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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

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Scared & Sacred - Ch. 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: pregnancy, angst, lots of emotions, canon typical violence, fighting

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 2 - The Letter

Every night you prepared some more food in little portions to keep you alive on the journey you would start soon. You had three pairs of every clothing in a compartment that you would put into a bag, bought another bag on the last planet to put the food, water and a blanket in. Even got a cheap med pack on the last planet. On the next planet you‘d leave. You‘d find someone to bring you back to that harmonic place where the nurse droid told you that you were expecting.

„Cyare?“ You closed the compartment as you heard him come closer. „Hm?“ You looked up at him in front of you, holding a fuzzing Grogu. „Something‘s upsetting him.“ Arms reached up and grabbed Grogu out of Din‘s gentle grasp. „Hey, sweetpea, you‘re safe here. We won‘t let anything happen to you, yeah?“ You tried to calm him a bit. It worked a tiny bit, but he wiggled free again to sit on your lap and nuzzle into your belly. „Better?“ You chuckled and got a coo of agreement, making you chuckle. Eyes wandered up to the Mandalorian again, „It‘s okay, he can sleep here.“ It would be a nice last night having Grogu sleeping right on top of you, showing love to his sibling. You started to notice that region of your body growing harder to the touch. „Do you mind if we share?“ Din‘s modulated voice reached your ears. „I‘d prefer sleeping alone, if I‘m being honest.“ You answered softly, shutting him out of your heart and bed. „Did I do anything to upset you? You‘ve been very distant since we left Arcaro.“ That was the harmonic planet, you saved the name internally. „I miss your touch.“ „Oh, no no. Just having a lot on my mind at the moment. Going through memories of my childhood and all.“ That was only half a lie, so you didn‘t feel very bad. „If you need to talk, you know I‘m there.“ You nodded softly, starting to hear Grogu snore. „Get some sleep, Din. You have people to hunt tomorrow.“ You smiled and saw him nod before heading off to his cot.

You couldn‘t sleep with the journey ahead on your mind, so you grabbed a piece of flimsy and started writing a letter to Din that you would leave behind, attaching your soup recipe that the kid liked the most. You put it in an envelope and put it between your pillow and the mattress. Shortly after the exhaustion of the day got you to fall asleep for a few hours.

Din and Grogu were hunting for a Corellian woman while you got the last important pieces for your journey and the ship. You filled up the food supply, bought another melee weapon and you found a very used vest that would hold off blaster shots that you put on under your gown. Once all of that was done you checked through your backpack and side bag and put them on your body. A deep breath went through you as you looked around one last time. This was a great home and protection for a while, but it was time for another chapter in your life. You‘d miss Grogu a lot, as well as the beskar armored man with the patience of a Jedi.

You headed down the main street of the city to find a ship you could fly with all the way back towards the planet of Arcaro. You ended up meeting a woman that used to be a fighter for the Republic. Hated the Empire and thought bounty hunters are annoying. Seemed safe enough. As you took off she asked, „What‘s your business here?“ „Leaving behind the people that helped me run from the people that hunted my family because I‘m with child and they weren‘t ready to accept that kinda life.“ You kept it short but clear. „Damn, that sounds like a lifestory if I ever heard one. Who knocked you up?“ She was direct. Reminded you of Cara. „The man that protected me for the last months. Very kind, kind of emotionally incompetent, definitely wouldn‘t take the news well.“ „I see.“ She nodded before jumping into hyperspace. She knew you had the credits to pay her, everything else was just listening to your interesting story and getting a good tip for a market.

— POV CHANGE —

Din stepped into his ship with Grogu. It was dead silent, not completely unusual. What was unusual was the fact you didn‘t react when he called out „Cyare?“ The child in his arms cooed in confusion and looked up at him with a frown. „She might still be caught up on the market. We‘ll wait.“ But even that plan fell away once he had fully arrived home and opened the compartment that you had fully stocked before leaving. „Oh, I‘m having a bad feeling about this,“ he whispered to himself as he closed the compartment and put the scanner on his helmet on. Only your footsteps, no others in sight. That didn‘t make sense. She never really went on walks, when she did she always was back in time to welcome him. He followed the steps and arrived in another hangar. „Hey, you there!“ He pointed at the slightly intimidated man near the hangar. „Y-Yes?“ „Have you seen a human woman in white and blue gowns, a green bag and braided hair? This big, cloak is blue too, with white details on it.“ „She went through here, yes.“ „Did she seem afraid?“ „No, she was acting normal. Talked to a woman that frequently takes travellers with her to other places. Seemed to be ready for a trip.“ „Dank ferrik! Thank you.“ NOW he was a different type of concerned. Why did you leave? Willingly! He scanned over the holopad the man held, taking in the information on it that he hoped was about the ship you were in.

When he got back he noticed one of his weapons missing in his arsenal, your blue blindfold on the co-pilot seat and everything neatly cleaned and organized in the kitchen. This was starting to kill him from the inside out. What had happened? What would make you get up and leave on purpose? From the man you loved and the child you cared for so much? He checked your bed. It wasn‘t made. The only thing in here that wasn‘t neat and tidy. And there he saw it, something sticking out from under your pillow. His mind went back to the time he found a little booklet there. A booklet about human children, medical stuff. He took off his gloves and grabbed the flimsy, opening the envelope he held in his hands shortly after and noticed it was a letter addressed at him.

*Dear Din, I know this might be confusing. That I‘m gone now, that I went without telling you. I know it‘s dangerous out there and that you are a big reason I‘m still breathing, but I couldn‘t bear the idea of making a decision benefiting you and leaving me lost. When you told me you weren‘t ready for a child, I knew I had to leave. I won‘t decide against it and I didn‘t wanna hear from your voice that I shouldn‘t keep it. I‘ll miss you. I‘ll miss Grogu. He‘ll miss his unborn sibling too. I know how excited he was for it. I‘m content with knowing that the child was created out of love. Two months and about a week ago. I hope that gives you rest about the situation. I‘ll go back to Arcaro. The place with the beautiful market and one of the best nurse droids I‘ve ever met. I‘ll figure out where to go and how to be on my own from there. I hope you don‘t mind that I took one of the weapons you barely used in the last months. Have this recipe for Grogu in return, he loves it the most and sleeps the best after eating it. Love, Y/N*

Din was drowning in an ocean of feelings. He wanted to cry, scream, beg, jump in happiness and yearned to have you in his arms. Oh, how much he wanted to have you in his arms right now. How much he wished you would‘ve told him that day. He would‘ve pushed away all your doubts. He would‘ve worshipped you, your body, the wonders happening inside of you. Instead you were running from him like he was some disgusting monster.

He sat down in the pilots seat with Grogu on his arm and the letter in the other hand, setting it down gently and punching in the coordinates to the planet you mentioned. You‘d arrive there after him if he did this trick right.

— POV CHANGE —

You gave the Republic lady a big tip and a hug. „It‘s rare to meet someone to talk to like this. Thank you for the ride and the long talk.“ You smiled at her and she grabbed both of your arms gently. „I land here every now and then, so if you ever see this piece of metal land, say hello.“ She grinned and let you go.

You stepped down the ramp of her vessel to see the market you loved so much fairly empty. It was really early in the morning on this planet. You got closer to the market and saw how some vendors currently refilled their little shops. „Where do you think you‘re going?“ A dark voice was audible behind you. It was familiar. „Kuuvi?“ You turned around to the man that has been hunting you for a year now. He used to be a good friend. „Yes, it‘s me.“ You turned around to him with a smile. „How have you been?“ You asked as if he didn‘t have the capacity to kill you right there. „Eating good, having a nice ship, good people around. How about you?“ He shrugged. „Except for the nice ship I can only say the same.“ „Where is your tin can?“ „Oh, he‘s just getting some supplies. Looking for a better ship at the moment. Razor Crest is great and all, but it gets crammed in there.“ You chuckled. Being royalty made you a master of lies sometimes „Twi‘ku still wants you on his doorstep.“ He gave a dirty grin. „You still work for that half-rotten idiot with bad rates? Moff Gideon would pay you so much more, I mean he‘s the source.“ „Either would pay me enough to retire if I deliver you.“ „Well, would be against the code of any guild.“ „Huh?“ „Pregnant women aren‘t allowed to be hunted.“ With a sweet grin you watched him realize the information you had just dropped and frown, enough distracted time to run one of your knives through his throat. He grabbed after you, getting out his vibroblade, but you had a gun trained on him in return, stepping on his lung and taking out the knife. „Traitor!“ You pulled the trigger and burned a hole through his heart. Two more men were running at you, one got a blastershot to the throat and the other got your new staff punched over the head.

You looked up to see people around the market hiding behind stuff, before hearing a saber lighting up behind you. „It‘s nice to see you alone for once.“ Moff Gideon. You were dead. You were so damn dead. „What do you want from me?“ you growled and heard him chuckle. „Not much, you just took something from me that you can‘t give back.“ „My brother killing your daughter isn‘t something that involves me!“ „No, but I overheard you are with child, so we might as well call it even.“ He charged at you with his dark saber, but just before it could hit you there was something big landing between you both.

„Nobody hurts my child.“ You heard his possessive and protective voice. „Oh, how sweet.“ He attacked Din ruthlessly, making you both step back further and further. Troopers came at you from left and right and you took out the second weapon you stole from Din, shooting left and right while leaned against his back. Behind you the saber strained against Din‘s arm guards. „Give up. You won‘t win this.“ Gideon hissed at him. You heard more jetpacks land behind you. Three blue Mandalorians landed in Din‘s sight behind Moff Gideon. „You have something that‘s mine and you better give it to me.“ You heard a familiar female voice. „Bo-Katan Kryze.“ His voice was somewhere between a chuckle and an unsure shakiness. There were no living stormtroopers anymore in just seconds and the four Mandalorians closed in on Moff. His saber not working on their armor. „Any last words?“ Bo-Katan asked with a serious voice. „They‘ll never stop coming for you. For your children, your family, your friends, your religion. They will always watch.“ Din put a blaster shot through his head from a low angle, „Psycho.“

He turned around to envelope you into the safety of his arms, „Cyar‘ika!“ You were shaking and gripping onto his cape, „I‘m okay. We‘re okay.“ „You can‘t just run off like that.“ He sounded wound up, probably thinking about what would‘ve happened if he hadn‘t arrived in time. „I thought-“ „Your thoughts aren‘t the reality. You really thought I‘d tell you to get rid of your unborn child. I told you children are seen as sacred in Mandalorian culture.“ You looked behind him and got a nod from a helmetless Bo-Katan, „We‘ll get this done, go talk.“ Din tightly put his arms around you and you shot up into the sky before landing on top of a building. His hands, freed from gloves, wandered over your cheeks. „I wish you would‘ve told me. I wish so much that I could‘ve been able to tell you to stop worrying and I wish you would‘ve been able to see me jump in joy at the news. I know we don‘t talk a lot, but this was the time you should‘ve talked. If I had said something negative you still could‘ve left.“ Your lip started trembling, he was right. You were so dumb for doing this. „Hey, no no, I understand why you did it, cyare.“ His helmet touched your forehead. His hands wandered down your sides, „Can I?“ You nodded and felt his hand wander over the hardened skin on your lower belly. He went on his knees before you, hands on your hips before they wandered to his helmet. „Din, no.“ You whispered and heard the hiss. „I thought about this for a long time. There is not one way, there are multiple ways that all have the same core. Look at Bo-Katan, Boba, all these people we met. I grew up in a version of this religion that doesn’t work for me anymore, I don‘t want that to be our child's life too. I want to live it our way.“ And with that the helmet came off. „They are gone, no one can hurt you two and Grogu anymore.“ „But the Empire.“ „We‘ll deal with it.“ The helmet went down and you could finally see his face. Soft face, with harsh features, smiling, „Besides. You looked pretty hot fighting off those idiots.“ „Wait till I break your hand while delivering the child.“ You chuckled with tears streaming down your face. He was so beautiful, so gentle. His nose pressed against your belly, his grip on your hips tightening just enough for you to feel even safer. „Where‘s Grogu?“ „On the ship, probably eating all the supplies.“ You both chuckled and enjoyed the moment for a while longer. „I can‘t wait to meet you, ad‘ika,“ he whispered to your unborn baby. There was so much love in his eyes that you started crying again. „Oh, cyare.“ He took your face in his hands with a caring frown on his face. „Don‘t mind me, just hormones.“ You chuckled to lighten up the situation. „My riduur.“ His bare forehead met yours. „Huh?“ „It- It means partner.“ He said it with such an innocent unsureness that you had to whisper a small, „Oh, baby.“ „I‘ll open up to you more, yeah? We‘ll find a good planet to stay.“ „I like this one so much.“ „I know, cyar‘ika. But maybe we should go to Sorgan for a while before coming back here. Grogu will have children to play with and you will be able to relax.“ His thumbs still caressed your cheeks. „Okay, my knight in shining armor.“ You smiled and kissed his nose, before taking his helmet and putting it back on his head.

You flew back to where you had fought, finding Bo-Katan with the dark saber. „I can rule over Mandalore again and you both are more than welcome there once it‘s done.“ She sent you both a smile. „We might take you up on that.“ You smiled back at her. „We‘ll clean this up and make sure nobody else is hunting for your children. We owe you for finally having this in our hands.“ She held up the saber. „Thank you,“ Din said sincerely and nodded before you said your goodbyes and went back to the ship.

You found Grogu arms deep in a jar of nectar. „Oh Grogu.“ You giggled and he turned around with his signature coo, ears falling at being caught. „It‘s alright, but don‘t do it again. You wanna see your dada‘s face?“ You asked picking him up, cleaning him with something from one of your bags. His eyes got wider and his ears perked. You let down both your bags and the cloak before turning around to Din. „Ready?“ You smiled and he nodded before taking off his helmet. The child gasped and reached for his face, so you held him up to it. He babbled while touching all over his face, Din chuckling and intently listening. Had he always looked like that beneath the helmet when talking to Grogu? „Dada.“ His and your eyes widened at that. You turned Grogu around to look at you and praised him, „Good boy, you love your dada so much, don‘t you?“ A tiny giggle came from his body before he wiggled again. „You wanna say hello to your sibling?“ Another squeak. You sat down on the floor, so did Din while also losing some parts of his armor. He watched as the child put his hands on your belly and closed his eyes, you felt the gentle tingle again. His tiny green nose nuzzled into your skin right where he felt his sibling through the force. „You‘ll see it in a couple months.“ You smiled down at Grogu and gently touched his ears. He could sense that good things happened. That you both weren‘t as worried as you usually were. „Let‘s go to Sorgan and meet the children you like playing with, yeah?“ Another happy squeak came from the green child. „Ner aliit.“ Din murmured softly. You understood without asking. You were his family now and he was yours.

___

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danddymaro · 4 years

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Temptation | Claude Faustus x Reader

This is the original [ HERE ]

It is pretty different and changed up. Heck, now that I'm re-reading both , I kind of don’t recognize much of the original. I like this one more, since its more recent and edited. I had actually written that one when I was younger and posted it up much later on that site... but I feel like I’ve done better now, like I’ve vastly improved. I guess cause I like having more details now, Idk about anyone else.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count : 6335

Temptation

"Don't cry..." she cooed softly, all whilst petting the young boy, her hand gently running over his blonde, silken hair, combing it down with her small raking fingers to soothe him.

"Shh...it'll be alright young master," she assured him, her voice sweet, almost saccharine as she spoke to him, "I'm here...I’m here... And I'll always be here," she said yet again, repeating the words over and over, chanting them to him in a low, melodic tune that only she could produce.

- And it wasn’t just for that night she had made such a proclamation...

To always be there; to never leave him...

‘Never leave me...Never abandon me (f/n),’ He thought to himself, silently ordering her.

She so often assured him there was nothing in the world more important to her than he was, feeding the desperate young boy with everything he wanted to hear, not because it served to her benefit, but because he needed it.

-Because she truly loved him.

"It's so dark..." Alois whispered back to her as she sat on the large bed with him, satin sheets draped over both of them as they stayed huddled close together.

He had insisted she crawl in there with him, and of course, she wouldn’t dare dismiss his request, not when his blue eyes were nothing but melted ice, overflooding, and momentarily causing streams of sorrow down his young face.

His arms then wrapped around her with a sudden quickness, surprising her enough to put a halt to the gentle strokes she had provided on the fair-haired youth.

“It’s so dark...” He said again as he clung to her tighter, his face pressed against her left breast like the needy brat he was.

At his desperate hold, she too held him close, quickly coming down from the light start he had given her, holding him tightly against her and keeping his trembling body near her.

‘I see....it is expected,’ She mused to herself.

"The darkness is what you fear the most, yes master?" she said softly, embracing the poor child, knowing how frightened he was of not just the loud clapping sounds, but also the blackness surrounding them.

She was aware of just what the harsh sounds of chaos outside did the boy, and moreover what the lonesome void of light caused within him.

She knew him through and through, or at the very least she believed she did...

She knew what made him sorrow-filled, becoming familiar with what made him angry, as well as taking into account what unnerved him.

However, she hadn’t a clue as to what lay in his past, because he never spoke of it, but of course, she could more or less figure. She knew, of course, the world was a cruel place, and even then she was still surprised at man’s corruption where not even a child was safe.

She could put pieces together, ones that created a dreadful puzzle, one that made her weep at times.

Admittedly she had shed tears for Alois, and she wouldn't ever hide the fact, because she wasn’t ashamed to let it be known that she loved him.

‘I know what matters young Lord,’ She thought to herself, ‘ I may not know everything about you, but I don't need to...’ she added with motherly love.

‘Because that’s all that matters now...’ She reasoned, ‘ Nonetheless, I'm here now...I’m here now young master... and I won’t let you be harmed. I won’t leave you in the dark.’

“I know it is,” she voiced, “ But no worries young master,” she assured him. “You should have no worries now, not of the thunder or darkness...” she added with certainty.

“None of it...” she murmured, bringing her chin down to lay on top of his head, her eyes closing momentarily.

Meanwhile, the young boy in her arms stirred from within furthermore, '(f/n) am I wrong?’ Alois asked himself as he was embraced back, feeling her chin touch the top of his head.

‘ Do you truly care? Could you really..?' He wondered,‘ Or do you fear me instead? Do you only stay because you have no other choice as well?’ He continued on while his tears continued to fall,

‘Could it be...? Or am I wrong to doubt you?’

Alois Trancy always asked himself this, along with many more questions that ran along the same lines, because to his dismay, he always doubted.

The young boy always doubted.

No matter how certain he could be, he always challenged the notion that he could truly be loved, and that somehow, someone truly cared for him.

‘How could anyone really?’ he asked himself with spite directed at himself, at his tainted soul, and moreso his soiled body.

All of him was used...soiled...filthy.

‘Filthy...Filthy and unloved... I am...’ He thought with a hiccup. ‘ I am nothing more than that...’

Hearing what was the unmistakable sound of his blubbered cries accompanied by the little shiver coursing throughout his slim frame, (f/n) brought her gaze down to him, separating from him a bit in order to gaze at him properly.

She stared back at soft baby blue irises in the desperate attempt to comfort the lost, tainted soul, knowing he was suffering and fretful, well aware he was hurt more than words could ever fix.

A small, sweet smile overtook her pale-rose painted lips as she stared down at him, hoping to somehow raise one out of him.

Kind eyes, lovely, sweet and pure stared down at him, absolutely sunning him, making his heart still. They were filled with love, pure, unadulterated love he’d never received before, making his breath hitch in a notable fashion.

The way she gazed down at him, it told him she didn’t want his body. It reminded him that she didn’t want his soul either.

No... his (f/n) wanted nothing more than to give...accept...wholeheartedly devote herself to him, not because she was forced to by contract, and not because she had any hunger for him either.

‘(f/n) truly cares for me,’ he thought to himself, pushing away the thoughts of before, trying to shove them clear out the window,

‘(f/n) desires only my joy...She desires nothing more...’

He hated having to be reminded he mattered, hated needing the validation, but the truth was that the way he believed love to work was different. His mind had been warped, twisted and turned so much that it was nothing but a mess.

‘No...No...The way you look at me...’ He resisted, his glazed eyes gazing into hers, ' The way your eyes fall onto me... The way you hold onto me...’

She wordlessly challenged him, more specifically his doubtful thoughts, unknowingly giving him assurance with her (e/c) gems, giving validation to her words of promise.

He was aware of the existence of demons, the same unholy creatures which surrounded him. He knew those evils existed as his home had become nothing more than a nesting ground for the fiends.

He knew they were real, so he often asked himself if there was such a thing as angels.

Did they also exist?

He often wondered if the light lived with the darkness... if it had come down to roam free with the meager humans just as the demons had traveled from the depths of hell.

Did those holy angels exist? Or was their world just a playground for the fiends to fester and feed?

Had the humans been left to their monstrous mercy?

Had he been destined to just be pray?

As he brought his eyes back down, he lay them on the cloth over her chest, more specifically, the white apron trimmed with ruffles that followed a heart-shaped edge.

He looked on at her uniform piece, mindlessly letting his right hand reached up to the ruffled pieces, the tips of his fingers occupied with them,

‘ How different they are, ‘ he mused, a small sniffle meant to let out amusement, though very lukewarm.

If anything the action itself served more to vacuum up the snot running down his nostrils.

‘Like night and day,’ He went on.

The young Trancy maid was so different from his head butler that It wouldn’t surprise him in the least bit if she did turn out to be a divine spirit, one being the complete polar to the fiend Claude was,

‘Would you save me (f/n)? Could you be here to save me? Save me from the world?... from Claude even?... from myself if you had to?...’ he wondered idly. ‘Could you heal me?’ He wondered with a sliver of hope, knowing he was being foolish in his pondering, cringing as he heard large droplets smack his large window.

‘ Even if I were to be wrong...’ he started, ‘ I wouldn’t want to let you go. I wouldn’t want to give you up,’ he continued on, ‘ In fact, it’s meaningless to wonder, because I don’t want you to leave either way...

You could be yet another demon... you could also want my soul and I wouldn’t mind it...’

Nonetheless, he loved her still, loving her attention, loving her more than he could love anything else in the world.

‘-I’ll give you anything so long as you stay, I’ll promise you anything you wish,’ He compromised, ‘I’d break my soul in two halves...share it with you as well to feed your hunger...

I just ask that you stay...’

He could feel it in his chest, the aching he felt when he so thought of the possibility of her abandoning him.

Whether it was all some lie or not, he’d still wanted her with him.

‘Never...’ He told himself, ‘Never will I be alone...not without you or him...not without you both....’ He insisted, not being able to stomach the notion of lonesomeness.

It was then that an incredibly loud boom came from outside, making even the woman release a small sound of surprise.

Being caught off guard, her body had begun to melt by the strangely soothing sound of heavy falling rain, so when the roar erupted she couldn't hold back the alarm she felt. Meanwhile, the Trancy head’s eyes went enormously wide, a cry leaving him, nearly choking as he tried to speak,

"P-please don't let go!" He pleaded, burying his flushed face in her warm chest, trying to drown out the thunder.

Somewhere in there lay her heart, ‘Somewhere in here, it’s cradled by her...just like I want to be.’ he thought breathlessly, his heavy tears wetting her uniform even more, his nose going runny as well.

His hands clawed at her, small, thin fingers digging into her back as his grip tightened, his nails digging in, even though the cloth.

’Please keep me safe (f/n), Tuck me in near your heart, with what little space may be there... I'll take it.’

‘I’ve given you your own spot,’ He silently reminded her, knowing his heart was in two halves, one meant for her, and one meant for his butler, the same one who had yet to show face...

Something he hadn’t overlooked, because, in spite of all his wondering and fear, he couldn’t push the absence aside, " Damn it! Why isn't he here! Where's Claude?!" He demanded in anguish, which to her, sounded more like a soft, muffled plea.

It sounded weak...small.

‘ Where is he...’ the young boy wondered, ‘(f/n) your here... but where is Claude... where is he?’

Unknown to the two, the said man watched them, all with glowing interest, one that could not be truly measured, and that was unimaginable to them both. His golden eyes were both overtaken by fluorescent pink as he continued to eye them both in the manner a mischievous one would gaze at unattained decadences.

‘Sweet little treats left out for anyone to grab,’ He mused.

Both were sweet and savory little bites to take at his liking, and what was best;

Nothing would get in his way.

Nothing could stop him.

Claude licked his now dry lips, eyeing the young maid from a dark corner, watching as she embraced their young lord with a hold so fierce, one would have to tear her arms open to steal him from her.

She held him with an iron grip, one that cradled him near as though he truly was precious, as though he’d been nested within her womb at one point.

The butler knew she’d fight for him with the same ferocity he would, despite her mortality, and moreso, for reasons that were polar to his.

While to Claude he was nothing more than a meal, (f/n) saw something else.

She saw through maternal eyes that had given her a strength Claude hadn’t thought humans could come to obtain,

"It all excites me …" He said lowly, smirking at the vulnerable pair, his dark, delighted voice there for only himself to hear and reflect upon.

He watched with amusement as both the creatures jumped as the world outside flashed white, a roaring cry echoing with viciousness.

“Yes, it is indeed exciting... Madly rousing,” he said, feeling actual exhilaration, his body growing hot, the temperatures of it rising to a boiling point.

He looked all too much like a coiled serpent, waiting with glee, glimmering eyes filled with excitement as he waited for his moment to spring forward, viscously sinking its fangs onto innocent, little beings he’d make dinner out of.

They both were in his vision and interest, but only one left him truly spellbound because truth be told, everything about the woman made him go mad...feral even.

"Naughty me, wanting a treat before the main course," He snickered.

He wasn't the least bit concerned about the want he felt, because after all, it didn’t mean he couldn't have it all.

By having her, it didn’t mean he would have to give up the boy.

It was never in his plan to simply let go of something he’d already worked so hard on.

‘All the humiliation... the intolerable brat’s constant swings in between bitter and sweet...’ He thought with bitterness,

'...But of course that wavering...it does make him all the more appetizing,’ he reasoned. ‘ And it will make it all the more satisfying to see my young lord bloodied red,’ He went on.

The whimpering child's soul was appetizing, It had been his only focus, at least until a certain point.

It had been all he could focus on until she arrived.

‘And then, of course, there is you, my dear...’ He thought to himself as he continued to eye her.

“There is you my sweet (f/n)…Sweet...You’re all too sweet with that aromatic warmth... all of that tempting flavor you know nothing of,” He sighed in a daydreamed state, drunk over her tempting image.

Her soul begged to be devoured, shared with no one else, and swallowed whole by his gluttonous hunger, and all the while, he wasn’t even ashamed to admit it:

He wanted everything from her, from the soft (h/c) hair on her pretty head to that teasing, sweet soul she carried within her lovely vessel which was in every sense perfection.

She was perfection to him, pleasing every sense of his.

How he longed to ravish her pure, virgin body, run his nude fingers up and down her smooth legs before he’d have the chance to dig his sharp fangs within her silky neck.

He could smell it, she was untouched, untainted, and oh so tempting.

Never before had he felt such an overwhelming urge to completely devour a defenseless creature such as herself, not even his prior fixation on his master was in comparison, and it was indeed something for him to relish in with joy.

He was fortunate.

The day she stepped foot in the household, that single move marked her fate.

From that day forth, she was his, and his alone.

She was off-limits to the other roaming demons who he knew glared at him in spite...brewing in envy as he made another claim. He was aware he wasn’t the only one interested in her, but no one else would dare mark territory where he had plans to.

Surprisingly enough, watching her with the brat somehow made her more appealing, it made her much more delicious,

'How kind you are, how nobly sweet...’ he mused with mockery as he saw her being latched onto, no qualms on her part.

‘...No, better yet, How naïve and incredibly stupid, ' He thought darkly.

He knew she had a horrible inability to say no.

She couldn't escape out of the affection from the young boy, even if it meant living her life in servitude, even if it meant living her life in a nest of demons and possible death.

In his mind, such kindness and sympathy she demonstrated could only belong to a naïve and utterly stupid creature.

"- I'm sure he'll be here soon your highness,” (f/n) told Alois, “ I’m certain he would never abandon you," she added, lightly running her fingers through her master's silky blond hair to soothe the young male, continuing on with the tender action from before.

‘One’s heart would have to be black to leave you, ‘ She thought to herself. ‘Rotten and evil...Young master...”

"...And what about you?" He questioned unsurely, all with a quaking voice. His fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, fearing she'd leave him right then and there.

‘I know you’ve already told me,’ he reasoned, ‘ I know I may be annoying, ‘ he then thought, ‘ but please, please tell me again, once more... a million times after that as well...’

“Would you ever leave me?” he asked her, sniffling up at her.

‘ You’ve asked me so many times,’ she mused, a small shake to her head.

"I love my young master far too much to ever leave him," she said lovingly, making his heart warm and his body melt on to her furthermore.

She cherished the child, being pulled back to him, rendering her weak to the idea of disappearing from his lonesome life.

Moreover, something had drawn her to the home in its entirety, despite the cold chills she felt, despite the unease, her heart pulled her there,

‘I felt it my first day here...before the large door to this place were opened to me... before I knew what lay within these walls, All I wanted to do was to stay in what felt like home.’ She thought to herself.

‘As though a thread pulled me here, so thin...invisible to me, yet tied around my heart, controlling me every step of the way,’

The rain let out, sounds of fallen drops being the only thing still audible by then. and soon after, the lights flickered on, revealing a tall figure approaching them with slow, steady steps.

"Claude!" Exclaimed the young boy, fresh tears still running down his flushed cheeks, but none the less sounding completely elated, and just like that his eyes glowed, happily and with complete joy. He wiggled out of (f/n)’s hold, making the woman momentarily be forgotten, her own happiness evident as she watched her young master’s tears begin to cease.

"(f/n) was right! You didn't leave...." he said trailing off, furiously rubbing his puffy, tired eyes with enthusiasm.

Alois then looked at his either side to see the two people he loved the most; the two people he couldn't bear to live without.

(f/n) sat with him still, her head slightly cocked to the side as she watched him, the same warm eyes he had been staring at still there while Claude stood at the opposite end, his hand falling over his chest, beginning to kneel to him,

“ Your Highness, “ he addressed him.

They would never leave him... They could never do so...

‘I’ll never be alone again,’ He thought. ‘ With them, I'll never be lonely again,’

A soft smile made its way onto his young face, wanting to stay just as they were for all of eternity, wanting them to always look at him, always have him in mind.

Because he was their center, the path their eyes would take.

His angel and his demon, there for him...

' My Claude... and my (f/n)' he thought to himself, knowing he was safe.

With that thought aside he smirked discretely, his head lowering to hide it.

He then remembered there was something else he loved about having his (f/n) and his Claude,

Something that entertained him heavily...

'I suppose it's time for some fun,' he squealed inwardly at his favorite pass time.

He turned back to (f/n), wrapping his arms around her again, but this time purposely rubbing his face over her cushioned chest,

“(F/n),” he said happily, knowing he was being eyed by the other male.

'Oh Claude, u desperately want her...don't you?... Don't you wish you could hold her as I do?' He taunted the demon, not needing words to do so. With a single look shot towards the demon as he teased him, wordlessly toying with him.

‘ She’s always soft, she’s always warm... she’s always loving, but only to me,’ He thought to himself, a mocking, little smirk adorned.

As though he could read minds, Claude tightened his jaw, staring on with sharpness, knowing just what the boy was doing,

‘All the more reason,’ Claude started, ‘All the more reason I will enjoy swallowing you whole...Your highness.’ He swore seething.

His hands twitched at his sides, knowing he could do nothing to tear them apart, his only choice being to watch,

‘And you...’ He thought snidely, eyes glued to the woman’s smiling face as she remained unaware of the boy’s games, and much more ignorant to the demon’s possessive nature towards her.

‘You...’ He added, not knowing just what to think.

Within his mouth his pointed tongue swiveled, gliding over his sharpened teeth as they itched to bite. With a press to his left fang, he released a long exhale through his nostrils, wanting to sink the dangerous pearly white’s to her (s/c) skin.

"Your so warm...." Alois whispered softly, actually loving her coziness. All jokes aside, he really was enjoying himself.

"Your Highness...” The tall, slim butler started, struggling through the words, “Don't you think you should head back to sleep already?" Claude suggested, gritting his teeth, trying to sound pleasant as he offered the suggestion.

“It is awfully late,” he went on, eyes shooting right at the (h/c) haired young woman, his piercing golden eyes staring into hers with expectancy.

‘My dear... Darling (f/n),’ he addressed her silently, a sharp end to his own inner voice as he addressed the woman, warning in his fierce gaze as he gave her an opening for her supporting input,

“Claude is right,” (f/n) said in agreeance, her voice soft and small as she broke the connection she had with the man. Instead, she brought her focus down to the younger male, “ You need to sleep,” she told Alois, her hands both on the sides of his face, making him look up to her.

“ The storm is gone, you can now rest,” she assured him. “ And I promise you if it returns, we will come to you. “ she added with a placid smile, being tired herself as well as feeling shaken by the Trancy butler.

The young boy became entranced by her (e/c) eyes and slowly he nodded as she spoke, somewhat spellbound, having no room for opposition.

If it had been Claude he would have toyed more, played around more with his butler, but with (f/n) there wouldn’t be the same enjoyment.

There was no real satisfaction in disobeying her.

Yawning, he agreed with her, truly feeling drowsy, watching as she slipped out from the sheets.

Alois then looked up at her with large innocent eyes, his hand reaching out to capture her long skirt before she drew farther away,

“wait...” he muttered.

"(f/n)…” He started, his voice gentle and sweet, “ would please kiss me goodnight?" He asked shyly, the bashfulness being partially genuine.

As his blue eyes strayed, Alois caught sight of the demon, watching him begin to grow tense, notable stiffness in his tall frame as the question was asked.

‘Riled up are we?’ He wondered, ‘It’s truly amazing... I would have thought you looking at someone else in such a way would hurt me...’ He mused, ‘ But somehow it doesn't bother me...

Only entertains me,’ He went on.

“A kiss?” (f/n) asked with risen brows, a playful, little smile perking her up.

‘Still a child I suppose,’ She thought to herself, finding the boy’s request adorable, not at all suspicious or strange, especially with how rough of a past hour he’d had.

"Don't they say an angel's touch heals all wounds?" Alois responded in wonder, putting up a false play of a sinless child, pulling out his final move for his game.

"I'm no angel, but I will do so anyway," (f/n) responded and giggled lightly as she was shaking her head.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss on the boy's forehead, (f/n) tucked him in, leaving him with a good night's wish. She turned, ready to wish the butler the same, but found him gone already, something she found strange because he’d usually stay behind with the young lord, but this time he didn’t.

What she didn’t know was that he had left the room seconds before her lips touched the boy, not standing through the show before him.

All in all, the only reason he parted from them was that he couldn't stand the sight.

He couldn’t stand the idea of envying some child, especially for receiving something as a chaste kiss from the woman he craved.

‘That brat...’ He thought to himself, his hands balled tightly. '...That damned woman,' He went on, yet again left at a loss for words.

(f/n) quietly maneuvered throughout the dark halls in hopes of not disturbing the sleeping child with any loud noise. The last thing she wanted to do was knock something over, much less something that cost more than his own life did.

She knew calmed steps would be best, and yet, she found herself in a fast-paced walk back to her quarters.

The same odd feeling that someone was watching her made her spine tingle, her light hairs standing on end as she felt a cold shiver course through her.

It hadn't been the first time she'd felt so uneasy in the gloomish nights, and even during the sunny mornings as well.

Regularly she felt the same unease.

Occasionally, she wondered what evil lurked in the halls, what it was that watched her with such ferocity that she felt her body bare, vulnerable to anything that could be standing there in its hunt.

Before she could think twice, or even react, another body was pressed against hers, caging her between it and the hard wall. Her scream was muffled by a gloved hand, pressing over her trembling mouth.

She felt her heart race, blood pumping through her veins with a high dose of adrenaline, "Shh...now-now, although I'd absolutely love to have your screams echo throughout the halls...I have a different method...." A masculine voice muttered, voice falling so low it was deliciously husky and arousing. And she couldn’t believe it, the sound being familiar to her that there was an immediate click in her mind.

The grip on her lower face gradually loosened, enough for her to be able to speak and be understood. "C-Claude..." she stuttered shocked, never having been so close to the man, or even touched by him for that matter.

It was to such a state that there was not even an accidental brush-up she could recall until then.

"(f/n)....." he said in the same sensuous tone, practically purring in her ear, letting his hand fall from her lips, his fingers lingering over the thick flesh of her bottom lip.

'This is too much...it's all a dream...all a dream....this can't be real..!' She chanted in her head, closing her eyes tight, squeezing them close together, before opening them wide, expecting to see the roof of her bedroom there, but instead, seeing the same dark hall she had in sight before closing them.

"Pl-please! Get off of me!" she squeaked, squirming in his hold, her voice nothing but a harsh whisper at best.

He responded with a low chuckle, amused by her frail, little voice, knowing that it was much more than the unwillingness to wake their master causing her voice to fail.

He changed positions with ease, her two hands both held above her head by one of his strong ones as he pressed her back to the narrow hall's wall.

His golden eyes flickered pink, staring into hers, trapping her soul and making her go still, her entire body melting into a strange calmness she’d never experienced before.

Caught in a trance, she stood dumbfounded, watching him draw near.

‘He’s...He’s not even human,’ She thought to herself, watching as the vivid color glowed, a sort of magic certainly held within them that she relentlessly shook.

The uneasy feeling of before when she’d feel watched and preyed upon were present yet again as she was put under the glowing orb’s trap,

‘It’s been him... this whole time...’ She concluded, understanding now that what lurked within the darkness had been the seemingly perfect, beautiful butler.

The creature that gazed at her, followed her so fiercely was none other than the Trancy butler, and it took a single look from the glowing fluorescent gaze to realize it.

' I should... I should move...but... but...I can't...'. Mind set blank as she found it difficult to think properly.

He came close, his glowing eyes closed, dark lashes fanning over his perfect, pale skin.

She could have imagined it, with the lack of light she could be mistaken, but over his alabaster skin was a touch of rose, dusted over his face as he drew near.

His lips pressed over hers with notable yearning, the press being needy, screaming of a desperate desire.

Unresponsively, she let him continue, still stuck in surprise, (e/c) eyes still widely opened.

It was then that his pair of mystic oculars opened up to her from their closed state, eyeing her.

"Don't be uncooperative...Ms. (f/n)" He said softly, letting go of her hands, deepening the kiss by tilting her head upwards and bending down slightly to her stature, giving her the true taste of his craving mouth.

Reacting, she protested struggling to push him away, her attempt performed in a half-hearted manner as her balled fists pressed against his chest, hitting his strong chest with helplessness, weakening furthermore as she was lip-locked with him.

'No....' she thought desperately fighting the urge to give in, but she couldn't help but release a smutty, little moan as his free hand-molded her round breast, teasing her through the soft fabric.

She cried aloud as he squeezed it lightly, the male holding a teasing grin at the sound, filed more to toy with her to rouse the sounds of her purity being muddied by him.

“Claude...” She said softly, drunk on the taste of his mouth, driven mad by the crude crease of his hand.

He was dark-haired, tall, and handsome, always sporting A firm pressed suit, one that held not a single improper crease nor a snag or tear.

He was always the picture of absolute, pristine perfection, somehow unraveling before her eyes as his hair fell over his face, his breath released in heavy pants while her hands wrinkled his perfect suit.

"(f/n)...dear..." he murmured, his nose buried into the crook of her neck, inhaling the soft scent of Lillies and lavender, the same soothing scent that covered her flesh and had been soaked into it as she bathed,

"You are divine," He added with the same tender longing, lightly nibbled the soft skin, playfully nipping her to get a small taste before he bit down harshly, finally tasting the sweet blood that leaked from her wound.

Surprised, she cried out, an anguished release that sounded strained as she choked on air, alarmed as she felt sharpened fangs piece through her.

'Oh my....this taste better than expected ...' he thought to himself, planning to make more small nibbles over her (s/c) toned skin.

His moistened tongue dragged over his lower lip before darting out to drag over the bloodied patch of flesh, making her wince, the stinging pain there as in the corners of her (e/c) colored eyes, tears welled.

A decadent taste of sweetness lingered over his tongue, dancing over it teasingly as he drew his opened mouth down further, trying to find another spot to selfishly dig into.

Again, she released a strangled noise, one filled with pain as he had torn through the tissue a second time,

“It hurts,” she gasped out loud, her breath huffing out, voicing her pain while trembling in his hold,

“Claude...” she said desperately, her voice cracking, the sound making his body’s stance falter.

To say his name in such a way...

“Then I’ll take care of it,” he murmured against the skin, one of his hands trailing up to the naked flesh, his gloved thumb pressing over it with gentleness, before his other fingers trailed down it, falling to the top hem of her ruffled apron.

“Would you allow me to, miss (f/n)?” he asked teasingly, offering her a rather cocky smirk, knowing she’d certainly agree. Even while she shivered in pain she left him continue, silently begging for more.

Half dazed, her own hand trailed up to the spot, her glazed eyes looking right into his underworld glimmering gems that shinned with mesmerizing pink.

She contemplated the offer, knowing that it was best to deny him and flee, but nonetheless, she stayed planted, watching him with a want he could see.

He took a step back from her, knowing she'd already fallen into his web, and all she could do was tangle herself more into it, falling toward him and his trap. With a daring step forward, she took a hard swallow, "Claude.....please....make me yours", she practically begged, breathing ragged.

'Fight it,' Her inner voice begged, speaking with futility as it was ignored by the starry-eyed servent.

'Claude...' She mused, 'Your kisses are like wine...' She thought to herself, drunk on the sweet, addicting taste that fogged her reasoning.

'They taste as though I shouldn't have more.

They leave my mouth dry... wanting more...desirng more I know I can't handle,'

With a small lunge, she fell into his arms, where he once again took dominance over a feverish kiss.

During then he was met with a response, one that admitted to the overwhelming desire which reigned over him aswell.

She stood right at her toes, tightly gripping his shoulders as his mouth moved in sync with hers in a dance that had never been practiced between the two but was executed with perfection.

‘-As though you were made for me...’ He told himself, his hands gripping her tightly, her body melting onto his form.

He could sense the desire laced within words she spoke, as well as feel the need she felt to be claimed by him.

Oh, how he loved it...

She felt ready to collapse, her legs giving out as they became just as shaking as a platter of gelatine. Somehow, they felt like they’d never been used, giving out beneath her with inexperience as she fell onto him,

‘Like a fawn... an innocent fawn,’ He mused, and In a single swoop, he picked her up, breaking off the heated kiss with a harsh breath coming from him, a wild grin etched onto his features.

He watched her pouting mouth begin to press together, her own tongue which had been tangled with his now tasting the remains of him over her lips, leaving a glossy shine as she was left desperate for more.

He gave her a devilish smirk before he chuckled, “ Shall we continue elsewhere?” he questioned her, and with an eager nod, she pleaded.

With the same curl to his lip, he pulled her into the empty room, planning on giving her just what she wanted, planning on diving into the tempting enchantress more.

Yes, everyone would know she was his...

The Next Morning "Say did u hear miss (f/n) Last night?" Said masculine a voice while speaking in a quiet murmur. "Good grief, One would give to be deaf not too," another voice, almost identical to the first replied back to the gossip, “ Though, I'll admit... I wouldn't mind havin’ her squirmin’ beneath me instead... too bad that glory hog got to her first...." he continued on.

"I must say, I agree, she is quite a screamer, not that I'd mind either." The last of the three added, tilting his head, curious as to what her face would be set as while she made the final cry that had left him shaken to the core during the previous night.

It was then that the three men, all perfectly aligned nodded in agreeance.

"Indeed....." The other two said in sync.

The ruby eyed trio followed the (h/c) haired woman as she continued to walk forward, slipping past them without so much as a word of address. It was evident that her mind was set on something else, a look to her eyes that seemed glossy and dazed being what gave it all away.

“He’s on her mind so it seems,” Timber said sighing, pouting. “Foolish if you ask me,” he added. Thompson shook his head with disappointment, “ Honestly, I just don’t understand the appeal,” He went on.

“Yet even the young master fancies him,” the last of the triplets, Canterbury voiced out with notable displeasure.

What was so great about Claude anyway?

133 notes · View notes

seancekitsch · 4 years

Text

Venus

A/N: warning for alc mentions, unprotected sex, some kinky slapping dom/sub stuff, my normal freak ass shit

Loving Klaus was easy, you found. Easy to have it open and known and free than to feel yourself wrestling with the feelings the way you had been a month prior. A month of ‘I love you’ and a month of really feeling like the two of you were a proper couple, at the very least like the two of you were real people. His siblings noticed it too, the shift. Like you were finally one of them, and it felt nice to belong. You really hadn’t ever felt that way before, not without drugs, and that was only belonging through wanting to get something out of someone else and not just the people themselves. Last week the holidays had come and gone, and you were honestly surprised his family had included you in the celebrations, despite the fact that you and Klaus had thrown them all a birthday party two months prior. Their holiday traditions were weird, donuts and eighties music and bickering, but it was nice. The week spanned on and turned to the final night, new years, finally the family happy to be seeing a year that isn’t some fucked up version of 2019 (one that Klaus has told you over and over his brother Ben was alive and absolutely cruel and you were married to your ex and clearly using) and finally ready to move on from it all. This timeline wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it was the one you both had together and it was the one his family fixed. Tonight was for celebrating, for dancing and drinking and forgetting your worries. It's fun, but it's only a matter of time before Klaus takes you home or to a forgotten spare room. Allison opens up her house in the city to her family and their guests. The night starts with dinner, which is a big potluck of foods that don't go together but all of the Hargreeves favorite foods. You can tell exactly who brought what, and no one is surprised by the insane amount of take out you and Klaus brought. There's cocktails which are actually made with care instead of mixed up sloppily like a child making potions out of shampoo in the tub.

It's around 11:25 when Klaus pulls you down the hall towards the guest room, shouting, “I am but a weary traveler! My Panacea and I need a respite before we keep entertaining you all!” which was met with rolling eyes and a few flinches at the abruptness of it all, but a steady fondness as the backdrop of it all.

Klaus drops to his knee the second the door is locked, and grabs your leg to hike it up. Your back comes to rest against the wall, jamming coats out of your way to get comfortable as he presses his plump lips to the shiny toe of your boot. His breath fans out, almost fogging the shiny fake leather of your boot before he starts kissing. He presses kisses from the tip of your toe up to where the arch of the side of your foot would be, then licks the rest of the way up to the ankle, moaning as he does so. A prayer, a promise, his devotion on display. This is Klaus wanting to be used, wanting to be objectified and made yours.

“I’m going to get famous again, baby.” He kisses the toe of your boot one more time before moving up and resting your foot on his bended knee. He pushes your skirt up, all the way to where your thigh meets your hip, and his hands are all over your leg as he speaks.

“Prophets gonna rise from the ashes, and this time I’m gonna build it all in your image,” his teeth rake the sheer tights at your calf, ripping at least one hole in them. They were new. “The whole worlds gonna worship you just like I do, fraulein.”

You’re halfway between a chuckle and a moan as one of his thumbs slides up into the back of your knee and the other presses a harsh circle to your inner thigh, right below where the panties of your lingerie begins, if you could even call them panties. They were a mess of mesh and lace that you saw in the mall and you just had to get them and their matching bra, even if now they seem a little gaudy. Klaus likes them, though, and got excited when you got dressed for tonight when he saw them laid out on the bed. He wanted to tear them off of you the moment he saw them, and he would do just that. His hand snakes its way up over your clothed cunt, making you groan at the contact, before he reaches the waistband of your tights and yanks them down with your panties as far as he can, pulling them to where your boots prevent them from coming off, essentially giving Klaus control of how much you can move during this tryst. Its now that he puts your leg down, letting you stand up straight again in front of his bent figure.

“Hit me,” he begs. Klaus’ eyes are blown wide with lust, even in the dark.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hit me, slap me across the face,” he begs again, “Make me hurt, tell me ‘Klaus I want you to bleed for me’ I’ll do it.”

He gets this way sometimes. Arousal floods your system in the same vein as concern. If Klaus wants to be hurt, he’s usually already hurting.

“No, Klaus we don’t have time, let's talk about it,” You say, already sinking down onto your knees to join him, to cradle his face in your hands and to make him feel better.

“Doc, Doc there’s nothing wrong. I need relief. It's like, like a cure.Yeah. I’m hard as a rock, love, I need relief.”

Purely kinky. Consensual. If it's what Klaus wants, who are you to deny him of it? You rise up onto your feet again, preparing yourself to hit him. To Klaus, even in the darkness, he can make out that you look like something otherworldly, bigger and greater than human. You wind back, apprehensive but willing to do anything for him, something he recognizes not casually. As your open palm makes contact with his left cheek, a shuddering moan makes its way up from deep inside his stomach, out through his throat and past his lips orgasmic in execution.

“Again, please.”

And you indulge him twice more, until you're sure the hot skin on his face is reddened. There's a certain kind of thrill in knowing that your hands will leave a mark on him, that he’ll enter a new decade with your hands printed on his visage. Those three slaps are good enough to sate him for now, as he rises back to his feet, pressing his lips to yours as his hands go straight to your hair, any semblance of style you had put to it would be out the window in seconds. He backs you against the door until you hit it, then you both start to slide to the floor. He guides you down gently, taking extra care to remember the tights holding your ankles hostage, and lays you down against the hardwood, the warmth of his old faux fur trim jacket like a blanket to cushion you as he pushes your skirt back up to your waist.

He bends you in half, pulling your legs up to meet your chest; your boots clanking together on his shoulder as he pushes into you, immediately filling you to the hilt. This angle is nothing short of divine for you both, your legs pressed together making you feel just that much tighter wrapped around Klaus’ cock, and the angle leaving you mercilessly open to his thrusting.

“This is the tightest, wettest little cunt I've ever had the pleasure of serving,” Klaus whispers as he pulls out and slams back into you before setting his pace.

He's fast, working against the clock, and against every nerve ending in your body. You don't try to stifle the moans as his thrusts rock your entire body along the floor. He fucks like a man with a gun to his head, hitting you deep each time, a staccato of his name falling from your lips as he pants and growls in your ear. You feel your orgasm coming before you can warn him, and the spasming of your body surprises you both earth shattering, convulsing waves of pleasure hit you, and all you can do is cling to each other as it ruins you. The spasming of your muscles triggers him as well, and you can feel every drop of hot white cum that he shoots into you, filling you deep.

He kisses you, muttering little ‘I love you’s as he pulls out, gently pulling your thighs off his shoulder and pulling your panties up; rolling your ripped tights up with the utmost care and dedication before you reach for him again to help you stand, shaky knees and dizzy from his affections. Love drunk as well as martini drunk, ready to face midnight.

“Klaus, Klaus I need to find a restroom before we go back out there. I need to clean myself up.” You can already feel his sticky white dripping out of you, no doubt making an irreversible mess of those panties he liked so much. It would be uncomfortable to sit, to move unless you got to the bathroom and got yourself fixed up. Klaus whips back around to look at you as his hand grasps the doorknob.

“Don’t you dare, you venus in furs, let it be a reminder of what's going to happen when we get home.” there's pure evil in his tone and in his smile, “Plus, you'll miss midnight if you run off on me.”

He pulls the door open and leads you back out into the festivities.

#klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves smut #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves imagine

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midnight1256 · 3 years

Text

The Child of Heaven and Hell

Prologue

The Beginning

Long ago when heaven and hell were not at war when everything was peaceful, when angels did their job to help humanity, and devils tried to tamper with their work. Yes everything was good in the world everyone did their job,

“ Some times,” a voice whispered.

“ AHEM!” a deep stern voice said.

A young teenager looked back at the adult rolling their eyes and sticking their tongue out at them, making the adult furrow their eyebrows at them in frustration.

“Fine, where was I,” the young teenager said, sighing at the adults frustration and not wanting to be punished again.

Yes everything was good in the world, everyone did their jobs properly, humanity was growing on earth, people were happy and healthy, the angelics were making sure that humans choose the right path for good and happiness and devils would try to make their lives worse by making the humans commit sins…

“ Why do I have to read it like this?” The teenager sighed in boredom.

“ Because this is how the prologue should be done if you want people to have an understanding of how everything started and how you came to be,” the adult said calmly while scribbling away at some documents not even bothering to look up at the bored teenager's face.

“ But it feels like I'm reading an old scripture with Osiris again,or how the start of every other god or celestial being story starts,” dropping their head to the table letting out a big dramatic sigh to show their boredom or the paper.

“ That is what you are doing you though writing your story of how you came to be who you are now, and I understand it's boring starting it like old scripture of how almost every gods stories start, but it is common and traditional to start it like this,” looking up at them showing empathy for how they feel.

“ I’m not like those oldie foldies though, I'm the new generation. I want to start it differently, please?” clasping their hands together hoping for the adults approval.

“ Fine do what you wish,” letting out another sigh and getting back to work as the teen let out a quiet ‘yes’ for their success reaching over to grab a new piece of paper to start over.

Prologue II

The Beginning

Okay so like a really long time ago before the 300 year war between Heaven and Hell everything you could say was normal for that time period. Heaven had its job helping humanity and whatever else they do and Hell just sorta interfered and messed with humans and taught them things the angels didn't want to teach them because it was a sin, like how demons taught humans about pleasure and exploring sexualities, now that was awesome.

Now the thing is not every angel, human, or devils did their job, some were lazy others might have been on vacation and yes angels and devils get vacations so it can be really hard to take care of humanity now and then.

And sometimes they were doing other people's jobs, because despite what humans think angels had a lot of work to do a LOT of work it's like running an entire corporation up here that never sleeps and you can find overworked or collapsed angels from exhaustion everywhere. But on the bright side they do get days off like sundays that's a good side at least.

“ What are you doing!” The angel stood up from their chair with their wings spread wide showing their anger, “ You shouldn’t be telling things like that in your story, especially if humans might read this.”

“ Oh put your wings down your not intimidating anyone you overgrown dove,” the teenager looked back at the annoyed angel crossing their arms, “ It's not like it will do any harm where in the 21th century either the humans believe it or they don't believe it, or they think it's a fictional book that someone wrote because they were bored and the other gods wouldn’t care ether.”

The angel sighed sitting back down at their desk somewhat agreeing with the irrational teenager after what humanity had to go through in the past year they don’t think humans or gods would be surprised if a story like this was was put into the archives, letting out another sigh the angel picked up their pen and went back to looking at documents letting the teen continue with their story.

“ So like I was saying,” the teen said enthusiastically.

Angels are overworked and so are devils but not as much, they also are not as happy doing the stuff they do I mean ya some of them like doing the things they do but not all of them do not every angel or devil is happy with what they do some are even depressed, not all devils take joy in messing or torturing humans and not every angel likes having a lot of paperwork on their desk or helping humans with their problems and being divine holy messengers hell angels and devils have their own version of suicide in both worlds.

So in conclusion both hell and heaven has its ups and downs and because of this is how a war started, beautiful uncle Lucifer saw god abuse his power against humanity so he declared war against him for his throne which is how the 300 year war started.

Now somewhere near the end of the war no one really knows how it happened but it did and no one can still explain it to me for the love of god but an angel got pregnant, with a devil's child, in heaven, during a 300 year war, where many angels fell from heaven.

But lucky enough this beautiful angel did not get ejected from heaven, even though she was pregnant with a demon devil?

“ What am I, am I half demon or half devil?” The teenager looked at the adult in curiosity still wondering what her other half was.

The adult looked up at the teen and all they could do was shrug their shoulders.

“ How many centuries have I been alive and we still don't know what my other half is, you know what never mind,” turning back around and continuing writing their paper.

So at the end the war Lucifer and many other angels had fallen and I was born, for some reason no one really questioned it when I was born everyone had their wonders and doubts but people for some reason turned a blind eye and never told the higher up, heck I didn’t even look like I had half blood in me I looked like a normal angelic child like all the other kids, so ya my mom got away with a half blood angel.

And it was like this for many years. I grew up in Heaven with my mom and other angels and angelic children everything was fine, until I started to reach the double digits.

As It started to approach my 10th birthday that's when my mom started to notice some changes in my form, a small nub started to appear on my head and my halo started to droop down to the side diagonally and one of my wings began to dull of it’s pearly white color, so she decided to do some research and the results were not that pleasing.

Up until now my mother had thought I might have been more angelic than demonic, but every- thing she had thought was wrong, that small nub on my head was a horn growing and my halo who knew what's happening to it.

So for a while my mother had me stay in my room so she could watch me and as the days went on the horn grew bigger and the halo kept drooping to the side, until one day half of my halo just broke off leaving the other half at a constant angle in my hair and the horn grew bigger until it grew into the shape of a rams horn and one of my wings had fully blacked as dark as the deepest night.

And by my tenth birthday I finally looked like the half breed I was and I finally learned what I was, that I was half angelic and half demonic, I was known as a Nephalem a threat to both angelic and demonic, what would happen to me, what would people do to me if they found out who I was, would I die.

But my mother would not let that happen so she told me,

“ Don’t worry my child, go lay down and take a nap to clear your head. You'll feel better when you wake up.” so I went to take a nap but what I didn’t know is what was happening while I was asleep.

She looked down at her child as they were wrapped in a blanket kissing her forehead gently while handing them over to the cloaked figure.

“ And she will be safe no harm will come to her,” the mother said in worry to the cloaked figure. She couldn’t believe she was doing this but she had to, to protect her child.

“ Yes she will be fine, we will put her in a human family and hide her true form and her memories,” a man said in a deep voice holding the child carefully in his arms.

“ I must get going now, thank you again, Lucifer,” the mother said making her way back to heaven.

As Lucifer turned around holding the child in his arms and walked into the foggy night disappearing into the night.

This my first time posting one of my writings so please be gentle if this blows up I might start writing more and other themes like BNHA and Twisted Wonderland and Obey me but I hope people will like it.

#new story #new fanfic #first time writing #lucifer #nephalem #half angelic half demonic #angel #demon #fanfic #novel

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

Note

Maybe J, K, L, W and X for Hillbilly?

anon... you know DAMN well what you are doing. playing with my heart like this. i legit screamed when i saw this. thank thank thank YOU !!! he's JUSt what the doctor ordered <3 much love anon. hope you enjoy

edit;; i wrote SO DAMN MUCH I i need to go to horny jail

Fluffy Alphabet for The Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.)

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh yes, but he would never even know he was. Max doesn't know what being jealous is nor does he know what it feels like. He would just begin to feel angry for no apparent reason, a burning familiar fury igniting in his stomach making him want to scream and get his chainsaw. Watching you interact with other people, be it killer or survivor, makes Max very sour. It’s extremely bitter when he sees you talking to others - were you happier with them? He’d get mad and his intrusive white noise would threaten to blind him with unjustified rage.

He’d growl as he looms over you, silver eyes burning with unspeakably deep anguish. No words would fall from his mouth but you could tell from the mere way he stood there that he was upset. You tentatively reach up for him, Max flinching away from your gentle hand. Your heart breaks as you see a wave of unworthiness wash over his deformed features - he feels undeserving of your affections. Max is unsure if you even love him anymore. You belong with normal people with normal faces. How could he ever have believed that you would want to be with him? He recoils from your attempt to touch him again and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There was such profound sadness in that face and your inability to alleviate some of that pain scorned you more than any knife ever could.

Before he could react, moving faster than lightning, you engulf him in a hug. Desperation to soothe his obvious heartache seeping through your embrace. Suddenly he breaks and gives in to your understanding and unwavering love. You must teach him how to recognize and deal with jealousy in a less self-destructive manner.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Hell no. Gonna be dead honest, he would be terrible. There would be too much teeth, his lips would not be able to conform to the correct shape and his tongue is untrained and a little too eager. But what he lacks in technique, he makes up for in passion. Once he knows that you don't mind that his kisses are wet and unusual and his confidence to seek you out grows, he wastes no time in getting quite accustomed to smooching your face. Every chance he got, Max would be planting multitudes of kisses on your person, moving up and down your body with his mouth leaving behind moist teeth-marks and red skin. His favorite place to kiss is your face - be it your cheek, the corner of your mouth, the top of your forehead, it is always your face that gets drenched in his love.

The first kiss was an awkward one, Max had been acting suspicious all day. When the elephant in the room became too much to leave unchecked you approach him and ask him softly if something was wrong. You’d notice right away that he was shaking, his nervous hands fidgeting with the frayed edge of his shirt and his gaze never once having the confidence to meet your line of sight. After having a moment to compose himself, Max finally raises his head and meekly asks if he could give you a kiss. It's such a jarring, out-of-place question that for a few minutes after you remain stuck in stupefied silence. When you manage to give him a gentle nod, Max shuffles closer, his breathing hot and flustered across your face. In an instant, his lips are on yours, not even kissing you more just sloppily pressing themselves against you, and his eyes are closed. The kiss lasts only a heartbeat then he's pulling away, filling with embarrassment and shame. He begins to hurriedly apologize for the awful attempt at such a delicate and intimate act, shrinking away into his own self-doubt.

He stops when you put your hand on his shoulder and sweetly plant another kiss on his forehead. “It was great, Max.” You whisper into his ear feeling all tension drain from his body at your reassuring words. “You were great.”

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He’d be an absolute mess. Why was he feeling this way? What even was this feeling? Perhaps he was sick? Maybe he was dying? He had never expected dying to feel this good, however. If he was dying then he’d gladly do so because then he’d get to stay longer with you. It was always you who set off that suffocating goodness in his chest, his knees always felt like straw when he’d steal a sneaky look at you. He would assume that feeling like this was normal for everyone when being around such a wonderful and kind person such as you so it would take a long time for him to realize that pining the way he does was not actually the norm.

He remembers how the men did it on T.V, how they expressed love to their partners, and though nervous, Max knew what he had to do. So one night when alone he pulls you to the side gets down on one knee. He produces a strange bundle of dead flowers and other miscellaneous items that you supposed was meant to be a bouquet. He coughs and tries to force the words to come out but all he could manage was a pathetic mumble. Getting over your stupor at his forwardness, you suddenly sigh and let out a gentle giggle. He looks up at you with wide, unsure eyes - so much like a desperate child that you couldn’t help but place your hands around his crooked face. You call him a goofball and he smiles. You weren’t refusing him so, that means you love him, right? He’s elated. Ballistic! Wild! Walking on air! He stands up quickly and effortlessly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you to his chest as he spins around, all the while laughing his relief and joy.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Max has a great fascination and strange enjoyment in being openly flirtatious with you. He absolutely loves it when you make crude jokes, smacking his ass and calling him sexy. He blushes and buries his head in his hands, unsure about what to do with himself when showered in such open tenderness. He babbles and shrinks away and to anyone else watching it would seem that he hates being so degraded but really he absolutely loves it. Call him a good boy, a strong, handsome man and he crumbles like a sandcastle against a wave. It makes his insides burning in a most fabulous way and he feels something fuzzy buzz up in his chest. It's a borderline praise-kink thing.

He also enjoys showering you in that same raunchy show of likeness, though do forgive him for all the lines he uses are the same ones he picked up earlier from you (he’s not very creative). He’d smack your ass then would pull away and wait for your reaction. When you’d smile, he’d wheeze and produce a sound you assumed to be his own version of laughter.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes. Most definitely. Having been deprived of physical affection all his young life, Max would behave like a starved man when you first introduce the concept of cuddling. He’d never want to stop cuddling you. His love language is touch. If you are at the point in your relationship where he is comfortable enough to allow you to touch him, Max constantly begs you for attention.

He loves, and I mean LOVES, when you rake your fingers through his hair. It's an odd thing, coarse, wiry, and scattered across his shoulders in patches, but you manage to always find the best spots to gently stroke as he lies peacefully in your lap. Often you find that Max has fallen asleep and his ragged breathing simulates a cat purring.

When he wakes expects to be covered in kisses and wrapped in an impossible bear-hug. He’s careful to not hurt you with his strength but sometimes he can't help the urge to bring you as close to his chest and humanely possible. He kisses the top of your head and goes wild when you start peppering his face with butterfly kisses. He giggles and can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and grin like an idiot. You just made him feel so good.

#i lobe #I LOBE HIM OK #hes my baby #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd the hillbilly #dbd the hillbilly x reader #dbd max thompson jr #dbd max thompson jr x reader

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bungou-stray-dingus · 5 years

Note

If you’re still doing requests, can you please write chuuya and Dazai holding their new infant son/daughter and their new life of being a father?

CUTE

SUPER CUTE

BABIES ARE ADORABLE

OF COURSE I WILL WRITE

YESSES

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! WORK HAS BEEN CRAZY FOR ME AND IVE BEEN ABSOLUTELY EXHAUSTED BUT I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN!!!

❤️❤️❤️

Chuuya

The suitcase was packed, the nursery was set up, painted a beautiful pastel pink.

Chuuya sat up with you in the bed, holding your hand as he timed your contractions. He hated seeing you in pain, but he knew that the closer your contractions were, the closer it would be to meeting his daughter.

Finally your water broke, and he helped walk you to the car, pulling the suitcase behind him.

He wasn’t anticipating the wait, sure he read that it could take a couple hours for the baby to be born, but he was impatient and he just wanted to be home with you and his new baby girl who refused to make her appearance.

He held your hand the entire time, praising you for being so strong, breathing with you as you tried to power through the contractions.

The sun began to rise, it was five o’clock in the morning, he felt like a zombie. He was just about to fall asleep when you called out for the doctors. It was time.

He had read every book, every article on the web, but nothing he read prepared him for the delivery. You gripped his hand with such force that it felt like his fingers were going to break. You screamed at him, cursing him for doing this to you. He stayed by your side the entire time, apologizing for causing you so much pain, but unable to wipe the smile from his face.

He watched through the mirror that was facing down between your legs. The head slowly coming out as you screamed in his ear, the doctors telling you to push. The head was out, then one more push and she was finally here.

He proudly cut the cord and watched as the doctors whisked his daughter away to clean her up and clear her throat. Your labored breathing was the only sound in the room for a second, then he heard his daughter cry. It was the most beautiful sound to him.

She was born August 15 at 6:45am. She weighed 6lbs 8ounces, 49 centimeters long, and she was absolutely perfect.

Her name was Asa, born in the morning, and she was his pride and joy. Once you and his daughter were able to go home he wouldn’t put her down. He held her while she was awake, when she was sleeping, when she was calm, and when she was crying. It didn’t matter, she was always in his arms.

When you were holding her he would take pictures of you and her together, not wanting a miss a single moment of her life. She was his background photo and lock screen on his phone, he had a wallet photo book that was nothing but pictures of her that he would whip out and show anyone who wanted to see and even those who didn’t ask.

When she would wake up in the middle of the night he would jump up to get her immediately, even if he had just went to bed. He felt like work kept him away too long, and that’s why he didn’t mind taking care of her at night.

He would hold her close against his bare chest, letting her find comfort in his warmth while he held the bottle with his chin. He would raise her carefully, letting her head rest on his shoulder while he tapped her back gently to get her to burp.

Sometimes in the middle of the night you’d wake up to the sound of his voice coming from the nursery. He would sing to her, lulling his perfect daughter back to sleep after her bottle. You would find him sitting in the rocking chair, his legs propped up on the ottoman as he rocked back and forth, staring down at his perfect creation.

Dazai

He wasn’t exactly prepared to be a father, he hadn’t planned on you getting pregnant, although he didn’t take the precautions to prevent it either. He spent the months of your pregnancy worrying whether he’d be good enough, his self doubt was through the roof now. He wanted to be a good father, show you that he could, but he didn’t know if he was capable of doing so.

When you went into labor he went into panic mode. He didn’t know what to do, so you had to help him help you. He was terrified, seeing you in so much pain. He was used to destroying everything and everyone that even thought of hurting you, but he couldn’t. So he sat in the armchair that was next to the hospital bed, and he waited, and waited.

The doctors came in a checked you, in and out, it seemed to go on forever. He would watch your eyes flutter shut, only to shoot back open a couple minutes later when another contraction came on. He didn’t understand why woman did it, how they got through the pain and still wanted to do it again sometimes. It just didn’t make sense to him.

He wiped away the strands of hair that clung to your sweat beaded forehead, shocked that even through all the pain you were still smiling.

The beeping slowed and everyone’s head turned to look at that monitor. Heart rate dropping, the baby was in distress, wasn’t going to make it, call the code, get the room ready. The words were thrown across the room, back and forth by the doctors that had rushed in. He looked to you for answers but your eyes were filled with tears as your mind registered what they meant before he did.

They threw a blue suit to him and he held it, dumbstruck, as they wheeled your bed down the long white hallway.

He quickly suited up and followed the doctors into the large room, the smell of bleach and disinfectants burned his nostrils. The large fluorescent lights shone down on your stomach as they wiped it down with more disinfectant. His worries about whether he would be good enough washed away as the scalpel sliced through. He didn’t care if he wasn’t the best dad in the world, he would try his best. He didn’t mind that he hadn’t planned for a child, it was what life had given him.

His heart seemed to stop beating, he held his breath through the entire delivery. The baby was blue when it came out, the cord had been wrapped around their neck and every time you contracted it was strangling them. He hadn’t noticed that he was crying until the cry of his child filled the room and he finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

It was a boy, born November 10 at 3:38PM. He was 7lbs 5ounces and 50cms long. His name is Kazue, a single blessing.

Dazai was nervous to hold his son for the first time, but as soon as that little bundle of joy was in his arms he was a natural. He held him close, his steps were bouncy as he cooed his sons name. He would run his hand over the small tuft of brown hair on Kazue’s tiny head, mesmerized that this tiny sleeping human was part of him.

He was already pretty protective of you, but he went even further to keep his son out of harms way. After the fear of losing him during his birth, he didn’t want to worry about that anymore. He baby proofed the apartment before his son could even sit up on his own, but it eased his mind, so you let him do whatever he felt like he needed to do.

Your son had a room of his own, but he rarely ever slept there. If he wasn’t being cradled by you or Dazai, he was in between the two of you in the bed. When he woke up in the middle of the night Dazai would scoop him up in his arms and walk the entire length of the apartment a few times. If that didn’t get Kazue back to sleep, he would sit on the couch and feed him a bottle as he tells stories about his uncle Oda.

He knew that if his friend were here he would be so proud. Oda would absolutely adore Dazais son, and they would get together for drinks and talk about the children instead of Port Mafia business.

Being a father seemed to make Dazai forget about wanting to commit suicide. He didn’t want to leave his son without a father, so dying was completely out of the question. Sometimes he would lay awake at night and watch you and his son sleeping, and he knew that he could never leave the two of you.

His love for you and his son made him fight harder, he had two reasons to live waiting for him at home, and he wasn’t going to keep you waiting long. Whenever he came home from work he would grab his son out of your arms and hold him close. It was comforting, especially when he would place his finger in his sons tiny hand, and he would wrap his hand around Dazai’s finger, his heart melted.

His life was complete now. He had the two of you and that’s all he needed. He was finally happy. He hoped that Oda was looking down at him, he would see that he finally found the light he had told him about.

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jafndaegur · 4 years

Text

Noise of Rain | Chapter Five

These are Two Different Worlds, She Walks the Borderline—

Sesskag

a/n: we're coming to the close of the first half! Yay! I think this will probably have about five or so more chapters. Thanks for reading this guilty indulgence of mine~

...

Sesshomaru had taken Rin to a village about a day's worth of travel from the Burial Mounds. They had happened to be in the area, and while his ward went to shop for her supplies, he thought about their next step of travel. Particularly because a bothersome idea had crept into his mind ever since they arrived.

He wanted to go visit the miko in the mountains.

Since the last time he had checked-in on her, he'd noticed they were still struggling to put together their little crop fields. Humans, so fragile and needy that if they could not somehow pertain the correct soil for their crops, they would die. Hah.

So he'd provided lotus pods out of his magnanimous generosity… he was starting to sound too much like Jaken.

Maybe he should leave the little imp behind for a while, refresh his mind and ears from the presence of the squawky toad.

Going to the miko's would generate that reprieve—

Before he indulged the thought any further, he squashed it with the sharp pinprick of his claws against his palm.

Since her sudden change, something drew Sesshomaru to her. Curiosity is what he would like to name it, a strange girl with the power to suddenly obliterate the most dangerous hanyou this world had seen; obviously despite his anger that he wasn't the one to kill Naraku, her actions had caught his eye. Perhaps it was the sheer brutality of her powers, a miko easily and without pause tearing apart a living creature. While he enjoyed the sight with a great deal of satisfaction, that was uncharacteristic for the young miko. The daiyoukai huffed, if he didn't know any better, the resentful energy that the miko claimed to use was drastically changing her temperament.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. The girl should feel so lucky that he graced her with the constant barrage of thought. Under normal circumstances he would have never cared. Which ultimately brought him full circle again to the main question at hand.

Why did he care, now?

"Lord Sesshomaru!"

Rin's voice cut through the air as if she were standing right next to him. She knew better than to call him when in a town unless it was something important. He sped through the street, chasing the child's delicate scent like a marked path. Damn the humans staring at him, he didn't care. If someone had dared to cause a single scratch upon Rin's flesh. Well.

It'd been a long while since he'd razed a village to cinders.

Sesshomaru halted immediately though.

Rin walked ahead with a skip, her arms full of gauze, salve, and food. She didn’t look for him however, she looked to the side—where a figure accompanied her. Not just any figure, the miko.

He took in the sight of her, his eyes narrowing. Her hair was shaggy and unkempt. Her clothes too big and overly wrinkled, they hung off her body with an almost scandalous air to them and he wondered if she knew how to actually properly tie her yukata. It was her eyes though, that dawned the answer to his question.

Because a small smile worked its way on her face as she talked with Rin before eyeing her attention to him. And it was those blue wonders that had been so alive and vibrant before that were now dull and tired, hollowed by sleep circles and darkened bags.

The miko who'd had twice as much liveliness as Rin, the miko who stared everything down with joy and easy-going laughter, was now a husk of a human. And that bothered him.

Because there was no explanation for her change.

"Sesshomaru!" She waved with the hand holding her fife, and he had the sudden urge to grab it and chuck it into the heavens.

"Lord Sesshomaru! You came!" Rin pranced up to him with a proud grin. "Lady Kagome mentioned how nice it would be to see you."

"Rin." He narrowed his glance. "This one is not here for your beck and call."

"I know!" She chirped eagerly.

"I wasn't sure when the next time I could see you would be. It's already been quite some time." Kagome admitted with a sheepish look. "And Rin assured me you were nearby."

Sesshomaru hummed.

"Would you like something to eat?" She continued hurriedly, squeezing Rin's hand gently before pulling away from the child. "My treat."

He wondered if she should really be making such an offer. Still the youkai inclined his head.

His ward cheered and the miko seemed to relax. They wandered down a small path in the town that led to a patio restaurant. Fried fish and pork could be seen on the grills, and the smell of rice and soup filled the air. It was homely.

"Tea, sweet soup for the girl, and two spicy plates!" Kagome ordered before ushering them to a table at the corner.

It was obvious the other diners were wary of the little group. The rumored Edo Matriarch and a daiyoukai certainly did not make for pleasant clientele. And yet Kagome seemed to brush aside the tense atmosphere for chatter. This was the first time in a long time that Sesshomaru had heard her so carefree and well...like her old self. He indulged her.

Their food was brought out quickly, a small bowl of soup and sweet smelling fruit was handed to Rin. Two bowls of rice topped with red-sauced beef were placed in front of him and the miko. She looked ecstatic.

"Things are slow going in the Burial Mounds but what can I say. That place is pretty inhospitable. It's taken a lot of energy to set up our living there, but it's coming along."

The demon lazily ran his fingers through his hair before giving his tea a delicate sip. "This one has noticed depleted demonic presences in this area. Would that be your doing, miko?"

She hid her giggle behind the back of her hand. "I have created a new tool to draw in and horde resentful energy. Without any malicious or evil just floating around willy-nilly, there's no place for lesser youkai to feed on that negative aura."

He felt a nerve twitch. Could she really do such feats without corruption? There were reasons why meager demons fed on prevalent evil atmospheres.

"Don’t look so concerned," Kagome's smile thinned and she went to absentmindedly twirl her fife. "I've got it under control."

He wondered.

She picked up her chopsticks, laughing when Rin eagerly thanked her for the soup, and started to eat the food with gusto. Sesshomaru felt a small twinge in his chest. Maybe he pondered ceaselessly over nothing.

He would have thought that if it weren't for the sharp blast of yellow light that flashed from the folds of the miko's robes.

She hissed and withdrew one of her yellow talismans. The red writing glittered before the paper combusted. a curse flew past her lips and she stood immediately from the table.

"Sorry Sesshomaru, this is an emergency." She bolted then, haori fluttering as she fled from the patio.

The daiyoukai pinched the bridge of his nose, gaze sliding to Rin. "Do you have any money left over?"

"Rin saved a few silver pieces," her little mouth twisted with concern. "Is everything okay my lord?"

He rose as well. "Pay for the meal, find Jaken. I will return later."

She nodded. "Be safe Lord Sesshomaru."

The wind seemed to bend around him as he sped after Kagome, ignoring her startled yelp as he wrapped his arm around her waist and sent them flying for the Burial Mounds. Her hair whipped around like tendrils of ink.

"Miroku is waiting outside of the cave at the center." She urged him. "You'll have to wait there if you want to stick around. There's going to be a massive lash of resentful energy and I cannot handle you transforming into your true form."

"Doubt in my self control is not a good look for you," he growled.

"Nonetheless," she muttered. "Two out of control powerhouses may be beyond my reach if that were to happen."

He wanted to ask what she meant. But the monk came into view and they touched down before he had the chance. Miroku rushed to them. Roaring could be heard from the cave along with the frantic shouting of the demon slayer.

Kagome shot a panicked look to the man before running inside the cave. Sesshomaru followed her without question or care to the monk's protest.

She had been right.

The amount of evil aura permeated the small space like a fog, and it weighed heavily on his baser instincts. He clutched Tenseiga, allowing the serene energy to calm his raging inner-self.

Kohaku fought his sister in a fit of rabid rage. His eyes completely rolled back and white, and hair strewn from his usual ponytail. Unlike pass times as Naraku's puppet, he had an unnatural and unrestrained power about him that thrummed like a barrier. Sesshomaru snarled.

Kagome's music filtered through the air and the dark energy flooded towards her, which she accepted with open meridians. Kohaku's fury diverted to her and he rushed her without mercy. Sesshomaru’s temper snapped and he'd enough. He lunged forward, claws intent on putting the whelp in its place.

The music stopped. "Don't hurt him Sesshomaru, he doesn't kno—"

That hesitation. One moment. And the mindless boy rushed past the dog demon and attack Kagome front on.

To her credit, she defended well. Her fife parried his first punch, body whipping around as she stoutly kicked him in the chest. He recovered quickly and barreled straight into her, head and shoulder pushing into her torso. Slamming her straight into the wall. The miko gasped out, blood flying from her mouth as she fell to the ground with a stagger. Sesshomaru yanked the boy back and sent him spiraling across the cave. He helped the miko up, eyes widening as the light in the cave flickered.

Her eyes bled red and her balance wobbled. The resentful energy seaped into her body in torrents and in that instant Sesshomaru realized that there was nothing he could do to stop the stream.

Kagome reached into her robe and drew forth a dark grey amulet in the shape of a phoenix. The energies spiraled into it. Her eyes flashed bright crimson, and the daiyoukai loathed to admit that his control waivered. But Kohaku fell to the ground, immobile and screaming. Kagome threw the amulet into the air and caught it with a chant. The dark energy stopped its movement and it became stagnant again. Sango ran to her brother's side, cradling him close while sobbing his name.

Kagome sagged.

"I thought," Sesshomaru grit his teeth. "You said everything was taken care of."

The miko looked at him with a bloodied and tired smile. "I've lied to you before, haven't I?"

"You will stop immediately." He growled.

She hid the phoenix amulet back in her robes, and leaned against his side. He had the strongest urge to push her off and storm away. And yet even now, he found himself gravitating to her side.

#sesskag #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru #kagome higurashi #au: mo dao zu shi #inuyasha #song of the chapter is grenzlinie sung by cyua

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

A fresh Start

This was prompted by a wonderful anon! I really enjoyed this! I hope you do too!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: repressed childhood trauma, self harm (description of scars and mention of cutting oneself))

‘Phck you, you phcking tin-can!’ It wasn’t the first time Gavin shouted at Nines in the bullpen, but it was the first time their argument held on for so long. The Detective had come down from Fowler’s office just to stop in front of Nines who was still seated at his table. Gavin had begun screaming curse words at him causing Nines to rise to his feet. But the added height and the fact that he stood in front of an android build for war failed to intimidate the man. If anything, it made him even angrier. ‘How could I ever trust you?’, Gavin screamed, subconsciously taking position to evade a coming blow from Nines. ‘How? If you pull something like this without even phcking preparing me?’ ‘Gavin, I don’t even know what you mean, I-‘ ‘No! Don’t you even dare go down this road! Don’t pretend you didn’t mean it. Don’t dare pretending this wasn’t exactly what you wanted! As if anyone in this damn precinct wouldn’t be happy about me being gone. You don’t want me to die on the job, yeah, no one dares to voice that and it isn’t decent to think about that, am I right?’ ‘Gavin-‘ ‘Oh, but if I conveniently disappeared, that wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t care if I take a vacation, or if I’m sick, or suspended. You wouldn’t care if I got fired! You would like that, wouldn’t you? Finally getting rid of that annoying brat that never was good for anything than causing trouble. Would be a nice life, wouldn’t it?’ ‘Gavin!’

The Detective’s head spun around, and he focussed back on Nines who looked far more offended by that than from any curse thrown his way before. But Gavin didn’t back down. He pointed at his collarbone, stopping only centimetres away from actually touching him. ‘Phck off, tin-can! Phck. Off. You all get what you phcking wished for. See you assholes next week!’

Gavin stomped away, determined on getting home while his head was already in his liquor cabinet in his kitchen. But Nines had grabbed his arm to hold him back and an unstoppable force met an immovable object. He felt his leather jacket being pulled from his shoulder halfway down his arm. Then Nines’ grip fastened, realising he wouldn’t stop Gavin this way. Then he heard the fabric of his old hoodie tear apart. In a panic, he tried to pull himself free, but only managed to lose the sleeve of his jacket completely and rip his hoodie the entire length from amidst his upper arm down to the seam.

Time stopped. Mortified, Gavin looked up at the android who held the piece of fabric from the hoodie in his hand and stared at it quizzically. Both seemed to realise Gavin’s arm lay bare for everyone to see that very second and Nines’ eyes widened. Too frozen by totally irrational fear, Gavin didn’t move when the android gently held his wrist to get a better look at the white lines criss-crossing all over his arm in no discernible pattern. When he started using his other hand to trace them though, it all got too much. Gavin pulled his arm to his chest and struggled to catch the side of his jacket to pull it back over his shoulder and hide the arm. He looked back at Nines once with an unintentionally hurt and fearful expression on his face, before finally bolting. He had to get out, just get out of there and get home. He was safe there. He didn’t have to play a role or be the strong guy anymore. He had to get home. Now.

Nines had watched Gavin run away from him. He had been aware of the faces of his co-workers watching him. He did the only logical thing and went back to his desk to continue working. But he couldn’t concentrate. He had folded the ripped piece of fabric and laid it next to his terminal hoping to look busy, so the rest of the force went back to their work. In truth he continued thinking about what just happened. The Detective had screamed at him frequently. He had screamed at everyone on a daily basis and was quite renown to be a huge asshole. Nines could work with him and the Detective’s outbursts were always quick to be over. But not this time. This time he just knew he had overstepped a boundary. But he didn’t know what action of his had led to this. And then there was this new discovery about the man. These… scars. These white lines he had covered up. Since when? Nines could not remember a day Gavin hadn’t worn long sleeves, now that he thought about it. He had put it on poor circulation resulting in a permanent feeling of cold in the Detective. But now… Maybe there was more to it.

And Nines needed to know. He had to know how these scars had come to exist and what he had done to receive such a reaction from the man. If only so it wouldn’t happen again. He made a decision. Once his shift was over, he would drive over to his house and talk with him before getting back home himself. If the man was even willing to talk. If Gavin would even open the door.

Even though he had doubts, he still had to at least attempt on getting some information. He thought about the right words to get the Detective’s attention and convince him not to just slam the door in his face while he sat in a bus heading his direction. When he finally stood in front of said door and had rung the doorbell, he clearly hadn’t expected he didn’t even need these words. A tired looking Gavin opened the door and stared at him out of red swollen eyes. His eyes didn’t allow any question, as he just stared up at the android from the gap between door and frame. Then he sighed and opened the door completely. ‘Come on in.’

Surprised, Nines followed the invitation and scanned the room. His eyes managed to fall on the kitchen table that supported a first aid kit. The android turned to the human. ‘Gavin what-‘ He stopped as his eyes fell on the man’s bloody arm, but Gavin would have interrupted him that moment anyways: ‘Shut up, tin-can. Let me take care of this first and then we can talk.’ ‘Why do you agree on talking about it?’, Nines asked nonetheless. This behaviour was entirely atypical for the human. ‘You wouldn’t have accepted that and went home regardless of my answer, right?’ Nines hummed. ‘I would have for today. Although I doubt, I would have let the topic fall.’ ‘See? Better to get it out of the world before you confront me at work and everyone knows about it.’

Nines followed Gavin to the table and sat down opposite of the man, watching how he dabbed a wet cloth over his arm to wash the blood away. Nines saw several clean cuts, not deep enough to be of any real danger. Most had already stopped bleeding by themselves. Afterwards, Gavin covered them with a light bandage and pulled the torn sleeve from his hoodie over it. He had experience in cleaning these kinds of wounds. Nines didn’t want to think about why he had it.

Gavin put his tools away, threw the razor blade he had cut himself with away and closed the lid of the first aid kit. Apparently, that was the sign conversation was allowed to start. ‘Before you say anything, I know it is a bad habit and that I should stop but I can’t, so don’t even try.’ Nines nodded. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to convince him later though. For now, he only asked: ‘Why?’ Gavin blew air through his teeth while reclining on his chair. ‘To have a reason to cry? To focus on something? To destress?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because my dad’s an asshole?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I wasn’t good enough?’

Nines sighed in frustration. ‘Gavin, either don’t tell me anything or explain it to me, but please, make a decision.’ ‘Alright. Men aren’t supposed to cry, right? If a child cries, it’s because that’s what children do. If a teenager cries, it’s because of idiotic crushes and hormones. If an adult cries, it’s because they aren’t manly enough or weak or some bullshit. No one ever asks why they cry. But if you are hurt you are allowed to cry because that is pain and bodily responses and no one can control that.’ He looked up at Nines, who just nodded encouragingly. ‘My dad favoured my brother. Nothing unusual, I mean many people have that problem growing up. And with Eli that was reasonable. I mean, I would have favoured him too. It’s just the same as buying something new instead of second hand. I’m not angry about Eli getting all the attention, I can live with that. I was…’ He swallowed and covered the piece of bandage visible through the tear in his sleeve with his hand as if that could hide it away from Nines’ memories. ‘I had problems being told I wasn’t enough. Didn’t matter what I did, I was always told I wouldn’t be as good as Eli. It was true, I knew I would never be. But I didn’t need to hear that. They could have told me what I did was bad or not worth the effort, but they told me I could never improve. And if you hear that shit long enough from people you look up to, you start to believe it.’ He stayed quiet for a while, before cursing. ‘Phck, I need a drink for this.’

He stood up and came back a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses, realising too late that, shit, android. He shrugged and placed them anyways, filling only his. ‘I cried a lot. Whenever I thought about how useless it was to put any effort in anything because I would never be good, I asked myself why even continuing. But I liked what I did, I enjoyed school, even though I never got good grades. So I continued and cried when I needed to. My mom always was concerned when I did, coming to my room and trying to comfort me. She meant well I guess, but it didn’t really help. Because every time she tried to speak to my dad, he would come to talk with me, scolding him for not having the guts to talk with him when I had a problem. So in trying to help she made it worse, so I told her to stop. She did. Don’t know if it made it better or worse though.’ He took a long sip from his glass.

‘Well, I started cutting myself then. It helped focussing on something real too. I moved out the moment I finished school and a friend of mine, Tina, applied at the police academy. So I thought to do that too. Didn’t really knew what to do anyways. And life got better. I had nothing else in my life, so I put my everything into this. And I was good. I was praised for my good grades and exceptional performance. Likely was the first time anyone did that. When I started working at the precinct Fowler was far more of a dad for me than my real father could ever be. Made it Detective in no time, could have been Lieutenant by now, I guess. But… Well, I’m still an asshole. Can’t take criticism without immediately lashing out. I get easily riled up in tough situations and having mental problems recognised in your patient’s file doesn’t help either.’

Gavin closed his eyes and concentrated on just breathing for a moment. ‘My work is all I have. All I’ll be ever good at and I like it. I’m happy when I can be there. I enjoy being a detective. I don’t need to make it big. I can afford a home and what I need to live and can go on vacation.’

This time Gavin kept quiet and didn’t make any move to break the silence between them. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’, Nines dared to ask. ‘Why have you never spoken about this before?’ ‘Because I’ll quit’, Gavin answered, his voice wavery again. ‘Or ask for a transfer. Or try and get a grip in the PI business. I don’t know yet. But I need a fresh start, I need a second chance somewhere where no one knows me yet. I need to try to be better.’ ‘What did I do wrong, Gavin? You clearly made that decision after leaving Fowler’s office and you were angry with me before your feelings overwhelmed you. What did I do wrong?’ Gavin watched him for a long time, maybe trying to see whether he was joking or not. ‘You did nothing wrong, tin-can. You just wrote a report that got me suspended, but it were my actions that lead to that. I can’t punch a suspect in the interrogation room. I know that. And I still did it.’ ‘He provoked you.’ Gavin grumbled something unintelligible. ‘Well yes, but I shouldn’t have done it still.’

Nines thought about what the human had said. It was Gavin’s fault, but still Nines couldn’t shake the feeling that he could have done something to intervene and stop it from happening. If he had known Gavin better back then in the interrogation room, maybe he would have recognised what the suspect had been trying to do when speaking to the Detective. He was quite certain he knew Gavin’s weakness now. He could try and protect that spot that would hurt most when struck.

‘Why not stay?’, Nines asked. ‘With what I told you just now? Never. You’ll just laugh at me and tell the others.’ ‘Have I laughed at you once since you told me what bothers you?’, Nines defended himself. ‘I value the trust you put in me by telling me, Gavin. Your secret is safe with me. I am your partner and I will support you if you want me to. I won’t tell anyone.’ ‘Huh’, Gavin huffed unfazed. ‘As if.’ ‘I promise you I will never tell anyone until I am no longer functioning. And if I do you have the explicit permission to put a bullet through my central processor.’

That made the man lift his brows. ‘Alright. Still, even if you kept your mouth shut. Why should I suddenly change who I am?’ ‘I could keep you from sabotaging yourself. You just told me what could trigger you to lose control and I can look out for them. We could try to be a… a real team instead of just co-workers. If you allow me, of course.’ Gavin sat up and smirked at him. ‘A real team, huh?’ He tapped his fingers on the table and bopped his head a few times, mulling it over. ‘Could work. Don’t know why you’d offer that to the precinct’s asshole who continuously screams at you, but I’ll take it.’ Nines smiled, feeling his stress levels settle a bit. ‘Then consider this at least our fresh start as co-workers.’ Gavin chuckled and took the bottle to fill his glass anew.

‘As partners, dumbass.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #slaps roof of Gavin #this bad boy can fit so much childhood trauma #Poor Gavin #But Nines will take care of him

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funkzpiel · 5 years

Note

This might be a cliché and too cheesy, but.... Jaskier braiding Geralt’s hair? Maybe?

Touch-Starved | How to Care for Your Witcher

(read it on AO3)

Jaskier couldn’t say when the realization had struck him. It came to him as most subtle changes in thinking do - slowly, like bread crumbs picked up over time, leading him to the inevitable. Geralt was touch starved.

And not because he disliked touch.

On the contrary, the witcher was a glutton for it, it was more that the man didn’t ask. He didn’t know how. In Kaer Morhen, the young boys had been taught only what they needed to know. Vesemir, as far as Jaskier could understand, was the only mentor Geralt had that had shown even a modicum of affection and even that had been held at arm’s length. Not that the bard could blame them, he supposed, once Geralt had explained one night, too deep in his ale to stop, that most witcher-children don’t survive the trail of the grasses.

“And even if they do,” Geralt had groused, “Witchers don’t die in their beds.”

Witchers were plucked from their families, starved of love for everyone’s protection, then if they survived the transformation they were released into a world that would just as likely kill them as the grasses should have. Why grow attached to someone meant to die? Why show them anything else other than what the world would later show them? It set everyone up for failure, or so Geralt explained.

“That’s stupid,” Jaskier had said, the words rounded with laughter because surely Geralt had been jesting. Using his ignorance about witchers against him. Only… Geralt flinched in that minute way witchers did - that way only the observant might catch - and hid his face in his mug again.

oh.

So Jaskier did what the bard did best: he instigated. His career hadn’t come about by sitting down and waiting for change, after all. He put himself out there in the way he did all things. Same as how he had cowed the witcher into allowing him to become a (at first begrudging) traveling companion. Same as how he infected the lands with his music, normalized his presence at court affairs. Change was a matter of repetition, and it had to start somewhere.

So Jaskier started simply - with Geralt’s hair.

“There are better ways to keep it out of your face during your hunts, you know,” Jaskier said simply one evening as he watching the witcher bathe. Geralt hadn’t seemed keen on the company - no doubt because bathing was generally something someone did in private - but he also hadn’t argued beyond one singular growl the moment he realized Jaskier was not only joining him in the room, but intended to converse.

“I know,” Geralt rumbled, a strange curl to his mouth. It was obvious this was a conversation the man had heard before - one he didn’t enjoy having. “You wouldn’t be the first to say I should cut it.”

Jaskier blinked, legs crossed, and then laughed - the room filling with steam and the melody of his amusement.

“Heavens, no ~ I’d never even suggest it, Geralt,” Jaskier said, running a hand through his own hair. “I’m quite envious of your length. I tried to grow mine out once, you know. Just looked ratty. You’ve got a luscious mane and any man or woman who suggests you sheer it needs a swift boot to the ass, honestly.”

Geralt blinked at him, nearly owlishly, and that made something odd in Jaskier’s breast twist. It wasn’t attraction. Jaskier knew attraction, he was no stranger to bed or stranger’s beds or how attraction more often than not led to bed. This was… different. Something people sang about rather than acted upon. Something to tuck away and think about later.

“Then…?” The witcher prompted, confused.

“Can I show you?” Jaskier asked. He kept it neutral, simple; resisting the urge to let his excitement slip lest Geralt refuse on instinct. The man leaned back against the wall of the tub, and regarded him for a long, suspicious moment. Jaskier had planned this, though. There was no better time to persuade a witcher than fresh from a victorious hunt, made soft by a decent meal and a long soak. And lavender, of course, he always spiced Geralt’s baths with lavender. His keener sense of smell seemed to get more from it than any human. Already Geralt’s eyes looked heavy and pleased.

“Fine.”

Jaskier stood from his stool, then hefted it up and gracefully brought it over so he might perch easily behind Geralt. A lot had changed since they first started traveling. The witcher no longer fidgeted uneasily any time the bard placed himself at his back or out of eyesight. That curious feeling in his breast curled again.

Jaskier took a brush from the little table he had placed aside before hand, revealing that he had planned this, and gently began the process of brushing Geralt’s hair. He started at the ends – free of all manner of monster gunk now, but still as tangled as a feral child fresh from the woods. He worked his way up as he asked this and that about Geralt’s hunt, distracting him with easy topics of conversation that the witcher could easily be swayed into.

Geralt was not one for talking, but the witcher could never quite resist the urge to talk about monsters. Particularly if there was something to correct.

“A bruxa,” Jaskier commented idly, more than aware of the correct answer as he said, “I thought they were those great, hulking bats. How did they manage to make you bleed from your ears?”

That had gotten Geralt started, alright. Bruxa were often curvaceous women, their flesh looking as though they had been carved from marble rather than pink, living flesh. The were slight in comparison to the sort of vampire Jaskier had been referring too.

“They tend to attack by vocalizing,” Geralt said, his conversation made smoother the more Jaskier brushed his hair and soothed his mind, lulling the witcher into something soft and malleable. “They have secondary vocal chords in their throat capable of hitting far higher pitches than humans. They weaponize that asset and use directional blasts of both force and sound to disorient their prey. A normal man would faint, but a witcher—”

“Bleeds from their ears and shakes it off?” Jaskier chuckled, grateful that the witcher’s back was to him as the thought made his smile falter. He kept picturing the sight of blood running down either side of Geralt’s neck. It had taken a while to clean his ears of it, either opening clogged with dried blood. It was partially why Jaskier had been speaking more softly all evening – afraid to further hurt Geralt’s already sensitive, wounded ears.

“Hmm,” Geralt said in agreement, leaning back into Jaskier’s hands as the man finished with the brush, set it aside, and began to comb his fingers through long white strands – looking for the natural lay of the man’s hair. Beneath him the witcher shivered.

“Did I hurt you?” Jaskier asked, “Thought I got all the knots.”

It took a moment for the witcher to understand the question. He clenched his jaw, struggling with some foreign battle, and finally said, “No.”

Ah. He didn’t know how to say that he liked it, Jaskier realized. That he wanted more. That would be a battle for another day, showing the witcher that it was okay to want rather than live by need alone. For now, this small admission would be enough.

Jaskier hummed, that little sound of acknowledgement bleeding instinctively into a song rather all on its own. It was a village lullaby he had heard somewhere another – one that lacked words, relying on soft and lingering tones instead. He split Geralt’s hair into sections, then deftly began to thread them into one another with deft fingers.

Jaskier had lived with sisters, once. He remembered how his mother would braid their hair. How they asked for him to learn as well because when they sat in a train, braiding one another, one person always got left out – who better for that person to be than Jaskier with his closely shorn hair? It had become a love language for him. A form of taking care of others.

Perhaps the witcher was not the only one getting anything out of this, Jaskier realized.

Geralt let out a small noise, once or twice. Quickly snuffed, nearly hidden beneath Jaskier’s humming, but there all the same. Jaskier wondered if the man would become more vocal with time, just as he no longer flinched when the bard slipped behind him.

He hoped so. Jaskier was a man bred from a love of music – and never had he heard a sound quite so lovely as Geralt’s softness, if only because it was so rare. All the while, Geralt leaned into his fingers like a hound pressing against its master’s leg.

He weaved silver strands, as soft and silken as pouring milk, one into another until they formed a stunning patterning of lacing strands from the back of Geralt’s head to just past his shoulders. He tied the tail off with a ribbon, a rich gold color, and took one last chance to run his hands from Geralt’s temples back to the nape of his neck, searching for fly-aways he knew wouldn’t be there.

“There,” he said, digging his thumbs into the meat of Geralt’s shoulders and massaging lightly, keen to transfer his momentum into more progress while he had it. Geralt let out a soft huff through slack lips – eyes hooded, nearly closed. “Finished.”

Geralt opened his eyes at that, and sensing the man would want to see what Jaskier had done, Jaskier grabbed two mirrors. One for Geralt to hold, the other for him to help.

“Hold up yours, yes, just like that,” Jaskier said, then angled his own so that Geralt might see the reflection of Jaskier’s handiwork. The witcher stilled, and for a very long moment, he just stared. Jaskier was just beginning to wonder if perhaps he was wrong in thinking he could manage to sway Geralt with practicality – after all the braid was an excellent solution to his hair troubles – when Geralt handed the mirror back to him.

“That works.”

Jaskier set the mirrors aside, grinning victoriously even as he forced a little sass into his tone to avoid suspicion.

“Oh, so generous of you to say, master-dear. “That works”. No “Jaskier, you genius”! Not even a “you did a lovely job, I’ve never looked so handsome”!”

Geralt snorted.

“I never look handsome.”

Jaskier kicked the tub and said, “I will kill you myself and steal your jawline if you ever dare to lie like that to me again.”

Geralt leaned back, his long tail hanging over the back of the tub as he pressed the top of his head against Jaskier’s belly and said, “Is that so?” with a smirk of all things.

Oh, this had worked so much more nicely than Jaskier had thought. His stomach did a little flip at the freely given contact. The dampness from the witcher’s hair began to seep into his shirt, and yet Jaskier couldn’t even begin to care. He’d crawl into the tub fully clothed if that meant Geralt would start seeing himself as a human with more rights to happiness than the lies that Kaer Morhen and society had beat into him.

“So, what do you think?” He asked, tucking one stray hair back from Geralt’s brow. The lock was too short, unevenly shorn from the rest of his hair; likely the result of a claw just narrowly dodged. Jaskier pet the short lock back into the folds of Geralt’s hair, strangely fond of the little thing.

He wondered what it would look like in the morning after drying in its braid all night. Soft and wavy, framing the wolf’s grumpy morning face.

“Worth trying,” Geralt said with a hum, eyes closing – pressing into Jaskier. “You’ll have to do it again for the next contract. See how it works.”

With the witcher’s eyes closed, Jaskier let himself smile openly. No grins, no charming flashes of teeth. It wasn’t Jaskier’s smile – but rather Julian’s. The small boy who used to braid his sister’s hair. The young man who struck out on the road to follow his dreams, before he had to change to make them happen. He smiled, soft and fond, and pet Geralt’s hair lightly – all in the guise of making sure every strand was in order – as he said, “The least I can do in return for a good story.”

“Hmm,” the witcher hummed, the sound no longer an answer so much as acknowledgment that Jaskier had spoken, that Geralt was there and present, but too relaxed beneath his touch to really know what was said or what to say.

The bard watched his witcher doze contently beneath his touch. The white wolf tamed, but for a moment, by want instead of need. One day Jaskier would kiss the crown of that sleepy head, when he was brave enough.

But that would come all in good time for both of them. Subtle changes, small and steady.

#the witcher #gaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #braiding #touch-starved #how to care for your witcher #Witcher Ask Box #Witcher Writing

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highgaarden · 4 years

Photo

a lover’s concerto; game of thrones au. written for @klaroline-events‘ kc june bingo: ROYALS.

He shouldn’t be sitting so close, really, seeing as they were only just betrothed – and Caroline really wanted him to push his chair a bit further, but she had been told that you don’t tell a Targaryen what to do, much less the Mad King himself.

“Are you always so improper? Back it up, Dragon Boy,” said Caroline, who had never liked being told what to do.

Highgarden was a madness of wine and song. Enzo was trying not to vomit across the table whilst Damon was passed out underneath it. Loras was busy regaling a very drunk Malachai about that one time he accidentally set half their gardens on fire. Margaery was giggling, leaning heavily into Bonnie, who looked like even she was enjoying all the commotion around her.

It was strange that the everyone would have so much cause for celebration considering – everything – but… there you have it. Maybe she’d enjoy the party better if she wasn’t sitting at the head of the table, so far away from her friends.

“You’re sulking, Princess,” Klaus pointed out from behind the rim of his goblet.

“I don’t sulk,” she said, sulkily.

“Would it make you feel better,” he said, “if I named one of my dragons after you?”

“It would not,” she said primly, but Klaus hardly missed the little flare of curiosity in her eyes.

“Qeldlie, I think I’ll name her,” Klaus decided. “It means golden. After your hair.”

Caroline, who had not yet started to learn High Valyrian, had to take his word for it. “A dragon in the Reach. Who would have thought?”

“These fertile lands suit them, it would seem,” Klaus said. He tipped his goblet at her. “Here’s to us Growing Strong.”

She tipped her own goblet back at him. “With Fire and Blood.”

—

The day the Targaryens came to Highgarden was quite a thing to behold.

Niklaus the Mad came swooping in on his dragon Viserion, whilst his sister Rebekah was on Drogon, and his brother Elijah was on Rhaegal, just like the stories they always hear about.

Katherine, a good handmaiden and a very bad flirt, was fanning her cheeks. Caroline wanted to snort. Who the hell did they think they were, rolling up into her lands with their bigass envoy and their stupid sunglasses?

“It’s not that hot here,” she grumbled. “No, Elena, do not wave!”

—

William had decided that to remain in his seat as one of the most ancient houses in the Kingdom, declaring friendship wasn’t enough when Klaus, apparently bored one day, wanted to liberate Westeros.

As if being an era ahead of them in technology made Dragonstone the ballers of the Seven Kingdoms. Klaus certainly thought so.

He was in William’s audience chamber when Caroline stomped in, huffing, and Klaus had tilted his head at her.

“Princess of the Summer courts,” he greeted.

“Your Grace,” she managed as graciously as she could, and sunk into a curtsy. “What brings you here?”

Klaus didn’t answer her. Instead he turned to William. “My Lord, your daughter speaks out of turn.”

“I—” blustered her father, turning a magnificent shade of magenta.

“I like it,” Klaus said. “So, have you heard? I am in search of a wife.”

“No, Your Grace - I hadn’t heard,” William said, the cogs already turning in his head.

Caroline’s barely had time to think whether this was a good opportunity to faint before Klaus has his lips on her knuckles.

—

Rebekah took to her at once, not because she was a lady as equal in beauty and stature as herself, but because she was someone to talk to that wasn’t one of her brothers.

“You’re lucky you’re an only child,” the Princess of Dragonstone confided one afternoon whilst they were practicing their stitching. She peeked at Caroline’s work – a pull of the needle here, a little thread there, and a flower bloomed to life in her hands – and looks approving. “You wouldn’t believe it, but brothers! They take ages getting ready.”

“You don’t say,” Caroline mumbled. There was already a ring on her finger, one of promise, and apparently there were two more to come before she and Klaus were finally to marry. She was disgruntled not at the fact that he had crafted her a ring so soon but more the fact that she didn’t hate it. She’d expected a big rock, and yes, it did come with that, but it was also surprisingly tasteful.

And it suited her very much, as if the gifter had taken exceptional notice of her hands.

—

He wasn’t bad company, she supposed. Things could be worse. According to Katherine things almost had been worse – apparently her father had considered a proposal from Winterfell.

Sure, the Starks were cool and all with their Direwolves, but she still hadn’t forgotten the time in Year 10 when Tyler, having invited Caroline over during one of those tedious Royal Exchange Programmes to experience court life in the asscrack of winter, had warged into his Direwolf in an attempt to impress her and had shed all over her favourite dress.

“Do you like dragons?” Klaus asked over breakfast. It was just the two of them since everyone else was still nursing their epic hangovers from last night’s wedding announcement celebrations.

She chewed thoughtfully on her lemon cake and swallowed before answering. “I do,” she said. “But I’m not talking to you until you tell me why you chose me.”

“I fancy you,” Klaus said.

She looked at him sharply.

“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

“Yes.”

The look he shot her was incredulous. “I see beyond your petals, you know. That you’re beautiful is a given – that you are strong, I have no doubt, considering your House words. But you are also full of light. A maiden fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.”

Caroline frowned down at her tea and fought down a blush.

“If we finish up quickly, I’ll take you to see Qeldlie,” he said.

Caroline blinked at him. “Did you really name a dragon after me?”

“Of course.” He ducks his head. “It is not something I do often, mind you.”

She looked at him from behind the rim of her teacup. “I know.”

“Do you now?” Klaus asked with a tilt of his lips. He hesitated for a moment. “Dragons, they’re the opposite of humans.”

“How so?”

“They’re loyal,” he said simply.

“To a point, I’ve heard,” Caroline said.

“That’s true,” Klaus conceded. “If you treat them well. With the deference they deserve – but not so much that they can sense weakness. You must command them – and I saw that in you. You would have a dragon bend its knee to you, Princess.”

Caroline didn’t quite know what to say to that. She put down her teacup, and for the first time looked him in the eye. “Take me to see her.”

—

She was a magnificent creature, creamy white with gold markings, flapping her great wings and snorting hot air onto her cheeks. She stared up at it, wide-eyed with wonder, her heart in her throat as she took in its size. When Qeldlie spread her wings it spanned almost the length of her entire private garden.

“Golden,” Klaus murmured and tugged on one of her curls. “She’s a youngin, still, but under your care she will flourish. Have your other teenage lovers ever accorded you so magnoliously?”

“This isn’t a competition, Your Grace,” Caroline rolled her eyes. Qeldlie butted his hand out of the way to nuzzle into her cheeks, startling her with its sudden proximity.

“Klaus,” he corrected. “And I know it isn’t. They couldn’t possibly compare.”

“You’re assuming I’ve been courted aplenty,” she said, reaching a tentative hand towards Qeldlie before pulling it back. “I don’t think having a profile on RoyalMatch.com counts.”

“Have a word with your team about taking that down, will you?” Klaus started to scowl, before realising she was kidding. He returned her smile slowly, like he was out of practice or something.

“Like this, Klaus,” she almost chastised. She cleared her throat once and turned to face him fully and turned on him the famed Tyrell charm, the beguiling femininity of a rose.

Klaus studied her. “I don’t care much for pretence, sweetheart. I’d much rather you show me your thorns.”

Insistently Qeldlie returned her snout to her neck, and she yelped at the sudden heat.

“ȳdra daor!” Klaus commanded in his native tongue, batting the dragon out of the way. “Keligon bona.”

She recognized those words of reprimand at least – she really should had paid more attention in class. But how was fifteen-year-old Caroline to know she’d end up marrying a Targaryen, a House so ancient they were almost myth? Ironic, innit? twenty-year-old Caroline thought.

“Qeldlie,” she said slowly, and the dragon rears back and lopes gently behind her, growling something she can’t understand yet but hopes to one day.

Wait, hold up.

Was this dragon—

Was this dragon pushing her into Klaus?

“I hope it’s true about Targaryens being immune to fire,” she muttered when it’s clear the high heat in her cheeks can’t be politely ignored. Klaus laughed and buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply.

“I’m immune to many things, love,” he said softly. “Apparently not to you though.”

She pulled out of his embrace and made a face at him – and he shrugged, like he couldn’t help himself.

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline #klaus x caroline #klaroline fanfiction #so... i... well *shrugs*#hannah writes things #hannah does kc bingo #mine #*tvd #aas usual i posted all of this up last night at 3am without reading it through first #and then had a field day with edits #i apparently also forgot the READ MORE button exists #hmmmmmmmmm

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Wallflower: Chapter 19 - rEaD mE :)

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers. You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language.

Extra note: this chapter is also messed up

rEaD mE :)

...

Drifloon has deposited the little girl in a strange world.

It looks around, seemingly confused. This new area they're in is eerily quiet and it resembles a cave of some sort... The pokemon turns to the girl, tilting it's head to the side. She's beginning to stir as she lies on the cold, hard ground. Perhaps this is her doing?

A profound darkness sweeps their surroundings but then a weak, tawny glow begins to dot the area and Drifloon sees that there are several glowing rocks on the wall which is the source of the light along with a strange, jellyfish-like being that has appeared from nowhere. It floats around and hovers near them, dancing around in the dark before it jostles closer. Drifloon watches it cautiously.

You watch silently as the little girl finally wakes up, looks up and around and realises she's far from home. Bringing her knees to her chest, she begins to sniffle and wail.

"Looker?" You call out, "Looker, are you here?"

"I'm still here. What do you see?"

"There's a Nihilego." You mutter.

"What's going on?"

You continue to observe: Nihilego floats near the little girl and the balloon Pokemon watches it warily. It tries to get closer but Drifloon stops it by hurling a ball of dark energy at it, prompting it to retreat - but only briefly. Nihilego comes back, determined to get it's human host and the girl begins to cry.

Drifloon continues hurling shadow balls at the creature and the girl keeps crying, her sobs growing louder and louder until a bright light suddenly flashes and you watch as a slit appears in mid-air, as though the very fabric of the universe is being torn open, a glitch in the matrix - and the slit widens and expands into a circle, revealing a clear blue sky within and a large spray of trees - it occurs to you that it is Ilex Forest.

Without wasting a further second, the exhausted Drifloon grabs the girl's arm and tugs her towards the portal as the Nihilego swoops down on them, its tentacles reaching for the girl. However, the portal closes in seconds and its prey disappears within, abruptly leaving the scene.

It was a close call.

Nihilego watches the empty space before it turns to you.

You're still here.

You stiffen on the spot, freezing up entirely.

"What's wrong?"

The creature begins to slink over towards your direction.

This can't be right.

Looker said nothing here can hurt you.

".......It's looking at me." You cannot explain it but you feel it is staring right at you, it can see you.

And it's coming closer.

"Looker, get me out of here!"

But nothing happens and Nihilego comes closer and closer and it lifts one of its thin, transparent tentacles towards you and -

...

Your eyes open in a snap as you jerk awake.

You've returned to the interrogation room. You're lying on the hypnotherapy chair with Looker and Hypno at your side. However, it doesn't stop the distress from overwhelming you; your heart begins beating frantically and your breathing grows laboured, your forehead covered in sweat.

"It's okay, you're safe now. Take deep breaths." Looker instructs as your panicked eyes meet his. "Breathe in."

You suck in a noisy breath, still trembling.

"Now breathe out."

You exhale as calmly as possible.

Looker does this breathing exercise with you until your breathing returns to normal and your pulse slows down and it takes a while but finally, you've tamed your racing heart and panicked state and you slump over the chair, exhausted. You look up and around the room, noticing that it's been roughly an hour since the session and you're surprised you were under for so long considering you thought it was a relatively short experience.

Also, the band on your wrist is pulsing fiercely with two lines dotting the small screen - one line is orange and other one is green. The green one must be reflecting your heart rate as it blips in a routine fashion whilst the orange line is incredibly erratic, going in all sorts of directions. Meanwhile, the polygraph which Looker mentioned earlier shows a convoluted zigzag pattern all over the white sheet.

Looker hands you a cup of water and a tissue and you thank him as you dab all over at your damp forehead. He asks, "Are you okay?"

"I...I think so." You mutter, gulping the water down noisily. He takes the cup off you and refills it.

"Take it easy." He mutters, handing you the cup once more as he returns to his chair whilst Hypno moves to sit on the stool, watching the two of you with its beady eyes.

"I saw it, Looker. I saw everything. It was Driffie."

"I know."

"And he took me to this weird place where I saw Nihilego - and it saw me. It was looking at me." You continue to mutter in disbelief. The tape is still recording, which you're all too aware of. "....I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't think I'm the missing child you're looking for."

Looker emits an inaudible sigh under his breath and throws his glance to the recorder on the desk. "...We've confirmed two possible theories though. That place you were in - there's a name for it - it's known as Ultra Deep Sea. It's the home of Nihilego. You've passed through an Ultra Wormhole. During the session, your energy levels spiked and the reading went off the chart. There's a practice called remote-viewing. If you've never heard of it before, it's not that well known or scientifically proven but essentially..."

"It's okay, I've heard of it and I know what it is."

Looker nods again. "Whilst you were under...although you were hypnotised, you made contact with Ultra Deep Sea. I believe that's why Nihilego saw you. Although you were viewing a past memory, you had crossed over." A brief silence spawns until he adds, "My theory is that your energy diverted you and Drifloon to a different dimension. You were also able to open a portal which deposited you in Ilex Forest."

"But how? I don't get it."

"It would seem to be because you were under extreme emotional distress." Looker mutters, "Your Drifloon protected you from Nihilego. I don't think he realises what he has done. Do you despise him for what happened?"

Despise Driffie? "I don't...I don't know."

"What are you going to do?"

You sigh heavily, holding your head in your hands. "...I don't know." You say through gritted teeth as your head begins to throb; you can't stress it enough.

The session's over now, so Looker thanks you for the time and for your cooperation. The session yielded very good results and interesting information which he'll send to the Bureau for examination and further study.

Whilst Looker recalls Hypno and begins tidying up, he says, "I'll talk to my superiors about this and get back to you. However, you need to be careful from now on. If we hadn't undergone the hypnosis, I doubt you would've known about your abilities. We've opened a door - one which we intend to keep shut."

"What do you mean?"

"The last thing we need right now are Ultra Wormholes opening and closing in Galar." Looker says, and you nod. "Keep the band with you at all times; it will continue to read your energy levels. Avoid anything that can and will inflict emotional distress. Things are going to be different from now on."

"Got it." You say; you really doubt anything will trigger you to undergo or experience the intense emotional distress that you felt when you were in Ultra Deep Space. "Bye Looker."

"Goodbye."

When you leave the room, you close the door behind you and turn round, spotting Raihan in the empty waiting area: he's slumped over a plushy seat with one hand stuck in his hoodie and Rotom in his other hand, scrolling through photos on his social media account until he senses your presence and looks up.

"Rai, what are you doing here?" You ask as you head over and stop in front of him.

He looks up at you with a wide grin, puts Rotom down but his phone chooses to float by his left shoulder. Reaching for your hand, he lifts your palm to his lips and you can't help but smile as he pecks the back of your hand and your knuckles with light, warm kisses. "Thought I'd come pick you up. How'd it go?" He murmurs, when he releases you to rub your palm gently.

"It was fine. I'm fine." You shrug casually but your face says otherwise; Raihan stares at you for longer than usual and you wonder what's wrong until you blink and something wet and warm trickles down your eye and over your cheek. "Oh..." You quickly lift a hand up, wiping at your face and the corner of the eye. "What's wrong with me....? I'm...I'm crying."

Raihan stands up immediately, reaching for you and pulling you into his embrace. "C'mere." He says, encircling his arms around you protectively. You're so small and tiny in his arms all of a sudden.

“Sorry...” You croak out as your vision becomes blurred with tears.

He chuckles, giving you a squeeze. ”Don't apologise, just let it all out...” Raihan murmurs as he hugs you tightly, patting you and rubbing little circles on your back.

You hug him in return as you're enveloped all over with his warmth and he presses his nose against the side of your head, nuzzling your hair affectionately. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begin sobbing and Raihan pats you on the head and strokes your hair soothingly. You can't seem to stop, sniffling and snivelling drearily in his arms.

He doesn't ask you what happened, he just hugs you and tells you its going to be okay, over and over again.

When you finally stop, he slowly loosens his grip and peers at you inquisitively. "...You okay?"

"Uh-huh." You choke out, nodding as you wipe your eyes.

Letting go of you, he cups your cheeks, plants a big kiss on your forehead. "Let's go."

You nod.

Once you leave Hammerlocke police station, you were planning to go to Raihan's place but when you see the massive gate, you decide to leave the city instead and sit down on the large stone steps of Hammerlocke that connects to the Wild Area, overlooking the magnificent green pastures. Your eyes are puffy and red and occasionally you'll still hiccup and sniff slightly but you're no longer crying. Raihan joins you, seating himself by your side and you both sit and stare at the vast grandness of the expanse.

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes as he watches you. Re-opening your eyes, you slide your gaze to the sky where you see a few Butterfree and Beautifly in the air until one of the Butterfree abandons the group, deciding to flutter towards your direction. You gingerly hold your arm out, reaching for it and it lands on your finger and looks at you. Raihan observes you quietly before lifting Rotom up and snapping a quick picture.

He switches the camera shutter to silence mode so the sound of the shutter won't scare the Butterfree away and takes a few shots of you with the butterfly pokemon before it flies away. You watch the Pokemon return to its group before you throw your gaze to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest.

You tell him everything that happened.

Although you're not sure where to start precisely, you tell him that Drifloon took you away. It took one moment where your mother and father took their eyes off you - perhaps for a few seconds or so - and you were gone but you didn't end up being spirited away, it turns out that you are a Fallerand you had somehow passed through an Ultra Wormhole and you ended up in Ultra Deep Sea. A Nihilego attacked but you were able to escape by opening a wormhole that brought you to Ilex Forest in Johto.

And then...obviously, you were found.

Raihan listens intently and it's a lot to take in; you wonder what his reaction might be but the more you spoke, the more you could not believe your own ears.

It sounds....unbelievable.

Raihan's holding your hand the entire time and he gives you an affectionate squeeze. "I'm sorry about Driffie. What'll you do about him?"

You hesitate before fishing out Drifloon's pokeball and you press on the button, releasing him. Drifloon appears, blinking at you and Raihan with his beady eyes. Standing up on the step to face him, you say, "I know what you did. You took me away from my family.... and if I continue to keep you, I...I-I can't forgive you for what you've done, I just can't - "

Inhaling a shaky breath, you mentally shake your head. Your fists curl at your sides as Raihan watches your interchange silently. "I'm releasing you; I don't want you anymore." You utter, "Go."

Driffie attempts to float towards you but you firmly stand your ground.

"I said go. Go on, get!"

The balloon pokemon shrinks away at the threatening tone of your voice and lowers its head. With his pokeball in hand, you toss it as far as you can, watching it vanish over the horizon. Driffie watches it sail in the air, blinking wildly before turning to you. "Floo....!"

"Get out of here! I don't want to see you ever again!"

Finally, Driffie stops.

You glare at the small pokemon and it turns round sadly and hovers towards the plains before he disappears from your view entirely; Raihan slowly moves to stand up beside you. You know what he's thinking - he's never seen this side of you before. You've never raised your voice, been angry. Not like this. Not towards a pokemon, no. You've always been so loving and caring. For a long time you stare at the horizon, wondering if Driffie would return.

He doesn't.

Your legs shake and you almost collapse if Raihan didn't catch you.

Tears build up in your eyes as you begin sobbing helplessly all over again and the dragon tamer helps you sit down with him and brings you into a hug, gently pulling you into his lap and wrapping your arms around your waist and you loop your arms around his neck in return and although you've embraced him many times before, this time you hold onto Raihan as tightly as possible as though fearing he would disappear. Raihan lets you cry it all out, rubbing your back and stroking your hair soothingly.

"He's gone," you croak out, wiping at your eyes. Your voice is hoarse and raspy. "Rai. Have I made a big mistake?"

Raihan looks conflicted; he can't give you a straight answer. "I'm so sorry, princess." He murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair and brushing some strands behind your ear before he presses his lips against your cheek.

"...Nothing's changed. I still don't know my real family and I still don't know where I come from."

"Maybe you're from a parallel dimension."

"...That's a bit farfetched."

"What if you're from that dimension your brother mentioned, where there's no such thing as pokemon?"

"No, I'm pretty sure there's pokemon where I'm from. I can't imagine a world without pokemon. It would be miserable, I bet."

He laughs and you feel his chest rumbling. "What if there's another you from another dimension somewhere out there and she's with a parallel mighty Raihan."

"Well...even in a different dimension, we're still together."

"Yep." Raihan presses another deep kiss over the curve of your cheek and the thought actually makes you happy. It occurs to you that he's trying to cheer you up so you force out a chuckle, "When's your next appointment with Looker?" He murmurs, as he continues smothering your jaw and cheek with kisses.

"I dunno; he says he'll be in touch. I've to keep this band on for the time being and make sure my energy levels don't go crazy or something bad might happen. Looker didn't say that but I got the feeling that was what he was trying to say. Who knows, maybe I'll end up opening an Ultra Wormhole by accident or something. I don't know." You say with a sigh, blowing some hair from your eyes before you turn to him and his lips press against yours.

He was aiming for the cheek but when your lips meet, he pulls back with a grin and then leans forwards once more, capturing your lips with his. You kiss passionately for a brief moment or so, until Raihan gently pries your lips apart and tangles his tongue with yours. Admittedly, you don't kiss enough with tongue so Raihan pulls you further into his chest, your mouths pressing harder together.

When you finally break apart, his grin widens as you sit in his lap, breathless. "C'mon, let's go. Let's go check out some beds."

You force yourself to smile, nodding. "Okay."

...

A few days later.

After bed-shopping the other day with Raihan at a department store in Wyndon, you had returned home, glancing at your little cottage house. Something just feels different but you can't quite place your finger on what it is and why. Perhaps it is a matter of perspective.

It's just you, Espie and Poliwag in the house now.

A day ago or so, you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. You found yourself wondering why you were alive and what was the reason why you were even here on this earth. You were suffering and in pain. You called in sick and took a few days off. You couldn't bring yourself to get dressed properly, comb your hair, wash your teeth or hair or face...you could not even eat or drink....and your Pokemon tried their hardest to bring you out of this depression and luckily you were able to snap yourself out of it. Your pokemon care for you and love you. You still need to train Dreepy; he's counting on you.

And you still have Raihan and your family. It would hurt them to see you like this.

Therefore, you pulled yourself out of bed the day after.

You've called mom and Glenn, informing them what happened and what you had discovered. They want to visit you in Galar but you reassure them countless of times that you're fine. You tell them you've released Driffie. It's a shame, they said.

You do miss Driffie, but what's been done has been done.

In an attempt to move on with your life and focus on other things, you call your friend's mother and ask about the progress of your friend's recovery. Your friend's mother tells you she is getting better and firmly believes that she will be waking up soon; her fingers twitch occasionally and she responds to her voice. You thank the heavens above that your friend is fine.

Also, you're going to move in with Raihan. You've arranged some time to talk to your landlord about your lease - you still have roughly a half year left on your contract and although you looked over the terms and conditions, you had wanted to speak to the landlord to clarify on a few things. You wonder if you can break lease early, but most likely you might get fined... unless you find someone who can take over.

Raihan's already ordered the new bed which will arrive during the weekend - it's a king-sized mattress, not too soft or too hard. You both had tested out a few mattresses at the store which was a fun experience and eventually discovered the one dream mattress that fitted both your needs. It was perfect for sleeping and for...well...you know, other activities.

You're really looking forward to moving in with him. Never in a million years did you think you would meet your partner whilst working abroad - and now you are going to live together too. You're aware that usually this can also test the strength of one's relationship because you never truly know what someone's really like until you live with them. Nevertheless, it's all very exciting.

You're going to attend one of Raihan's matches later on and then you will be meeting with him to buy some necessities.

You had spent all of last night on the phone discussing about things you'd be sharing from now on - it dawns to you that this is new to Raihan as well - but essentially you'll get the bottom shelf of the bathroom cabinet because he's tall and can reach the top shelf better. You'll sleep on the right side of the bed near the window and he'll sleep on the left near the door. You'll get your own cupboard and drawer in the kitchen where you can put your baking stuff. And he'll clear some room in the cupboard under the stairs so you can put the equipment you use for work inside.

You fondly recall how you had been chatting animatedly with him about what you'll do together on the weekends, how you'll spend your evenings and how you can both take turns cooking breakfast, lunch or dinner. Indeed, it's the life you've always dreamed of and a few years ago, you wouldn't have thought about these things...but having someone by your side and sharing things is very appealing to you.

It's almost time for Raihan's match so you grab the ticket he's given you and head out with Espie. The Corviknight taxi takes you to Hammerlocke in a matter of minutes and you approach the stadium, joining the massive queue of fans and tourists alike. The lobby is bustling - a huge number of people queue up for merchandise, taking photos with Ball Guy and various aspects of the interior of Hammerlocke stadium. It's even busier when you enter the stalls - you weave your way through the crowd and finally find your block.

Raihan's gotten you a front row VIP seat so once you show your ticket and the attendant allows you in, you realise you're sitting with all the hardcore, die-hard Raihan fans who have broke their banks for the chance to see their idol up close and personal; they are screaming and cheering for him, waving glow sticks and taking selfies with their friends and pokemon. The majority are female and as you hop down the aisle and find your seat, you notice a few girls stop chatting abruptly about their Raihan photo collection and stare at you; you think they recognise you and immediately, the entire row goes silent.

You don't pay them any attention; you sit down in your seat with Espie in your arms and wait for the match to begin, watching the large TV screen which shows a video of the Pokemon League and several replays of Leon's and Raihan's matches. Down below on the pitch and you see the cheerleaders have split themselves into two groups, practising a routine for the crowd whilst they wait. You fail to see Alicia, funnily enough.

"...Isn't that Raihan's girlfriend?"

"What?!"

"She's here??"

"Yeah, I think that's her..."

You don't respond to the conversation that's going on in the background. Let them talk. Who cares?

The stalls are slowly being filled up and once all seats are full and the match is about to start; suddenly the lights of the stadium go dim, bathing the audience in darkness until a few spotlights switch on and the cheerleaders cartwheel away and out of view as the referee appears - he's roughly Kabu's age, wearing a black and white striped jersey, matching shorts, socks and shoes; the crowd gasp in awe as the huge screen stops playing the Macro Cosmos endorsed videos and is stamped with the words: "Welcome ladies and gentlemen!!!"

The referee has a microphone taped over his cheek near his mouth, his voice amplified as he thanks everyone for coming, announcing loudly that the match is going to begin; he holds his arm up, gesturing to the left of the stadium. "Please welcome....gym challenger three hundred and sixty one!"

The crowd begins to go wild and you watch as the gym challenger appears, emerging from the dark corridor. It's a teenager in the gym challenger uniform, maybe....fifteen or sixteen years old. Although she's reached the final gym, she looks terrified.

The referee then announces Raihan, throwing his arm to the corridor in the right and the crowd goes insane. The fangirls in your block begin screaming for him and stomping on the floor, causing your row to shake violently. Espie clings onto you and folds her ears down in an effort to blot out the noise as Raihan finally appears and the cheering grows a thousand times louder in volume that you think your eardrums are about to burst.

You check if Espie's fine and she seems okay, so you avert attention to your boyfriend as he swaggers out to face off the challenger. Along the way he waves to the crowd before he takes a selfie and your heart thumps hard against your chest; you watch him stride across the pitch and smile widely to yourself for you are extremely proud of him.

Bringing Rotom out, you ask him to take some photos of Raihan for you. The dragon tamer also seems to be searching for you so you wave frantically with Espie meowing loudly, hoping to catch his eye. You hope he sees you and when he spots you in the stall, he gives you a wink.

A few girls behind you think he's winking at them and squeal with delight.

Raihan and the challenger arrive at the middle of the pitch and exchange a few friendly words of sportsmanship before they turn away, heading to their respective spots. The referee stands at a safe distance in the middle, glancing at the gym challenger and Raihan. With his whistle in hand, the referee tells both battlers to get ready - the TV begins a countdown, starting at three - and Raihan brings his Rotom out with a gentle smile, checking the little screen briefly before he lifts his arm and in a split second, his expression changes into a fierce one.

The fangirls scream wildly in response and the countdown is over; the message on the huge TV immediately switches to "You are challenged by Gym Leader Raihan!" and the referee blows on the whistle.

The match starts.

Raihan does his signature pose before he tosses two ultra balls onto the field.

He begins the battle with Gigalith and Flygon; Gigalith's ability whips up a sandstorm but the crowd is safe from the weather effects by a mysterious, invisible shield that protects the viewers whilst the referee, Raihan and the gym challenger are battered.

It's a tad hard to see and you wouldn't have known exactly what was going on unless the referee wasn't outlining the match with energetic vigour that keeps the crowd on their toes, full of nail-biting suspense. The TV also shows close ups from both battlers from various camera angles. The battle is tense but the gym challenger is prepared - she's brought a fairy type and a water type. Gigalith is quickly taken down after a few hits and Flygon is smacked around by a 'Play Rough' move courtesy of her Grimmsnarl. Flygon takes down the water pokemon and Raihan brings out Sandaconda, who quickly knocks out Grimmsnarl.

When both are down to their final pokemon, Raihan releases Duraludon and starts to Dynamax him but not before taking a quick selfie with the enlarged glowing ultra ball; it's the moment everyone's been waiting for as he tosses it high into the air. The fangirls alternate away from mindless screaming and cheering and begin chanting to a tune which you are all too familiar with, having watched so many battles online.

In fact, the entire stadium is lit up with this chanting and it encompasses the entire arena which is now bathed in a red glow as Duraludon re-appears, having grown to the size of a skyscraper (and looking very much like one too).

"Bring the storm! My partner will send everyone in the stadium flying!" Raihan yells, and it's his trademark quote which causes the crowd to erupt into a frenzy.

The gym challenger releases their pokemon - it's a Cinderace - and she dynamaxes it. It also grows to a gargantuan size that matches Duraludon and you watch as both pokemon whale blows on each other using G-Max moves until Duraludon's health is brought down to zero and he returns to normal size, collapsing over the pitch.

Raihan's expression falls as he recalls the fainted pokemon and the referee blows the whistle again, officially ending the match.

"Gym challenger three hundred and sixty one WINS!"

Raihan hangs his head low whilst the gym challenger jumps up and down with happiness and dances around with her Cinderace.

The fangirls seem sad too but soon the crowd returns to cheer and Raihan picks himself back up with Rotom grinning haplessly.

"...At least I still have my good looks." He mutters to himself with a pout, adjusting his headband over his forehead. The fangirls go crazy, squealing with glee.

Re-gathering at the middle of the pitch, Raihan shakes hands with the gym challenger and passes over the badge. You don't stay for the cheerleaders when they re-appear to celebrate the victory and watch as Raihan heads for the corridor whilst confetti and happy messages appear on the screen.

Leaving your seat with Espie, you quickly leave the stalls and take the stairs down to the 'staff only' area, showing your pass to a gym trainer who lets you through. You arrive at the dark corridor where you see Raihan leaning against the wall - he's been waiting for you - and you quickly make your way over.

"Rai!" You call out to him and he looks up from his phone, grinning at you.

"Hey, princess."

You hold your arms out but instead, he pulls you into his arms and crushes you into a tight embrace that would put a Bewear to shame and promptly lifts you off the ground, spinning you round in a circle before he settles you back onto your feet where he clutches you firmly and buries his nose into your neck, trailing kisses over your cheeks and lips. You can't help but giggle as he kisses you all over.

"I watched the match; it was amazing."

"But I lost."

"Aww, it's okay." You gently pat his head, smoothing down his hair before you pinch his cheeks gently, "You did a great job out there."

"The gym challengers are seriously keeping me on my toes. How can I keep up with Leon at this rate?" He mutters as you let go; he leans forwards and he smooches you, pressing his lips firmly over yours again and again.

"Perhaps you'd be interested in some EV training?" You suggest, "Then you'll be able to squash all of Leon's Pokemon with one hit."

"Nah, s'alright. If I did that, it wouldn't be fair on Leon and it wouldn't be fun either." He replies with a wicked grin. Scooping your hand with his, he kisses your knuckles swiftly. "Let's get outta here. I'm hungry."

"Sure, where'd you wanna go?"

"Hm, let me think about it. I gotta grab something from my locker first."

"Okay, I'll wait for you outside in the lobby." You reply, and he presses a quick kiss on your forehead before you split up.

Raihan heads to the locker room and you make a beeline for the exit until you spot the gym trainer from before who let you in, holding onto a white envelope. He looks a little troubled and as you pass him, he stops you in your path.

"Oh, uh...Excuse me." He says, "Are you Raihan's girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Someone just came up to me and told me to give this to you." He hands you the envelope and you raise a brow as you hold it limply in your hands.

Turning it around, your blood turns cold when you see that the front is indeed addressed to yourself and it is stamped with the words: rEaD mE :)

Your eyes grow wide and slowly, you pry open the flap. Delving your hand inside, you pull out a single piece of paper which you unfold and there are instructions spelled in Unown, telling you that they have the DVD and you are to meet at the top of Rose Tower immediately. You are not to tell a single soul and you must come alone.

Or else.

Panic seeps into you all over. Fear grips you like ice and you reread the instructions a second time....you cannot believe it. It's deja vu all over again. And again, it's to do with the goddamn DVD. However, as you tremble and shake in horror, suddenly these feelings evaporate entirely, replaced with searing hot anger as you scrunch up the blackmail letter so tightly that your knuckles go white and your bones clench.

It’s happening again.

Why is this happening again?

You're about to use Rotom to call Looker.

But you stop.

No, this time you will deal with this on your own. Whoever it is and whatever it is they want, you simply don't care anymore. You have your pokemon with you so you are well-protected and you won't show any mercy.

You are sick and tired of being pushed around and you aren't going to let this pass, to let them get away with it.

Not this time.

The energy band on your wrists starts to blip intensely but you ignore it.

You tell the gym trainer to inform Raihan that you've got to leave due to an emergency and without further ado, you leave the stadium abruptly and hail a taxi. You don't want Raihan to worry or get hurt because of you. You'll deal with this quietly and quickly.

When the Corviknight taxi arrives in Wyndon, you enter Rose Tower without further ado and although a staff member comes up to you, asking a polite 'How can I help you?', you tell them someone is expecting you at the top of the tower and they seem to understand, allowing you entry to the lift.

You enter, watching the lift doors close behind you and it begins to chug up to the top floor. You clutch onto the strap of your bag firmly, your knees quaking. You can't help it. Your stomach does numerous flips, the back of your throat is dry. The lift finally arrives at its destination and the doors slide open, revealing the same outdoor arena you had once set foot on with Raihan, although on this occasion the dragon tamer is not with you.

You step inside and there are two familiar figures within: it's Alicia and Raihan's ex-girlfriend.

You’re not totally shocked to the very core that they are the ones behind this. You always knew they were up to no good and they disliked you so the fact that they are the ones responsible doesn't really make heads turn. This is it, probably. The final confrontation. You will tell them to leave you alone right here and now. You storm over, stopping a short distance away and you give them beady looks whilst they stare you down.

Raihan's ex speaks first. "I didn't think you'd come."

You notice Alicia's Rotom phone is facing you with a little light on. Holy crap, are they...are they recording this???

You ignore the phone for the time being. "Where is it?" You demand angrily, having successfully stamped down the fear and nervousness and you're able to control your voice; you don't stammer or at stutter at all and your energy band blips again.

"Oh? Not so timid now, are you?"

"Answer the goddamn question."

Raihan's ex isn't fazed by your newfound hostility considering the last time you spoke, it was all rather genial. She dips her hand into her bag and pulls out a shiny, flat disc. "You mean this?"

"Hand it over." You growl, "I'm not in the mood for any games."

"I'll hand it over if you do something for me in return."

"You want me to break up with Raihan, don't you? I know you messaged him. Why are you doing this? I thought he already told you this - he doesn't want you," you bark and her face goes a funny colour in response. "And you don't deserve him."

"It's not like you deserve him either." She quips back.

It's because of the DVD that this is happening so honestly, you could just walk away from this. "Do you know what? Just do it. Just upload it online. See if I care, because I clearly don't and neither does Raihan. You don't scare me, neither of you do."

There's a brief silence and Alicia throws a quick glance at the ex worryingly. "Maybe we should - "

"Shut up." The ex snaps, crossing her arms. Her expression turns dark but then her lips curl into a cruel sneer. "Fine then, maybe I will. And I'll also tell everyone that you're adopted, that you were abused when you were a kid and that you were bullied in school, that you're nothing but a loser. I'll dig up every single dirty little secret you have and make sure it goes public."

Your fists curl. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. How does she know this, how did she find out???? You cannot fathom and as she smirks, you begin to seethe with rage. You are enraged, flush with anger. But at the same time, you are also panicking deep inside.

"...Is she having a mental breakdown?" Alicia mutters.

"Who cares, you're getting this on camera, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

You begin to find it hard to breathe, your mind racing frantically and your heart cannot pounding so hard it hurts - and they notice, laughing at your reaction. They're recording this too. Why is this happening? Should you fight her? With punches and kicks? No, she's not alone - you're unlikely to get the upperhand although you want to strangle the wind out of her if you could. Hell, you could get your pokemon to attack them but that's a criminal offence. Realising that you have no advantage here, you find yourself at a loss and you're reduced to a quaking mess again, sick to the stomach.

As you despair, the band on your wrist beeps louder and louder and the orange line is spiralling out of control; it's at the peak, quivering violently as the reading begins to go off the charts, the band cannot keep up as you become lightheaded and dizzy and you drop to the ground.

Suddenly, their laughter stops.

Instead, they're now adamant in staring wide-eyed at something behind you.

Turning round, a slit has appeared in mid-air.

...

Meanwhile.

Looker sits in his office in Hammerlocke Police station, going over the transcript of the hypnosis session.

She had described Ultra Deep Sea in-depth. She had even seen a Nihilego. Looker rubs the bottom of his chin as he reads the final part: the Nihilego had seen her during the session. He has a bad feeling about this so he goes to one of his briefcases and opens it. There's only foam inside, cushioning a single pokeball and a folded piece of paper.

The label on it says: "Type: Null - Property of Macro Cosmos."

Looker takes out the paper and unravels it, revealing that it is now property of the Bureau, having been confiscated. He glances to where his signature is along with the print where it details that Type: Null is under Looker's protection. Contemplating to himself, Looker reaches for a small bottle of correction fluid from a tub on the desk and carefully removes his name.

Once it dries, he picks up a pen and writes her name in his place.

Nodding to himself, Looker folds the paper back and pats the pokeball. "You'll be in good hands." He says.

Suddenly, his Rotom phone beeps loudly and he glances over. "Bzzzrt, abnormal energy level detected from zzzubject zzzixteen!" Rotom cries out.

His brows furrow at once. "Whereabouts?" Looker demands as he gets up from his seat, grabbing his coat off the hook and donning it. He picks up his suitcase too, packing in some of his equipment.

"It'zzz coming from Rozzze Tower in Wyndon."

"Thanks, Rotom. Let's go check it out."

Looker hopes he's not too late.

...

#pkmn #pokemon #pokemonsword #pokemonshield #pokemon shield and sword #jeralee #fanfic #fic #kibana #raihan x reader #Raihan x you #reader #archive of our own #wallflower #reader insert

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songfell-ut · 4 years

Text

Chapter 15 took forever ergh

Man, this was a thing. In this thing, Sans cannot do poker face, and Undyne is half bro and half troll. Chapter can be found here.

Frisk wiped the sweat from her forehead and clutched the envelope tighter as she crept over the last "bridge." The monsters in Hotland were supposed to have disarmed all the traps and puzzles for the humans’ visit, but they had replaced them with a bunch of regular wooden planks, not bothering with supports or railings to keep people from falling into the lava.

There! She was across. Puffing a little in the heat, Frisk trotted up the ramp and saw the doctor’s laboratory – helpfully labeled “LAB” – right where they’d said it would be.

But no one had said there would be a crowd blocking it. “…your very eyes!” someone was shouting from a stage in the main area.

It wasn’t very impressive, just a rickety platform with one corner curtained off and a few musicians standing around. The only thing on it was a giant metal rectangle that rocked back and forth on a single wheel, with no human features except for strange, floppy arms ending in white gloves. Yellow and red lights twinkled in elaborate patterns on its front as it raised an arm and twirled in place. “No, you say? It’s not enough?” asked a tinny voice.

Frisk had no idea what it was supposed to be – some kind of loud statue? – and neither did the rest of the audience. The rectangle spun itself impatiently. “Well, then, behold!”

Just like that, the thing froze in place, and there was nervous laughter as it began to look like it was broken—until something darted out from behind the curtain and whacked it in the back. There came a POP and a grinding sound, and the rectangle exploded in a plume of smoke!

But before the audience could work up to a proper state of panic, they heard a silvery laugh. Out of the smoke stepped a dazzling figure; it was shaped like a human, but as the air cleared, the stagelights shone on a monster made entirely of bronze and steel, its features delineated in ivory. Sleek black lacquer served as hair, and it winked an opalescent eye at the gawking crowd. When they didn't get the hint, it raised its hands and tapped them together, then bowed graciously as the applause started in earnest.

This must be the automaton she’d been sent to find! Somehow, Frisk doubted she was supposed to get up on stage to give him the note; if she was, the answer was—

“Yes!” At that cue, the musicians broke into a swift-paced dance tune. Mettaton bowed again, then launched himself into a series of amazing leaps and twirls, hopping around the little stage like an agile, attention-fueled clockwork toy. The audience cheered and clapped along, which seemed to put an extra spring in his step, as Sans would say.

Frisk had crept closer and spotted a set of steps beside the stage. She started up them on all fours, hoping to catch Mettaton after this song. A Royal Guard moved to stop her; Frisk showed her the fancy seal on the note she was carrying under her armpit, and the cat-woman directed her to go up and wait behind the curtain.

The human did so, and immediately bumped into someone. “E-excuse me,” another monster said apologetically. Frisk turned to see a stocky lizard monster with bright yellow scales, wearing glasses and a doctor’s coat; she offered a sheepish smile as the human child backed up. “I’m just here to m-make sure M-M-Mettaton doesn’t s-squeak too much,” the doctor said, holding up an oil can. "I hope he s-stops after this number so I can—"

The audience was applauding again, and the lizard gulped as Mettaton launched right into another routine, the musicians scrambling to keep up. Frisk couldn't help poking her head out from the curtain; she had never seen anything like the automaton, especially not this close.

"I'm so g-g-glad that I finished him on time," the yellow monster said quietly, as if to herself.

"You made him?" the child whispered back in astonishment.

The monster looked a little frightened, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. "Um...just his b-b-body." She shuffled her feet. "It w-was nothing."

Frisk watched the automaton do a series of backflips ending in perfect splits. "That looks like a lot. It's incredible," she said honestly.

"Really?" The lizard squinted at her to see if she meant it. "W-Well, if you think so..."

Out of nowhere, Frisk felt a cold sensation sliding down her back. The same way one has to sniff at something that looks rotten, the child had to peek out at the audience: sure enough, there was Chara at the back of the crowd, frowning up at the stage.

As Frisk stared, the woman's gaze shifted until her eyes met Frisk's. Chara smiled thinly, and the child's gut knotted. How did—

Another grinding sound pulled Frisk's attention back to the stage. Mettaton’s ankles were starting to smoke as he moved faster and faster; to Frisk's horror, one of the joints locked up, and the automaton's heeled boot skidded across the stage, lurching him off balance. The little human had a panicky mental image of the poor monster lying in a heap, people trying not to laugh too loud, Chara rushing up to help because everyone was watching...

Maybe that was what gave Frisk the courage to drop the envelope and dash onto the stage as Mettaton came careening toward her. She grabbed the nearest pearly-gloved hand and swung him around with all her might, nearly wrenching her shoulder out of its socket.

But it was enough: the automaton slammed his knee and his other hand into the stage and used the momentum to twirl back onto his feet...all in time with the music. The child didn’t have time to catch her breath; Mettaton winked at her with a little clicking sound and then caught her up to dance in place with him, setting her down long enough to let her pose dramatically.

The first time she did it was just freezing up as she faced the audience, but they cheered so loudly that she tried it again the next time she came down, and the next. To her amazement, she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. This was fun!

All too soon, the song ended with a crashing flourish, and she panted happily as Mettaton held her arm up, prompting the now-huge crowd to applaud both of them. The automaton turned to address everyone, but Frisk was glad to stagger back to the side of the stage, where the lizard monster was waiting behind the curtain. “Th-thank you so much,” she said. Despite her scales, she appeared to be sweating, beady eyes fixed on Mettaton. "He's g-going to be s-so upset with me..."

Frisk hated how miserable the doctor looked, as if she expected the automaton to blame her for the mishap because it was her fault. The human tried to think of something to say, and spotted the note in the monster's hand. “Oh, you found it! Thank you!” Frisk cried, as if her life had been saved, and was rewarded with a shy smile as the lizard handed her the envelope. “Here, sir. This is for you,” said Frisk, turning to Mettaton as he came over.

Sure enough, he was scowling. "I was just telling the doctor how amazing you were," the child said as gushily as possible. "But, um, you're so amazing that we're worried about you pushing yourself too hard. Please take more care so you can keep performing for us," Frisk finished.

The automaton blinked, his attention diverted. “Why, thank you, darling,” he said, ruffling her hair fairly gently, “and thank you for your assistance! That was marvelous! Any time you’d like to come back for another performance, my little beauty, you are absolutely welcome.” He gave Alphys a brief glare, then allowed her to creep forward and begin re-oiling his joints as he tore the note open, eyes flicking over the words with inhuman speed. “Ah, duty calls.” The metal monster smiled at Frisk again, working his ankles to spread the oil evenly. “I’m heading to meet His Majesty now. Would you like to come back with me, darling?”

“Thank you, sir, but I promised the Queen I’d stay and meet more people in Hotland,” Frisk lied. She turned to the other monster and gave a half-bow. “My name is, um, Kris. What’s yours?”

“Uh…m-my n-name?” The lizard pushed up her glasses. “I-I’m Dr. Alphys, the r-royal s-s-scientist. It’s n-nice to m-meet you, Kris.”

“I’ll see you later, then, Kris!” Without further ado, Mettaton stepped out of the curtain and leapt off the stage, sailing clear over the astonished humans’ heads and pirouetting once more before he pranced out of sight.

“Um…” Alphys was fidgeting with her claws. “So, d-do you like…stories? Novels or p-p-plays?”

“I don’t know,” said Frisk, rubbing her sore shoulder. “I’ve never read any.”

Alphys’ eyes got wide, and wider. “C-c-c’mon!” she nearly shrieked. “Do I have s-some things to sh-show you!” And she was off, racing down the steps and tearing the doors to her laboratory open as though her tail had caught fire.

Frisk started to follow, but another bad feeling crept up on her, and she had to turn to look at the audience, praying she wouldn’t see—

Chara was still there, still staring at Frisk. But this time, she wasn't smiling. She looked...thoughtful.

Why did that seem so much worse?

Sans lay on the floor in his room, flat on his back, his head spinning. For a long moment, he had no idea what'd just happened. He'd woken up and had to get away in a hurry—from Undyne? Because he'd been chewing on Frisk? That was a dream...right?

But if it was a dream, what was he smelling? The boss monster glanced this way and that. All he saw was his pile of long-outgrown socks, his too-small treadmill shoved against the wall, and the wadded-up sheets on the kiddy-sized bed. Sans grunted and turned onto his side, curling up with one arm under his head.

Then he blinked, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and jammed it into his nasal bone, inhaling so deeply that he almost sucked the material up into his skull. Ha! Frisk's scent was all over him! It wasn't a dream after all. Heh, as if he could've imagined her saying those things, making those little noises and tasting like—

Sans tried to leap to his feet, but he made it about a third of the way before he staggered and fell back with a butt-rattling thump. No good; he'd done too much yesterday and gotten too little sleep. That last shortcut had completely drained him.

It was just as well, when Sans gave it any thought whatsoever. He'd gotten out of Frisk's room fast enough that she had a decent chance of convincing Undyne he hadn't been there. It'd be about eight flavors of stupid to go back to her now, no matter how badly he wanted to.

And boy howdy, did he ever want to. The giant skeleton stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to rub his face in his shirt like a damn cat. His tongue came up and ran slowly across the back of his teeth, remembering the taste of apples—she must've had some before she went to bed. He'd never be able to eat one again without getting twitchy.

In fact, he had a feeling that life was going to be trickier in general from now on. Being around her had been distracting enough before he knew exactly how soft she was, what it smelled like snuggled into her neck...

Shit. No wonder humans were such obsessive morons about this whole thing. Magic was already tingling throughout his bones, especially his pelvis, a helpful reminder that it was there in case he wanted to have his way with anyone; Sans had to bring his fist up and clonk himself square in the forehead to snap out of it.

...And it didn't even work. The harder he tried not to think of Frisk, the more irritated he got, and he also had a headache.

It was a profound relief to feel the house shake as the front door was thrown open. Undyne shouted something, and Pap's door also banged open; Sans had to smile as his brother loudly rejoiced at seeing Frisk. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a moment later, Frisk shrieked with laughter—probably because Pap had picked her up and swung her around, just as he had swung Kris around all those years ago.

Sans sighed. The stairs were too small for him, and he wasn't sure he could manage a shortcut to the living room. Maybe it was just as well: he was tired and cranky, and he hadn't calmed down enough to trust himself yet; better give her some time to get reacquainted with Pap first, before they started handing out everyone's gifts.

Oh, crap. She'd asked him to do something last night with the wagons, but he'd been too distracted by the other stuff she'd said, and too intent on proving that he could do stuff, too. He had spent the past couple days thinking it over while he was pulling the stupid wagon, theorizing that he could cram some of his accumulated magic back down and revert to a lesser height for short periods; listening to Frisk whistle, he'd wondered if he could do that, too, and then gone off a long mental tangent about lips.

Maybe those self-adjustments had worked so readily because he'd had so much practice manipulating his other body parts, or maybe he'd just wanted it to happen badly enough. Maintaining his crammed-down form was something he'd have to work on, and he didn't know if he'd be able to do it at all outside the Underground and its ambient magic, but...

He closed his eyes, letting his body relax, ignoring Undyne's stupid loud voice through the floor. He was home, his brother was happy, they had Frisk here...

Some time later – a few minutes, or an hour – he jumped as the door banged shut downstairs. The boss monster wondered irritably if someone else had come in, or if they'd left, or what. Then, picking up at a random point where his mind had left off, he wondered whether his body felt as awful to Frisk as hers felt good to him. Was it like making out with a coat rack?

The only thing that saved him from another five or six hours of tortured introspection was the smell of pancakes. Sans shook himself, sat up, thought of the living room, and took himself downstairs, where he was met with...no one. To his disappointment, the house was now empty, save for a single plate and a note on the table:

SANS! YOUR GREAT BROTHER (ME) HAS KINDLY AGREED TO ALLOW YOU TO SLEEP IN LIKE THE SLOTHFUL SACK OF BONES YOU ARE WHILE WE ESCORT OUR DEAR

Another set of handwriting, much less elegant and more emphatic, had scribbled out KRIS so hard that the paper was almost torn through, replacing it neatly with Frisk.

FINE THEN OUR DEAR FRISK TO GRILLBY'S AS A CONVENIENT PLACE FROM WHICH TO FURTHER DISTRIBUTE PANCAKES. PLEASE PARTAKE OF THE DELICIOUS BREAKFAST PREPARED WITH LOVE BY YOUR BROTHER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND CONSIDER JOINING U

There was a trailed-off line where the S should have began, and a smear of ink as testament to a struggle for the pen before the other handwriting victoriously resumed,

We're at Grillby's!!! (Much smaller:) see was that so hard

NO ONE SAID IT WAS HARD, NYEH!! I WAS MERELY TRYING TO CONVE (smear)

Why are you actually writing NYEH you damn goober

WHY ARE YOU NOT

oh my god (Much bigger:) SANS EAT YOUR PANCAKES

Sigh. Sans obediently picked up a fork, then realized no one was around, folded the stack in half, and shoved it down his throat. He remembered another time with a fork and breakfast being crammed in his face; little did he know then...

With his mouth still full, Sans abruptly stood up and gathered himself for to a shortcut to Grillby's—only for his magic to sputter and fizzle out. Dammit! Had he only gotten enough back to teleport into the living room?

Well, Grillby's might not be very far, but after the past couple days, he was completely sick of walking. He could just wait a few more minutes for his magic to regenerate. It wasn't like he'd die if he didn't see her right this second. Right?

He glanced at the fork again.

A moment later, he was closing the front door behind him, shuffling through the snow with his hands in his pockets.

To his surprise, one of the wagons was parked outside the house, most of its contents sitting on the ground. Aaron and Ice Wolf were busy moving packages into the shed; the only things left in the wagon were the crates of vials, seedlings, and other items for Alphys. Sans caught Aaron's eye, and the merhorse flexed nervously at him before returning to work.

Hm. Toriel must've told them to bring the wagons to Frisk in Snowdin, and then Undyne had gotten Pap to unlock the shed and made these guys unload all the gifts. Nice! That was one less thing to worry about.

Ice Wolf was setting down one of the last packages and climbing back into the wagon. Sans watched in sudden apprehension as the wolf pulled out a crate and trotted down toward the river, raising it over his head to—

It really wasn't Ice Wolf's fault. Apparently, he'd heard Frisk tell Undyne that the crates were all accounted for, and now they needed to go to Hotland; it was already his job to send things there by throwing them into the water, so he figured he might as well help with these, too. One flying tackle and a heated discussion later about the difference between chunks of ice and irreplaceable scientific materials, the wolf monster was directed to the Royal Guards' ferry, which could transport the crates without anything getting waterlogged or melted.

Okay. That was one wagon safely disposed of. Time to follow the other one's tracks in the snow past the deserted librarby – heh, he'd never get tired of that – to Grillby's.

Sure enough, the other wagon stood empty right outside the bar, which was absolutely packed. Sans could smell why: for the first time in months, Grillby was serving hot food. If Sans knew Frisk, no one would have to pay for it, either.

Free pancakes or not, things were quite orderly. The monsters were waiting in a line stretching out the door and along the side of the building; the Royal Guard Captain could be heard directing traffic inside, and those without were politely ignoring Papyrus as he strode back and forth, instructing them to keep waiting. "SANS! THERE YOU ARE!" he said, cheerful as always. "IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, NYEHH! I WASN'T SURE IF THE HUMAN IN MY HEAD WAS ENTIRELY TRUSTWORTHY, BUT IT SEEMS SHE WAS CORRECT AFTER ALL! I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU ARE BACK SAFELY!"

"Yeah, I'm here," answered Sans, giving his brother a friendly nudge in passing. "An' speakin' of the human—"

"AH-AH, BROTHER!" Papyrus flung his hands out to block the doorway. "YOU MUST WAIT WITH EVERYONE ELSE."

Sans stared down at him. "What the crap, bro? I already ate. I just wanna get in ta—"

"IT IS A DIRECT ORDER FROM UNDYNE! NO EXCEPTIONS!"

"Well, you're bein' exceptionally dumb!" He tried to stoop to see in the door, but to no avail: there was no room between the monsters in line and those leaving. "Come on, Pap! All I want is—"

A red-gloved finger stabbed up at him. "BACK IN LINE, SANS! NYEH-HEH-HEH!"

And just like that, for one second, Sans was so irritated that he wanted to pick his brother up by the spine and toss him aside. It took far too long to remind himself that he loved Papyrus more than life itself, his brother was just being himself, and Sans shouldn't pick him up by the friggin' spine! What was wrong with him today?

Sans shook himself, pulled a face, and started ambling toward the end of the line. The moment Pap's attention was elsewhere, though, the boss monster turned on his heel, speed-sneaked up to the doorway, tapped on a couple of shoulders, and said, "'Scuse me."

Somehow, no one else seemed concerned that he was cutting in line. A duck, a wriggle and a side-shuffle later, Sans was in the bar, ignoring his brother's orders to come back that instant!

There were so many monsters inside that they'd had to shove the rectangular tables against the wall. Undyne was seated at the high table near the back door, keeping her eye on the line as it moved toward the bar; Grillby had set up a griddle and was silently dispensing one pancake and one blob of hash browns to each monster—not much, but it was still human food, equivalent to a couple of good-sized meals. The stools at the end of the bar were laden with plates, forks, and napkins, but almost everyone was ignoring them and devouring their food on the spot.

Where the hell was Frisk? Even at Sans' height, it took him a moment to locate her. But someone finally moved aside, and his SOUL leapt like an excited little dog at the sight of its favorite human. She was perched on a corner of the bar, tiny feet swinging, wearing her black cloak and a high-necked gown; an intrepid kid had wormed his way into her lap, and Frisk was petting his seahorse-shaped head as she listened to old Gerson. She said something that made the elderly tortoise chortle and whap the bar with his stick, and Sans tried to edge forward.

"Hey!" barked Undyne. The entire place fell quiet as the Captain got down from her chair and stalked over to Sans. "You shouldn't be in here," she scolded him. "Does this look like a good place to just hang out right now? Huh?"

The boss monster ignored her and glared at Gerson, who was occupying both barstools at that corner. Then he looked at Frisk, who was smiling at him, and he immediately forgot what he was mad about. He tried to think of something witty: "Uh." Shuffle. "Hi."

"Ugh! I know the note said we'd be here, but I didn't mean for you to come right in and—are you listening?!" The fish monster had to sock him in the radius to get his attention. "Look, doofus, if you're gonna take up space, do it over there!" She pointed at the gramophone in the corner.

Sans obediently trudged through the press of monsters and stationed himself near Frisk. Undyne followed him, nodding respectfully to Gerson. "So, boss. How was it, living in the lair of the enemy?" the Captain inquired, leaning against the bar. When he looked blank, she prompted, "How'd the humans treat you?"

Why was she asking this now, and what was that look she was giving him? ...Oh, fuck, that was right. She might have seen him on the floor in Frisk's room before he shortcut away, and was fishing for information. Ha. He didn't know whether Frisk had successfully denied it or not; better err on the side of being dickish about humans. "It sucked. They're dumb, they smell weird, an' they all stared at me like a friggin' zoo animal," he complained.

Frisk shifted to look at him, and he quailed at her expression. "Excuse me," she said coldly. "Are you going to mention that you had your own room with a bed even bigger than you are, or how much food you had brought straight to you every single day? All you had to do in return was read and put things in bottles!"

"Seriously?" Undyne punched one fist into her other hand. "Didn't you have to fight for your life against terrible odds, or steel your resolve and withstand all kinds of torture, or something?"

"It was a feather bed with silk sheets," said Frisk, and Undyne made a retching sound.

"Wah ha ha!" Gerson thumped the bar again. "If you ever need another apprentice, girlie, sign me up! Won't hear me complainin'!"

"Me neither," said the kid on Frisk's lap. To Sans' absolute disgust, the seahorse's curved head was snugged up under her bosom, the cloak tucked in like a blanket. Her hood was down, and in the bar's overhead lights, he was reminded of that fateful moment where he'd seen her clearly for the first time, the delicate symmetry of her features and the beautiful red tones in her eyes...

Sans didn't realize he was staring until Undyne coughed. "So all humans are gross and dumb, huh?" She scratched behind her right fin. "Well, if you had to get stuck with one, at least you wound up with Frisk. I mean, she's not that bad, right?"

"Uh..." Fuckin' Undyne! Was she being sarcastic, or actually trying to figure out how he felt? If so, should he try to convince her that he wasn't interested in Frisk, or at least that he wasn't completely batshit in love with her?

...Crap. They were waiting for the next batch of pancakes to finish cooking, so the line had stalled, and now a bunch of other monsters were listening. All it would take was one idiot gossiping about Sans' interspecies love affair for it to get back to Asgore, who would lose what was left of his big dumb mind. Sans had to throw them off...but what could he even say?

Double crap. He made the mistake of looking at Frisk, who had picked up a fork from the bar and—god damn it, she was looking back at him and tapping it against her lips! As if he needed a reminder that she was still stunningly beautiful, or to think more about kissing her. The seahorse was now asleep on her lap, completing the picture of a woman he couldn't hate any less.

Sans gave himself a mental kick in the nuts: he had to say something before someone noticed him ogling her. "Well...it...coulda been worse," he said, turning his head dismissively, "but you should see what she does t'books. She folds the pages up like a damn kid!"

"Oh, yes, I just loved having a ten-foot mother-in-law telling me what I could do with my own things," the human shot back. She turned to address the snickering monsters: "Not only did he get literally one hundred eighty square feet of bed to himself while I slept on the couch like a vagrant, he spent an hour in the tub every single night. I kept having to bang on the door and wake him up! And he has the nerve to complain about how I treated my books?"

The snickering increased as Sans' skull grew warm. Was she playing along, or was she actually mad? Why didn't anything make sense anymore?! "Yeah, well, you snore" was all he could think to say.

With unnerving speed, Gerson swung his stick up and around till it was pointing at Sans' sternum. "And how do you know that, sonny boy?" he demanded.

That was a good question, and the others were eagerly awaiting his response. Sans didn't have the guts – ha – to look at Frisk, so he just shrugged. "I could hear it through two closed doors," he said casually.

Their listeners chuckled, clearly buying it, but Undyne grinned wider. "Good thing he doesn't like humans. You never had to worry about him trying anything weird," she said loudly to Frisk, who was covering her face with one hand. The Captain glanced back at Sans. "Right? 'Cause you don't like humans?"

"Right," said the boss monster. Just in case, he added, "'m not interested. They're too...uh...lumpy."

"Lumpy?" Undyne repeated, voice cracking.

"Lumpy," Frisk mumbled into her hand, and Sans bade a silent farewell to his chances of making it through the day alive.

Gerson snorted. "Never you mind him, girl. I remember when you were even smaller, and you flirted with every monster you met—why doncha try it again? Promise I won't laugh this time!"

The human raised her head long enough to say, "No, sir, but I think you'd fall asleep before we got anywhere interesting," and the monsters roared with laughter, all except Sans.

"That's a fair point," Gerson admitted, once he'd recovered. "A doll like you shouldn't be stuck with a stinky old thing like me. Maybe one of these other fine specimens of monsterhood would suit ya better?"

"Yeah, I'm a fine specimen!" someone called out, prompting more laughter, and cries of "Me too!" and "I'm not, but I'll learn!"

"I don't think so," Undyne said flatly, to Sans' eternal gratitude. "Frisk has a lot of work to do, and she's not gonna be here that long. Anyone who messes with her on my watch is gonna be my new training dummy. Got it?"

"Agreed," the giant skeleton muttered. "Don't want anybody interruptin' her bein' a perfect princess an' fixin' all the world's pr—"

Tng went Frisk's palm on the bar, slamming the fork down and nearly startling Gerson onto the floor. "Don't call me that!"

A moment of apprehensive silence, and then the line began moving again, the monsters whispering to each other and glancing over their shoulders. Well, it'd definitely worked, Sans thought, trying to get his SOUL moving again. No one would think anything was going on between them now. ...How was that little shit still asleep on her?

"Okay, okay," said Undyne, chagrined. "Geez. You're one to talk, boss."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frisk asked suspiciously, saving him the trouble.

Gerson gave three rapid thumps on the floor. "Very true, Miss Undyne! Very true. Here's an interesting fact for ya," he said to the priestess. "When it comes to sowin' their oats, your average monster's not in any hurry, but bosses? They're almost as determined as humans! Wah ha ha!"

Frisk smiled weakly. "Ahh, I'm just funnin' with you. Don't worry about Sans," Gerson assured her. "Most folks don't know this, but romantically speaking, boss monsters ain't much of a threat to anyone. Sure, they've got that drive to have offspring, but they're too picky to do much about it." He waggled his stick in Sans' direction. "This fella's SOUL ain't interested in anybody weaker than he is. If he can't find another boss monster, he won't fix on anyone at all."

Sans' mouth fell open, and clicked shut. "Wait. What?"

The old tortoise cackled again. "Haven't you noticed, sonny?" he asked. "You're not interested in the ladies – or gents – 'cause none of 'em have enough magic to handle ya. Your SOUL can tell when you meet someone who might work out, and it ignores everybody else. It's instinct—keeps you from hurting a lesser monster by mistake. 'Course, the royals have each other, or at least they did, but..." His shrug was eloquent, almost pitying. "Not sure what to tell you, young skeleton. Hope you find a way to scratch that itch someday."

"Are you serious? How do you know that? Why the hell didn't I know that?!" Sans was too angry to notice how red Frisk was, or how wide Undyne's eye had gotten. "D'ya know how much I've been worryin' about what'd happen if I—" He caught himself just in time. "—got really interested in someone? Yer tellin' me that just bein' interested means it's safe ta go for it?"

"Wah ha! It sure would!" Thump thump. "Ya really didn’t know that? Didn't you get 'the talk' from Asgore or Toriel?"

Sans shook his head. He'd never talked to the King about personal stuff, and Toriel knew how much he hated being a boss monster, so she hadn't brought it up. She certainly never told him what to expect if he did find a potential mate. Sans couldn't really blame her; how was she supposed to know he'd meet someone like Frisk?

Gerson harrumphed at him. "Well, some of us remember how the King and Queen were before the Prince was born—couldn't keep their hands off each other! I had to have a talk with 'em about corrupting our youth with their bad example, and Asgore went on and on about how their SOULs couldn't help it! Poor Toriel wouldn't look me in the eye for a month afterwards!" He cackled yet again. "Not the sort of thing I'd go around repeating to just anyone, is it?"

"Yeah, well, I wish you'd repeated it to me!"

"How fascinating," said Frisk, tilting her head to feign curiosity. That wasn't fair: he knew she was faking, and it was still the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen. "So I don't have to worry about Sans bothering me?" she asked innocently.

"Not unless you're a boss monster, too!" The tortoise had a hearty chuckle at that idea.

No one really joined in, especially not Sans, who was remembering his own words to Alphys. "If humans had anythin' like boss monsters, she'd be one fer sure"...

Suddenly, the little seahorse on Frisk's lap jerked awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with one long, hand-like fin. "Good morning," the priestess said kindly.

He yawned a weird little yawn, and mumbled, "Good morning, Princess."

Frisk stiffened. Sans resisted the urge to tie the kid in a knot as the human said, "No, dear. When Sans called me that, he was being sarcastic," with an inflection that made the skeleton wince. "I'm not actually a princess."

Blink. "Oh." Blink. "I don't get it. Aren't you Chara? You were here before, and Lady Toriel said—oww!"

Gerson had rapped the seahorse between the ears with his stick. "Pay attention, sprout," he said severely. "Chara died before you were even hatched. This here is Miss Frisk, you got that?"

The little monster mumbled an apology, ears drooping. Grillby saved them all from further awkwardness by moving over and crackling something at Gerson, who nodded and leaned over to whisper to Undyne, who stood up in turn and stomped the floor for everyone's attention. "Two dozen pancakes left, and we're out of hash browns!" she called out. "Everyone who hasn't gotten theirs yet, count off! One! Two! Three—"

Groaning arose as "Four," "Five," "Six" came down from the head of the line, ending in a triumphant "Twenty-four!" near the door.

"What the hell," complained the twenty-fifth monster. "I didn't come all the way from Waterfall to get screwed again!"

"You shouldn't have come to eat our food in the first place," Dogamy snapped.

"Everyone was already lining up, and I was all the way at the back! So I came to get something for the kids—"

"Well, you should've thought of that before you went and had another one," Faun cut in. "It's people like you who're the problem, making more mouths to feed instead of helping the rest of us!"

"Oh, like you ever get your lazy carcass out to work the fields! I'm trying to keep our race from dying out, and you—"

"No, you—"

Someone shoved someone else, and in a flash, Undyne interposed herself between them. "Take it outside!" she ordered, addressing the angry latecomers as a whole. "Or, don't fight each other over something we can't control! Put some of that energy where it counts!"

"Like where? Going out to look for food and getting captured by humans like her?"

It was no use: more squabbles and counter-squabbles started breaking out, and within seconds, the place was in chaos. Sans moved in front of Frisk, knowing he couldn't trust himself to join the fray—he was already agitated, and it’d be too easy to kill someone by mistake. Undyne had no such qualms, and was dragging a couple of miscreants around in headlocks when an ear-splitting whistle brought everyone to their knees.

The only exception was the child on Frisk's lap. The priestess had shielded his ears with one hand, and was lowering the other from her mouth. "There's more coming," she said into the pained silence, voice clear and steady. "Sans has arranged to pick up several hundred pounds of food, two days from now. We'll bring it straight back here, and every last one of you will have some, including your families." Frisk gave the room a slight smile. "If I'm lying, feel free to eat me instead."

Before anyone else could speak, Gerson tapped the bar next to her. "Is it true that you're in talks to buy us that place on the river?" he asked.

"Yes, and we can improve your existing farmland in the meantime," replied Frisk.

Murmurs arose throughout the room, hope warring with skepticism. "Well," Gerson said slowly, "on behalf of the entire Underground, I've got to say—"

"OH MY GOD!" Sans and Frisk both sighed as Papyrus waved from the doorway. "CAPTAIN UNDYNE! THE QUEEN IS HERE! SHE WANTS TO SEE KRIS RIGHT AWAY!"

The crowd gasped, monsters hurrying to stand aside for Frisk; she waved away Sans' proffered hand, set the kid on the bar, and hopped down. "I'll be right there," she called to Papyrus, and walked out through the aisle, smiling at each monster in passing.

That was what did the trick, Sans thought, along with Pap getting her name wrong—good reminders of the warm-hearted human they'd known and loved. The murmuring started right back up again, but now the thoughtful or hopeful voices were much louder, the pissy ones silent.

The seahorse had floated down to the floor and was bobbing his way through the crowd. Watching him go, Sans wondered about Frisk's reaction to being called a princess. Not only should she be one, as far as he was concerned, she should be in line to rule the whole damn kingdom. Judging from her performance as High Priestess, she'd be damn good at it, much better than her scrawny little half-brother...

Undyne had left right after Frisk, and the other monsters were filing out. When the place was nearly empty, Gerson muttered, "You've got to do better than that, son."

The giant skeleton shook himself and scowled at the old man. "Whaddya mean? I didn't attack anyone. I was just makin' sure nobody went after Frisk."

Another laugh, shorter and more cynical. "You're about three hundred years too young to play dumb with me, boy!" Gerson brandished the stick at him. "What I mean is, I don't blame you for bein' sweet on her, but you can't keep looking at her like that. For one thing, it's embarrassing! Wah ha ha!" Thu-thump. "More importantly," he said, sobering in an instant, "people 'round here have nothing to do but talk. No one's forgotten the whole mess with Chara, 'specially not His Majesty. Better not give him a reason to think history's gonna repeat itself."

Sans tried to formulate a denial, and also several questions, but then the old tortoise banged his stick on the floor again, this time to assist himself in sliding off the barstools. "I'd tell you to leave her be," he grumbled, "but if your SOUL's made up its mind, I suppose there's no helping it." A gross, multi-part sniffle. "That little lady, strong enough to match a boss monster? Ha! Will wonders never cease?" He adjusted his pith helmet. "Well, feel free to come see me in Waterfall, the both of you—but not till tomorrow! This was plenty of excitement for one day! Wah ha!"

"Hold up!" Sans protested as the tortoise started shambling toward the door. "What do you mean, 'the whole mess with'—"

Right on cue, there was a cry of "BROTHER!" as Papyrus popped his head in. "BROTHER, COME AND SEE! KRISK HAS BROUGHT PUZZLES! THERE'S ONE FOR YOU, TOO!"

Ah, the gifting had begun. Sans waved him away. "Tell 'er ta get started without me."

"REALLY? IF YOU SAY SO... OH! HELLO, SIR GERSON! THE HUMAN SAID TO TELL YOU THAT SHE HAS PEANUT BRITTLE, NYEH-HEH!"

"Ooooh," the elderly monster said, perking up. The moment Papyrus was gone, Gerson turned and rapped his stick on Sans' patella. "There you have it, boy! It's like my old mam always said: 'Gerson, if you ever find a girl who remembers how much an old fart like you loves his peanut brittle, you hang on to her, human or not!'"

Sans highly doubted that Gerson's old mam had ever said that, but he wasn't in the mood to argue. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. Instead, he turned to the bartender as Gerson gradually left. "Hey, Grillbs. I’ve got a few minutes—what's on tap today?"

It was disgusting, he knew, but the simple fact was that Grillby had to stay in business somehow. When there was no food to serve, he could always sell drinks, and when there were no drinks, he had gotten creative—for example, the "mudslide" he slid down the bar to Sans was named for its primary ingredient and sprinkled with enough magic to…still taste like mud. But it was a drink!

The bartender wandered over as Sans downed the whole thing at once, remembering too late that he could have just put his tongue away and avoided tasting it at all. Clearly, he needed to drink a little more and get his head on straight. The skeleton gestured for another, and when Grillby crackled at him, Sans just said, "Don't worry, Frisk'll pay my tab."

The flames on Grillby's eyebrows rose higher, but he produced another mudslide and watched Sans gulp it down. "So," said the boss monster, "I kinda remember what happened with Chara, but my memory ain't what it used to be since everythin’ blew up in my face." He held his mug out. "Wanna tell me a little more 'bout ‘er?"

"...and this is for you, too," said Frisk, placing another box in front of Toriel.

The goat monster shook her head. "Goodness, child, you shouldn't have! How am I supposed to carry all this back with me?"

"Make Sans do it," Undyne suggested, to general approval.

They had decided to tackle the gift distribution in stages, starting with Papyrus, Undyne, and Toriel, and were opening them in the skeleton brothers' living room. Papyrus was happily occupied with his first gift, an interlocking ring puzzle; he'd declined to open anything else yet, ostensibly to wait for his brother, but mostly out of impatience to get the rings apart.

"Speaking of which, where is Sans?" asked Toriel. Papyrus was already muttering to himself, the rings clicking as he began tugging harder.

"Who knows, Your Majesty?" Undyne had only a few boxes by her feet, and was doing her best not to look at them too hard until everything had been doled out. She brightened as Frisk set two more down for her. "Is that all of 'em?"

"That's all for everyone here." Frisk picked up the very last package, straining a little to lift it, and took it to the back room. When she returned, she said, "You can open them now, Lady Toriel, or wait until you get home. Since we're staying so close by, Undyne, I think you can go ahea—"

The Captain had already ripped open her first box and tossed the lid aside. She paused and squinted at an array of bottles nestled in white cotton. "What's all this?"

"There's regular moisturizer, waterproof moisturizer, burn ointment, treatment for scale rot, an antiseptic for small cuts, and armor polish," Frisk explained, pointing to each in turn. "I infused everything myself, except the polish."

"Thanks! I hope you don't expect me to remember all that," Undyne commented, bending to grab the next box and catching herself mid-rip. "Oh. Uh, sorry, Your Majesty. Your turn."

Toriel smiled. "Please go ahead, Captain. I—"

The box was already wide open. "Whoa!" It was a set of the "history books" Undyne had admired on the humans' last visit—the most action-filled comics Frisk could find, much more violent than the story-driven ones Alphys liked. She grabbed the top one and flipped through it gleefully. "Ha ha! I can't believe it! Are those his guts?"

"NYEHHH!" Meanwhile, Papyrus was now reduced to banging the rings on the arm of the couch. "HUMAN! I DO NOT WISH TO ALARM YOU, BUT IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SOLD A DEFECTIVE PUZZLE!" He gave the rings a final shake and threw them on the floor, then plunked himself down on the couch, arms grumpily folded.

Undyne glanced up from her comic and snickered. Papyrus looked very hurt until his friend bent to pick up the separated rings, holding them over her head like spoils of war. "See, Pap? You gave it your all, and look what happened!" She threw the rings back on the floor and caught his arms to pull him up for a triumphant noogie. "I knew you had it in you!"

"Y-YES, OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN CONQUER ANY PUZZLE! N-NYEH-HEH-HEH! ...PLEASE STOP CELEBRATING MY GREAT VICTORY!"

"I believe I'll open something now," Toriel murmured, leaving Papyrus to extricate himself. She unwrapped the paper on the top box, peeked inside, and immediately gave a squeal of joy. "Oh, my goodness! My child, how did you—" She clasped her hands. "Are those real vanilla beans?! And—"

"I didn't know the exact recipe, so I got every pie ingredient I could think of," Frisk said, grinning at Toriel's excitement. She slid out the bottom box in the stack. "Check these next, please. I couldn't remember if you needed salted and unsalted butter, so I got both."

"Yes, I do! But..." The boss monster pulled out tall jars of milk, buttermilk, and heavy cream, then looked at her narrowly. "I don't wish to be rude, but how long have you been transporting these? I know the weather is cold, but won't they have spoiled by now?"

"Not on my watch," declared Frisk. "I used a few preservatives—if you put a little in the jar beforehand, it keeps the contents fresh for up to a week without affecting the flavor."

"Seriously?" Even Undyne was interested. "That's pretty neat. Is this the kind of stuff you've been teaching Sans?"

"Yes, it is. He knows how to make preservatives, medicine, fertilizer—I brought the recipes and ingredients for those, too. You'll be able to save a huge amount of magic using them."

"I see," Toriel said slowly. She smiled, almost a grimace, as she put the jars away. "It may not have been under the best circumstances, but I am very thankful that he met you again, my child. His life has very hard since...since the accident, and I have not been as supportive as I could have. Spending time with a wonderful friend like you must have been such a relief to him."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Majesty. You had a lot of problems, too," protested Undyne.

"Yes, but I..." Toriel was definitely grimacing now. "I suppose you're right, Captain. Still, I am very glad to know that he has been in Frisk's care."

Frisk was fighting another blush. Her neck still itched from the healing spell the innkeeper had given her for the “crick” in her neck before they checked out that morning. "I hope I’ve helped. I know what it's like to lose someone, and to feel alone. I've missed you all so much," she said truthfully. "I just wish it was safe for some of you to come back with us for a visit."

Toriel's golden gaze sharpened. "With 'us,' my child? What do you mean?"

"Sans is gonna escort her home," Undyne said quickly. "Also, she wants bring some of our stuff back with her to show off, but she doesn't know how it all works. The humans are kinda used to Sans by now, so we figured he might as well tag along."

"That does sound like a good idea," Toriel agreed, and Frisk caught Undyne's eye for a grateful moment. "Would you like to open something else now, Papyrus?"

"HM?" The skeleton was playing with the rings again, figuring out how to lock them back together. "NO, THANK YOU, LADY TORIEL. I'LL WAIT FOR SANS. WHERE IS HE?"

Undyne was already tearing open another box, unasked. "Oh, no way! Are these targets?!"

"Of course! They look like wood, but it's actually metal." Frisk got up to look out the window. Where was Sans?

"Who knows? Maybe he found a lady friend," Undyne said absently, flicking the metal discs to test their sturdiness.

"That's not a nice thing to say, Undyne," Toriel reproved her.

For half an irate second, Frisk thought Toriel was angry on her behalf. Then her brain caught up, and she turned to ask, "Why? Because there aren't any other boss monsters?"

"Exactly," said the former Queen, "and a lesser monster would not suit him. It's honestly a bit cruel to suggest that he—"

"WHAT ABOUT A HUMAN?" Papyrus asked without looking up.

Pause. "A human?" Toriel repeated as Undyne and Frisk glanced at each other in alarm.

"YES. HUMANS ARE PLENTIFUL, AND SOME OF THEM HAVE MAGIC! COULDN'T SANS BORROW ONE? FOR EXAMPLE, FRISK IS VERY—"

"No."

Everyone froze at the vehemence in Toriel's voice. The boss monster breathed in, and out, almost baring her teeth. "I...excuse me. I need to check that this is everything necessary for a pie."

Undyne let the targets slide off her lap as Toriel took her boxes to the kitchen. "What's the matter with you, Papyrus?" the Captain hissed. "Why’d you have to go and bring up humans? Don't you remember what happened with Chara?"

The skeleton's brow creased. "JUST THAT THE HUMAN PRINCESS WENT TO LIVE WITH OTHER HUMANS...WHEN WAS IT AGAIN?"

"A little over…what, twenty years ago? I guess you were probably just a kid, but still…" Undyne saw how intently Frisk was listening, and sighed. The Captain checked the kitchen, where Toriel was occupied with moving things around and muttering to herself, then beckoned them closer. "Okay, here’s the short version. A bunch of humans came to see the King," she said quietly. "They were here for a couple weeks, and Chara got really depressed after they left. The King wound up sending her off to marry one of the guys she'd met—didn’t you learn this in history class, Pap?"

Papyrus still looked blank, and the fish monster sighed in exasperation. "Anyway, she came right back here 'cause the marriage didn't work out, not sure why. Asgore had a huge fight with Asriel and the Queen about whether Chara should stay here or go marry another human. He made her leave again, but she never got married to anyone, and she didn't come back until the visit where everyone blew up."

"OH." Papyrus looked at the reconnected rings in his hand. "WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH SANS MARRYING A HUMAN?"

There went Frisk's face again. "Because," mumbled Undyne, "as far as everyone is concerned, it all happened because a human got too involved with monsters—an adult human,” she clarified, nodding at Frisk. “The whole problem with Chara was that there was no one here for her to pair off with. Monsters can always figure out a way to combine their magic if they really want to have kids, but she didn't have any magic at all, so it wouldn’t have worked. Besides, humans barely even live sixty years. Asgore thought it'd cause too much heartache if she stayed."

Papyrus digested this information for a moment, then said at least part of what Frisk was thinking: "DIDN'T IT CAUSE A LOT MORE HEARTACHE TO SEND HER AWAY? THIS WAS HER HOME, AND THEY WERE HER FAMILY, EVEN IF SHE COULDN’T GET MARRIED."

"That's exactly what Asriel and Toriel thought, and they never forgave him for it. Then both Chara and Asriel wound up dead, and Asgore blamed every single thing on the humans. Then Toriel stood up in front of everyone and said it was his own damn fault for throwing their child out like a dog, twice, and here we are now."

Frisk shivered. Those were Chara's words from the day Frisk hid in the living room and overheard those terrible things. As a child, she hadn't understood why Chara seemed to hate her kind, loving parents so much. Poor Princess, Frisk thought bitterly, digging her nails into her leg. "Papyrus," she said aloud, "check your gray box. It's not a puzzle."

A moment later, Toriel looked up at a strange sound, like air hissing out of a broken pipe. She finished re-packing the pie ingredients and turned to see Papyrus holding up a bundle of dry pasta, some ground beef, various herbs, and a bag of fresh tomatoes. His sockets were the size of salad plates, and he was making a noise that could best be described as a pre-scream.

"Hey, would you look at that, Pap! You haven't made spaghetti in years! What have you done?" Undyne said through gritted teeth, ending with a glare at Frisk.

As expected, Papyrus paid no attention. He had just enough presence of mind to set the box down gently before he exploded into a rapturous, unbroken "THANK YOOOOU" that lasted at least two straight minutes, starting with a huge hug-and-twirl for Frisk, then Undyne as she rescued the human, and finally ending in the kitchen with "LADY TORIEL!!! LOOK!!!!"

"That is wonderful, Papyrus, but…oh, dear! Look at the time," Toriel exclaimed. "Ladies, may I expect you at my house tonight, around eight o’clock? I'll have a pie waiting!"

Frisk bit back her reflexive protest about Sans. "What about the rest of your gifts?" she asked instead.

Toriel smiled at her. "We can come back here tomorrow, of course! After all, I missed seeing Sans today. We don't need to stay cooped up in the Ruins for your entire visit!"

"AND IT MAY BE POSSIBLE THAT I WILL HAVE LEFTOVER SPAGHETTI FOR YOU, LADY TORIEL!" added Papyrus. "NOT THAT I EXPECT IT TO GO UNEATEN, NYEH! I WILL MERELY BE SURE TO MAKE ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE. I WOULD HATE FOR YOU TO MISS THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN OF CULINARY PERFECTION!"

"Yes, of course," the former Queen said kindly, eye twitching only a little.

The priestess hesitated, and Undyne stepped in again: "We'll see what happens this afternoon, Your Majesty. We've got a lot more stuff to give out, and Alphys wants to see Frisk, too. I don't know how late we'll be back here tonight, and it's a long walk to the Ruins—"

"That's what Sans is for!" Toriel said gaily, and Frisk felt a twinge of irritation. "If I come across him," the boss monster continued, gathering up the boxes of ingredients, "I will be sure to send him straight here. Until then, my child, please enjoy your stay. I'll see you this evening!"

There was no way out of it, so Frisk smiled and nodded and waited for the door to close before she said, "Dammit."

Undyne shrugged sympathetically. "It's a mom thing. Mine was the same way."

Frisk bent to pick up handfuls of packing paper. "So was mine," she muttered.

The Captain waited for more, but Frisk went on grabbing and folding up paper until it became apparent that that was all. Undyne shrugged, glanced at her unopened boxes, and shrugged again, reaching for the comics. "Just put it outside," she advised as Frisk looked around for a larger trashcan. The human sighed, draping her cloak over her shoulders as she opened the door.

Papyrus was puttering around the kitchen in sheer bliss. Out of habit, Undyne got up to supervise, and they were soon embroiled in a deathmatch against the tomatoes and noodles. "Higher! HIGHER!" the Captain yelled. "Remember! You have to break your foes' fighting spirit! Hear their cries of defeat and smell their agony!"

The skeleton clanged the wooden spoon harder against the sides of the pot. "Yes! I hear it!" he exclaimed.

"Yes! Good! You—" Undyne stopped. "Wait. I hear it, too." She went to the door, through which came a distinctive, high-pitched sound. "Oh," she said in disgust. "What the hell is he doing here?" The fish monster reached for the doorknob. "Close your ears, Pap."

Papyrus blinked, spoon still poised for a mortal blow. "But I don't have—"

Undyne opened the door, and the skeleton dropped the spoon into the sauce mixture as a shrill mechanical voice cut through the air: "I simply can't believe it! My little beauty grew into such a real beauty! What a sight for sore eyes amidst all these...these monsters!"

"Shut up, tin man," snapped the Royal Guard Captain, coming onto the porch. "I—oh! Hey, Alphys! Where did you guys come from?"

"From a place with manners." Mettaton adjusted his fur stole and swept back his fringe of real black hair. "That awful skeleton said my little beauty was here, so I came all this way—"

"Do you know where Sans is?" demanded Frisk, who was still recovering from the shock of going to take out the garbage and encountering Mettaton instead.

"Y-yes," said the scientist, coming up behind the automaton. "He came to see me in a p-panic because he forgot how to teleport home. I hope he's still sleeping back in the l-lab."

Frisk stood stock-still. “He forgot…?”

“Pffffahahahaha!" The fish monster slammed her fist into the side of the house. "Oh my God! I knew I should have dragged him out of Grillby's when I had the chance! He was drunk, wasn't he?"

Alphys just sighed. Frisk growled under her breath, which made Undyne laugh even harder. "He..." She choked back a sob. "He was right here, and he walked all the way to...to..."

Pause. "I think he t-took the ferry," Alphys said, and moved back as the Captain collapsed into a snorting heap.

Oh, for God's sake, Sans! "Never mind. It's wonderful to see you again, Mettaton!" she said with unfeigned enthusiasm, shaking the automaton's still-pearly-gloved hand. His arms were much less floppy now, his body more streamlined, face smoothly outlined with tiny gemstones. Before he could launch into any further praise, the human moved aside and took Alphys' clawed hand. "And thank you so much for coming all the way here, Doctor. It means a lot to me."

There was that shy, scaly smile. "Th-thank you, um, Frisk. I'm r-really glad you're here." She chuckled nervously. "This is going to t-take some getting used to. But...you are v-very p-pretty."

Frisk smiled wider, and bent to give the scientist a hug. “Thank you,” she said in Alphys’ ear. “I’ve really missed you.”

The scientist mumbled something, then yelped as Undyne suddenly scooped them both up. "You know what else? This lady brought a buttload of presents for everyone,” she announced, setting them down on the porch. “Go on in while I grab your stuff!"

"I..." It was no use pointing out that the living room was about a third of the size required to open all the additional gifts, especially Mettaton's: Undyne was already charging toward the shed. "Yes, please, come in," said Frisk, leading the way inside. It would pass the time till Sans got back, she thought ruefully.

It wasn't his fault. Grillby had talked, and Sans had drank mudslides, and then Sans didn't know where he was anymore.

Everything was a blur for a while after that. He had no explanation for why he kept walking back and forth past his house, or how he wound up on the ferry, or how long he'd been lying outside the lab when Mettaton's rib-prodding woke him up. Sans had made it inside and found some nice cool floor to collapse on, and nothing else happened for a while.

Then a horrible, oozing feeling of dread crept over him, starting at the top of his cranium and trickling down till it hit his SOUL. He twisted to look upward at a familiar little pair of feet. The demon-child was suddenly peering down into his face, waving merrily, whispering, “Good to be back.”

And then it was gone. It stayed gone, too—no more fear, no nightmares, nothing. That was a relief, but a really weird one. The thing probably hadn’t even been there; it was just the mudslide talking…

The next time Sans awoke, he was alone, and any lingering apprehensions vanished as he looked at the clock. It was already late afternoon, heading into the evening. Shit! Where was Alphys? Where was Frisk?!

...Right. She was in Snowdin. Okay.

Where was Snowdin?!

Think, think. Snowdin: he lived there. It had his house. Sans took stock of his magic, which was doing well, and his mental capabilities, which could probably direct his teleportation now without getting him encased in solid rock or dropping him hundreds of feet from the cavern ceiling. The giant skeleton concentrated, and a moment later, he was back on the floor in his own room.

An odd smell was drifting up from the kitchen almost directly below. Dammit, he'd told Frisk not to actually get any spaghetti stuff! Oh, well, Pap sounded pretty happy. Where was everyone else?

A faint thud on the side of the house answered that question; Undyne was outside, laughing her ass off. Not long after, the front door crashed open and more voices flooded the house. To his surprise, he heard Mettaton and maybe a little of Alphys before Undyne and Papyrus drowned her out. There was Frisk, too, directing things—how the hell were they going to fit everyone inside?

The answer seemed to be a combination of Papyrus sitting on the stairs and Undyne smushing up against Alphys on the couch. Sans wished Undyne would hurry up and ask her out already; Al could use some non-fictional companionship, and the house could use a little less time with Undyne in it.

Should he at least come out and say hi, even if he had to stay upstairs and lean over the railing? But he didn't feel like talking to everyone, or making them feel like they had to find room for him. Besides, for all he knew, Frisk was still mad at him, just because he'd been a stupid jerk in front of people and then disappeared without warning for half the day...

No, better stay where he was for now, safe in his room, listening to them have fun as Undyne brought the presents in, and not feeling jealous or lonely at all.

Mettaton went first, because he was Mettaton. He also had the bulkiest set of gifts, including several bolts of very expensive silk; the automaton was so overjoyed that he promised to have his tailors make a couple of things for Frisk, too, and loan her some of his new hair accessories. Sans just hoped he wasn't going to make her wear the literal paint she'd bought for his face!

Did she even own any makeup? He'd never seen her wear more than a tiny bit. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her wear anything fancier than that dumb, sexy purple dress for All Souls Day.

There was more mechanical jubilation from downstairs, this time over the sets of dance steps and sheet music. Now MTT was proposing a grand fete after the next shipment of food arrived and Frisk's measurements had been taken, perhaps toward the end of her visit. After all, she still couldn’t be sure that Asgore was willing to make peace between the two kingdoms, and whether the dance would be a celebration or a permanent send-off; more importantly, they couldn’t start planning till the caterers knew exactly what they'd be working with.

Sans smirked into the darkness. A party, huh? As long as it didn't remind anyone of the farewell gala thirteen-ish years ago, then whatever, Frisk would love it; he'd be careful not to stare too hard if she got dressed up. He'd seen plenty of fancy ladies at the castle, and he was sure he could handle the sight of any—

Cries of dismay came through the floorboards. The boss monster was ready to zip downstairs and start busting heads, but the furor died right down, and he soon pieced together what'd happened: Papyrus had come over to admire something with a plate of spaghetti in his hand, only to trip over...probably nothing, and Frisk had thrown herself between the silk on Mettaton’s lap and the flying arc of tomato sauce.

The good news was that Mettaton was offering to take her laundry back with him, including a stain treatment for her sacrificed dress; the bad news was that she didn't have anything clean to wear in the meantime. There was a moment of silence as they tried to figure out what to do, with Mettaton's entourage all the way off in Hotland and the shops already closed for the day.

Alphys spoke, and after another quiet moment, Papyrus yelled something, his footsteps tramping excitedly up the stairs, Frish right behind him. They clattered around for a minute in Pap’s room, probably the closet; then she headed to the bathroom at the end of the hall, Sans trying not to tense up as she walked by.

He must have made some kind of noise, because now Papyrus was knocking on his door. "BROTHER? IS THAT YOU? IF THAT IS YOU, COME OUT THIS INSTANT! WE HAVE ALL BEEN CONCERNED ABOUT YOU AND YOUR TENDENCY TO DISAPPEAR FOR LONG PERIODS WITHOUT BEING HERE!"

Sans cringed. Of course Pap would be worried about him not coming back! Feeling like a complete ass, the boss monster got up slowly, yawning wide and rubbing his sockets as he opened the door. "Hey, bro," he mumbled. "Sorry 'bout that. I just thought I'd get some rest, didn't know I was gonna fall asleep."

"HMPH." Papyrus didn't just make the sound; he always had to say "hummff." "COME DOWNSTAIRS AND SAY HELLO TO OUR GUESTS. AND SPAGHETTI!! THE GREATEST GUEST OF ALL!!"

Oh, for God's sake, Frisk! Why had she—no, there was no use crying about it now. He couldn’t count on giving it away to anyone, either: even the starvingest monster remembered what Pap’s cooking was like. "Whoa, really? Lemme see," Sans said with enough enthusiasm to make Papyrus race downstairs to the kitchen.

The boss monster came out and paused at the head of the stairs. There was a small table in the corner at the foot of the staircase; he lifted it up and set it down next to him in the hallway, then zipped himself down to sit in the now-free space. God, he hated being huge. "Hey, guys," he said, pulling his legs up to his ribcage.

"What do you mean, 'hey, guys'?!" Undyne was glad for the excuse to put down her spaghetti, though it was difficult to find room for it on the floor. "What the hell have you been doing, besides being drunk and stupid?" She tried to stay angry, but a smirk kept showing through. "Did you seriously go all the way to the lab because you couldn't find your house?"

A beat of silence. "Yes?" hazarded Sans.

The only thing that saved Undyne from another attack of the giggles was the bathroom door opening upstairs. "Is that you, Sans?" called Frisk.

His SOUL went pitter-patter again. "Yeah, I'm back. Couldn't stay away from Pap's spaghetti," he replied, earning a soft “NYEHH” from the kitchen.

"I dunno, this might not be the right batch for you," Undyne said, loud enough for Frisk to hear. "The sauce is, uh, good, but it’s..." Snort. "It's..." Cough. "It's really lumpy."

More silence. It took Sans a second to remember why he wanted to punch her for saying that, and then fucking Papyrus had to add, “LUMPS ARE ESSENTIAL FOR PROPER FLAVOR!”

It was quiet upstairs; then Undyne snickered, and Frisk burst out laughing, the sound echoing down the stairwell and setting Undyne off again until both women were near tears.

"Private jokes are for children, darling," Mettaton informed Undyne, nudging his own plate away with his foot.

"You're for children," she mumbled, and Mettaton rolled his crystalline eyes.

“WELL?” A moment of crisis united them again: Papyrus was in the kitchen doorway, looking expectant. Alphys bravely twirled up an entire forkful and crammed it in her mouth, moving her cheeks to fake a smile.

They all fell respectfully silent as Papyrus went back to the kitchen, Undyne grabbing a glass of water for Alphys to help wash it down. "Oh, d-dear. Well, getting back to your idea, M-Mettaton," the scientist wheezed, "we should r-really ask His Majesty b-before we have any big events like that."

Mettaton clicked at her. "Oh, Alphys, it won't be anything excessive! Just a band, a few tables, every single monster in the Underground dressed in their absolute best—"

"Like this?" Frisk asked wryly, coming down the last step.

Sans had angled himself to face the others, and he stayed that way long enough to see their reactions first. For some reason, Mettaton looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. “Really, darling?” the automaton asked distastefully. “It’s like wrapping a star sapphire in toilet paper.”

Papyrus, on the other hand, was absolutely delighted: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WOULD FIT YOU, HUMAN! SANS, LOOK AT WHAT I'VE HAD IN MY CLOSET ALL THESE YEARS, JUST IN CASE, NYEH-HEH!"

"I l-like it. If w-we ever had a costume party, that w-would be perfect," Alphys remarked, adjusting her glasses.

Undyne snorted. "Yeah, except he didn’t look like that up top!"

Sans had no idea what to expect when he turned his head. He’d just been imagining Frisk in a ruffly ballgown, and it occurred to him much later that if she’d come downstairs wearing something really fancy or weird, he’d have been fine. But she wasn’t, and he wasn’t.

Frisk was wearing his old clothes. The blue hooded jacket, the white shirt, the black pants with white stripes—there they were, wrenchingly familiar and yet very different. For one thing, they were a bit too small on her; the pants reached the tops of her knees, while the shirt just barely covered her midsection. She wasn’t a lot taller now than he’d been before the accident, but as Undyne had immediately noticed, Frisk was filling it out far better than Sans ever had.

Her perfect figure notwithstanding, it also hit him that she was wearing the most shoddy, unfashionable, lazily masculine clothes possible – hence Mettaton’s distress – and she still looked like a princess.

"SPEECHLESS AT MY FORETHOUGHT, EH, BROTHER?" Papyrus had puffed his own chest out. "THE CLOTHING YOU WORE TO THE GALA MAY HAVE BEEN DESTROYED, BUT I HAD A SECOND, SECRET SET HIDDEN AWAY! DID YOU NEVER WONDER HOW I ALWAYS WASHED YOUR CLOTHES SO QUICKLY WHEN YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER?"

Sans tried to say "Sort of," or literally anything else, but too many things were crowding his mind, starting with nostalgia, and amazement that he'd ever been that small, with some bemusement that she was still so tiny. But that outfit also represented everything he used to be, everything he wanted back and couldn't have...and Frisk, who he was supposed to pretend he didn't want.

That was plenty of emotional crap to work through, and it wasn’t even his biggest problem. When Sans tried looking down to get ahold of himself, he found himself staring at the one thing that fit her perfectly.

“YES, I EVEN PRESERVED YOUR SOCKS FOR POSTERITY!” boasted Papyrus. “I HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO KEEP THAT GIANT PILE IN YOUR ROOM, EXCEPT OF COURSE FOR THE ONES I MADE INTO SOCK PUPPETS. BUT THOSE THAT I SAVED AS REGULAR SOCKS HAVE BEEN AWAITING THE DAY WHEN SOMEONE COULD WEAR THEM AGAIN!”

Sans made a noise. It could have been a disagreeable noise, or a polite one, or anything in between. He didn’t know, or care, because her feet were right there, and his dumb old socks had somehow become the most erotic thing imaginable—and he could imagine a lot of things. Sure, her feet had always been cute to look at because they were so small, but so was the rest of her. Those stupid goddamn socks were…more cute. A lot more.

Not for the first time, he thought of last night, smelling and hearing and touching, and wondered what’d happen if they ever got around to that stuff again with more lights on. He could handle seeing her, or everything else at once, and literally no combination thereof.

Frisk was looking at him, wine-colored eyes wide with puzzlement. “Sans?” She raised one foot to scratch her other calf. “Are you—”

Noooope nope— The only thing Sans could do to keep from tackling her in front of everyone was yell, “Be right back!” and take a shortcut to the first place he could think of.

There was stunned silence in his aftermath. Alphys gave a faint, heartbroken moan of “Oh, c-c-c’mon, he was right at the best part!”

“My, my,” Mettaton said slowly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was being…amorous.”

“Nope, no way, he’s just weird,” Undyne muttered. “He probably doesn’t have a thing for feet at all. …Geez, did you guys see the way he was staring?! What’s wrong with him?”

Frisk was beet-red. “Well, dinner was absolutely delicious!” she chirped. “Thank you, Papyrus! So, Alphys! Why don’t you open your gifts now?!”

By unspoken consent, they turned to watch Alphys pick up her first box, passing their plates back for Frisk to discreetly scrape back into the pot and shove back into the refrigerator. Luckily, Papyrus wasn’t paying much attention; he was still staring at the foot of the stairs where his brother had been. “HOW STRANGE,” he muttered. “I REALLY THOUGHT HE’D LIKE THE SOCKS.”

One hour later, the clock struck eight, and Asgore jerked upright, staring blearily into the semi-darkness. Only the kitchen light was on; the fireplace was down to the last embers. The King of monsters retrieved his cold tea, threw it into the grate, and got up to put the mug in the sink.

A sound at the front door made him look up; a heavy knock made him scowl and raise his voice a little more than necessary. “Yes? Can it wait till morning?” he asked brusquely.

“I don’t think ya should, Yer Majesty,” said a familiar voice.

Asgore’s scowl deepened until he was nearly snarling. With great effort, he said, “One moment, Sans,” and tossed the mug into the kitchen, ignoring the sound of ceramic breaking. He took his time crossing the living room, and was in no hurry to unlock or open the door. “Good evening,” he eventually greeted the other boss monster.

Sans was a couple of steps down, putting him and the King on eye level. “Evenin’,” he replied. “Sorry ta be here so close to bedtime, but I owe someone a favor.”

Asgore raised an eyebrow. “A favor? What do y—”

“Dreemurr.”

The King stood as though he’d been changed to stone: not even his eyes moved as Toriel emerged from behind the leafless black tree in the courtyard. She nodded grimly, folding her hands. “I am here to say something to you about Frisk. Anything you say in return will be a waste of breath.”

No reaction. She nodded again and took another step forward, voice flat, eyes cold and hard. “You’ve allowed Frisk to be here, but I know you, Your Majesty. You’ll let the rest of her visit pass without so much as a word to her, and you will let her go home empty-handed, hoping Stephin will forbid her to come again and save you further discomfort. Never mind the possibility of procuring food for your people and freeing our kindred from slavery, unless you—”

“Tori,” grunted Sans. “Leave ‘im alone. Get to the point.”

Asgore glanced at him in surprise. Toriel ground her teeth, but after a moment, she said calmly, “You are right, my friend. I will be brief: I wish to inform His Majesty that if any harm befalls Frisk for any reason while she is here, there will be consequences…and that if His Majesty does not meet with her in a diplomatic capacity before she returns to the humans, I will do so.”

Both men started. “You can’t do that,” the King protested. “When you left here—”

Sans braced himself, and sure enough, Tori drew herself up till she seemed about thirty feet tall. “Do not tell me what I cannot do, Dreemurr!” she thundered. “When I left here, I ceased to be Queen, but I have not ceased to be me! You will not take another child from me, and I will not allow you to deprive our people of their last hope because you are too proud to admit your own incompetence! Do you understand?”

One more long, frozen instant. Asgore took a deep breath…

He slammed the door shut.

Sans coughed theatrically. “So. That…that happened.”

Toriel’s eyes closed. “Take us to Snowdin, please” was all she said.

Sans complied, letting her come up and lay a furry hand on his arm before he whisked them through space and onto the porch of his house.

“Thank you, my friend,” said Toriel. She gave him a tired smile. “I am so sorry. You wanted someone to talk to, and I made you take me straight to that close-minded, selfish—” The former Queen shook herself. “I…don’t suppose that whatever you wanted to talk about can be discussed in a minute or so? I’d like to collect the girls and head home now. If you want to stop by tomorrow—”

“Nah, the timing’s my fault. Don’t worry, it’s a short thing,” Sans said absently. He glanced at the door, wondering if everyone was still there, then ceasing to wonder as he heard several different voices at once and also some clanking. It sounded like they were playing charades. “It’s more of a thing I’d like ya to think over so we can talk about it later. And don’t tell anyone. Please.”

Toriel nodded pleasantly. “Of course, Sans. What is troubling you?”

Sans grabbed the doorknob, said, “I’m in love with a human,” and opened the door to boisterous greetings of “Sans!” “Where have you been, punk?!” and “SANS! THANK GOODNESS! QUICK, HELP ME EXPRESS THE CONCEPT OF ‘SUMMER RAINDROPS’!”

#songfell #shoulda been like three ones oh well

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