically, they keep tabs on them and know that they're not a threat. They get to be an annoyance, their incompetence starts to cause issues, and that's what the attempt to kill them at the theatre is about.

But that moment is when the Council has it made plain for them that the vampires of the household aren't the threat...Guillermo is. They figure out it wasn't the vampires who were killing other vamps after all, it was, in fact, Guillermo, and now he's taken out a couple dozen local top brass on top of that. The vampires are a mess; the vampire slayer who's their familiar is a problem. Maybe they even have a vested interest in not letting him be vampirized, whenever Nandor gets around to it, because then Guillermo is way too powerful. There's plenty of precedent in modern vampire stories for a vampire who slays vampires, and our boy Gizmo would make Wesley Snipes look like a kindergartner if he were to join the ranks of the children of the night. No, the Vampiric Council can't allow that. How useful to split them all up! Nadja can just deliver the little garlic-wielding problem-human right to their doorstep for them to take care of. They just have to trick this little coven of doofuses, and that’s so easy.

So my wanna-see (is that a phrase anyone uses? I'm gonna try to make it a thing now if not) is that we get an eventual series finale where the VC has Guillermo cornered. Maybe we get a villainous "ah yes, you recognize the brilliance of my evil plan, which I will now explain for the audience you step by step as a show of my vanity and hubris as I get ready to kill you!"-type scene, and now our poor little Memo, vastly outnumbered and overpowered, bereft of hope and motivation, seeing no more point in struggle, thinks he's done for, done in by what he always fantasized about being. He gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed back and was like "damn, that booty though", but decided to cut him down anyway, because it was him or them. So Guillermo thinks he's about to die violently, ironically, and alone.

So Guillermo thinks.

This is when our miscreant band of parasitic underdogs crash the party. Overlooked and written off as pathetic incompetents, no one to be worried about, they have spent the past few seasons being protected by this plucky little Happy Meal on legs and, without even having to think about it after putting their heads together, firing up their individual pieces of the shared brain cell, and realizing he's in danger, make a move no one expects: they do something. They act. They take matters into their own hands.

The element of surprise is all they really have but it is potent in this scenario and definitely enough, and we get to see all of them unleashed: Nadja's a terror to behold in her unhindered fury, and no walls can contain her because they just give her a better angle to attack you from; Laszlo's ride-or-die derring-do manifests as just-barely-consciously-directed Leeroy Jenkinsing through the chamber in a reckless rampage that is nevertheless highly effective; maybe Colin Robinson was able to sneak in early, hide, and drain everyone to make them more vulnerable to attack, and being now in the prime of his life again, he can put a Dyson vaccuum to shame.

And Nandor.

Nandor the Relentless once again assumes the mantle of a feared warlord, delighting in carnage and slaughtering hordes of foes in bloodthirsty glee, just as in life. Except of course, he isn't alive: he's a supernatural nightmare with 700 years of untapped strength and unresolved issues that manifest as a rage that makes the chamber tremble and pee itself--the chamber itself, the building, not the other vampires, although they too are peeing themselves and running away in terror as long as they can get away fast enough, which, let’s be honest, is not a good chance right now--and Nandor has all the fury of a miserable immortal with nothing left to lose, except for his familiar, and it looks like you just made a really, really stupid mistake in trying to kill that familiar.

Once everyone's dead who needs to be, Colin's manning the getaway vehicle (I want it to be the jalopy), and once everyone has a minute to catch their breath, Guillermo can't believe they came to get him, all of them! They didn't need him, they weren't just scared of him, it wasn't about a power dynamic or who's dependent on who or his convenience to their laziness; they pulled through for him and murdered a whole room of the top vampires in the world (oops I guess that leaves a power vacuum I wonder who should fill it) and only when he asks them why they'd put themselves in danger for him after all this time do they stop and think about it themselves.

And then they're forced to the conclusion...they all like each other. They've been telling themselves otherwise for decades, and at times it surely has been true, but they're all forced to recognize that they choose each other, and Guillermo isn't just Nandor's familiar; he's all of their familiar. And maybe that means that it's time he was finally no longer anyone’s familiar, but a fellow vampire, since they can no longer pretend they see him as ”not one of them”;or maybe the plot calls for something else and they just have to embrace him as he is, in all his respirating, metabolizing, anxiety-riddled and way-too-invested-in-everything-the way-you-are-when-you're-alive, mundane splendor. But they all get to go back home, and maybe that isn't Staten Island or the same house they’ve been living in all this time anymore, but they're all together, and they've finally figured out that they all, as a group, are each other's home.

[bakugosbratx]

Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[spacestationdaedalus]

when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh. 

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers. 

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?" 

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper. 

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."

[thdorkmagnet]

Trust, Promises, and Resets

Welcome all to my first Undertale fanfic! This one took a bit to finish but I’m really, really happy it’s done and ready to be shared with the world! Just a short and sweet one-shot about Frisk and Sans dealing with resets and all the baggage that comes with them. Wanted to put my own personal spin on a very classic concept for the Undertale fanbase. This was also some much needed practice at writing these characters, hopefully I nailed them. 

Anyways enjoy!

Disclaimer: Undertale and all its characters belong to Toby Fox. All Rights go to him. 

The glow from the screen was starting to hurt Frisk’s eyes, the neon pop of orange color starting to burn into their retina, still they refused to turn on any lights, forcing themselves to remain sitting in the dark. They couldn't let anyone see them while they did this, not mom, not dad, not Undyne, not Alphys, not Papyrus, and not Sans. Definitely not Sans. Frisk had worked so hard to gain his trust, they would hate to ruin all the progress they had made with the skeleton.

Frisk let out a long sigh, staring at the word and trying not to lose their cool. 'Reset'. The word taunted them, a constant nagging at the back of Frisk’s mind, the power and hurt contained in such a simple word. Five letters that could make or break the world, that had the power to uproot so many lives. And Frisk alone held this power. 

They let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep their calm. It's okay, it'll all be over soon and this temptation won’t haunt me any longer. They thought, though the reassurance felt hollow. 

Slowly they raised up trembling fingers, reaching out towards the button. Time seemed to slow, a steady ringing in Frisk's ear, the room around them shuddering as if the fabric of the world was unraveling. The button seemed to be gleaming back at them, the cursed words beckoning them to press it and redo it all over again. To finally satiate the curiosity they were plagued by. Just let this be over, Frisk thought, the words desperate in their head. Just let it finally end!

Knock, knock.

The steady rapping of the wood outside Frisk’s door startled them, causing them to jump in place, looking towards the closed door in panic. They racked their brain, trying to match a friend to the sound, each Monster having their own unique knocking style. Toriel’s was steady and calm, more like a melody than a knock really. Asgore was strong and powerful, often making the walls around it shake with every rap of his knuckles; it definitely didn’t fit the goofy but lovable Monster Frisk had grown to know and love. Alphys was always so gentle Frisk could barely hear it and most times wouldn’t even hear the even quieter call after from the shy scientist. Undyne forgoed knocking altogether, prefering to kick the door open with no warning (Frisk still remembered the incident where poor Blooky had been on the other side). Papyrus often did the same but when he did knock it was rapid and enthusiastic, like he was just beyond excited and couldn’t wait to enter. None of those matched up with this particular knock so that just left…

"heh, you're supposed to say 'who's there', kiddo." 

Frisk choked on a gasp. No! Not Sans! Anyone but him! 

Frisk moved to press the 'continue' button, hoping to hide the evidence before it was too late but to their surprise the door swung open way too quickly and they wanted to slap themselves for forgetting the improvements the lazy skeleton had made on himself. At first, old habits had persisted, his movements slow and tired as if he hadn’t slept in years rather than constantly. But as he and Frisk grew closer, slowly and surely they had watched the life return to the small skeleton. Not to say he didn’t have his moments of laziness. He was still the same Sans he always was, able to nap at any time or place (usually on the job), preferring to be carried around by Papyrus rather than walk, and cracking puns whenever the opportunity presented itself. But he was more energetic, Frisk might even go as far as to say happy. The smile permanently plastered on his face didn't seem forced anymore. It felt natural and real. 

In fact, just the other day Papyrus had been praising Sans on his much needed enthusiasm and Frisk had been right there with him, proud to see their friend truly happy and at peace. 

But in this moment, so close to getting caught, Frisk selfishly wished for the old Sans back, if only to prevent the catastrophe that was coming as Sans stepped into the dark room.

"heya, kiddo. what'cha doin' sitting in the dark? don't tell me we’re both going knock-turnal, heh." Sans froze as he finally took in the scene, his eye sockets widening in what Frisk could only assume was fear. They knew how it must look, sitting in the dark in front of the screen that could undo years of Sans’ life. It was an incriminating scene to walk in on and Frisk cursed themselves for not locking the door, barricading it with anything and everything they had on hand to avoid this outcome. They had been careless. They had thought the house was empty while Toriel went out for groceries but clearly they were wrong. And now Sans would pay the price. 

Sans’ eye sockets, which had only a second ago shined with life and the promise of hope, dimmed till they were void, empty spaces, no light able to seep through the blackness. Frisk had seen that look enough times to know exactly what it meant. It meant they messed up. And the consequences were that vacant expression. How many times had Frisk seen it before? They had lost count. And all the hope and trust they had built up in Sans shattered and died in an instant. Just like that. “oh,” was the only word that escaped Sans’ mouth and it sounded forced and choked at that, as empty and hollow as the black voids his eyes had become. What had Frisk done?

“Sans, it’s not what it looks like.” Frisk hoped that Sans would listen to them, let them explain and maybe make things right again. But they knew that wasn’t the case, Sans’ broken mind had already jumped to the worst possible conclusion, just like it always did. Frisk wasn’t entirely sure this was fixable but they had to at least try. “I wasn’t going to-”

“heh, it’s okay, kiddo. i get it. knew it was a matter of time, guess i just wasn’t prepared for it to be today.” There was nothing in the skeleton’s voice. No laughter, no emotion. It was just hollow. How long had it been since Frisk had seen Sans this bad. This empty. It was as if the skeleton wasn’t even there at all, just a shell made of bones pretending to be him. He looked so fragile and tired, a gust of wind could probably blow him away. 

His bony fingers rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and… oh gosh, were those tears? Frisk had really screwed up this time. Sans’s hands were back in his pockets and he tried to look casual, normal, and if not for the emptiness in his sockets Frisk might have believed it. And there was that smile, that dead smile that Frisk had worked so hard to wipe away. It was instinct for Sans, a defense mechanism against the emptiness in his soul. Just smile and joke it off as if nothing was wrong. Oh man, what was Papyrus gonna say when he saw that look was back? He had confided in Frisk once about how much it hurt him to see Sans that way. Miserable but closed off. It must have been torture watching from a distance as his brother slowly tore himself apart. 

“just, uh… do me a favor, okay kiddo?” Sans continued. “as your pal, just let me have one last trip to grillby’s before you… y’know. let me ketchup one last time before it all goes back.” The pun was painful for Frisk to hear. Normally they would laugh at how bad it was and then would follow up with something like, “Well I know those guys relish your company,” and then Sans would chuckle and say something equally as terrible and on and on it would go. But Frisk didn’t even smile at the joke, they just watched the skeleton sadly, feeling their soul shudder in pain, their sins crawling on their back. 

Before Frisk could give their answer, Sans had turned and left the room, the skeleton surprising Frisk again with his speed. Frisk was in the hallway a second later, chasing after their friend, desperate to make things right. "Sans, please wait!" 

A formation of bones appeared between the two and Frisk jumped, for a moment terror flooded through their soul. In a flash they were back in that dreaded room of yellow, the empty echoing halls torn and destroyed as thousands of bones jutted out of every crevice, breaking the once fancy hall apart. They could smell the blood in the air, could feel the bone lodged deep in their chest. The pain was unbearable as their soul was ripped apart and scattered to the wind and the last thing they saw before it all went to black was the glowing angry blue in their opponent's eyes, the words, 'dirty brother killer' echoing in their head. 

Frisk shuddered as they forced the memory back, burying it deep inside themselves. This wasn't the time for relieving the past, Sans needed them in the present. The bones protruding through the middle of the hallway and separating Frisk from Sans were a light blue, passing through them wasn't an option. That just left reasoning then. Darn, Sans was impossible to reason with in this state. But what choice did Frisk have? 

"Sans, please just let me explain." They had to make him see. Show him they weren't doing what he thought. 

"seeya 'round, kiddo," Sans said, looking back over his shoulder, giving his typical teasing wink, only now it wasn't playful. It was wrong. This was all so wrong. 

Frisk blinked and suddenly Sans was no longer in the hallway. They had been expecting him to use a shortcut but it still shook them to be alone. To suddenly be standing in the middle of their house, wracked with guilt and with no one to help provide any sort of comfort. Not that they deserved it.

Why? Why hadn't they taken more precautions? Why hadn't they made sure there was no chance of someone coming in on them? Looking back on it, Frisk felt stupid. Of course they would get caught! They had practically been begging for it. They hadn't even bothered to lock their door. Clearly Frisk had wanted this to happen! 

For a few moments Frisk just stood alone in the hallway, clenching and unclenching their fists, trying to think of a way to make things up to Sans while simultaneously cursing themselves for creating this mess in the first place. Just when Frisk was ready to slam their head into the nearest wall to try and release the image of Sans’ empty expression that circled their head, a loud voice rang throughout the quiet household. “HUMAN! SANS! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAVE RETURNED!"

Papyrus walked in through the front door (thankfully not breaking it down in his excitement) a proud, friendly smile permanently plastered on his face. Normally Frisk would be overjoyed to see him but right now, his undaunted kindness only made them feel worse and even more scummy. They didn't deserve a cool friend like Papyrus after what they had done to his brother.

The skeleton froze when he spotted the state of the hallway and the dozen or so bones jutting out of the floor. "WHAT HAPPENED HERE? DON'T TELL ME YOU ASKED MY LAZYBONES BROTHER TO SPAR WITH YOU?! BECAUSE WHILE I APPRECIATE YOU TRYING TO HELP HIM GET IN SOME MUCH NEEDED EXERCISE, I'M NOT SURE TORIEL WOULD APPRECIATE YOU DOING IT IN HER HOUSE!" Papyrus paused, a frown briefly flashing across his face as he added, "TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW."

Frisk said nothing, keeping their head lowered in shame. They didn't want to admit what they had done, not to Papyrus. They had already promised Sans not to breathe a word about 'resets' to his brother, the least Frisk could do was not betray Sans' trust anymore than they already had. 

Papyrus took notice of his friend's sad demeanor and immediately took it upon himself to cheer them up. The skeleton swept his scarf behind himself dramatically before loudly declaring, "BUT NOT TO WORRY TINY HUMAN, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL HELP YOU CLEAN UP BEFORE THE LADY TORIEL RETURNS FROM THEIR SHOPPING QUEST!!"

Frisk gave them the bare minimum of a smile, more of a grimace than a full on grin. "Thanks, Paps," was all they could think to say and they nearly flinched at their own sorrowful tone. Geez, since when had they gotten so bad at lying? Back in the Underground they had had the ultimate poker face, only Sans couldn't see through their blank expression. Now they'd be lucky to fool a blind bat with how obvious they were being. Then again, Frisk would hardly consider themselves to be emotional at all back then, feelings besides determination had been hard to come by. Frisk wondered if maybe the Monsters had been helping them this whole time and they hadn't even noticed.

Papyrus, seeing how distressed their dear friend still was, took a better look at the situation, hoping to piece together what exactly had happened to trouble Frisk so greatly. A quick glance around and Papyrus noticed something off. "WHERE IS SANS?"

Frisk bit their lip but hesitantly explained, "He went to Grillby's."

Papyrus let out a long sigh, shaking his skull despite the situation. "THAT LAZYBONES. HOW TYPICAL OF HIM TO MAKE A MESS AND LEAVE ME TO PICK IT UP. HE'S LUCKY HE'S GOT SUCH A COOL YOUNGER BROTHER LOOKING OUT FOR HIM," the skelebro added boastfully. 

Frisk shook their head, trying desperately to find some way out of this conversation without admitting to Papyrus what they had done. But no matter what scenario they thought up, they just couldn't come up with anything but the truth. So finally, the young human admitted reluctantly, "Actually me and Sans… had a fight."

"oh," Papyrus replied, for just a moment losing his loud, boisterous attitude. But then, in the blink of an eye, it was back as the skeleton was able to leap high into the air, doing a ridiculous spin as he went, which would normally get a chuckle out of Frisk. He was somehow able to completely clear the railing for the second floor, landing perfectly on his feet in front of his human friend. "NYEH HEH HEH, DO NOT FRET, HUMAN, FOR YOUR GREAT AND COOL FRIEND KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT TO DO TO FIX THIS PROBLEM!"

"You do?" Frisk asked.

"BUT OF COURSE," Papyrus continued, taking on a heroic pose. "IT IS THE DUTY OF ALL ROYAL GUARDS TO HELP OUT OTHERS IN NEED! ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE SUCH DEAR AND IMPORTANT FRIENDS SUCH AS YOU!"

"Papyrus I don't-" Frisk started to interrupt but their skeletal friend was already lost deep in his rant. They were past the point of no return, Frisk often wondered at times like this if even a reset had the power to stop Papyrus. 

"I CAN DIVIDE UP OUR PLAN INTO THREE EASY STEPS: STEP 1. LOCATE SANS, STEP 2. PERSUADE HIM TO TALK USING MY WORLD FAMOUS APOLOGY SPAGHETTI (WHICH I WILL GRACIOUSLY LOAN TO YOU), AND FINALLY, STEP 3. AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE, YOU BOTH APOLOGIZE AND AGREE TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN."

 Frisk shook their head, feeling annoyance bubbling up in their chest, but not at Papyrus. Never at him. "That's not gonna work, Paps! Sans is really upset at me and I deserve that! I really messed up! I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again." The young human hung their head, letting the shame of their actions wash over them.

But Papyrus being Papyrus didn't let this stand, aggressively putting a comforting hand on their shoulder and declaring, "I WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH TALK, FRISK! AS YOUR COOL BEST FRIEND AND SANS' BROTHER I ASSURE YOU WHATEVER YOU DID IS NOT ENOUGH TO RUIN YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH HIM."

"But how do you-"

"HOW DO I KNOW? WELL IT'S VERY SIMPLE HUMAN, BECAUSE YOU TWO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER!! I KNOW YOU TWO LIKE I KNOW MY VERY OWN COOL MIND, NYEH, AND I CAN SEE HOW HAPPY YOU TWO ARE TOGETHER!" Papyrus knelt down so he was level with Frisk, giving them a reassuring grin, his eyelights dancing. "YOU'RE OUR VERY DEAR HUMAN, AFTER ALL, AND I KNOW THAT'S HOW SANS FEELS TOO! SO YOU SEE, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR!"

Frisk took a moment to let that sink in, their guilt ridden mind tossing around this idea with skepticism, while their heavy soul flooded with hopeful optimism. They were torn between both and their body couldn't seem to decide which one to listen to more. "You really think he'll listen to me?"

Papyrus nodded energetically. "OF COURSE!! I'D BET IT ON MY GREAT AND POWERFUL NAME, NYEH HEH HEH!"

Frisk couldn't help but smile, a common side effect from being around the enthusiastic skeleton for too long. It was just what Frisk needed, to smile despite the uncertainty and anxiousness of the situation. It made them feel stronger. It made them feel determined. 

Once that feeling took hold, drowning out all the negative fears and worries, Frisk knew what they had to do. It wouldn't be an easy option, in fact, it would most likely be terrible but they were determined to make it up to Sans. To regain one of the most important friendships they had. Papyrus was right, they needed Sans just as much as he needed them.

So, after taking in a long breath for courage, Frisk looked up to their skeletal friend and simply asked, "Can you give me a ride?"

…

Grillby couldn't think of the last time he had seen Sans so miserable. The bartender had seen every single side of his friend over the years, both good and bad, even the parts he was quick to hide from everyone else. But even someone as mysterious and secretive as Sans had to break sometimes and, well, it was always in Grillby's company. The flame Monster had debated with himself many times why that was, maybe because Papyrus never came into his bar so Sans didn't feel the need to keep up the act, maybe it was the copious (and to be honest disgusting) amounts of ketchup Sans consumed that helped loosen his metaphorical lips, or maybe the skelebro just found Grillby's presence comforting. Whatever the reason, Grillby was always happy to be there for Sans, for both the good and bad days. 

And today was one of his worst. If memory served, the last time Sans had been this depressed was when they were still living underground. To everyone else he probably seemed like his normal, comedic self, greeting the regular patrons both monster and human with his typical lazy wave hello. But Grillby had seen something off immediately in his old friend. He could tell something was eating the skeleton alive and whatever it was was leaving a heavy toll on poor Sans. 

The skeletons' eye sockets were shrunken with whatever terrible emotion was plaguing him, his cheekbones stained with dried tears he had hastily tried to rub away. His smiling mouth was twitching which Grillby knew from past experiences was Sans desperately wanting to frown but his unique body structure making it impossible to do so. 

Sans looked small, even more than usual, slumping forward as if it was everything he could do to stay upright. To see his dear friend in such a pitiful state made Grillby's soul feel like it was splitting in half.

Of course, asking Sans what was wrong did nothing, the skeleton was a natural born liar. He had quickly shrugged the series of questions off, his smile so believable that anyone who didn't know Sans as well as Grillby did would have believed it. "you know me, i'm always bone-tired, heh."

The other monsters and humans accepted this answer immediately, some even laughing at the poor excuse for a joke, but Grillby wasn't so easy to convince. But he hadn't bothered to push the subject, since it was clear Sans was not in a sharing mood. Instead he just patiently took his order (ketchup as usual) making a mental note to keep an eye on his friend. Today was a busier day at the bar though, so Grillby was sadly not able to watch over Sans as closely as he wanted. Still, at the very least, Sans didn't seem to be getting any worse. But he also didn't seem to be getting any better, either. 

Grillby had just made up his mind to try and talk to Sans after closing time, when the pleasant sound of ringing filled his ears thanks to the bell that hung above the door, alerting him a new customer had entered. Grillby glanced over at them quickly, trying not to take too much attention off of the customer who was ordering, but he couldn't help but take note who had entered his humble bar. 

The human called Frisk had stepped into Grillby's establishment, looking unsure and nervous, a rarity for the determined young child. He could tell Fisk didn't want to be in there and Grillby could only assume it had less to do with his bar and more of Sans himself. After all, Frisk always seemed right at home there, Sans would often bring them along during his regular visits and Frisk would have a smile on their face from the moment they walked in, until they left with Sans. 

Now things were starting to come together. The reason for Sans' terrible mood had to be related to Frisk. The skeleton always seemed happier when the kid was with him, so the fact they had both come in separately… it was clear to Grillby the two had to be fighting, although over what was anyone's guess. Sans and Frisk always seemed to get along swimmingly, Grillby hadn't even seen the two raise their voices at each other. Sometimes Grillby could swear Sans saw himself as Frisk's dad the way he would indiscreetly fuss over them. It was hard to imagine the two weren't on speaking terms. 

Frisk glanced around at the crowded bar clutching a large plate wrapped with tin foil against their chest, clearly searching for someone when their eyes met Grillby's. The human gave him a questioning look, which the fire monster returned with a pointed finger towards the front, where Sans sat, still looking small and miserable.

Frisk gave them a halfhearted nod of thanks before slowly pushing their way towards the skeleton. Grillby watched them until an impatient customer grabbed his attention and he was forced to resume focus on his job, though he still cast an occasional glance towards the pair to see how things developed.

When Frisk reached Sans, they hesitated, taking in the sorry sight of their skeleton friend. Sans was slumped onto the bar, his face resting in his boney arms, which meant Frisk's presence had gone unnoticed so far. Normally, anyone would assume the skelebro was asleep, drinking himself to exhaustion but Frisk saw through that. For one thing, he wasn't snoring, which was a telltale sign of Sans lost in dreamland. And Frisk could also see his body shaking, ever so slightly, almost invisible to the naked eye. Sans wasn't sleeping, he was crying, and making it look like his typical lazy demeanor.

Frisk spotted the bottle of ketchup beside him and nearly gasped as they saw it was unopened. Not a drop was missing from Sans' favorite drink and that was a very bad sign. This situation was more serious than Frisk had initially thought. Normally the skeleton would get drunk to hide the terrible feelings welling up inside him, but if he was ignoring the monster-equivalent of alcohol then he must be in a really, really bad place and Frisk wasn't completely sure they could pull him out of it. 

Well that thought faded as quickly as it came, replaced with 'determination' and Frisk thought of Papyrus who was waiting outside. He believed Frisk could make this right and so they wanted to believe it too. And if they couldn't… well, Papyrus had mentioned as Frisk hopped out of his car that if they took longer than thirty minutes, he would come in after them.

Having the enthusiastic skeleton for backup allowed Frisk to finally take action, they set the plate of apology spaghetti down on the bar before climbing up onto the stool next to Sans. The skeleton didn't acknowledge them at first, still pretending to sleep. "Sans," Frisk whispered, causing their friend to flinch. Frisk wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't been expecting someone to call his name or because it came from Frisk themself but it hurt either way.

The skeleton slowly raised his head as if it drained him to do so. "oh heya, kiddo, heh, wasn't expecting to see you here." He tried to sound natural but it was clear by the grating edge to his tone, Frisk had been right, Sans had been crying. "guess you were really fired up for some of grillbz cooking, huh? or maybe something was burger-ing you?'' Sans let out a few halfhearted chuckles, his eye sockets glued to the countertop.

"Sans," Frisk began, keeping their voice steady. "I came cause I needed to tell you something about earlier."

"oh, heh, you're ready to reset already. Guess that's fair, i couldn't bring myself to get that last final drink but… seems like I'm just delaying the inevitable. thanks for waiting on me, kid. i'm… ready when you are."

"Sans, no! That's not what I mean!" Frisk exclaimed, growing frustrated, but not at Sans, at themselves for causing this whole stupid mess. "You're not listening to me! I'm not resetting!" They hadn't meant to raise their voice, they really hadn't but it seemed to be the only way to get through Sans' thick skull.

Sans stared at them long and hard, his piercing black sockets trying to read Frisk like a book and the human did their best to portray trustworthiness in their body language, making a point to keep their eyes locked with Sans' sockets. After a few endless minutes of judgement, Sans finally asked, "and your really bein' honest with me? because you can tell me if not, i promise i can take it."

Frisk shook their head, their small hands clenched into fists on their lap, wrinkling the pant leg in their strong grip. "I'm telling the truth. I don't want to go back, I don't ever want to go back! I couldn't ask for a better ending. Everyone's happy and finally getting to live life thanks to me. Papyrus gets to drive his car every day, even though he's really slow and keeps getting tickets." Frisk smiled warmly as they thought of the hyperactive skeleton, tears beginning to form at the corners of their eyes as they thought of what all would be lost if they ever gave in. "Undyne finally has the freedom to do more than fight all the time and can watch as many stupid awesome animes they want. And Alphys is so confident she doesn't stutter or talk bad about herself anymore. Mettaton's more famous then he ever was Underground and it's even better because now he gets to share that popularity with Blooky and Shyren. And every day, mom and dad look so happy just getting to garden or teach instead of trying to carry everyone's burdens on their shoulders. And Papyrus and I can both see how much better you are since coming to the surface and I would never want to take that away from you or anyone." 

Frisk sniffed, wiping their eyes on the back of their sleeve, trying to recover enough to continue. Sans just watched them with growing concern, petrified by their tears since the skeleton had never once seen them cry in the entire time he knew them, which was probably more than anyone else, human or monster. So the fact he was seeing this now left him completely off-guard and clueless as to how to react. He made several moves to comfort them but talked himself out of it at the last second, not wanting to make things worse. 

Still the fact he noticeably cared was enough to provide a small sense of comfort to Frisk and they were grateful for it. "But it's not just the monsters," Frisk continued as soon as they got their voice back. "This is the happiest I've ever been in my life! I have a real family and friends that love me and take care of me and I don't ever want any of that to go away!"

Frisk continued to sniffle, trying to keep the sobs buried at the back of their throat, the sadness returning faster than they could stop it, this time stronger than before. Tears ran down their cheeks and they hiccuped out the rest of what they had to say. "B-But no matter what I do or how much I say I won't, you always think I'm gonna reset everything. I can't convince you! Am I really that bad a person that you can't ever trust me?!" With that, the floodgates burst open and Frisk began to sob uncontrollably, doubling over in their seat and weeping pitifully into their hands. 

The moment their sobs began, Sans knew he could no longer just sit and watch, now was the time to act. Without a word the skelebro reached over and swooped Frisk into his arms, holding them in a tight but loving hug against his chest. He cooed soothing words into their ear while rocking them back and forth in his seat. He had an arm protectively around their frame, while the other he ran through their short, brown hair. Sans didn't even care that his favorite jacket was now soaked in the kid's tears, all that mattered was comforting his kiddo.  

It randomly occured to Sans that this had to be quite the sight for the other patrons of the bar, a small human child sobbing into a forever-grinning skeleton monster. Not that he particularly cared what anyone thought of his and Frisk’s friendship. Still he did take a quick glance around the bar to see if anyone had noticed the situation. Sure enough, the outburst had attracted the attention of every monster and human inside, a few of them seemed putoff by the sight like Sans expected but most just looked concerned, especially the regulars. The dogs had all started whining in concern, Lesser Dog's neck stretching out towards Frisk. Even Grillby had stopped what he was doing to watch the scene play out, Sans reading the worry from his flaming face. 

The skeleton quickly returned his attention back to Frisk as they began to shake and hiccup, their sobs slowly dying down in strength. Sans listened to their choked breaths before he decided to try and risk a joke, hoping it would lighten the mood and lift the kid’s spirits a little. “well, call me a half-eaten plate of cookies because now I feel pretty crumby.” Between their sobs, Frisk let out a little laugh, small and halfhearted but it was music to Sans’ ears. He would take any form of joy over listening to them cry a moment longer. Heck, he would prefer a reset over the soul-breaking sobs bursting from his poor kid, especially since he was part of the cause of their tears. 

He waited until they had recovered enough to listen, saying in a soft, gentle tone, “listen frisk, i’m so sorry i made you feel that way… that i didn’t trust you. I know you may not believe it but i probably trust you more than myself, heh.” Sans gave Frisk a little squeeze for reassurance. “so please don’t blame yourself for this dumb comedian’s mistake, babybones.”

“You aren’t dumb,” Frisk spoke up, their voice muffled by Sans’ jacket. 

“and you aren’t a bad person,” the skeleton monster countered.

Frisk finally pulled their face out of Sans’ jacket, staring up at him with tear-stained vision. “So… you aren’t mad at me?” 

Sans almost laughed out loud at the question, the ridiculousness of it all astounding to him. Here he was trying to comfort Frisk after causing them to cry, all because he couldn’t accept that his time in the underground was finally over, that Frisk really wouldn’t reset and trap them all down there again. If anything they should be mad at him, not the other way around.

“of course i’m not mad, kiddo,” Sans finally replied, rubbing a hand up and down Frisk's back in a soothing motion. “ i just got a little too sans-itive back there.” The two both chuckled at the joke, a real, genuine smile returning to Frisk’s face. That’s better, Sans thought with relief. He did a quick scan around the rest of the bar and saw that everyone else had visibly relaxed too, now that Frisk had finally stopped crying. 

Since he got the kid calm he figured now was as good a time as any to get some answers so he set them back in their own seat while asking, “so, uh, if you don’t mind me askin’ what were you doing before, if you weren’t trying to reset?" 

Frisk tensed, biting their lip and looking down at their lap but thankfully there were no more tears like Sans worried there might be. The human child took a long moment, building up the courage to say, shifting uncomfortably in their seat and not meeting Sans’ eye. Clearly it was something they didn’t want to discuss. Sans was about to change the subject and be done with it but Frisk spoke up just in time. “I was… trying to find a way to destroy the ‘reset’ button,” they admitted sadly. 

Sans blinked, the only shock and surprise he let show on his face. He wasn’t expecting that. “uhhh, okay seems a bit weird since you yourself said you never wanted to reset again,” the skeleton responded finally.

“Yeah, but…” Frisk paused, their eyes flooding with fear while their small fingers fiddled with the front of Sans’ jacket, clenching and unclenching the fabric in their grip. All at once they seemed so very far away, lost in their own world and Sans feared he wouldn’t be able to reach them from where he was, he feared it was a path Frisk was trying to walk alone. 

“kid?” Sans whispered worriedly, cupping their cheek in his skeletal palm. Frisk’s eyes refocused, snapping them out of whatever horrible vision they had just been shown and they hesitantly met Sans’ gaze. “c’mon, tell me what’s wrong.” 

Frisk took in a deep breath, in and out, before admitting, “I-I’m afraid of m-myself.” 

Again this was not what Sans was expecting but he made sure not to let his surprise show on his face, knowing Frisk needed unflinching support at this time. “what, a nice kid like you? What could you possibly have to fear about yourself?”

“T-That I’ll reset anyways. That I’m not determined enough to keep this happy ending. That’ll I’ll… ruin everything,” Frisk said, their eyes filling with shame. 

Sans gave them a small pat on the head. “but i thought you were determined not to reset? that you’re happy the way things are.”

“But what if it doesn’t last?” Frisk asked, clutching Sans’ jacket so tightly their knuckles turned white, their eyes pleading and desperate as they looked to their skeletal friend for answers. “What if something goes wrong a-and I stop being happy? And then the temptation comes back and I can’t stop myself from-from going back there.” Frisk was starting to hyperventilate and Sans started rubbing circles on their back again, trying to keep them breathing regularly. At this rate he wouldn’t be surprised if the kid passed out on him. “I don’t want this to end Sans, I don’t want to disappoint you or break our promise but the fact that I don’t know for sure terrifies me!” 

Sans took a minute to respond to that, keeping a blank expression while inwardly battling with the turmoil that was threatening to crush him. On one hand, he was afraid of the exact same thing, too. Afraid of waking up back underground, powerless to stop it, completely at the whim of an unpredictable human. And yet, Sans could tell Frisk needed comfort, reassurance, and he was the only one who could provide it, the only one who understood what they were going though. It had never once occurred to Sans that Frisk might be going through the same fears he was and he wanted to slap himself for being so self-centered he hadn’t even noticed the struggles his dear friend was going through on their own. 

And despite his fears, what he said to them before rang true. He believed in Frisk. Sure they had messed up before (heck wasn’t like he was exactly Mr. Perfect either) but they had worked so hard to make up for past mistakes and then some. Without them, Sans wouldn’t be free, his family and friends would still be trapped underground, slowly losing their hope of ever seeing freedom for themselves. Sans had judged Frisk more times then he could count, but that last time, before they broke the barrier and declared they would never reset again, he could see they were determined to do right. There had been resolve in their eyes that day at the Judgement Hall, filled with the strength to do good. They held themselves taller than they ever had before and the way the light reflected off their skin and clothes, they looked like a real hero, like… an angel. That was the moment Sans knew things would be different this time, the first time in a long line of resets he allowed himself to hope. Small and fragile, yes, but it was what started him down the right path to fixing himself and he had needed that more than he even knew at the time.

So if he wasn’t willing to return the favor, then he’d be a real, bone-ified jerk. Heh. Not to mention a massive hypocrite. Besides he was positive if Frisk started crying again then he would start weeping some very unmanly tears, too, and he did not want to explain to the other patrons of the bar what caused his own water works, especially Grillby. He was already pushing it by coming there in such a depressed state, if the bar owner caught sight of him crying… well, he might just have to find a new place to drink his favorite brand of ketchup just to get him off his back. 

Sans wasn’t exactly the most experienced when it came to cheering people up, despite his jokes and pour sense of humor he was too much of a cynic to do much of that, but he had a pretty good idea what to say to the kid to ease their mind a little. So, one deep breath later, he gave their hair a good, long ruffle, not enough to hurt them but still strong enough that they were tipped slightly forward by the action.  

When he was finished, Frisk seemed taken aback by his response, their hair standing up at odd angles and their eyes wide with confusion but Sans’ plan had worked, he had successfully drawn their attention away from their own troubling thoughts and that was a win in his mind. “c'mon, kiddo,” Sans began, giving them a fake scolding look (which wasn’t easy to do when you are always smiling). “what kinda talk is that? thought you were supposed to be the ‘most determined’ or whatever. you seriously trying to tell me you're afraid of some button after literally coming back from death itself dozens of times?” 

Frisk didn’t respond, just staring at the skeleton blankly, so he decided to continue on with his speech, making sure the message sunk in deep. nah, sorry not buyin’ it.” He shook his head before putting on a warm smile, one he knew Frisk would recognize. “the frisk i know is way too stubborn for that. so stop tellin’ yourself otherwise.” 

“But Sans, what if something happens? What if things go wrong and ‘resetting’ might be easier?” Frisk asked, fear flooding their vision for a moment as they gripped his jacket fearfully. 

But Sans just shrugged it off, reassuring his kid, “then we’ll deal with it. i’m sure between the two us, we numbskulls can come up with some kind of solution that doesn’t involve resetting.” 

Frisk smiled a little at the pun but they were too focused on the rest of that sentence to comment on it. “‘We’?” they repeated in a small voice as if uncertain they had heard Sans' right.

The skeleton just nodded his head, winking down at his human friend. “that’s right, kiddo. no matter what happens or if things go terribly right or terribly wrong, i'll be right there by your side, so that we can face it together.” 

“You mean it?” Frisk asked hopefully. They wanted to believe that. They wanted so badly to believe they weren’t be alone in dealing with this anymore. But after everything they had done to Sans, even if he didn’t blame them, Frisk just couldn’t accept that as the truth.

“of course i meant it. What kind of dunkle would i be if i wasn’t there to help my kid through a crisis?” he winked playfully at his kiddo but it still didn't quite get through Frisk's barrier.

They at least gave a small halfhearted smile at the nickname they had made up for Sans but they just weren't convinced. After all, Sans had proven he was a pretty good liar. How could they know for sure he was telling the truth? That he wasn't just saying what they wanted to hear like adults tended to do.

The skelebro could see the doubt on their face and so swept them up into another tight hug before saying, "i'll be here for you, kiddo. no matter what. i promise."

Frisk’s mouth dropped open at the word ‘promise’. Sans hated making promises. He avoided committing himself to pretty much anything just to avoid the responsibility and consequences promises brought with them. Despite that, it was obvious promises were something Sans regarded highly, because when he did make them, he did not take them lightly. They were the only reason he hadn’t just disposed of Frisk the first time they met. In all the resets and all the different outcomes Sans had never once spoken those words to them and Frisk had honestly believed he never would. So for him to say those words without force or question or any kind of convincing blew Frisk's mind! 

Frisk pulled out of the hug, so they could show Sans their disbelief, giving him a look resembling a gapping fish. The skeleton couldn't help but chuckle at the odd expression (not that he blamed them) before giving their hair another good ruffle. "yeah, yeah, i know. 'i hate makin' promises','' he shrugged as he repeated his old words back to himself. "But if it helps ease your mind and keeps this from happening again…" Sans gestured around the bar, stopping at the unopened bottle of ketchup. "...then i guess it's worth it."

Frisk let out a long puff of air, their face relaxing for the first time in an hour. "So I guess you really condi-meant it," they replied and the two burst into laughter. Sans' laugh roared around the fairly-sized bar, drawing many questioning eyes onto the pair but neither noticed nor cared. All the stress and tension that had built up within them was finally able to be let out, a normal, pleasant calm falling over the pair. 

From where he stood cleaning out empty shot glasses, Grillby smiled to himself, happy to hear Sans' laughter in his bar again. The place always felt empty without it, even if the skeleton was a bit of a handful. 

"you have no idea how much I pro-missed hearing that laugh of yours, buddy, heh," Sans admitted jokingly, winking down at the giggling Frisk. This only made them laugh harder until there were tears in their eyes. 

Seeing that now was the right moment for it, Sans offered the kid his hand to shake. "so how's about it, frisk, partners against time?" 

Frisk smiled and nodded vigorously, taking the skeleton's outstretched hand. A loud fart noise echoed through the bar, any newcomers there stopping what they were doing with a look of disgust. Grillby's happy smile turned to an annoyed frown, facepalming in utter frustration and disappointment. He made a mental note to talk to Sans on a day he was doing better because at this rate he was gonna scare away all of his business. 

Frisk and Sans, on the other hand, both snorted, trying to hold in their laughter. But when Sans flipped over his hand revealing the whoopie cushion taped onto his palm the two lost it, laughing uncontrollably at the prank, Frisk holding their stomach from lack of oxygen. 

Finally, their roars of laughter died down to a low rumble, then a scattering of chortles. Once Frisk and Sans had worn themselves out, they both just took a moment to catch their breath, panting heavily and grinning ear to ear (or non-ears in Sans' case). Once the skeleton could speak again, he lazily stated, "welp, better get back home before pap freaks out and goes lookin' for us." Sans quickly swiped up the ketchup bottle off the counter, popping the lid off and finally taking a massive gulp from the bottle before sliding it away into his jacket for later. No use letting it go to waste, after all.

“Ummmm,” Frisk mumbled, looking over at the clock on the wall, quickly reading the time. It was only a few seconds till 7:30, right when Paps had said he would come in. “About that-” 

Just as the clock switched over from 7:29 to 7:30, the door to the bar busted open, the loud noise startling human and monster alike, a silence falling over the place as all turned to see who had so hastily entered their place of relaxation. Papyrus stood proudly in the doorway his scarf waving in the wind somehow, despite there not being any wind to speak of. The door itself was now nothing but splintered wood from where Papyrus had kicked it open and Grillby hung his head in defeat, already dreading another phone call to the very frustrated door repair man. The skelebro ignored all the confused and judging stares from around the bar, his focus on his brother and friends spotting them near the back. “SANS! HUMAN! DO NOT FEAR FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM HERE TO HELP YOU SOLVE YOUR DIFFERENCES AND BECOME BEST FRIENDS AGAIN!” the skeleton declared loudly. 

“bro?” Sans asked in confusion, an eyebrow slowly raising. He glanced over at Frisk, who offered a sheepish expression as the only means of explanation. “so, you got my bro in on this too, huh?” Sans commented before passing it off with a shrug. “heh, guess i can’t blame you, he is too cool to go without.”

“OF COURSE I AM!” Papyrus agreed, putting a hand to his chest. He quickly snapped out of his self-congratulatory praise though and returned focus to things almost as important as he was. “BUT DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" he scolded, moving his gloved hands to his protruding hips. "SANS, I DON’T KNOW ENTIRELY WHAT THE TINY HUMAN DID TO UPSET YOU BUT I’M SURE WHATEVER IT WAS IS NOT ENOUGH TO STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND. IF YOU DID STOP BEING THEIR FRIEND YOU WOULD FEEL BAD AND WHEN I WAS OUT HANGING OUT WITH FRISK YOU WOULD PROBABLY LAZE AROUND AT HOME AND I DON’T NEED ANY MORE EXCUSES FOR YOU TO BE LAZY.”

bro, it’s fine,” Sans spoke up, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “frisk and i already worked things out.” 

“OH.” Papyrus paused for a second or two, letting that process, before he stuck a dramatic pose and proudly declared, “WOWIE! I’M EVEN BETTER AT THIS THEN I THOUGHT! NYEH HEH HEH!”

“you sure are, bro,” Sans agreed, pulling the bottle of ketchup out and taking a small sip. 

“You’re the greatest, Papyrus!” Frisk added, smiling up at the tall skeleton.

“WELL YES I AM, THANK YOU FOR NOTICING, TINY HUMAN FRISK!” Papyrus picked Frisk and Sans up and pulled them into a loving hug. “AND YOU AND MY BROTHER, even though he is very lazy, ARE VERY GREAT AS WELL, NYEH HEH HEH!” 

Frisk hugged the skelebro back while Sans just hung loosely from his arm, already fighting sleep, but still smiled nonetheless. “we’re only cool cause we hang out with you, bro,” Sans said, his words already starting to slur. 

“SANS ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW? YOU JUST MADE UP WITH FRISK! WE MUST CELEBRATE ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS.” 

“you know me, bro. I’m… the best at being la….zzzzy,” Sans began to snore loudly and Papyrus let out an over dramatic sigh. Frisk covered their mouth to keep their giggles from escaping, finding the two skeletons immensely funny and entertaining. There was never a dull moment with them around. 

Papyrus put a gloved hand to his forehead, before commenting bitterly, “I CAN’T TELL IF THAT WAS MEANT TO BE A PUN OR YOU ARE JUST REALLY THAT LAZY.”

“bit of both,” Sans muttered in his sleep. 

“OKAY, YOU LAZY BONES, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME AND PUT YOU IN YOUR PROPER BED, SINCE MY ARM DOES NOT COUNT AS ONE,” Papyrus declared, already stomping towards the door. 

“Wait, Papyrus, can’t we at least get something to eat first?” Frisk asked, sheepishly, rubbing their stomach. “I’m really hungry.” 

“NOT TO WORRY, HUMAN. FOR TGE GREAT PAPYRUS ALWAYS PLANS AHEAD, NYEH HEH HEH! YOU CAN EAT MY APOLOGY SPAGHETTI ON THE WAY HOME."

Frisk made a face, trying their hardest not to let their disgust show. Although Paps’ cooking had gotten better since getting to the surface, it was still mostly inedible. And the smell of burgers and fries had already filled their nostrils, making their stomach growl in want.

Luckily, Sans already had a solution to this dilemma, his right eye lighting up blue, unseen by Papyrus, thanks to how he was draped over his bro's arm. The plate of unopened spaghetti then also turned the pale color to match the skeleton's eye, before it suddenly scooted itself across the bar and onto the floor below. There was a shattering sound heard from Grillby's side of the table, said monster watching the plate fall before whipping his head in the direction of Sans, fuming with anger. 

Sans shrugged to the fire monster, hoping he would take that as an apology, while telling Papyrus, "sorry, bro. already are it all. you know apology spaghetti is my favorite spaghetti. you can taste the remorse in every bite."

Papyrus gasped, setting the human down so he could hold Sans at arms length (startling the older brother) his eyelights somehow sparkling with joy to convey just how happy he was to his brother. "OH SANS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT, NYEH HEH HEH! I ALMOST FORGOT HOW MUCH YOU ENJOYED MY COOKING! YOU ARE THE BEST BROTHER I EVER HAD!"

"heh, pretty sure i'm your only brother, too," Sans mentioned.

Papyrus began spinning them in a circle, which Sans' body instantly disliked, the place where his stomach would be groaning in protest. "OH BUT IT'S TRUE! I'M CONFIDENT EVEN IF YOU WEREN'T MY ONLY BROTHER YOU WOULD STILL BE THE GREATEST BECAUSE ONLY THE BEST BROTHER WOULD LOVE MY SPAGHETTI SO MUCH!"

Sans put a hand over his smiling mouth, trying to keep his dinner down. "paps, ya think you could stop with all the spinning before this spaghetti turns into seafood?" The skelebro asked miserably. 

Papyrus did stop, looking at his brother in confusion. "WAIT, HOW WOULD IT DO THAT?"

Sans shrugged nonchalantly, despite his pale complexion, his face beading with sweat, and his groaning insides. "because, uh, y'know cause i was gonna throw it up."

Papyrus frowned at his brother muttering, "FIRST OF ALL, SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING. SECONDLY, WE ARE SKELETON MONSTERS, FOOD JUST TURNS INTO MAGIC. WE PHYSICALLY CANNOT THROW UP."

"i hear ya, bro, but the rest of me just can't stomach it," Sans replied simply.

Papyrus stared at him blankly before shouting, "OH MY GOSH, SANS! THAT ONE WASN'T EVEN CLEVER!"

"hey, you can't blame me for the bad puns, bro," Sans pleaded, although there was not a hint of remorse or regret on his face. "i'm just too excited to get to spin more time with the great papyrus." 

Papyrus smiled, saying brightly, "WHY THANK YOU SANS, I KNOW I'M VERY GREAT-" However, he froze upon realizing the pun his older brother had just made. "SANS! WHY MUST YOU RUIN OUR MOMENTS WITH YOUR INFERNAL PUNS!" Papyrus stomped his foot once in anger, while Sans just rolled with laughter. He was soon having to clutch his front, his rib bones aching from the uncontrollable laughing fit.

Papyrus just rolled his eyes, knowing there was not much more he could do about his brother's obsession with terrible puns. In all honesty though, Papyrus would happily endure as many terrible jokes as it took if it meant getting to see his brother this happy. Not that he would ever, ever admit it to him. 

Papyrus felt a small tug on his scarf and looked down to see Frisk staring up at him with a hopeful expression. “Soooo, does that mean I can have something to eat here?” They put their hands together in a pleading motion, begging with their eyes to try and break through the skeleton’s barriers. Papyrus avoided their eye for a moment, seeming to think it over. 

From behind the three, Grillby crossed his arms, staring at Papyrus long and hard as he waited for the skeleton’s answer, the flames around his head burning a little stronger than normal. The least Papyrus could do after breaking his door (again) was buy something so that Grillby could afford to replace it. Still he didn’t voice this out loud because Papyrus was Papyrus and he really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He was as charming and naive as he was destructive. With a combo like that, Grillby figured he would be paying for a lot of repairs if it meant having the skelebros around.

Sans, however, would be getting a firm lecture from him once they were alone because his bar was not a trash can, nor should it be treated that way. Although even Sans was difficult to punish, if Grillby had a right mind he would have banned them both ages ago, but he had a soft spot for the skeletons so he tolerated all their strange antics and pranks even if he probably shouldn’t.  

Finally, Papyrus seemed to reach a decision as he said in a halfhearted tone, “VERY WELL, SINCE I KNOW YOU TWO LOVE THIS PLACE, for reasons i don’t quite understand, WE MAY EAT SOMETHING HERE BEFORE GOING HOME TO MY SPAGHETTI.”

Frisk hugged Papyrus’ leg, saying excitedly, “Thanks, Papy! You're the best!” 

“I KNOW, NYEH HEH HEH,” Papyrus replied warmly, giving them a loving pat on the head before sending them off to order.

Sans finally stopped laughing long enough to call over to the kid, “hey, frisk, buy me a burger would ya?” 

“I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY ATE MY SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus questioned his brother in confusion. 

A few drops of sweat ran down his skull as Sans tried to think up a response to that, finally settling on, “i got a ton of room left, bro.”

“SANNSSSS….” Papyrus growled in a warning tone. 

But this didn’t stop Sans at all as he finished his joke with his signature wink, “a skele-ton.” 

“UGH, WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER?!” Papyrus shouted out of annoyance for his lazy brother. 

“c’mon you can’t stay mad at me, bro. we both know you love my puns,” Sans said, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder. 

Papyrus sighed dramatically. “I SWEAR SANS I WILL DROP YOU AND THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO WALK YOURSELF HOME,” the skeleton threatened, though they both knew it was just a bluff. Papyrus would never drop his one HP brother for any reason, especially over a couple of bad puns. And even if he did, Sans had his shortcuts. But the older skeleton bro knew the real reason such a threat would never come to pass.  

“no, you won’t. you love carrying me around,” Sans pointed out in a nearly teasing tone. 

“I ADMIT NO SUCH THING,” the tall skeleton stubbornly responded, even though they both knew the truth.

“thanks for being there for me and the kid, bro,” Sans suddenly said, his tone switching from joking to serious in an instant. “it really means a lot to me.” 

“YOU ARE WELCOME, BROTHER,” Papyrus replied sweetly. But his jovial tone turned bittersweet as he added a bit sadly, “I’M JUST GLAD YOU AND THE HUMAN AREN’T FIGHTING ANYMORE. I KNOW YOU TWO ARE VERY CLOSE SO SEEING YOU UPSET AT ONE ANOTHER IS VERY DIFFICULT TO WATCH.” 

Sans didn’t respond to that, just watching as Frisk cheerfully spoke to Grillby, who was busy preparing the food, their light smile and happy laugh making Sans feel hopeful again. It was strange, all the years of darkness and despair, of endless resets and depression and death, they felt so far away when Frisk smiled. It made him want to smile too and keep smiling forever. There was still a lot to do to put himself back together but it no longer felt impossible. And it was all thanks to his kid, Frisk. 

“UM, I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED,” Papyrus reluctantly spoke up, cutting through Sans’ thoughts. “BUT DO YOU THINK YOU TWO WILL FIGHT OVER WHATEVER IT WAS AGAIN? BECAUSE IF SO THEN I SHOULD KEEP SOME APOLOGY SPAGHETTI READY FOR IF OR WHEN THAT HAPPENS.” 

Sans thought that over for a moment, looking up at Frisk again. Grillby had just finished with their order consisting of two burgers, some fries, and a vanilla milkshake for Papyrus. The human child must have felt their eye sockets on them because Frisk turned and waved over to the pair, smiling truly and genuinely at their very dear friends. And that look was all it took to give Sans his answer. “nah, bro. i think me and frisk are done doing the same thing over and over again. it’s time to start doing somethin’ new. and i for one am really set to start livin, heh.” 

A/N: Yes the last line was sorta a pun. More of an inside joke though XD

[foilfreak]

BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

[anika-ann]

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5600

Summary:  Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning? 

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and  alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

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You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

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An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

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Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

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Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

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Part 2

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Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

[cheri-translates]

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 2 - Part Two

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for the Season 2 main storyline, which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Be sure to read Part 1 first!

Things get intense after Lu Yi discovers that a particular STF member didn’t participate in the investigation of MC’s company, and had touched the case of drugs when his teammate brought it back

That STF member’s Evol is swapping objects. Keep this in mind IT’S VERY IMPORTANT.

How his Evol works: He needs to touch two objects. The item he touches the second time can then be switched with the first

Gavin is wary that the suspect might swap himself with another STF member, so they decide not to engage in any large scale action

Gavin: Tang Chao. As arranged, let MC leave this place safely. MC, I’ll look for you later.

MC understands that this is STF territory, so she agrees to leave

The STF member who leads her out is wearing a mask and is really shady...

While MC follows behind the shady STF member, the cogs in her brain start whirring: How could the culprit verify that the drugs were real or fake if he wasn’t at the investigation? -> What if there were two people?!

She prepares to press the earpiece to talk to Gavin, but hears his voice:

Gavin: MC, get away from that person! He’s F-45!

In the earpiece and behind me, I can vaguely hear the sound of explosions.

My feet halt. After hesitating for a second, I run in the direction where we came from.

He knew he’d definitely be discovered by Lu Yi, and so made a switch beforehand!

F-45 touches her and she gets swapped with F-45′s partner to view THIS MAGNIFICENT SIGHT:

In the next second, I see the cold muzzle of Gavin’s gun. Cold light is on his face, and it’s filled with austerity.

A startled expression flashes across his face for a moment, and his eyes widen slightly.

But the sharp bullet is already flying in my direction, and time seems to stand still.

The whistling of the bullet is the only sound remaining in the world.

The fired bullet continuously draws closer to me, as though it’d split my head apart in the next instant.

I know that F-45 has switched us. He must have touched his partner in order to carry out this plan.

To let me die here.

All the truths will be silenced with my death.

I know I can’t be faster than the bullet, but I still grit my teeth, wanting to turn my head to the side.

I’ll never give up struggling. I’ll not just die here!

A violent wind whips up instantly.

Gavin: Get down! 

Gavin’s eyes are stricken with terror. He stretches out his palm, green veins popping out on his forehead.

The frigid wind is mixed with an abnormal darkness, but all its strength is accurately and quickly concentrated at the front of the bullet.

The gale is at the fore of the bullet, as though they are engaging in a sharp confrontation.

The speed of the bullet is too fast, and it spins rapidly in the small windstorm.

In the next second, I see a strange figure behind Gavin.

MC: Gavin! Behind you!

The gale is next to me. In the windstorm, the bullet continues spinning fiercely.

Gavin lifts his hand, and the bullet flies off in the same direction.

It brushes the side of Gavin’s face lightly, hitting the person behind him.

F-45: Ah!!

In the next moment, F-45 touches himself. A small police emblem is swapped with where he stood previously.

Gavin protects me from the front, glaring at the STF emblem on the ground. His icy gaze is fixed on the two people.

The bullet had hit F-45′s thigh. The other culprit hits the emergency button.

MC and Gavin get trapped behind metal grilles while the culprits run off

Lu Yi speaks to them via the earpiece and identifies the other culprit, U-2, who joined STF 10 years ago. His Evol is creating explosions

U-2 uses his boom boom powers to destroy the cameras

While dramatic music ensues in the background, this happens:

MC: Gavin, can we break the glass behind us to escape?

Gavin: It’s a wall.

MC: Huh?

Gavin: It’s a projection. To beautify the environment.

Even under such circumstances, Gavin explains things to me seriously. It makes me feel like laughing.

I look at the two traitors, and my worry suddenly turns to ease.

MC: What should we do next?

Gavin: Protect yourself. Then, trust me.

He doesn’t turn his head, but his tone is specially slowed down and made tender for me. At the same time, a fierce wind whips up in our surroundings.

The sparks in the man’s hands flicker. Behind him are surveillance cameras set ablaze and knocked to the ground.

I look at Gavin, who has had his shoulders straightened all this while, and I feel vaguely uneasy.

Is Gavin still afraid of fire?

The bright blood red colours flood Gavin’s eyes. He clenches his tense fingers slowly, his entire body seeming to react more slowly than usual.

As U-2 moves his palms, explosions ignite all around us. Broken circuits sizzle with electricity. Together with the crackling sparks, they create raging flames.

??: Save mum! I beg you to save mum!

??: It’s not that I’m standing idly by. You’re too incompetent. You lack the ability to save your mother! From the start, you shouldn’t have been born. You’re the biggest flaw in my entire life!

The monstrous flames shroud his mother’s expression of despair, and Gavin’s own powerless cries for help.

A similar image suddenly surfaces in his mind, overlapping with a small voice, as though reminding him of his powerlessness.

He is unable to register the scalding sensation in his fingers. From that day onwards, something had changed.

It’s just like wanting to write an important letter on a drenched sheet of paper. No matter how much hard he tries, the writing will always be hazy and unclear.

He shifts backwards unsteadily, stepping against the tip of the girl’s shoe.

The girl’s soft and gentle fingers pause on his back, causing his shoulders to tremble slightly.

He turns his head to look at her face. The light in her eyes are crystal clear, without a trace of fear in them.

She grips his slightly trembling palm gently, giving him a smile filled with confidence.

Just like her unreasonable smile on that rainy day.

His fingers gradually regain their warmth. The explosions outside the wind-constructed wall become even more violent.

U-2: Are you going to keep hiding?

Gavin blinks slowly, his eyes flickering with light from the flames. But this time, there isn’t just fear in them.

Behind him, there’s someone he needs to protect.

In his fiery orbs, Gavin seems to see that tiny him.

There are scars all over his body, deep unwillingness and sorrow in his eyes. Tears are streaming down his face as he walks towards himself.

When he walks to his side, Gavin tousles his head gently. Their profiles intersect. But this time, he walks in the direction of the fire.

Who exactly should decide one’s value?

He steps onto the ground resolutely, looking at the man and the reckless flames, no longer retreating.

Gavin knows that this blood red colour will still be his nightmare, but she will be behind him.

Which is why he will not back down.

And this nightmare - someday, it will welcome the dawn.

Even though he can’t answer that question right now, his existence is definitely not defined by other people.

The value of this existence - he will find it himself, and will prove that he has never been a flaw!

The incisive and limpid wind courses through countless sparks, channelling even bigger flames.

The man didn’t seem to expect that the fire would grow this ferocious. He lifts his arm and retreats slightly.

At this moment, Gavin breaks through the light.

He crosses the wall of fire, one leg kicking the man onto the ground, using one leg to kneel on his back.

Without turning his head, he immediately lifts his gun, firing it behind him.

The bullet barely brushes past F-45′s finger just as he lifts it up.

Gavin: Don’t move.

Wind brushes Gavin’s hair lightly. He handcuffs the man steadily.

The man is on the ground. While he struggles, a faint branding of a snake appears on the back of his neck.

The guy suddenly spits out blood and smiles ferociously at Gavin

Gavin realises what he’s about to do and INSTANTLY LUNGES THROUGH THE LARGE FIRE TOWARDS MC T-T

The guy smashes his head on the ground, causing a gigantic explosion

In the midst of the fire, MC is surrounded by a gentle wall of wind T-T

Gavin is panting slightly, his left arm leaning against the wall of wind, looking as though he’s fine.

MC: Gavin...

Gavin: I’m fine, it’s just a small wound.

Just as I plan to lean over to take a careful look at his wound, I hear soft choking noises from afar off.

F-45 is still alive!

Gavin is prepared to stand up, but MC stops him by pressing on his shoulder, and it’s hinted that it’s coated with blood T-T

She says she’ll bring F-45 over. Despite Gavin saying she can’t carry him, he still lets her go, using his Evol to pave a small path for her amid the flames

I turn my head to look at Gavin. The corners of his lips are lifted. His head is turned to the side, the light of the fire rippling slowly in his eyes, clear and resolute.

Gavin: Go carry him.

MC manages to get to F-45, but he’s on the verge of dying so she reads his memories:

There’s a little girl crying and telling F-45 about the class president who keeps bullying her. F-45 says he’ll fetch her from school from then onwards so no one would dare to bully her

In the next image, MC sees a dark hall. Someone speaks: “The existence of Evolvers was a mistake. They will only increase the despair in this world. They shouldn't have appeared in this world. We are Gray Rhino. We will get rid of Evol, for the future of humanity.” 

F-45 is in the crowd, and everyone has a snake branded on different parts of their bodies

The next image: The warehouse transaction, and a face she can’t see clearly, though he has a mocking look in his eyes

The images vanish. F-45 is dead.

My hand trembles uncontrollably as I shut his eyes gently.

Gavin: MC.

In my blurry vision, Gavin stretches out his palm.

I walk to his side slowly, and he pats the top of my head gently.

Gavin: This isn’t your fault.

Feeling awful, I nod, knowing clearly that now isn’t the time to be despondent.

What I can do is remember the anger I'm experiencing right now.

She tells Gavin what she saw, and Gavin explains that Gray Rhino is an organisation which is against the existence of Evol, consisting of normal citizens and victims of Evol

STF has been investigating them, but didn't expect them to be related to the drugs

MC notices that Gavin is sounding very fatigued, and realises he’s been concealing his back from her

The fabric on his back has long since been scorched by the flames, revealing his skin which is gradually oozing droplets of blood. The shocking large patch of red seems to emanate heat from the flames.

Simply looking at it tugs at the nerves which perceive pain.

Even though he quickly blocked off that man’s explosion, the violent explosion still completely lashed at his back.

All of the wind was encasing me, leaving only a little for himself.

Because he still used his Evol in his injured state, his wound has been exacerbated. 

Waves of heat continuously rise up my chest. I grit my teeth and look at Gavin, who’s putting on a brave front.

He looks as though it doesn’t bother him, coolly and clumsily preventing his wound from getting lapped by the flames.

MC: Gavin you big fool! What do you mean by “small wound”!! You lied to me!

Gavin: [weakly] This isn’t life-threatening...

I don’t feel like talking, and only glare at him harshly.

He seems to realise something from the way I’m staring at him. He lowers his eyes, somewhat at a loss as he places his hand on the back of his neck.

Gavin: [hisses in pain]

MC: Don’t touch your wound!

I hurriedly pull on Gavin’s hand, but he unfurls his hand and grips onto mine tightly.

Gavin: Don’t be mad. Talk to me.

An unsuppressed fatigue is in his eyes. I end up reluctantly setting aside my pique, and look at him.

MC: What do you want to talk about?

Gavin: Anything is fine.

MC: Then... could you tell me why you suddenly left school?

Gavin freezes for a moment, his brows furrowed slightly. His fringe drifts with the wind. Light falls into his eyes, reflecting several dark and gloomy images.

Gavin: Back then... did you go to the library?

His tone seems to be expectant. There’s a tightening in my chest, and I hurriedly turn around.

MC: No! I...

I wanted to make an explanation, but thinking of what happened in the end, my voice grows soft. I lower my head defeatedly.

MC: I’m sorry. This time... I still didn’t receive your letter.

Gavin: This time?

There’s some shock in his expression, as though he didn’t expect that I’d say that. But I don’t explain further, but continue keeping my head lowered.

MC: They said Minor left a bloodstained letter on my desk and thought it was a threatening letter, so no one dared to go near it.

MC: But by the time I went back to the classroom, the letter was gone.

MC: I searched for such a long time... but couldn’t find it...

MC: I thought I accidentally threw it into the dustbin, so I looked through it for a long time. But... I couldn’t find that letter anywhere.

My voice grows even softer at the end, and I don’t dare to lift my head to look at him.

Even if this world were to be reset, unexpected events still present such regrets.

Like a merciless joke, an antithesis to my unwillingness to be powerless.

Gavin: That’s not important anymore. Back then, I had already left before the arranged time. So it’s all right.

MC: But...!

Gavin: MC, lift your head.

I purse my lips, staring at the floor blankly. Gavin doesn’t hurry me, but simply waits at the side quietly.

After a long time, I lift my head. Gavin is leaning his head against the wall of wind, and he reveals an evident smile.

Gavin: A few years ago, I suffered from a small injury during training.

MC: Your “small injuries” aren’t small injuries at all.

He laughs softly.

Gavin: Back then, I felt a little tired, just like in class.

MC: ...and then?

Gavin: I don’t know why, but I suddenly thought of you.

His gaze, from afar off, slowly drifts to my face.

Gavin: At that time, I was thinking...

Gavin: “What are you doing right now”?

The large fire scorches incessantly. Once again, he seems to sweep away all the regrets in my heart plainly and simply.

Gavin lifts his hand, rubbing his palm along a lock of my hair.

Gavin: All those things aren’t important anymore. The important thing is that we’ve met again.

-

Part Three: here

[softlilacmoonlight]

Everybody x Reader - Part Two (Angst Warning)

In group chat (with everybody)

(Y/N): Hey guys!

Everybody: (Commence mass and swift greetings.)

Beel Baby: How are you doing in the human world!?

Luci: I truly hope that you have readjusted well.

Asmo: We miss you! SO! VERY! MUCH!

In private chat with Lord Diavolo

(Y/N): Can I ask you a gigantic favor?

Diavolo: Anything! What do you need?

(Y/N): Can I come back to the Devildom permanently? I know it's a big favor to ask, and I know that it will cause issues with my safety. It's just... I'm all alone here in the human world. I promise I can work! I can continue schooling! I'll do anything!

Diavolo: (Y/N)... of course you can come back! We've all missed you terribly! When can we summon you?!

(Y/N): Gimme an hour! I can pack a quick bag to go and grab the rest later! Could I re-move into the House of Lamentations by any chance?

Diavolo: Of course! Also, from now on it's just Diavolo. When you get here, I need to speak with you for a moment.

(Y/N): Okay! Thank you so much, Dia!

Cue Diavolo processing nickname, and subsequently blacking out for a couple of minutes. Poor demon prince's pounding heart.

(Y/N) pov:

While Lord Diavolo summons everybody to RAD, I quickly pack a go-bag, grab the essentials, and make sure that everything is in order in my apartment. Rushing, I quickly check that the door is locked tight. Lastly, I sit on the couch and patiently wait for Dia to come and get me.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass sounds from my bedroom. Before I can even register what happened, a pair of hands force me back onto the couch. They cover and muffle anything coming from my mouth, while the attacker uses his body to force me against the couch making me immobile. No matter how hard I try, I cannot get myself free.

He takes out a cloth from his pocket, and I can't help but panic further. My assailant covers my mouth and nose with the cloth. In a matter of seconds, my brain feels fuzzy and my eyes close. Shutting me in a world of black.

~ With everybody ~

(The angels and Solomon joined them since Lord Diavolo summoned them all)

Third Person pov:

"Lord Diavolo, what is the meaning of this?" questions Lucifer.

To set the mood, Lord Diavolo is bouncing around like a giddy child that just got an early Christmas gift. Everybody is looking at him like he either a) lost his marbles or b) is the funniest thing on the face of the planet. Barbatos and Lucifer are barely containing their displeasure (except Barbatos is a master of hiding it), while Mammon and Levi are trying their hardest not to laugh. Satan and Belphie just watch in pure amusement... no Satan isn't taking a video. What do you mean? As for Beel, Asmo, and the other exchange students, they couldn't care less. They mainly just find it slightly entertaining.

"Lucifer!" exclaims Lord Diavolo in excitement. "I have wonderful news! You guys will never believe it!"

"Then spit it out already. I want to sleep," says Belphie with a heavy groan.

After getting Lord Diavolo to settle down, they re-ask him the question. "(Y/N)! It's about (Y/N)!"

"WHATD'YA MEAN! IS MY HUMAN IN TROUBLE OR SOMETHIN'!" half screams Mammon.

For once, in a blue moon, Asmo goes over to calm down Mammon. You can tell that Mammon is genuinely terrified that something happened. After all, this poor tsundere clings to you like the greedy demon he is. For now, Asmo set aside the normal quips and barbs, trying to take care of his brother. He knows that you'd want him to do so.

Lord Diavolo lets out a grand laugh. "No! She asked to come and stay permanently in the Devildom! I, of course, said yes! She asked to reinhabit her old room at the House of Lamentations permanently! Hence why I called the other exchange students to ask if they wished to rejoin the program or if they simply wanted to visit from time to time."

"SHE'S COMING BACK!" practically everybody screamed.

Mammon's eyes widen in excitement. "I'll have to take care of her again! N-Not that I-I w-want to. YA HEAR!"

"My snacking buddy will be back!" Beel's face looks like a happy little puppy.

Belphie lets out a tired smile. "Snuggles..."

"HUSH! We won't overwhelm her when she first gets here. We'll make her dinner and talk the night away. We still have school tomorrow, after all." responds Lucifer with a cool glint in his eye. Only people who truly knew him saw the fires of excitement in his orbs.

"Don't act like you aren't all excited either Lucifer." jabs Satan.

"Nonsense. The school will be getting a week off for 'important royal business'." states Lord Diavolo in all certainty.

Abruptly, Luke walks over to Lord Diavolo and gently tugs his pant leg, face bright red from having to do so so that the demon prince will recognize that he's there. Lord Diavolo kneels down, which obviously causes Luke's blush to intensify. He glances to Simeon, who gives him a smile and a nod of his head, before continuing.

"Simeon and I have decided that we would l-like to r-rejoin the program." stutters out Luke.

Lord Diavolo shines a gentle smile, all the while Simeon works to cover up his chuckles. "Of course Luke. How about I set up scheduled baking lessons for you and Barbatos?"

"REALLY! I-I mean sure, n-not that I w-want to..." stutters the flushed little angel.

"I am very pleased that I will get to bake with you once more Luke," states Barbatos gently to the flustered angel. Luke just responds with a small smile.

For the first time in this whole conversation, Levi pipes up. "When is (Y/N) coming?"

"Any minute now. I set the portal to grab her an hour after our conversation." he pauses and glances at his DDD. "And... now."

Everybody looks all over the room, eyes wide in excitement. All of their faces holding loving eyes and kind smiles. They just wait. They all know that strong spells like this take a while to be fully completed and properly completed.

Nevertheless, five minutes pass by. Then ten minutes pass, and then fifteen. By the time the twenty-minute mark passes, everybody is officially worried. They can't think of what could have possibly gone wrong.

"Are you sure you set up the time for an hour?" inquires Barbatos to the concerned lord.

Lord Diavolo just shakes his head. "I'm quite certain. I know for a fact we did since we sent texts, and both of us did agree on an hour's time. Here, I'll just try texting her. Who knows? Maybe she just lost track of time. She had to be on her couch when it activated."

In private chat with Lord Diavolo

Diavolo: (Y/N), did something happen? Did you have to leave the couch? Could you please answer? We're all terribly worried.

(Y/N): (Y/N)'s not here anymore. If you ever wish to see her again, then you better follow my orders.

Diavolo: What have you done to her?

(Y/N) Intruder: Nothing yet, but if you wish to get her returned to you, then you better come and follow the clues. Otherwise, I'll kill her. You have one hour to start the puzzle. I'd wish you luck, but quite frankly I don't want you to win.

Third-person pov:

That was the day that the whole Devildom trembled in terror. That was the first time they truly saw the fury of their future king and the full outrage of his closest companions. That was the day that made it clear to everybody. Touch the demon prince's, his butler's, and the seven deadly sins' closest loved one... you will suffer a fate worse than death. The other exchange students agreed with their... passion.

"Time."

"To."

"Save."

"(Y/N)."

And they all went together, as one joined force. The kidnapper will regret this, they swear that on their lives.

[nattspencer]

You finally came

Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader is trapped and can’t see Missy for a lot of months, until the Time Lady can finally find her beloved.

A/N: English is not my first language, therefore I’m really sorry for any mistakes, let me know about them. Writing this was really fun and I had the opportunity to actually talk and meet who requested it, that was really awesome, you are really awesome, so I really hope you like and that this little thing brightens your day.

Warnings: Mental games, prison, lack of freedom, mention of anxiety and depression.

Word count: 2k

Not my GIF

    The part you miss the most is the sun. Not only the brightness, the warmth, but also the way it paints the sky in orange and pink shades when it dusk and dawn. You miss the sky too, so gorgeously blue, all tones of it, changing slyly throughout the day, so imperceptive to the busy rushy lives below. You remember just laying for hours in the green grass in your childhood just to see the clouds, all different shapes and forms. Not to mention the smells, the fresh air, the leaves, petrichor. It brought you so much peace and you just miss everything.

    It’s just so very dark outside. No moons, no suns, no planets, just the black abism of the universe. It could drive someone mad. Maybe it’s driving you mad, maybe you just can’t see the difference between the telepathic illusions and the reality anymore. Who are you trying to fool? You are mad. Definitely human minds are not made to be frozen in time, or to be tortured by some sadistic maniac, and no, this time you’re not talking about your sadistic maniac, actually, all you desired was to see her face one last time. You’re talking about some other creature, some that you never even saw the face, but it was there, deep on your skull.

    Seems ages ago when it all happened. You and Missy were chased by a platoon of Judoon for months, and no matter what you do, they were always there, every time closer to catch the entire TARDIS with both of you inside. It was on one of these times that they finally got you in their hands. The Time Lady had fried the ship’s dematerialization circuit on the last escape and the spare one was a bit too difectful, she then contacted someone on some market that she didn’t have time to explain quite well to you, but of course, it was a trap. As soon as you got your hands on the piece, you were surrounded by Judoon's troops, all you had time to do was to hit her vortex manipulator, before they blocked it. The very last contact you had with her was though the psychic link she held on you.

    “I’m sorry Missy, I love you.” Seven words. That was all you were allowed to say until they blocked it too.

    There was no escape left, and in a blink of an eye, you were transported to their ship, completely surrendered. Even in such a situation the Time Lady didn’t leave your thoughts, how she could ever live like that, all the chase, all the trouble, there’s no use in both of you getting caught, so you made a decision. She gifted you with all time and space, it’s time for you to give something to her in return. You begged to the rhino creatures to let you serve her sentence, one prison two sentences, quite a good deal to be honest. From far behind  you an ice monotone voice agreed, it seemed to be the contractor, all was set to stone.

    Since then you live between the stone and metal walls, with only a little barred window where you could see the abism of nothing, sometimes you like to just stare at the little distantes spots of stars and try to connect the dots to form images, it was a good way to pass the days. Lights in the ground made the place backlighted and it was almost a bit cozy if it wasn’t all that existed there. You wish your body was working properly, almost all your metabolisms were frozen in time, probably only your brain were still working to keep you conscious, and it took months for you to relearn how to turn off and sleep but still you miss the taste of food. God, what wouldn’t you give for a piece of chocolate.

    As much as sleep makes you forget you’re here and numbs your pain, it also scares you to death. It wasn’t unusual for you to get nightmares, at times it felt that you weren't sleeping at all, the difference between them started to get fuzzy as the days passed by but Missy was present in every single one of them. Sometimes she would just laugh while she breaks all your bones, sometimes she would just spend hours mocking out loud all your flaws, insecurities and talking about how much she contempt you. Sometimes you saw her choking to death, sometimes she killed you, well, this last one stopped occurring these days, maybe they ran out of ideas, there’s a limited amount of ways to kill someone and you think you experienced them all.

    However, sometimes you just pretend she was there, plastic and static like a picture.. You would talk to her about your day, your difficulties, just to see another face around helps, especially that one you loved, although an answer never was expected, it reminded you too much about the nightmares. Sometimes you just imagined her laying with you on the floor of your cell and staring at the roof while you remember all the adventures you had with her, all the time and space, all the creatures, all the running and most of all, all your moments together. Even if you were just a casual sex to her, she was way more to you.

    Another ordinary day passed by, this time the nightmares were harder then the usual and you were afraid of everything. You would be crying if your tears hadn’t dried so long ago, now you were just writing on the wall, it became quite therapeutic thanks to the chalk you held in your pocket, but you only used it when it was really necessary to write your feelings down, too afraid that it could end when you needed the most. Suddenly a noise was heard and a new shadow could be seen by your side. It was happening again. You didn’t dare to look.

    “Y/N?” Missy’s voice called your name and you couldn’t suppress your body from recoling “Y/N!” The sound of her heels getting closer to you was deafening. Your elbows rested on your knees and your hands covered your head turning your body in a tiny little ball of fear. You were ready for the first assault when all it came was a caress stroke on your shoulder, still, you shivered in terror. “Hey baby girl, it’s me, it’s just little old Missy.” a gentile voice spoke.

    “It’s not, you’re not real, she didn’t come for me.” You said in a tiny trembling voice.

    “I did. I was looking for you restlessly, poppet, I finally found you.”

    “You’re just another mind game. What are you gonna do this time? Kill me again? Break all my bones? Tell me how disposable and useless I am? Go ahead, I’m waiting.” You’re getting sick of it, all you suffered wasn’t enough?

    “Oh baby, I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through… it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t let you come with me to that shop. Please look at me.” Her hand danced carefully between your curls. It’s been so long since anyone touched you like that.

    “Please, please go away or ruin me. I can’t take these games anymore. Please don’t give me hope, that’s all I ask.”

    “He’s dead, Vansell is dead, I killed him myself.” Her voice was bitter. “Neither he nor anyone will ever put their hands in a single hair of yours ever again. I promise.” Vansell? You never heard this name before. Finally you glanced at the woman kneeling by your side. “I could feel you know... all your pain, all your misery from our psychic link. I was powerless, completely useless, he blocked all my answers, I couldn’t send anything to you and that killed me. Please Y/N, believe me, I’m here. Truly. We can leave.” She was fully bared before you, no mask, no mocking, that was purely her. Suddenly a smell caught your nose.

    “What smell is it?” You couldn’t contain the question inside your mouth.

    “I-it’s your perfume. It reminded me of you” Her eyes drifted from yours in embarrassment and then it was the first time you allowed yourself to truly look at her. Missy was ruined. Big black bags laid beneath her tired blue eyes, her hair was frizzy and falled roughly from her coiffure, she was almost without any makeup, all seemed to fall out with time. You couldn’t imagine any of that, not the way it is in front of you. 

    “It’s really you?” Your voice was muffled with fear.

    “It’s me, baby girl, we can go home.” The Time Lady’s voice was cotton-candy soft.

    “I’m scared.” You stated frowning.

    “I know you are.”

    “I don’t think I can move. I waited for so long but now I’m just too anxious and terrified to do anything.” It was confusing, your body was confusing.

    “I’ll be by your side. We are going to have very difficult days, but I’ll be there. I got you. I’ll be your safe place, just like you became by when I needed the most.”

    “Y-you don’t have to. Just leave me on the earth, you don’t need a broken pet.” Your heart skipped a beat, you could never be so special to her.

    “The very last thing you said to me was ‘I love you’, let me prove to you that I feel that too. You became way more to be then just a pet, Y/N.”

    “You really came.” There was no doubt, even in your sweetest dream you could imagine that, your self-loathing would never allow you. Finally you let yourself smile, the first one in months.

    “I did. and I’ll always come to you.” Your faces were close, and slowly she leaned over you and met your lips with hers.

    This kiss was definitely different from the others you shared with her. It was slow, delicate, sweet, as if nothing matters to her more then be there with you. Her hands cupped gentilly your face and you could feel her hearts beating fast through her palms. Her tongue danced the most private waltz with yours, showing with every single moviment how much you meant to her. The entire world faded to you, there were no problems, no insecurities, no fears, it was just you and your safe place. Only when you two were complete out of breath your kiss was broken, and she rested her forehead in yours.

    “I can calm you down with a bit of hypnosis and we can go home, how does it sound?”

    “Oh, so you haven’t used it yet.” 

    “No. I would never use it without asking permission. You’re far too important.”

    “Then do it. I want to go home with you.”

    The first nights weren’t easy to go through. You were too afraid to sleep and suddenly realize you’re still on that cell and this wasn’t more than a dream, too afraid to wake up one day and realize that Missy wasn’t there. However, the Time Lady was indeed always there for you, dealing with every single one of your fears, lulling every single one of your nights, helping you with teas and hypnosis whenever it was needed. With time, bit by bit, you were getting back to be yourself again. And then, you asked to see one of the things you missed the most, the sunrise.

    Missy took you to the most marvelous place you ever saw. She was too excited that you wanted to leave the TARDIS and see something that, for her, it needed to be perfect. And it was. Two wonderful suns raised up upon the green valley mountains and warmed your skin, the sky was beautifully painted by orange, red and pink shades like in a masterpiece. The fresh wind blows your hair and fills your lungs with joy. Your favorite Time Lady wrapped her arms between your waist and rested her head on your shoulder standing behind you. Suddenly the realization falled on you, you’re finally free. A great view and your girl, that’s all you could ask for.

    You are free.

[delimeful]

WIBAR Intermission: Making Adjustments (3)

WIBAR INT Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2

if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first story here and the ao3 story here! 

warnings: panic attack, bad decisions, ptsd

-

For the next several hours, Virgil stayed tucked away in an exhausted, half-dozing half-delirious state, his dreams flickering between vivid nightmares and the solitary silence of his cell, back on the ship. 

He wondered if maybe all this was the dream, and the empty cell was the reality he was ignoring. Figured even his theoretical hallucination coma dreams would end badly. 

Roman and Logan were searching the ship for him. He could hear them every time they entered the storage room he was in, or the rooms adjacent, but they never seemed to look up. He softened his breathing to near-nonexistent whenever they showed up, his whole body tense with the anticipation of being found out. 

“--searched the ship through several times by now, Roman. I believe that our only choices are to wake Patton or give up. Wherever he is, Virgil clearly doesn’t want to be found.” Logan’s voice was somewhat subdued, his consonants less sharp than normal. 

There was a rough scoff. “Wrong, there are still plenty of places to look! You saw how he folded into that cabinet, there are all sorts of Human-accessible spaces that size on the Mindscape, such as this--!” Roman opened a compartment nearby with a dramatic click as though to emphasize his point. “... Well, he’s not in that one. But the point still stands! We can’t just give up.” 

“Roman, you know as well as I that you are not built to remain awake past one of your normal sleep cycles, let alone two. Even if we did come across Virgil now, if he felt threatened enough to attack us as he did earlier, you would be unable to fight sufficiently,” Logan explained patiently. 

“Threatened by what? You and your jam stains?” Roman bit back, but Virgil could hear the way the response lacked its usual vigor. “Fine, we’ll give it up for the night. It’d be safer to stick together and guard Patton anyhow, what am I even doing?” Footsteps hurried over to the door. “But really, tomorrow, I’m giving that guy a piece of my mind!” 

The chill that traveled down Virgil’s spine was nothing when compared to the ice-cold terror that seized him at Logan’s response, his calm voice fading off as they finally left the room. “Yes, I wish to have a word with him as well...” 

He bit into the meat of his palm and rode out the surge of joint-locking fear, forcing himself not to make a sound in case they hadn’t really left. It was fine. Everything was fine. Neither of them had noticed him, and they were going back to the room they slept in now. Logan wanted... something with him, but had decided it could wait until tomorrow. 

That just meant he had to be off the ship by tomorrow. Easy. 

Slowly, he forced his trembling limbs to lower himself off the top of the storage unit, wincing at every thump or creak it emitted as he clambered down. Socks would have been useful for softening the sound of his feet against the cool ship flooring, but he’d been barefoot for so long it had become his normal. It was strange, the things one got used to when they were forced to adapt or die. He almost felt grimier on the pristine spaceship than he did roughing it in hostile terrain. At least in the outdoors there were bodies of water he could use to rinse off.

Shaking the errant thought away, he crept through the halls, taking a few winding detours to avoid going anywhere near the others’ sleeping quarters. He paused briefly in front of the kitchen, knowing from experience that his shakiness and lack of hunger despite not having eaten anything substantial in… a while meant that he should break his impromptu fast soon, but... 

It didn’t feel right, stealing from Patton, no matter how insignificant. The guy had already had enough taken from him. 

He spotted the bread and jam he’d dropped earlier, overturned on the floor and forgotten, and quickly ducked down another hallway before he could think too hard about what might happen if he didn’t get off this ship before Logan found him.

Unfortunately, the ship itself was the problem. Even if he had been well-rested enough to read quickly, all the labels were still in written common. There was even a form of alien braille etched into the plaques, which was considerate if completely unhelpful to him. He really could have used some helpful symbols at this point. Too bad nobody would have ever predicted an illiterate human being on board. 

He wasted at least an hour poking around in any room that seemed like it might have some sort of exit mechanism, coming up with nothing that he was willing to actually mess with, lest it activate an alarm or vaporize his brains or whatever. He was tired, he didn’t have the energy to properly imagine what fiddling with alien tools could do to him. 

 Wired as he was, adrenaline could only last so long, and so he almost missed the skitter of footsteps coming up behind him. He spun around, and Patton drew up short with a tiny trill of surprise, glowing a soft blue in the dim hallway. 

“No touching?” he asked, intuitive as always to Virgil’s body language. Though he had no idea how he’d slipped past the others without waking them, Virgil could tell just by looking at the Ampen that he hadn’t been told what had happened. Well, he wasn’t about to change that. 

“Just a little nervous,” he reassured him, reaching an arm out and holding still as Patton hauled himself up to nestle in the crook of his elbow. He scrambled for something to say, not ready to decide if he could tell Patton he was trying to leave. “What are you doing up at this hour?” 

“I could ask you the same,” Patton grumped, voice muffled slightly as he turned his face into Virgil’s arm. “... Had a nightmare. Needed to make sure you were safe. Why weren’t you in your room? I got all worried.” 

He exhaled as though someone had reached into his chest and squeezed all the air from his lungs. Patton had been there at his side, in that cell. He’d suffered just like Virgil had. He hadn’t connected the dots, hadn’t realized that Patton might miss the security of sleeping as his side, too.     

“I… I was just feeling restless,” he said, turning away from the unexplored rooms and beginning to walk back towards the one he’d been not-sleeping in for ages. “Patton, you said you trust your friends, right? They’d never hurt you?” 

Patton tilted his head back to look at Virgil curiously, but answered nonetheless. “That’s right. Roman and Logan are good, Virgil. They won’t hurt us.” 

He believed that Patton believed that. He believed that they were truly Patton’s friends, too; he’d seen the way they looked at him, caught glances of the softness between the three of them when they spent time together. The problem was that there was no way that extended to him, a human.

Patton cared about him though, he was pretty sure. And they cared about Patton, so they would have to behave in front of him. Maybe he’d be ‘persuaded’ to get some blood drawn, some samples taken, some tests performed, but with Patton there, things wouldn’t be as bad as the labs. 

“Virge?” Patton called softly. “You’re shaking…” 

“Just a little tired.” He forced his body into laxness, twisting his lips up in a wry smile to reassure his small friend. “No worries, Pat.”

He made his way into the room, curling up against the back corner behind the bed that would hide them from anyone passing by the door. Patton snuggled himself against the curve of his body, a tiny ball of feathers and fluff breathing quietly next to him. 

“Soft sleep,” Patton cooed, one of the first phrases Virgil had properly learned in Ampen. 

“Gentle rest,” he responded in a soft mumble. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were back out on the surface of some small, wild planet. Funny how that was more relaxing than the supposed safety of this ship.

Still, he had faith that Patton wouldn’t let anything like the labs happen to him. And if the other aliens refused to listen to Patton, then the two of them could leave, go back to roughing it and planet-drifting where things were simpler. He wouldn’t be trapped again. 

  Slowly, the tension leaked out of his frame as drowsiness finally overcame him, Patton’s presence like a balm on his weary mind. For the first time in days, Virgil slept a dreamless sleep. 

-

“Patton!” 

He woke to an angry bellow, something about it distinctly inhuman, and jolted upwards, automatically shifting to keep most of Patton concealed behind his arms. The guards— the ship’s inhabitants?— the Others were angry with Patton, why were they angry? Were they going to hurt him? 

He wouldn’t let them. 

His vision was hazy and spotted around the edges from his abrupt waking, but he could still tell when the larger of the two figures in the doorway began to move closer. He shuffled back slightly and bared his teeth, only catching fragments of the rumbling voice.

“-- let go of him right n--” 

He hissed for good measure, mimicking the type of ‘come closer and you’ll regret it’ cadence that particularly furious cats used back home at the clinic. He was gratified to see the larger silhouette hesitate at the sound. 

The Ampen in his arms finally stirred at all the ruckus, and the room seemed to go unnaturally quiet. Virgil didn’t even glance down as he woke, too nervous that one of the others would try to advance now that the target of their anger was awake.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, peeking out over the protective barrier Virgil’s arms made. “Guys? Is it morning already?”     

Patton knew them. Virgil’s gaze flickered between the two, heart sinking. Not guards. 

“Morning-- we woke up and you’d vanished!” the larger-- Roman cried, body rattling with his barely-contained intensity. “We thought something had happened! And we find you here--!”

“Roman--,” Patton tried.

“No! This can not stand!” Roman cut him off angrily, stepping forward. Virgil felt his vision almost white-out with panic, shoving himself back again and meeting ungiving wall. They were dangerous, he was afraid of them-- but they were Patton’s friends, he couldn’t fight them-- but they were mad.

Roman took another step forward, and Virgil quickly twisted around to face the corner, nudging Patton onto the ground and curving over him as a physical shield. If they wanted to hurt Patton, they’d have to go through him. Literally. 

“Please,” he said, cutting off the beginning of a sentence from one of the others. He tried to inhale deeply, but he could only manage shallow gasps. “Don’t be mad at him. It was-- my fault, I brought him here, I’m-- I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. You can-- do whatever you want, just--” His voice cracked, throat contracting painfully.  

White noise seemed to rise like a wave in his ears, and he curled in tighter around Patton as he felt someone get closer, steps vibrating on the cool floor. He made an upset noise, eyes scrunched shut in anticipation of the blow that was coming. “Get away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t-- Please.”   

“Virgil,” a voice said, quiet and unobtrusive. “Virge, you’ve gotta breathe.” 

A small hand patted his cheek lightly, a calming blue glow visible once he opened his eyes. He struggled to follow Patton’s instructions, still listening for the moment he would be attacked. 

“Don’t worry about them, kiddo, I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Do you… um, do you remember the words for colors in Common?” 

He did. Patton had taught him a few back in the cell, but there were only so many colors they could discern from themselves and their meager rations. Once they’d escaped, Patton had spent a whole day dragging Virgil around to every flower in the vicinity and sharing the names for each of their colors. 

“What were your favorites again? I know you told me, I just can’t quite remember...” 

Virgil struggled to speak for a few moments, and then pointed at the purple on his jacket, tapping it with shaky fingers. 

“Purple! That’s right, that was one of them!” Patton beamed at him, his glow brightening, and Virgil managed a shaky but full inhale before touching the bags under his eyes with a wry smile. He’d used the same feature to share the color with Patton back in the cell. “Black!” 

“Yeah,” he rasped quietly, and then tapped the feathers in the necklace around his neck last, eliciting a delighted chirp from Patton. “My blue!” 

“Your blue,” he agreed, taking deep breaths. “I-- Are they--?” 

Patton nodded sympathetically, which wasn’t helpful because Virgil had no idea what he was trying to ask. He straightened up slowly, and resisted the urge to let out a garbled protest when Patton took the opportunity to climb out of his lap. He quickly shifted back around to face the room at large, some irrational part of him still terrified that Patton would be hurt.     

Roman was closer than he remembered, but he didn’t look angry anymore. In fact, he was looking at Virgil strangely, as though he’d never seen him before. Logan was in the doorway, face impassive, but all of his hands were clasped together in a tense knot.

“Okay, I think we need to have a talk,” Patton said sternly, and Virgil’s shoulders automatically rose up to his ears. Hilariously enough, Roman’s did the exact same thing. “Roman, Logan, why don’t you go get breakfast ready? Me and Virgil will be right there!” 

Roman’s tail lashed. “But--!” 

“No buts!” Patton shoved at Roman’s knee, corralling him towards the doorway. Despite being much larger, Roman allowed himself to be shoved into the hall, and narrowed his eyes at Virgil briefly before stalking away. 

Patton brushed imaginary dust from his feathers, shooting Virgil a smile. “I love them, but they can be kinda stubborn and overbearing at times. I’m sorry everything was all overwhelming, kiddo.” 

“You’re sorry?” Virgil asked, shifting to lean back against the wall. “I just freaked out on your friends and used you as a teddy bear, and you’re the one who’s sorry?” 

“Yes!” Patton chirped, undeterred by his incredulous tone. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think we all messed up this time, and now we’re all going to sit down and talk about it over breakfast.” 

“...Do I have to?” 

“Also yes! But I’ll be right there at your side the whole time, okay?” Patton patted his leg encouragingly.

After a long moment of entertaining stressful what-if scenarios, Virgil nodded slowly. “Okay.” 

He followed the Ampen out to the kitchen area, and sat down in the unused seat he had used the day before with an odd sense of deja vu. This… was not how he’d thought the day would turn out. 

The other two were content with pretending to be completely absorbed in setting the serving dishes out on the table, up until Patton decided it would be a good idea to climb right into Virgil’s lap and sit there, comfortable as anything. Virgil very carefully didn’t tense up as Roman and Patton both stared, choosing to instead look at a scratch on the table intently.

“Uh, Patton? Do you want to maybe sit with your friends?” So they stop looking at me like I’m about to take a bite out of you?

“Nope!” Patton answered cheerily. “As long as you’re okay with it, I want to sit over here with you! You’re my friend too, after all.” 

Virgil got that weird breathless feeling again, and pressed his lips together to keep from making any strange expressions. “Yeah, that’s. That’s okay, then.” Patton beamed up at him, antennae brushing against the underside of his chin.

Once everyone was seated, there was a long stretch of silence, broken only by Roman and Patton beginning to spoon various foods onto their dishes. The awkwardness was thick enough to feel stifling, and Virgil didn’t dare reach out for anything lest he draw attention back to himself. 

Surprisingly enough, Logan was the one to break the quiet, an odd throaty chirp serving as him clearing his throat to speak. “Virgil.” Virgil stiffened like a board, instantly sweating. “I wanted to apologize to you.” 

What? “What?”  

“For last night. I spoke without considering how your recent experience had affected you. I didn’t understand all of what you were saying, because you switched to what I assume is your native language, but what I did understand was enough for me to realize what I did wrong. I want to assure you that it won’t happen again,” Logan folded two of his hands on the table, bowing his head slightly. “To emphasize my point, I will refrain from taking notes without your explicit permission.” 

Virgil scrambled for something to say other than, why do you people keep apologizing to me? “I thought you wanted to know about humans?” 

“I do, but I believe in ethical science first and foremost, so causing someone distress in the process is never acceptable. If you ever want to speak to me about anything you’re confused or uncertain on in regards to alien culture, please know that my quarters are open to you.” 

“Um… thank you,” Virgil said, still a bit off balance. Logan solemnly gave him four thumbs ups, and it startled a rasp of laughter out of him. Still perched on him, Patton returned the gesture with both hands. 

“Well, I think you’re not the only one owed an apology,” Roman interjected, gesturing grandly with his fork. Virgil blinked at him, confused, and he shook his head like an agitated dog. “You threw a chair at me! I wasn’t even doing anything!” 

He took a moment to recall, and yeah, he did vaguely remember tossing something in Roman’s direction to distract him while he bolted. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  

“Of course you didn’t hurt me!” The spiky alien squinted at him, and then nodded once. “I suppose I can forgive it, so long as it doesn’t happen again.”

Huh. It was that easy? He’d kind of thought he’d be challenged to an alien duel for honor or something.

(Occupied as he was, he didn’t notice Patton send a meaningful look at Roman, and the way Roman pointedly turned his face away, stubborn as always.) 

Patton sighed, shifting to stand so he could be seen fully over the edge of the table. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, I think you two owe me an explanation of what exactly happened last night, and why I wasn’t woken up.” 

Roman and Logan traded panicked glances, and Virgil bit the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from twitching up. His humor didn’t last long though, not while listening to their description of how he’d freaked out over basically nothing, yelled at them, and ran away like a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” he cut in once Roman finally finished trying to justify his decision not to tell Patton. He drew in on himself slightly as everyone’s eyes turned to him. “Look, I appreciate you guys even giving me a chance, but it’s obvious that I don’t belong here. I… It’s okay if you want me to leave.” 

“Virgil—!” Patton started, but Logan beckoned for their attention.

“Am I correct in assuming that you believe you are a hazard to this ship due to your negative stress reactions from your experiences while captured?” he asked, and Virgil nodded hesitantly. Oddly, Roman only crossed his arms, choosing to stay silent for once.

“I’m afraid that if anyone who experienced flashbacks was banned from our ship, there wouldn’t be a single person left to operate it,” he continued dryly, “so by that logic, I must conclude that if you wish to stay, there is no reason you cannot do so.” 

Virgil felt his face burn hot with embarrassment, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly, alarmed. 

“I apologize, I did not mean to offend.” 

Patton answered before he did, breaking into peals of bell-like laughter. “Don’t worry Lo! That’s just what humans do when they’re flustered!” 

“Patton!” he complained, ducking his head to avoid showing the others his red face. 

“You better get used to it, Virge, because you’re not getting rid of me that easy!” Patton scrunched his face up in a closed-eye smile, and handed him a plate of food he’d been piling up during the conversation. It had something that smelled like an omelet, and he couldn’t help but drool slightly at the sight.

Virgil looked up at the others, waiting for someone to object, but Logan looked satisfied and Roman simply turned his head away, content to stay mum on the subject. 

“Okay,” he conceded, and the taste of the first real meal he’d had in days was sweet in his mouth. 

[hitbythunder]

Chandrilan Moons - 1

A Kylo Ren x Reader story with much angst, possessiveness and dark themes (warnings will be updated as the story progresses) –> Read also on AO3

Summary: Growing up under the loving care of your foster-mother, Leia Organa, there had been nothing for you and Rey to want for. Though not of kin, you loved Rey as your sister and spent a happy childhood with her on Chandrila. But when the boiling galactic politics demanded for Leia to take action, for the Resistance to rise and fight, the girls could no longer evade the cruelty of the world. Kylo Ren sought a map as a key to revenge, to freedom, and had no use for a force-unsensitive young girl like you. You were simply a means to an end. Until his darkness latched onto you, drawn in by your light as you were by the demon that is Kylo Ren - inevitably gravitating towards each other, bound to be one. Like the Chandrilan moons.

****

____________________________xXx____________________________ 1- Prologue

+On board the Finalizer, orbiting Jakku+

The echo of heavy footsteps, determined and ominous in their approach, were enough of an announcement to have each trooper filled with dread. While the prison sector of the Finalizer had rarely been a much frequented place, the imminent presence of the Commander had the corridors wiped clear of any living soul having lost their way here. Except, of course, for the poor sods assigned to guard the occupied cells, frozen in place as their superior rounded the corner. In a cloud of pitch-black cloth he moved, his long cape and flowing robes billowing in the wake of his powerful strides, almost seamlessly melting into the surrounding's black walls and floor. Only the stainless steel details of his helmet gave him away, glistening in the dim light. Like a demon, a creature born of darkness, he seemed to glide like an ominous shadow along the hallway, swallowing everything in his path. Even morphed into the blackness of clothes and interior, he was imposing in a frightful way and with the hood drawn deep over his unique helmet, the Commander appeared like a giant walking among men.

For many he was indeed an otherworldly creature, the heir of darkness as the direct descendant of the legendary Darth Vader and exceptional force-user, Klyo Ren. His name alone having grown men tremble in fear, striking terror among both enemy and his own men. Because no one was safe from his violent tantrums and unabashedly display of power. Though not even a handful of (living) people were acquainted with the scope of his abilities.

Kylo didn't acknowledge the troopers at the door, not beyond how one tolerates the presence of a fly but just barely so, and entered the prison cell holding the Resistance pilot. He too was just an insect to Kylo, a vessel which had no use apart from the memory-cells its brain possessed. Said brain cells held a clue to Skywalker's whereabouts, a vital piece of information which Kylo longed to obtain. To find his uncle, to confront him with all the hatred and rage Kylo had harnessed against him over the years since the fateful night at the temple, and to kill him slowly and painfully once in his clutches. Sweet and alluring, the prospect of revenge had been whispered to him in lonely moments, promising so much more power once the cursed Jedi ceased to exist. And Kylo craved that power, which would enable him to surpass and free him from his own master - a sadistic and foul creature that used Kylo like a trained dog, at his beck and call, while keeping his powers from further development. Although it had been Snoke who had led and taught him in the ways of the dark side, Kylo couldn't shake the feeling that his master had become envious of his capabilities as a force-user, thus putting any progress on hold. Apparently, a useful weapon ought to be powerful but not threateningly so, as to keep it under control and so that it didn't surpass its usefulness.

But Kylo had enough of it, growing hatred simmering in the core of his mind and blending so neatly with the cacophony of negative emotions there, that Snoke had not the slightest idea of his apprentice's developing enmity. The brunt of Kylo's hate translated into raw violence on missions, a welcome outlet whenever it all became too much for him.

Patience was a key to success in this case and so Kylo bode his time, gathering strength through his own training and through spilling blood in the name of the dark side. There wasn't a more beautiful color than the red liquid of life, bright and vibrant as it flowed freely, turning almost black when seeping into the earth. Just like Skywalker's blood would, once Kylo got hold of him and the anticipation thereof thrilled him to a point of barely restrained impatience. Translating in an even shorter temper and unpredictable moods these days. As well as zero tolerance for insects that dared to waste his time, like the pilot currently restrained in front of him.

"I will get the information I want." Kylo growled through the voice-coder of his helmet, a rasping and sinister tone in the otherwise quiet cell, and increased the onslaught on the pilot's mind without mercy. "Even if it means to pick your brain apart."

Unable to uphold the playful bravery, Poe Dameron's excruciating screams bled through the durasteel walls onto the hallway.

+++ +Two days earlier - Resistance Base on D'Qar+

"Rey, wait up! Rey!" I called across the hangar area, running towards a particular X-wing starfighter and its ready-to-board pilot. Heads turned as I passed them, but ignoring their perplexed stares, I made a zig-zag through the small crowd in my way. Rey turned to find me in front of her, slightly panting and cheeks flushed from the sprint.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were practicing the harpiton." Rey surprised us both at how reprimanding that came out and we bristled in unison at the notion of her sounding like our foster-mother. Rey seemed very excited, perhaps even nervous, about her very first flight in an X-wing starfighter, type 406-G with upgraded shoot-assistant and improved hyper-drive, based on carbo -

"D'Qar to Rey! Hello, is anybody home in there?" I waved her hand in front of Rey's face, far too long for her liking. She gently swatted my hand away, replied:

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Stars, I guess I don't even want to know where you always drift off to." I sighed, but then continued with a fond smile. "I came to wish you good luck for your flight and to remind you to make me a holo-gram of the stars up there."

"Thanks and don't worry, little sis, soon you'll fly among the stars too." Rey replied as we hugged, then beamed with barely contained joy. "See you later, sis!"

I slowly made my way back to the entrance of the underground-base, one last look over my shoulder confirming that Rey had taken off for her flight-lesson into space - being among the stars literally! To play the harpithon (a mixture of a harp and a hang) seemed bland, if not ridiculous, in comparison and I highly doubted that my playing skills would be of any use in the war.

What a world it would be if music could bring peace., I mused as I strolled through the hallways of the ever bustling base, soon reaching the more quieter area where the private quarters lay. We girls shared a room, spacious enough to get along but still rather stuffy, especially with the unwieldy harpiton in the middle. I began to practice, my fingers gliding along the strings and drumming against the round metallic corpus at the bottom. Soon I lost myself in the soft tunes, for it always reminded me of my home-world Chandrila and of the many childhood-years I had spent there along with Rey - always with Rey. Though we were not blood-related, we had grown up together and became as close as sisters could be - perhaps even more so because we shared unknown origins - under the gentle care of our foster-mother Leia Organa.

Back then, when Leia had been a senator, she had participated in a charity-program for orphans and had taken us girls in. Little Rey had been about 3 years and I still a new-born then. Leia's position as senator had provided well for us, without wanting for anything, though Leia had never spoiled us. We had had a happy childhood, with all the ups and downs of family-life that made it worthwhile. And although we had learned rather early not to be of the same kin, we had grown to love Leia like a mother.

With Leia's husband, Han Solo, it had been quite a different story. We had rarely seen him, because of his occupation as smuggler Han tended not to remain in one place for long - and also, as we had always suspected, he had never approved of Leia's decision to adopt us. He didn't say so himself and Leia would never admit it, but the distinctly reserved manner in which he behaved around us - not unkind but also far from loving - which was often paired with an almost painful expression, made us doubt his affection towards us. Although Rey in her youthful optimism had always tried to reach out to him (thus perhaps her affinity for technology and ships), Han refused to become the father-figure we longed for. It was only us girls, Leia and her handmaid Gemma in a small but luxurious estate in Hanna City (capitol city of Chandrila).

Much later, when I was about 15 years old and Rey 17, we learned that there had been a child before us, a son of Leia' and Han's blood. The son whose loss - Leia never told us what had happened - had torn the parents apart and suddenly we understood both Han's reticence towards us and Leia's wish to save us orphans from an unknown future.

At about that time, the former Imperialists had spread the rumor that Lea was Darth Vader's daughter and further she had some affiliation towards Kylo Ren - the rising apprentice of the dark side - was her son. Leia had neither confirmed nor denied any of it and kept her secrets close, always avoiding our questions regarding that matter so that eventually it became a taboo among those surrounding her. But the rumors remained. Of course, these accusations - though unproven and doubted by many - had harmed Leia's position in the senate, enough to force her to resign her seat as senator. Ultimately, she decided to leave our home and travel around the galaxy in order to form the Resistance. Still teenagers at that time, we weren't involved at all and remained on Chandrila. It had been three difficult and sometimes lonely years for us girls, at the prime of our puberty. We both tried to find distractions for missing Leia: Rey in her training with the Force and an interest in technology; and I in acquiring a broad knowledge of the galaxy and its history, languages and customs, which in included the ways of the Jedi as well as their sinister opposite the Sith. Though the sources of information available to me at that time had been limited and always supervised by Gemma with a watchful eye. It had required quite some finesse of me to sneak even grains of info about Darth Vader or Kylo Ren past her.

Essentially we tried to be good daughters Leia would be proud of and when she finally allowed us join her here on D'Qar, we were happy beyond the moon. That was 4 months ago and while D'Qar didn't feel like home, I was just glad to be with Leia and Rey, my family.

Engrossed in both play and thought, I hadn't noted the knock on the door, nor the swishing noise as it opened and was rather surprised when Leia sat down on the bed to my left.

"You play very lovely, dearest." she said, a fond smile on her faintly highlighted lips. Despite her rank as General, Leia had always kept the regal posture and an excellent choice of clothes that stemmed from her royal upbringing. And in times as these, a tough but wise leader was exactly what the Resistance needed.

"Thanks, it's a song I've composed myself." I replied as I shifted my chair backwards, away from the harpiton, in order to turn my body fully to Leia. "Though I was wondering if ..." my eyes dropped to my lap, to the ceiling, anywhere but Leia's intense brown eyes. "...if there aren't more useful skills for me to obtain."

"___________..." Leia sighed, knowing even without the Force where this was leading.

"I could become a pilot - not of a starfighter but perhaps a freighter? Or I could-"

"We've had this discussion many times before, dear, and my answer hasn't changed." Leia put in with finality, not wanting to draw this out (yet again).

"But it's not... I feel miserable sitting here while Rey is up there-" I pointed to the ceiling, imagining Rey having the best time of her life while flying "-becoming an even better pilot than Poe." I huffed in annoyance, continued though with a calm yet sad expression: "I know I'm not as good as her at combat or piloting but there must be something I can do to help our cause!"

Leia regarded me for a moment, silently waiting for me to regain my composure and return to a sensible mind-state before she answered:

"Don't compete with your sister, dearest. Your capabilities might not be obviously useful as of now, but trust me they are of great value and one day the Resistance will need a smart, well-educated lady just like you."

"Mhm..." I nodded solemnly, unsatisfied by the answer given but unwilling to continue a lost discussion. As kind as Leia's words were, they only sugar-coated the fact that I would never be like Rey. Rey who was athletic and agile in her movements, cunning and brave during fights while also having a knack for mechanics and technology. And as if that wasn't enough, every-body's darling Rey was a decent Force-wielder too.

Since early child-hood, Leia had always watched out for signs that we may be connected to the Force, having us forgo some simple tests once in a while, and at the age of 13 Rey's powers had finally awakened. Well, no such luck for me though, because the Force seemed to shun me despite my best efforts to connect with it. Resulting in another shortcoming on my part in comparison to Rey and excluding me from the special bond Rey and Leia therefore built.

Leia's famous brother, Luke Skywalker, had already vanished into his self-imposed exile to stars-knew where. So in lack of a proper teacher, Leia had to manage not only her role as senator in a rather turbulent political period, but also her new responsibility to educate Rey in the ways of the Force. They had spent countless hours together and sometimes I had joined them to at least understand the theory of the matter, albeit unable to perform the practical parts. We learned of the eternal conflict between light and darkness in the Force, as well as about the Jedi order and its fight against the former Empire - a substantial part of galactic history which many thought of as legends nowadays. And although I knew that it wasn't anybody's fault but pure chance, I had always envied Rey and deep down wished to be just like her. Knowing that it never would be.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within-Ch. 16

Chapter 16

           “No fucking way,” I said, looking at Jon as if I couldn’t believe what he’d just said to me. “Seriously?”

           He grinned, running a hand over his gingery hair. “Yeah, she told me two days ago.”

           I practically jumped from my seat and threw myself at him. My arms latched around his neck, hugging him so tight that I was sure he was going to stop breathing. I couldn’t stop laughing or crying.

           “Congratulations,” Seth said from nearby. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was grinning. “Do you know yet?”

           I leaned back with Jon’s face still cupped in my hands. My gaze searched his cornflower blue eyes. I knew Jon well enough by now to know when he was telling the truth and when he was lying.

           “It’s too early,” he replied shyly. He grinned in a way that reminded me of late nights on the road and heart-to-heart talks in a hotel room at three in the morning watching crappy cartoons.

           I hugged him again, kissing his cheek dramatically. “I hope it’s a girl.” The words were whispered almost silently, barely loud enough for him to hear.

           Jon wrapped his arms tight around me, squeezing until I thought my ribs would crack. It was the happiest I’d been in an awfully long time. “I hope so too.”

***

           Sefina giggled as I pushed her along backstage. It was strange seeing everyone again after almost a year away. Vastly different from the moment when I left because of my injury. A few of them turned down different corridors, refused to look at me. But most of them smiled happily, waving, and coming over to coo over Sefina.

            “It’s good to have ya back,” Becky said as she gathered me up. She hugged me hard. “It hasn’t been the same out here without ya.”

           Before I could say a single word, she swept around to the front of the stroller and grinned at her goddaughter. Her voice lifted, turning beautiful and lilting as she spoke. “Dia duit, mo chailín grin.”

           Sefina giggled and reached for Becky. I watched my daughter wriggle with happiness, practically begging to be picked up. “Oh, go ahead. She’ll be whine for hours if you don’t.”

           A moment later, Becky had Sefina on her hip and was heading toward catering. I watched them walk away, my daughter chattering at her godmother happily. Not long after, happy voices erupted from the lined tables. It wasn’t hard to discern Alexa, Bayley, and Sasha’s squeals of joy at seeing my daughter again.

           “Llane,” someone said from some distance away.

           Chills.

           Spikes and ice.

           Shivers and terror rooted deep in my gut.

           A heavy weight settled against my chest, making it hard to breathe. The urge to run shot adrenaline through my limbs. It took everything I had not to give in.

           I turned slowly, hoping that I didn’t look as completely terrified as I felt. My thoughts swirled, picking out glimpses and snapshots of the time before Sefina. Hospitals. Braces. Surgery. Numbness and pain.

           Ten feet away, Ronda stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed in jeans, boots, t-shirt, and that jacket that always made rage burn in my throat. Piper’s jacket was too good for her. Looking at her made my blood pressure spike.

           I didn’t want to be in the same room with her. Hell, the same state.

           My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I tried to speak. I could feel the words trying to put themselves together, to tell this woman exactly what I thought of her. To tell her everything she’d taken away from me. Before I could, the familiar sense of electricity crackled along my spine. I sank back even before Seth touched my waist, knowing that he would catch and hold me. He slipped one arm around my waist and quickly steered me down another hallway, leaving the woman who nearly killed me far behind.

           “What the fuck is she doing here?” Seth growled. His fingers tightened on my hip as he guided me into his locker room. I could feel the rage seething beneath the surface. His entire body vibrated with it.

           For a moment, I thought that was the reason why my entire body was shaking.

           The moment I reached it, I sank onto the bench. Ice slipped through my blood, crackling against my veins. Dizziness swept over my head. The world swirled, leaving me numb and frozen. Nauseated.

           “Hey,” Seth cooed, crouching down in front of me. “Hey…. Llane… Sophie… it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

           The shivering made my teeth rattle. I ached all over. I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to ask him what was happening to me. “Co—Col—Colby…”

           The rage in his face faded, became replaced by concern and worry. He dragged his gear bag closer and dug around in it. He found a sweatshirt, then tugged it roughly over my head. Another came out a moment later, and he wrapped it around my legs. Then he sat on the floor and pulled me into his lap, his hands rubbing furiously over limbs and my back to warm me.

           “I want you out of here,” he mumbled against my hair. He hugged me close, curling me tightly against the bulk of his chest. Slowly, moment by moment, heat worked its way into my body. “Goddamn them for bringing her back after what she did.”

           The air was rent by a sudden loud bang. The door burst open, ringing against the wall with a thud. Roman stalked in, his dark eyes nearly black with pure and unadulterated rage. His movements had an edge of violence to them as he crossed the room in just a few steps. Seth barely had time to protest before Roman leaned down and swept me up into his arms. I curled against his broad chest, breathing in the warm scent of ocean spray that always followed him. He clutched me tightly, his cheek against my hair.

           For a moment, there was something like peace in my chest. It felt like I was back in our old, beat up SUV, Roman sitting at my side and telling me stories in that soothing voice of his. Seth was there, driving and singing along to the alt-rock on the radio, while Jon—back when he’d been my Dean—slept in the passenger seat, drooling on the window.

           “I’m going to kill them,” Roman snarled, his arms tightening even further around me. I could feel the thunder in his words. “I am going to rip them apart with my bare hands. Every single one of them. Starting. With. Fucking Vince.”

           I whimpered at the rage in his voice. For the first time in years, I slipped back in time. Past Seth and Sefina. Past the Elite and the Shield. Past Hannah and Carl, Georgie and Bran. Past the sensation of being safe and loved. Past everything that made me feel worthy and like a human being.

           It was so clear, so real that I could almost reach out and touch the faded fabric of the sofa next to me. The blood was hot and sticky in my hair and along the side of my throat. Pain lashed through my face with every sluggish beat of my heart. My eyes were already swelling shut, the flesh of my face mottled purple and black, the stark white visible along my right cheekbone and the curve of my chin. It was darker every second. A shadow lengthened over the sofa, backlit so that I couldn’t make out the features.

           “Fucking kid. I’ll fucking kill you.”

           I knew this moment.

           This was the moment when I almost died.

           A scream rippled through the room. I flailed, wailing and thrashing. Arms tightened around me, a cage that made my terror spike. The memory of my foster father nearly beating me to death merged with the haze of the fall and everything that came after. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.

           “O fea lou tuafafine laititi?” The words washed around my head, flitted through my brain. They came and went and came again like water lapping higher and higher on the shore. “Come on, itiiti, open your eyes.”

           “Llane… Sophie…” Another voice slipped in with the other, a voice that made sparks flicker along my limbs. “Look at me, Sophie. Look at me.”

           Fingers pressed against my face. I flinched, the memory of broken, exposed bone and bruised flesh too powerful. The screaming became a whine and then a faint whimper. Movement triggered vertigo that roiled my stomach. I coughed. I heaved and choked.

           My eyes fluttered open at the same moment that I vomited. I gagged as the scent hit me. It took a moment for Seth’s voice to pierce through the ache and sick. Roman’s followed soon after.

           “Relax, itiiti. Relax and breathe. It’s okay,” Roman said softly. He carried me back to the bench and sat me down slowly. “It’s okay.”

           Seth carefully pulled the sweatshirt over my head carefully, doing his best to contain the vomit. I watched, still trembling, as he balled it up and tossed it into the garbage. “Are you okay?”

           I tried to speak, but I couldn’t make the words come out. My jaw worked, trying to force them free.

           “I can’t believe this,” came a voice from down the hall. A series of stomping bootsteps echoed toward us, and I had another momentary flash of panic. Not a second later, Becky appeared at the door, Sefina on her hip. Alexa, Bayley, and Charlotte were right behind her. She was livid, her face almost as red as her hair.

           “That bitch has no right to be here,” Alexa snarled. She was the kindest person in the world until someone crossed the people she loved. “I have half a mind to jump her and not hold back.”

           It took a moment for them to take in the scene in front of them. Becky handed Sefina to Bayley and crossed the room. “Don’t you worry, Llane. We’re not letting her get away with this.”  

Tag List 

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@maelleoute​

[ryik-the-writer]

For @celticheartedfangirl​, Happy Christmas in July

This prompt was a treat, even if I”m extremely behind

Plot: Belle and Rumplestiltskin go on a trip to retrieve an object from a vengeful ice queen, only to end up in a snowstorm.

A03

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Since Belle had made her deal to go with him forever, Rumplestiltskin’s life had gotten much more…chaotic.

He had never intended to bring Belle along on his many quests and adventures…hell he hadn’t known what to do with her after making that deal!

But after the Robin Hood incident, he had an anchoring to keep her near.

Not because he liked her! No, of course not…

Their latest adventure involved bringing Belle to a town frozen in time where a very angry snow queen had cursed them all.

Of course, he hadn’t let on right away what they were doing, thus she had no way of knowing that the ice sculptures she was ogling at were indeed human.

“They’re beautiful,” Belle cooed, pushing the heavy bag she had packed behind her so she could view each one. “How cute, a dog!”

Rumplestiltskin withheld a mischievous grin. Poor girl would faint if she knew the truth!

Then, she had found the remains of an icy lake, solid and tempting.

Her smile had been bright enough to melt the whole town.

“I haven’t been ice-skating since I was a little girl,” she grinned as she changed her shoes.

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “I don’t believe we have—”

Belle shot off before he could finish, causing Rumple’s heart to jump when she stumbled across the ice, struggling for stable ground.

In a flash, Rumplestiltskin magicked to her side, steadying her.

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Belle chuckled as her lets finally stopped shaking.

“Obviously,” he said, trying to hide his concern.

She didn’t let go of his hand, instead pulling him along with her as she set off again.

He used magic to keep him from sliding ungracefully, but he couldn’t quite contain his surprise at her eagerness to be with him.

She looked back at him, grinning ear to ear, admitting her gratefulness that he let her come along without a single word.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain a smile back. She really was a lovely girl. Such a shame he could never tell her…

After a moment she led him back to the bank of the pond, skidding them both to a stop.

After catching her breath, she brushed a strand from her face and skipped his way, hands crossed behind her back.

“You didn’t bring me here just for the brilliant ice sculpting,” she teased. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled with mischief. “Visiting an old friend.”

Belle gave him a look. “By friend, you mean sworn enemy, right?”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “We…have history.”

Belle hummed, rubbing her hands together and shivering. “Don’t suppose we could visit a pub for a hot cider before we visit your sworn enemy?”

Rumplestiltskin helped her to her feet. “Plenty of time for that later, now come! We should reach her palace by nightfall! We’ll need to be back at the castle by the morning for our appointment with the Hatter.”

Belle sighed as he began to walk on without her. Back to arm’s length, it would seem.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, striving to catch up to him as she paused in front of another ice sculpture.

This one seemed to be a mother holding their child to them closely, as if she were shielding them both from some unknown terror.

Belle gulped, looking at the others she had noticed earlier. They were all facing the same direction, fleeing from something.

“Belle?”

Belle hesitantly followed her employer, glancing around uneasily but thankful she couldn’t see the expressions on the sculptures faces.

It would seem the artist of these pieces had a twisted sense of humor, and something told her the Dark One knew more than he was letting on.

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle nearly went blind at the site of the ice palace, the structure made from the whitest ice she’d ever seen.

She let Rumplestiltskin lead them in and she almost didn’t see the woman at the far end of the room stand to greet them.

“Rumplestiltskin,” the woman greeted evenly, and after blinking a few times Belle could make out the piecing blue of her eyes.

The Dark One stopped, causing Belle to nearly collide into him. She frowned as he bowed mockingly to the woman.

“You majesty,” he giggled. “You are the queen now, yes?”

“Watch it!” the woman seethed, stepping down from her pyramid of ice blocks to stand a few feet from him. “What do you want?”

“I want what you took from me,” Rumplestiltksin growled. “I want it back.”

“She is mine!” The Ice Queen seethed.

“The urn is my property, which makes the woman in it mine as well!”

Belle gasped. They were after a woman? A trapped woman?

The queen glared at him, the look making Belle shake from something much more deadly than the cold.

Suddenly, her eyes shot to Belle, and a sharp, queer smile spread across her face.

“And who is this?”

Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of Belle, shielding her from the hate-filled eyes.

“None of your concern,” he spat. “Now give me what I want.”

The Ice Queen’s smile seemed frozen in place, as if she could had turned into one of the ice sculptures in the village…

Wait…

Belle glanced around and noticed that there were dozens more. Some dressed like servants, carrying trays and flowers, like they had been active in their daily tasks…

And some of them looked like they were fleeing.

Belle’s heart stopped.

They had been.

“They’re alive…they were alive…” she gasped. “They’re people…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, swallowing a bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Belle seethed, but Rumplestiltskin shot around quickly.

“He’s one for surprises dear,” the Ice Queen said. “And treachery—“

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Give me what I came here for.”

“Very well, Dark One,” the Ice Queen agreed coolly. She waved her hand and a golden urn appeared in her hand.

“I’ll give you back your property,” she said, staring at the object with an odd sort of fondness.

And then to Belle with pure malice.

“But in exchange, I’m taking your little friend to add to my collection.”

In a flash, a white burst of magic shot from her hand, threating to collide with Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reacted before she could and shot around grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.

The magic hit him square in his back, causing a weak cry to leave his lungs as he fell to his knees.

Belle struggled to hold him up as she screamed, a patch of ice spreading quickly across his back.

“No, what…what’s going on?” She cried as she fell to her knees with him.

He convulsed violently, the darkness in him fighting off whatever spell she had thrown at him, but he could feel is slipping quickly into his darkened heart.

He squeezed Belle’s arm, the warmth of her skin the one thing that kept him from falling completely victim to the curse.

The Ice Queen cackled behind him and Rumplestiltskin gnashed his teeth in defiance.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” she cooed.

Belle glared at her, but before she could shout at the vile woman Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around her waist and magicked them out of the Ice Queen’s lair.

                                                      -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 They broke apart as soon as they soon as Rumplestiltskin magicked them to the mountain’s side. They were free of the wretched queen, but her icy environment was waiting for them, swallowing them in a heated coldness no one could imagine.

It fell’s like she land on hot needles, piercing every nerve in her body without ever breaking the skin.

She finally thought, her body adjusting to the pain as her brain tried to focus on her surroundings.

“R-r-rumple!” she called out, the angry winds blocking out her voice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and drudged through the knee-deep snow, searching immediately for shelter of some sort.

If one thing from her childhood winters at Avonlea taught her it was that when caught in a storm, finding a heat source was the difference between freezing to death and living.

There was a cluster of rocks several yards from her, just visible thought the whirling ice. Her body was going numb already, but her sheer anger at Rumplestiltskin was keeping her going.

She knew he was dark, she’d accepted that, but she had also seen his more human side. She’d seen him show mercy and kindness to foes, so why couldn’t he extend such graces to the general public?

And then he just hid what was going on to her, after all they’d been through?

He was going to get it—

She gasped as she tripped over something hard. She gasped as she got a face full of hard snow and winced as she felt a bruise forming.

She growled and twisted around to see what had caused her fall and immediately recognized Rumpelstiltskin’s hard leather coat, his unflinching hand peeking out of the sleeve.

She struggled to crawl to his side and flip him onto his back.

“Rumple?” she yelled as she shook him. His eyes barely opened, staring hazily at her. She could feel him trembling even through the thick leather. Whatever the Snow Queen had done to him had made him very weak.

“Hey,” she said shaking him a bit. “What happened? What did she do?”

“Sp…spell…” he groaned so weakly Belle barely heard it.

She squinted around, estimating their distance from the rocks. She took a deep breath and began lift Rumplestiltskin up, slinging one of her shoulder as he groaned.

“We have to move,” she said. “Can you walk?”

She felt him faintly nod but got little effort out of him. She straightened her back and began pulling him in the direction of the rocks, praying a cave was clustered somewhere in the mess.

Rumplestiltskin was grumbling, his body going back and forth from heavy to light, signifying his inability to stay conscious.

Belle just pulled him tighter to her, dragging him with all her strength. She was losing steam fast but pure determination kept her going. That and keeping him alive so she could kick his arse later.

Thankfully there was an opening in the cave, and deep enough that it would shield them from the elements.

He began to come to again, his limbs twitching as he subconsciously tried to help her along.

Belle shushed him gently as she leaned him against the wall as she began to take off her overcoat and wrapped it around him.

“Hang on, okay?” she encouraged through chattering lips.

She felt along the walls of the cave, gliding one hand along the floor in search for wood or some kind of debris that could be burnt, but all she could find were a few sticks.

They needed warmth now or it wouldn’t be long until the both were goners.

She gathered what she could find a few feet in front of Rumple, frowning miserably.

She grabbed her bag and dumped its contents out, gulping when noted the only thing that could be used for a fire was her beloved copy of “Her Handsome Hero.”

The only thing she had from her dear, sweet mama.

Why did she think she’d have time to read on a mission?!

Rumplestiltskin made a quiet moan, easing in and out of an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Neither one of them were going to last much longer at this rate. She was already getting so tired, hypothermia biting at her lips.

She looked at Rumple, her lips shaking, and not from the cold.

She lovingly placed her books on the ground, clashing to rocks together to get a spark going.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a spark caught onto one of the pages, so old from years of being passed down that the flames picked up instantly.

The warmth barely helped her feel accomplished, but the flames grew enough that they would have a moment of warmth before the chill set in once more.

She glanced at the Dark One in his fitful state, feeling a strange coldness fill her chest that she hadn’t felt since she first arrived at his castle.

“You did all this,” she whispered. “You brought us out here to face off with that awful woman, and now…” her lips began to shake as her grief began to overflow.

“And you kept it from me,” she sobbed. “You lied to me…even after everything we’ve been though.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, his eyes fluttering.

“…Belle?”

Belle moved around the small fire, easing to his side. She stared at him, trying to stay calm. He was injured after all, and she’d be on death’s door herself if he couldn’t magic them out.

“What’s happening to you?”

He struggled to sit up, a flickering blue light spreading over his chest.

“A spell,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “It freezes the target from the inside out…”

Belle tensed. “Are you—”

“No,” he chuckled weakly. “Such magic can’t kill the Dark One…” he gasped as another wave of cold threatened him. “No really. I’ll be fine…then I’ll get us out of here.”

Belle nodded, satisfied that he would be find.

But she was still angry.

“Did you know what she was doing to those people, what they were?”

“Belle…”

“Why didn’t you stop her!” Belle yelled. “You could have helped those people!”

“I’m not a hero Belle—”

“You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing!”

Rumplestiltskin fell back, annoyance building through the pain.

“I don’t’ need to explain myself to you.”

Belle scoffed. “No I guess you don’t.” she moved away from him and began picking at the fire, trying to keep it lively with a few sticks.

He tried to remain calm, tried to focus all his energy and magic into fighting the damned curse that awful woman had cast on him.

But he was so cold. The spell wouldn’t kill him, but there was no doubt it would take days for it to wear off. The snow storm outside seemed to grow stronger, no doubt the Snow Queen’s doing to smite him out once and for all.

He glanced at Belle, frowning at her slouched shoulders. He didn’t like it when she was angry at him, but it was better to keep her at arm’s length.

He was a monster, she needed to realize that. It’d save her.

The heat from the small fire she had built had faded fast and the cave was freezing once more.

Belle rubbed her arms, her energy nearly depleted. She felt so tired, the frantic voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to fall asleep.

Her mother’s book as a pile of smoky ash now and there was nothing left to burn.

She laid on her side, facing Rumple.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, feeling her eyes grow heavy. Her body was so cold now she couldn’t even feel anything.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, turning his head, his heart racing when he saw she wasn’t moving.

“No, Belle!” he moaned, turning painfully on his side and crawling to her. “No, please don’t fall asleep!”

Belle moaned. “It’s okay…”

“No, Belle, look at me,” he reached out, taking hold of her chin. “Please stay awake. Yell at me, hit, just don’t fall asleep!”

She didn’t answer, and Rumple willed his magic to his limbs to give him more strength. He managed to sit up and pull Belle closer to him, her pulse a bare flutter under his fingers.

He snatched the coats she had laid on him off himself to cover her.

“Belle wake up…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything. For lying to you, to bringing you into this.” He mused her hair from her beautiful face, so peaceful.

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He leaned up to see the fire she attempted to build, recognizing the burnt paper flakes.

“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry,” he said as he rubbed at her arms over the jacket.

He recalled briefly — in another life —doing the same thing to keep his son warm.

In the very early mornings when the fire he’d set the night before had long gone out, his wee son would crawl into bed with him and they’d hold each other close until they warmed up.

The memory filled him with comfort and guilt, but also a very embarrassing idea.

With his magic doing its part, his skin had started to retain some of its warmth. If he and Belle were skin to skin…

He cringed at the thought. She’d be disgusted with him, but she wouldn’t be much of anything if she froze to death.

“Belle,” he whispered as his stiff fingers carefully began to open her shirt. “I’m going to try something I hope will save us both.” He averted his eyes from her pale skin as he undid his undershirt.

He reached out to tie their coats together, creating a sort of blanket for them.

As his heart pounded, he pulled Belle to his chest, his back against the storm, and entangled their legs, the heat between them slowly building.

“You’re going to be alright Belle,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close as he drifted into his own slumber.

                                                       -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle opened her eyes slowly, the cold that had soaked into her bones now gone. Her hand grazed upon something hard and textured, but not unpleasant to the touch.

It took her a moment to realize she was lying on someone, their legs tangled in a heated embrace.

It was quiet now, the storm now seized, and Belle could clearly make out the sound of the heartbeat pressed against her ear.

She eased back some, lifting her head to look at the sleeping face of her employer.

Her face further heated when she looked down to see their unclothed chests touching.

She croaked, sitting up to cover herself as their tied coats slid down to their waists.

Rumple stirred, opening his reptilian eyes. He tensed when he saw Belle staring at him, not necessarily in disgust but just in confusion.

“I…I um…” he stuttered, his body warmer than it’d been in over a day.

“You’re doing better,” she pointed out, not meeting his eyes. “The spell must have worn off.”

“Mostly, yes.” He concluded. “And it would seem as if we’re safe from the Snow Queen.”

“Good,” she nodded, looking around the calm cave until her eyes landed on their tied jackets.

“You saved us?”

The Dark One bristled, “I think you’re dehydrated.”

Belle smirked through her exhaustion. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a hero in you after all.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Very dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure we can remedy that soon enough. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I’m not sure. I used so much magic fighting off the curse.”

Belle nodded, glancing out the mouth of the cave into the snow. It was so beautiful after the storm, but the cold was still their worst enemy. Belle wasn’t sure if she was willing to strip down further tonight if they were out her another night.

Her heart leapt when she saw something – or someone – moving in the distance.

“Rumple,” Belle gasped. He was at her side in a second, glaring at the figure moving towards them.

“Is it the Snow Queen?”

“I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

Belle did has he bade for his magic to return.

Whoever it was would be losing a large chunk of their necks if they tried to harm Belle.

The figure stepped in front of the cave, throwing back his hood with a bit too much flair.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Hatter.”

“Good to see you too!” Jefferson greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

Jefferson smirked. “You missed our appointment, and we got worried,” he pointed at Rumplestiltskin’s partially undone shirt. “But it looks liked it was for a good reason.”

The Dark One hissed and struggled to button his shirt while Belle eased to his side.

“We?”

Jefferson glanced back to reveal the mysterious Dr. Victor Frankenstein making his way up the steep mountain.

Belle gasped when she saw one of the ice sculptures – the dog – tied around his back.

“The next time you want to take a rendezvous, at least leave a note,” the doctor panted as he sat on a rock to rest.

“That’s not what happened!” Rumplestiltskin seethed.

Belle eased past him to greet Jefferson. “We’re both another hour away from hypothermia. Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure,” the hatter winked. “But I’ll have to make a couple of trips.”

                                                  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle and Rumplestiltskin huddled closely by the fire, they’re bodies warmed to the appropriate temperature.

They had yet to speak to each other, mainly because the doctor and the hatter would not leave them alone for a single second.

After giving Belle a quick checkup (Rumplestiltskin had forbade him to touch him, much to the doctor’s disappointment) Dr. Frankenstein had to work examining the frozen dog he’d confiscated from Arendelle, trying to chip off some kind of sample but failing miserably.

“That thing better not melt on my table!” Rumplestiltskin shot at the doctor.

“Fear not, Dark One,” the doctor sighed tiredly. “Your baubles are safe.”

Rumplestiltskin growled and turned back to the fire, sparing a glance at Belle.

He wanted to tell her so much, to thank her and apologize and anything he could so she didn’t look so cold when she looked at him.

Jefferson was sitting at a chair at the great table, his attention back and forth between the Dark One and his maid and the doctor.

This was…different. He knew of course that the most powerful sorcerer in the land had a soft spot for the bookish, clumsy heroine, but he hadn’t realized it was this intense.

Since Belle had come to stay with Rumplestiltskin, his visits had become less about business and more about company. He loved the playful bickering they shared, loved that his business acquaintance actually seemed happy.

Jefferson was a helpless romantic, yes, and right now the light of his interest was threatening to fall into shambles.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin began quietly to avoid scandal from the two men in the room.

She glanced his way but remained quiet.

“Thank you for what you did for me…”

Belle nodded, sipping her tea wordlessly.

“And…I’m sorry,”

Belle paused, as did the two spectators behind them.

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger or to lie to you,” He said. “And I’m sorry about your book.”

Belle lowered her cup, grief threatening to crush her.

“It was my mother’s, and the first book she ever read to me.” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin smiled lightly but noticed the way her eyes were glassing over.

“The day the ogres attacked my home, I went back to get it,” she said. “By the time I got back to mother, the ogres had come. And then…”

Belle gulped and wiped the tear from her eye. “I thought for so long that if I had just left it behind, we could have gotten out sooner and maybe she’d alive. But then it was all I had left of her, the only reminder I had that there are heroes in this world and maybe I could be one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “She’d be so proud of you, Belle.”

Belle scoffed.

“No, she would,” he assured. “You saved me, and made a grand sacrifice to do it. If that’s not a hero, I can’t imagine what is.”

Belle smiled, grateful. “And you saved me too. You can be a hero too Rumple, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin looked away, the weight of her words weighing into him.

Him, a hero…

The doctor cleared his voice, pulling them from their heart-to-heart.

“I think I might be able to make some progress on our friend here,” he said, placing a hand on the dog ice sculpture. “But I’ll need to take him back to my lab for further examination.”

Belle and Rumple rose to meet the doctor at the table, who handed them his stethoscope.

“Listen,” he instructed, placing the metal part to the dog’s chest.

Belle listened first, her eyes widening as she handed the device to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s…”

“A heartbeat.” Rumple concluded, meeting Belle’s brilliant smile.

“They’re alive, it would seem,” the doctor theorized. “As to how to revert them to their original state I cannot yet conclude.”

“It’s magic,” the Dark One pointed out. “It’s not exactly something you can solve.”

The doctor glared at him, but Belle stepped in the way to keep a fight from breaking out.

“How about I make us all dinner,” she offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson chimed in, taking his legs off the table. “I saw some strawberries on the way in. I’ll make tarts!”

“You can cook?” Belle asked.

“…I can put things in a bowl.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust. “Cooking is a science, hatter. I’ll handle any baking.”

Belle and Jefferson exchanged an amused look before the lead the red-faced doctor to the kitchen.

She stopped just outside the entry way, turning to Rumplestiltskin who was watching them whimsically.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He nodded solemnly. “In a moment.”

Belle smiled, heading to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

He cared for her. He’d known this for some time now, but now things had gotten much more serious.

He was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do.

He glanced over to her bag, now dry from its night soaking in snow. Glancing towards the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and sorted through its contents until he found the small unburnt corner of Her Handsome Hero.

In a flash he was in his tower and placed the piece in a bowl along a special ingredient: a small, magical silkworm he’d been saving to rebuilt series of ancient scrolls.

This was more important.

He placed it with the book and smiled as it immediately set to work. It’d be a few days until Belle’s book was fully restored, and he’d have to find a subtle way to surprise her with it.

But there would be time for all that, there’d be time for everything.

Satisfied, he turned away from the bowl, making his way down the tower stairs to join Belle and the others for dinner.

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Lost in the Wrong Story

Uh-oh It's the Trash Man

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

~ A collaboration with @hitmewiththatfanart33 ~

Summary: Roman can’t run from his problems forever.

Roman hit the ground running. Surely if he ran with no particular direction they couldn’t find him, right? He dashed between trees and jumped over roots, taking some small comfort in the repetition of the sound of his boots hitting the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, for he didn’t remember consciously making this world, and most of the Disney movies he grew up watching had trees in them. Though not many trees looked like this: all twisted and curled, ferns and other various jungle-looking flora littering the floor. No, these woods were far from something out of a Disney movie. They had an eerie feeling to them, and the chirps and calls of unfamiliar bugs and night creatures set him on edge.

     “Why are you being so difficult?” a nasaly voice droned. Roman flinched, whipping around in a circle to find the source, and his heart only beat faster when some sort of wispy green fog menacingly circled him. It was so cold; colder than the already-freezing night-time air. However, that wasn’t why he trembled.

     The fog curled and condensed right before his face to form the disembodied head of a large green cat-looking thing, smiling at him crookedly with large, sharp fangs… The Cheshire Cat from Tim Burton’s adaptation of Alice in Wonderland… 

     Remus.

     He should’ve known from the second he stepped foot in this world that this wasn’t his creation like all the other places had been. “It’s none of your business,” he snarled, “Go away.” He tried to get around him so that he could leave, but the floating head only followed his movement.

     “Oh, but it is.” A set of paws took shape, and Remus rested his chin on them with an aggravating look of amusement. “You’re in my world if you couldn’t tell. And I had one hell of a time creating it.” He tilted his head side to side with each word for emphasis. “Whatever happened to making room for new stuff by getting rid of the old?” Remus complained.

     The last thing Roman needed right now was to play cat-and-mouse with his brother, so he turned around and began running, hoping to get enough momentum to hop worlds again, though it would be challenging considering this wasn’t his world and was thus less easy to manipulate. He barely got ten feet before a fully-formed cat was suddenly pouncing on him, pinning his back to the ground. “My world,” Remus repeated with a viscous hiss. “Meaning you’re going to listen.” He could feel Remus’ rancid breath against his face, and the terror that he would bite his head off at any given minute overwhelmed him.

     Roman said nothing, too busy teetering on the verge of hyperventilation. “Now… What is your fucking problem?”

     And in response to the exhaustion, the heartache, the stress, and the fear… Roman’s wide eyes welled up with stinging tears, and he began to cry. Remus looked incredibly uncomfortable. Great. Even his own brother didn’t know what to do with him. The new addition of Roman’s pitiful blubbering noises and the way he squeezed his eyes shut tight to make the world go away seemed to shake Remus out of his surprise, and the heavy weight on his chest suddenly felt less concentrated and more… human. “Hey, hey, hey… I’m sorry I scared you, I just thought you were going for a Disney theme, so I added my own twist to it… Good old Tim Burton, you know? It’s pretty much the only thing we can both sit through without killing each other.” Remus sounded like someone who had no experience with children trying to comfort a screaming baby.

     Roman slowly blinked his eyes open. Remus was still sitting on his stomach, which wasn’t the most comfortable— cat or human— and he looked down at his face worriedly. “Get off me. I can hardly breathe,” he complained. Remus quickly complied, sitting back on his heels to the side of him, offering a hand to help him sit up.

     Once he was upright, he stayed quiet a moment, resting his elbows on his knees. Then he spoke. “I’m a handful, okay? They don’t deserve to have to deal with that, so I just thought that maybe coming to the place where I’m in control and people will still love me even when I make a mistake was what was best for everyone. Nobody was supposed to come after me. None of this was supposed to happen.” He sniffled and angrily wiped at his tears.

     “Everyone with a brain is a handful, you blood clot. They obviously love you anyways, or else they would’ve ditched you a long time ago,” Remus said, trying to cheer him up.

     “They have,” Roman said quietly.

     “What? No, I was just with them.” 

     “That’s not what I meant… Patton just disappeared for several months one time after Christmas. He didn’t even say goodbye, and I needed him. Then I almost caused Virgil to leave completely, Logan left when I was upset over that one breakup, and… Janus hasn’t left me yet. He hasn’t been around long, but I think I just gave him a pretty good reason to.” This felt cathartic. Like he’d been in an uneasy or heightened state for so long that he forgot what it felt like to just be empty. 

     Remus chewed on his lip, cocking his head, and his next words sounded forced, but he meant well. “They need you too…” Roman barely caught him muttering ‘those useless infants’ under his breath, and he almost snorted. “Did you ever try to go after Patton?”

     “No,” he admitted, guilt stirring up in his stomach. 

     “Weren’t you also the reason Virgil came back? And isn’t Janus still looking for you somewhere in this jumbled mess of yours? Sounds to me like you’re just being an idiot,” Remus said with a shrug. Somehow his careless, goofy way of going about things calmed Roman down more than anything else could. 

     “I guess.”

     “I’m really not the one you should be talking to. All I’m good for is butt jokes,” he said, not entirely incorrectly. Roman chuckled a little. 

     Remus sighed. “Virgil’s no stranger to running away to brood; he’d be way better at this than me.” Then he turned his head, eyes wide with sudden thought. “He needs a nickname for that specifically. Hmm…” 

    He snapped. “Got it: Forest Whump,” he announced proudly, “Contains running and angst.”

     Then Roman was truly cracking up. It was pretty funny, and the thought of late night Tim Burton movie marathons and stealing each other’s clothes suddenly made Roman miss his stormcloud more than words could describe, so maybe Remus was right. “Yeah,” he said fondly. “I guess I really messed up.”

     “Yep!” Remus trilled gleefully.

     Roman nodded. “Thank you, brother.”

     “No prob, Bob!” Remus faded away, leaving just his deranged, but somewhat well-meaning smile before even that disappeared.

     When Roman hopped worlds he landed in yet another forest. Free from Remus’ influence, it felt a lot more familiar, like an old friend. He was fairly sure what fairytale he was in, (he had to be, he’d created the world after all), he just didn’t know where in it he was. He ran until he reached the cottage, exactly where he had instinctually known it would be. Then he walked upstairs, pushing two of the undersized beds together in the corner to form one large enough to sit comfortably on, wondering what to do while he waited on Virgil to inevitably show up. After all, the others seemed to find him no matter what he did. They practically fell into his lap. 

     So he waited. 

     And he waited…

     The isolated silence began to weigh on his mental state. 

     Suddenly, where he had originally felt calmed by his conversation with Remus, all sorts of conflicted feelings began to arise. Roman knew Remus was trying to help, and for a while his words did make him feel better... until he started really thinking about what he’d said, that was. When Patton disappeared for months, he did nothing. When Logan felt ostracized during the courtroom trial, he had said nothing. Hell, he had been happy to have Virgil gone… at first. 

     Patton must still resent him for never coming for him. Is that why he never paid any mind to Roman’s absences? Was it payback? Did Logan still loathe him for abandoning their college diploma to be a YouTuber? What about Virgil? He couldn’t count how many times he’d been flat-out cruel to him. And with Janus, when he had first told them his name, he’d laughed at him just like he had with Virgil and treated him like a villain just because of his own conflicting emotions. 

     Now he’d left them who knows where in the Imagination. 

     “Roman, just come home with me.”

     “I just missed you so much it hurt.”

     “You need to come home.”

     “Roman, this isn’t funny. Come out.”

     “Where is Patton?”

     “Roman!”

     “Why are you being so difficult?”

     “Roman!”

     “Now… What is your fucking problem?”

     “Roman!”

     He gasped brokenly, pressing a hand to his mouth as the tears began freely falling one after the other onto his lap, and it felt as if every atom making him up trembled. His prince uniform slowly phased into black sweatpants and his favorite red hoodie so that they could hold him together when he couldn’t. He curled into himself. 

     Would they even want him back given everything he’d done and continued to do? If they found him would they just try to let him down easy? This and more swirled around Roman’s head relentlessly, and no matter how many times he wiped his eyes, they were quickly replenished. 

***

     Virgil walked straight into a tree as he entered the Imagination. He stumbled back, expecting Janus to catch him, and instead fell to the ground. Right as he was about to shoot a teasing remark at Janus, Virgil realized he wasn’t there. Neither were Logan and Remus. He stood up and turned in a frantic circle. “Very funny guys. Come out Remus, you bitch.” No response other than the wind rustling through the leaves. Virgil laughed nervously. “You’ve had your fun. Come on.” Nothing.

     He was in the middle of the woods with no way of knowing how to get out or find help, and they weren’t here with him. 

     He fumbled around to find his hoodie to calm his rapidly increasing panic and felt nothing. A glance down at himself had him on the verge of laughing hysterically, for he was wearing a rich purple dress that nearly reached the ground. He felt behind his back and found, to his relief, a hood, so at least Roman wasn’t completely cruel. Sure the tight laces were hell, as were the sleeves that reached down to his legs, but as long as he could smoother himself in fabric, he could calm down. He tried to remember the exercises Logan had taught him: 4-7-8 and counting with all of his senses. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he removed his hood.

     The world seemed a little less scary now. He’d noticed birds chirping amongst the treetops, the sun filtered down nicely, and he was sure that whatever reason he had been brought here was important. 

    He was sitting on the ground, back pressed up against a tree, though he couldn’t quite remember doing that. He stood up, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. For one, he was in a forest— wow great job, Virgil. Figure that one out all by yourself?— and secondly… Well, he had nothing. Just trees. Looks like he was picking a direction and going with it in the hopes he’d find Roman… somehow.

     He hadn’t been walking very long when he spotted a vaguely familiar cottage. It wasn’t big enough to be from Sleeping Beauty, so… Really? Snow White? Was this because I said I liked the Evil Queen’s aesthetic once? He shrugged and pushed the door open. That was when he heard someone upstairs, and for a moment he felt relieved to not have to be alone, but that quickly changed when he realized whoever it was was crying. His eyes went wide. 

     Roman.

     Virgil dashed up the stairs as fast as his gown would let him, practically throwing open the door, and he nearly cried upon seeing the person he’d been looking for. “Roman!” Virgil called out. Roman looked up from where he was bunched up on the bed. Virgil moved over to the bed to try and hug him, but Roman shrugged him off. “Roman?”

     This wasn’t like him. This was bad. 

     “Why won’t you leave me alone?” Roman whimpered quietly, fresh tears running down his face. “I just want to be left alone.”

     “Roman, what are you talking about?” Virgil sat next to him, but Roman scooted away and put his face back down to his knees. 

     “I get it!” Roman said loudly out of nowhere. “You’re all just the nicest people in the fucking world and you’re just trying to let me down easy. Just leave me alone!” The window next to them shattered.

     “Roman. Roman, listen to me.” Virgil tried to keep his voice steady. As much as he wanted to hug Roman, he knew that when he was feeling this way he hated being touched, so he kept his distance. “This is all in your head. Trust me, as the literal personification of anxiety, I should know. You’re lying to yourself.” 

     Roman turned his back to him, facing the headboard that rested against the wall to the left of the window, his breath coming in heavier and more panicked. 

     “You don’t know that!”

     “I do. I swear I do.” Virgil was crying now. Roman was scaring him, and everything in Virgil cried out to ease the insurmountable amount of pain he was in. The wind roared through the broken window, sending pillows and sheets flying. He longed to run and hide until this was all over, but that other, stronger part of him prevailed. He was essentially Thomas’ fight or flight instinct, and he was determined to fight for Roman.

     “I… do.” Everything in the room became crystal clear to Virgil in that moment. His eyes settled on a single shiny red apple just past the bedpost, still among the spinning wreckage that threatened to cut his skin to ribbons. Not a thing touched him when he stood, walking a path to the fruit, and when he reached it there was no going back. 

     He had to have it. 

     As if in a trance, his lithe, pale fingers wrapped around its round form. 

     He pressed his mouth against it.

     “Virgil?”

     Then its sweet juice was filling his mouth. 

***

     Roman’s brow furrowed against his knees as he heard Virgil trail off then fall silent. He brought his head up with a soft, “Virgil?” and when there was no response he turned around on the bed out of curiosity, only to freeze in horror at what he saw. He swore all the breath left his lungs. 

     It was too late. 

     Virgil’s teeth were already sinking into it, and Roman felt helpless as he watched in shock, the bedding and glass crashing down around them. 

      The next thing to hit the ground was the apple, a sort of dull thud against the wooden floor, then Virgil came down with it, and with a sickening gasp, Roman lunged. Yet again, it was too late. The sound of Virgil’s head hitting the ground echoed throughout the cottage.

     “No. No, no, no, no, no.” Roman repeated that single word over and over again, dropping to his knees and scooping Virgil’s limp form up into his lap. 

     This was his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. He was supposed to be the hero. But he wasn’t a hero. He was a coward, running away, always making the wrong choice and hurting the people he loved, and it wasn’t like Virgil was the first victim of his recklessness. How could they love someone like that?

     The truth was… they couldn’t, but he had to try. 

     Hurriedly, he kissed Virgil, begging for that true love’s kiss he always believed in to break the curse that he’d unwittingly set in motion through his anger. Nothing happened. He tried again and again, but Virgil didn’t wake up. Didn’t breathe. “Virgil! Virgil please wake up!” Roman shook him, but his head only lolled. “Virgil, wake up. Please. Please.” Roman dissolved into tears, hugging Virgil close, rocking back and forth. He’d known all along that he wasn’t Virgil’s true love, but finding out by putting Virgil into a curse he couldn’t break was by far the worst way to have done so.

     Minutes passed by with Roman desperately clinging to the one he loved. 

     In those eternal minutes, Virgil didn’t move, and where Roman had once been able to warm him up, his skin stayed as cold as porcelain. The only thing that kept Roman from giving up entirely was the fact that there was still a steady pulse to be felt in his neck beneath the cold, lifeless guise the curse blanketed him in. He gave him one last squeeze and firmly pressed their foreheads together. 

     Roman carefully lifted Virgil onto the bed, only now noticing how breathtaking he would have been in the long, draping fabric and rich purple were he still awake, and he crossed his arms before wiping the tears from his face. He even conjured a bouquet of white poppies to place in Virgil’s clasped hands. The simple conjuring took every ounce of his willpower and energy, and he sobbed his heart out all the while. Then he pressed one final kiss to Virgil’s forehead with a vain hope that this kiss would somehow work. 

     “I’ll make this right. I swear.” 

     He had to find Janus.

Fun fact! White poppies symbolize eternal sleep, oblivion, imagination, consolation, dreams, and peace. Yes, I did in fact spend 10 minutes looking up the meanings of various plants.

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@cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash   @fandomsofrandom @t0astyt0es @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @casuallyimpossibledream @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @slutforketchup @sandersidess @i-need-you-buddy @witchyvirgil @ghosttb0y @pixelatedrose @emilightniing @csi-baker-street-babes @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @spooky-scary-virgil @justanothernerdyfandomblog @phantomfantasize @panicattheeveywhere @hedgiehoggles @i-really-like-dragons @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @crabsncrabs @gattonero17 @dragonleesupporter @lokiamorstuffs @emo--nightmaree @anotherbisexualbooklover @7-slights-at-virgil @romanvirgil @croftersjam15 @underthesea73