#so I haven’t been looking in mirrors and I’ve been avoiding my shadow too

[slippinmickeys]

Three Part Harmony (17/?)

The rest of the story can be found here.

The date, Rhonda thought, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that she’d gone out with Jerry, he was more persistent than ever that she go out with him again. It made going in to work–where she knew he’d be waiting for her–even more nerve wracking than life in the last week and half already was.

She pulled into her normal parking spot next to the dumpster behind the diner and took a deep, cleansing breath. The dark sedan that had been her constant shadow was no longer tailing her so far as she could tell, and she had been watching diligently.

The dry goods from her grocery store jaunt were still tucked safely in the trunk of her car in case she got a chance to head back to the cabin, but she had not felt confident enough in her safety–and that of Mulder and Scully and little William–to yet try.

She grabbed her purse and headed in through the back door of the diner and on through to her locker, avoiding the ever watchful eye of Fred when she clocked in. Rhonda was only scheduled to work the lunch shift today, and the end of the breakfast rush was still humming along if the noise and clatter from the dining room was any indication. She was just closing up her locker when the door opened and Clarice walked in.

“Oh!” said the younger woman. “Ron, I almost forgot you were working today.”

Rhonda smiled at her and shrugged.

“I don’t suppose Jerry thinks the same thing?” she hedged hopefully. “That I’m not on today and maybe he’s drinking coffee at home?”

Clarice smiled at her sympathetically.

“‘Fraid not,” she said. “He’s holding court and waiting for you, just like always.”

Rhonda felt her shoulder slump, but sighed, resigned to her fate. “Anyway,” Clarice went on. “There’s no way he would have left yet today anyway. Not with all the excitement going on.”

A dart of unease piercing her chest, Rhonda raised an eyebrow.

“Excitement?”

Clarice’s eyes lit up. Whatever she was about to tell Rhonda, she’d been dying to share.

“That couple that took that baby last week? That those FBI agents were in here about? They caught ‘im.”

Rhonda felt the blood drain from her face.

“They found the baby?” she asked, her voice oddly high pitched.

Clarice shook her head, disappointed. “No. Just the man. Joe was in here this morning,” she went on, referring to Joe Watson, one of the local Sheriff’s deputies. “Said they caught the guy up at the Walmart in Rover. Buying supplies. Diapers and everything. Redhanded.”

Clarice was clearly riding the high of the sensational drama and wanted to dish, but Rhonda could feel her stomach sinking to her toes, and she lowered herself to sit on the small bench in front of the lockers.

“Guess that means the baby must be okay,” Rhonda said distractedly.

“Yeah,” Clarice agreed. “Though they haven’t found that poor thing yet. Or the guy’s wife. Hey, you okay?”

Rhonda was not okay. Her thoughts were a swirling miasma of terror and regret and shame. She had failed that little family. Suddenly, the meager breakfast she’d eaten that morning started rushing up her esophagus. She lurched past Clarice and into the first stall, retching what remained of the food into the cold white bowl.

Clarice made a concerned noise from behind her, but Rhonda straightened and wiped the back of her hand across her chin, standing.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said suddenly, pushing past the other waitress to rinse off her hands in the sink.

“Oh my god, yes of course,” Clarice said, her brows knitted together in worry. “You’re sick. I’ll take your shift. Tomorrow’s too.”

Rhonda gave her a grateful look in the mirror, then rushed over to her locker and grabbed her purse and coat. She paused in the doorway, wanting to say something to the younger woman, but instead just nodded at her and rushed out the back of the restaurant.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully paced in front of the big bay windows, somewhat confident in their safety while William napped in his back bedroom. She had several major problems, and no real way of dealing with any of them.

She hadn’t the faintest notion how to go about getting Mulder back, if he had really and truly been captured—and with their supplies nearly out and their only mode of transportation gone, Scully and William were in a pretty serious situation; they had almost nothing to eat and no way of going out to get something.

There was a landline to the cottage, but no one had yet called it, and the only numbers she could think to call herself were likely being monitored.

The bottom line was, she was in deep shit.

As she stood, contemplating the merits of walking out to the road with her son in a baby carrier and trying her hand at hitchhiking, the sound of a car engine once again carried in from the front of the cabin.

She whipped her head toward the sound, fearing a return of the dark sedan, hoping for a glimpse of Mulder in the Grand Prix, but what she saw instead was Rhonda’s old Datsun, flying down the rutted drive at entirely too fast a pace. Scully watched as the car skidded to halt on the frozen dirt, and the next thing she knew, Rhonda stumbled through the door and looked as though she were about to collapse upon seeing Scully.

“Oh thank God!” the older woman quailed, closing the gap and throwing her arms around Scully in a simpering relief.

Scully, quite relieved herself at seeing her waitress-shaped salvation, clung tightly to her for a long moment before the older woman pulled back.

“Honey, I don't know how to say this,” Rhonda said, bringing her hands up to cup Scully’s cheeks. “But…”

“They have Mulder,” Scully whispered, hating the awful truth of saying it out loud. “I know.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder sat in the small interview room in the Sheriff’s office with metal handcuffs biting into his wrists. It had been nothing more than rotten luck and bad timing, and Mulder had no one to blame but himself.

He’d thought he was home free–had made it into the superstore with no issues and bought everything he needed, paying with cash and loading the car without a single person in the parking lot so much as looking in his direction. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out of the Walmart parking lot, the needle of his inner compass pointing toward his waiting family.

What he hadn’t done, and what he was now kicking himself for, was to pop the rear fender with his fist before he got in the car, as the man who had sold him the Grand Prix told him to do in order to avoid having the driver’s side tail light blink out while on the road. And not a half-block from the parking lot, that’s exactly what the car’s tail light did. And was spotted by a local cop, who had nothing better to do that morning than pull Mulder over.

He no doubt had Mulder and Scully’s wanted pictures sitting on his passenger seat, as quick as he was to pull his gun on Mulder and ask him to step out of the vehicle. The man was no doubt now collecting congratulatory back thumps out in the bullpen from every cop in the tristate area.

The only law enforcement officer who didn’t have a smile on his face upon seeing Mulder being frogmarched through the Sheriff’s department after his arrest had been FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner, who had followed Mulder’s progress through the booking process with the searing disappointment of a father watching their kid stumble through the front door four hours after curfew.

He wore the same expression now, as he walked through the door to the interview room and lowered himself into the chair opposite Mulder with a weary sigh.

Neither man spoke for several long moments, the chains of Mulder’s cuffs making the only sound in the plain gray room.

“A tail light,” Skinner finally exhaled, popping his eyes up to Mulder’s.

Mulder could do naught but shrug. “They got Capone on taxes.”

“This isn’t funny, Mulder.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Skinner leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over his bald pate. “Where’s Scully?”

At this, Mulder did actually laugh. “I think we can dispense with questions that you know for a fact I’ll never answer.”

Skinner could only look at him. “We’re not being recorded or monitored.”

“Well in that case, Walter, I’ll tell you everything I know.” Mulder couldn’t help but let the sarcasm drip from his words.

His former boss sighed again. “Is she safe?”

“So far.” Mulder thought of where she was now, marooned in the Tetons. He fought a swell of anger, at himself, at Skinner.

“And the boy?”

“You mean my son?” Mulder couldn’t help but be prickly. Skinner may have warned them about the danger the boy faced, but he also appeared to be leading the charge on bringing them all in. Mulder was pretty sure his motivations were from a place of wanting to help, but he was also in a curious and precarious position with regard to his day job, and at some point, Mulder figured, self-preservation was bound to kick in.

Skinner’s shoulders sagged.

“Is he okay? He wasn’t hurt? At the farmhouse?”

“He’s okay,” Mulder said.

“That was a hell of a thing we walked into.”

“You’re telling me.”

Skinner leveled a look at him and then threw one over his shoulder as if making sure the interview room door was closed.

“It’s out of my hands what they end up charging you with, Mulder,” he said, turning back to him, his voice low, almost pleading. “You’re officially still wanted for Knowle Rohrer’s death. Escaping military custody.” Skinner leaned forward. “But I need to know, how many counts of murder are they going to tack on?”

“Depends,” Mulder said, thinking of the two men in the nursery that William had held in suspended animation. “How many bodies did you find?”

Skinner gave him a confused look.

Mulder knew he would never get a fair shake from any other cop that came through the interview room door, but Skinner of all people would believe him, and he wanted to set the story straight at least once. Trusting that Skinner was being honest about their conversation not being listened to, Mulder leaned forward earnestly.

“I’m not being glib, sir,” he explained. “And going forward, I will be exercising my right to remain silent. But when we left that house, I’m not sure how many bodies we left behind.”

“Explain,” his former superior said, throwing another look over his shoulder. They probably didn’t have much time.

“The parents were already dead when we arrived,” Mulder said, and Skinner nodded grimly. He probably had already suspected as much. “And they’d managed to take out one of their attackers.”

“The shotgun victim?” Skinner asked.

Mulder nodded brusquely. “And I was attacked not long after we arrived. I defended myself.” He could still feel his hands around the man’s neck, the dark satisfaction of squeezing, of exacting the rage he felt at all the injustices he’d suffered while doing the best he could for his infant son.

Skinner’s jaw tightened, but he nodded at Mulder to go on.

“When we got to the nursery…” Mulder paused, picturing the terrifying scene in his head. “The mother was already gone. And the two other bodies there…I don’t know what William did to them, but…”

Skinner suddenly looked puzzled.

“There weren’t two men there? Dead on the floor?” Mulder asked, remembering the way they’d crumpled to the floor when Scully had scooped up their wailing son.

“There was only the mother,” Skinner said. He narrowed his eyes. “What did William do?”

A heavy weight suddenly pressed on Mulder’s chest. “He’s capable of more than anyone can dream,” he said quickly. “And they know it now. You have to protect him, sir.”

Mulder watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he opened his mouth to say something when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Skinner turned and stood as a dark complexioned man in a suit took a step inside the room, his look expectant.

“No more questioning, Agent Bryson,” Skinner said, which earned him a less than cheery look. “He’s asking for counsel.”

Skinner made his way to the door and stared the other agent down, who gave Mulder an almost murderous look before turning to leave. Skinner followed him out and the door snapped shut behind them with a terrifying finality.

[kayyy-lmao]

.

[brvdges]

Like A River Flows - Stark!Reader x Peter Parker

Title: like a river flows

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N hopes to meet her soulmate on her eighteenth birthday. Soulmate No Blip AU

Warnings: none

A/N: I've been gone so long but here's a new imagine! I got a new laptop! So hopefully there will be tons more of these. I listened to "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Kina Grannis if you wanna get the full experience.

Word Count: 1824

___

You could hear the sound of glasses clinking and laughter echoing up from the main room as you tugged at your dress at the top of the stairs. You turned around and looked in the ornate mirror behind you. 

Everything about you was perfectly polished and plucked; your lace was perfectly laid with every hair beautifully framing your face. Your ears were adorned with simple gold diamond studs and a matching name necklace sat daintily on your collarbone.

Your makeup was done to perfection with your brown eyes sparkling from behind layers of shadow, liner, mascara, and false lashes. For the first time in your life, you had gotten your makeup done professionally. Your father had paid for it of course -- it was at his insistence that you had gotten it done.

In fact, the entire party was at his insistence and he had taken it upon himself to have every detail perfect. You didn’t really want a big elaborate birthday party, but today was the big day. 

Everyone had a special day when you’d finally know the person you’re meant to be with. At a young age, you’d come to the conclusion somehow your meeting would be on your eighteenth birthday. When your father was enlightened with this fact, he had taken it upon himself to make everything perfect -- including you. Thanks to him, you looked undeniably stunning.  It was the most beautiful you had seen yourself in a long while. Ever since your mom had passed, you hadn't felt the need to dress up anymore -- so it no longer felt like you.

“You look absolutely radiant, Y/N.” Pepper assured you as she joined you in looking in the mirror. “Your father outdid himself. Just wait until he sees you.” You understood immediately what she meant, you were almost a spitting image of your mother. Your mahogany skin and high cheekbones were hers, as was your smile and arched eyebrows. The only evidence of your father was the occasional facial expression. “You ready?” she asked turning you back towards the steps. 

You nodded and smiled cautiously, “You’re gonna be okay. There’s so many people down there and they’re all excited to see you.” The two of you peered over the banister down all the sea of people below. Your father had indeed gone for a more sophisticated approach, but as with all Stark parties it was pretty much promised to liven up as the night went on. 

“All right! Chin up!” You did as you were told and began your way down the grand staircase. As you made your descent, you saw the attention shift to you as everyone took you in for the first time that night. “The birthday girl is here!” Natasha raised a glass to you. You smiled to her as you were welcomed with a myriad of birthday wishes.

As the party continued on, you felt almost like a princess. So many promising people had come up and introduced themselves to you; however nothing had clicked yet. You were starting to wonder if all the theatrics had been for nothing when your dad found you. You were standing against the wall watching your friends have a ball of a time dancing to the DJ that had recently taken place of the string quartet. 

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be dancing?” he asked, his dark brows furrowing in confusion. You sighed disappointedly, “Yeah, I guess.” You picked at a string on your dress, “I thought I’d meet them today.” Your dad nodded glancing over at Pepper. She was talking excitedly to Natasha -- likely about wedding plans. The way he looked at her was so beautiful. The way you could tell everything he felt for her from just a look was absolutely amazing. That was it -- that what you wanted. 

“Well, Y/N, you never know there’s still a few hours left to your birthday.” you frowned a bit, “I’ve talked to every person here that I’ve never met. I’m pretty sure it’s not happening today.” your dad chuckled, “You know Y/N, I know I’ve told you the story of how I met your mom.”

“Italy, 1999.” you mumbled looking up at your father. He nodded, “We met and it felt right. I’m not one to be very emotional, but I knew I wanted to keep her around. There was just something about her.” you tilted your head, “She wasn’t your soulmate though. Pepper is.” He sighed, “She was the one for me -- well until she passed, of course. By that time, I had known Pepper for years and I didn’t see her in that way until one day, I just did.” He looked over at her again, her and Natasha had been joined by Maria.

“I don’t know if you're understanding what I’m getting at. I don’t know if I’m explaining it clearly. What I’m saying is -- it could be someone you’ve already met and maybe you just haven’t realized it yet. No one ever said it had to be someone new -- just that there was a day that you would know.” He gave you a small smile, “You should enjoy your night because either way, you look amazing, kiddo. Happy birthday.” he playfully hit you on the shoulder before walking away.

Taking your dad’s words to heart, you decided to let it go for the night and just have fun. You made your way out onto the dancefloor, your friends cheering at your arrival.

...

It was finally the end of the night, cake had been eaten and presents had been surveyed as there were too many to open. Most of the guests were beginning to go home but some still lingered out on the cul-de-sac. You stood on the front porch, your heels in your right hand as you waved people goodbye with your left.

“I seemed to have missed most of the festivities.” A familiar voice made you turn around to see your father’s prodigy, Peter Parker, standing behind you. You were pretty good friends with Peter as he had been working with your father for little over three years now. Even still, he seemed to have his moments where he seemed to shut himself off from you and get quiet. He seemed to have his moments and his secrets and so you didn’t really hang out much outside him visiting the tower.

He also wasn’t a social butterfly so even though you had invited him to your party, you didn’t actually expect him to show. Even though it was the end of the night, your spirits still rose seeing him here. “Yeah, you did. My dad got so drunk he serenaded Pepper on the bar.” the two of you laughed. 

You looked out over the seemingly never-ending property, your father had held your party at the summer home. It aided in you feeling like a princess, there was a garden maze on the south side of the home and a long driveway lit by lanterns. You glanced over at Peter and stepped off of the porch, “Would you like to join me on a walk?” He smiled and followed. 

The two of you slowly made your way towards the garden maze on the other side of the property. “You look...” he trailed off while admiring you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks and were glad he couldn’t actually see it, “Thank you.” The two of you turned into the garden maze as lightning bugs flew overhead and a cool breeze filled the air. As you walked, you tried to catch and release a few lightning bugs.

The sounds of late summer night hummed in the background as you spotted the small black rectangular box in his hand, “What’s that?” you asked. He looked down at it sheepishly, “It’s just something I got you. I don’t know if you’ll actually like it.” He had thought to buy you something? That was unexpected, but very welcomed. 

Without you saying anything, he slowly opened the small box to reveal another gold necklace. “It’s not 100 percent pure gold like the ones your dad gets you,” it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a small heart pendant attached to a gold chain. “It’s stupid really-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at it. “It’s beautiful, Peter.” You whispered in awe. 

“Would you mind? You can take the other one off.” You said turning around. He carefully removed it from the box. He put it over your head and placed the pendant on your collarbone before securing it in the back and you felt a warm sensation in your heart. Suddenly, everything changed. 

It was like your senses had sharpened. You could hear the distant conversation at the front of the property and the chirping of the crickets. You could feel the soft summer breeze across your body and Peter’s soft breath on the back of your neck where goosebumps had started to form. Every time his skin accidentally brushed yours, it felt delicate yet intense all at once. The world seemed to slow as he pulled your hair over the chain after removing the other necklace and turned you to face him. 

You studied his face and your eyes fell upon his brown ones. His hand found yours sending shivers through your body. You lightly squeezed his hand before pulling him closer feeling your knees start to get weak.

Resting your hand on the side of his face, you slowly guided him to the ground. You were close enough to lightly feel the air escaping his nose. He looked down at your lips and was about to lean in when- “Y/N! Come say goodbye to your grandmother!” your father called off from the distance somewhere. 

The two of you fell apart still sitting on the ground the closest you had ever been. You frowned slightly looking away, “I should say goodbye to my nonna. I usually give her a kiss and a hug goodbye.” You licked your lips looking down to avoid eye contact. “She flew in from Italy -- my mom’s side of the family. I don’t get to see her like that.” 

“No, no. I understand.” he mumbled as you both quickly stood. You began dusting off your dress as he helped. You looked up at him again quickly before looking back down again, “Thanks again. It’s beautiful.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes again because his gaze suddenly felt so intense, it felt like you’d melt. “You’re welcome.”

“Y/N!” your dad yelled off in the distance again. You gestured towards the balcony of the house where your dad was likely yelling from, “I have to go.” Peter nodded quickly, “I understand.” You admired him and watched as his eyes softly gazed over your features one last time. “Good night, Peter.” you waved quickly, “Good night, Y/N.” You gathered your dress and hurried off towards where your dad and nonna waited for you on the balcony.

That was it.

[talkfastromance4]

when i’m dreaming--calum hood oneshot

yeah so i’m going through something so this is very, very self-indulgent. 

word count: 2.3k

warnings: drinking linked a little with coping, going through a depressive low, best friend!calum

feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

***

Calum notices something is wrong the minute she steps outside. He was about to take a drink of his white claw, but his eyes went to her nails when she pulled Crystal in for a hug. She typically paints them to match her mood and today they’re opalescent pink, barely noticeable but still there. In plain sight but still visible while she secretly wants to be invisible.

She smiles and cracks jokes with everyone she says hello to then when she steps in front of Calum, he sees the sadness in her eyes. They’ve been best friends for awhile now, they’ve shared secrets, stories of first loves and heartaches, their fears, their wildest dreams. But there was always something she kept hidden, tucked away in a box welded shut.

“Hey bud,” she sighs.

“Hey short stuff,” he grins playfully pulling her in for a hug. Her arms wrap around him and he makes sure to give her an extra tight squeeze.

“I’m not that short,” she grumbles in his chest.

“You’re shorter than me,” he reminds rubbing her shoulder with his thumb. Although her arms are loose around him he can feel the tension in her shoulders that she’s carrying.

“Stop hogging her! I haven’t seen her in weeks!” Ashton exclaims and Calum pulls away.

He knows it was too soon to break the hug but to keep up with her own façade he doubts anyone else sees, he does it.

“Hey, you’re the one who disappeared into the desert for all those weeks,” she jokes rising on her toes to loop her arms around Ashton’s neck.

He gives her a big bear hug that lifts her a few inches off the ground, Calum sees her nails digging into her arm as she squeezes him.

“Had to recenter myself, you should try it sometime,” Ashton teases right back. As if she was shocked, she removes herself from the hug then accepts a bottle of Mike’s from Luke.

“I can take something stronger than this, Hemmings,” she takes a large chug regardless.

“Yeah? Like tequila? I got some limes,” he jerks his thumb behind him towards the drink table.

“I said stronger not deadly. You know I can’t handle tequila,” she scrunches her nose.

Everyone else laughs but alarms are going off in Calum’s head.

“Yeah, the floor of my Tesla doesn’t like tequila either,” Michael chimes in with a tray of shots.

“I told you to pull over,” she shrugs lifting up a shot. She takes a whiff and nods in approval at his selected alcohol choice.

“I was going 75 on the freeway!”

“And that’s why I threw up. Ready?” she lifts her glass.

Calum meets her eyes as over the hands of their friends as Ashton gives an impromptu speech about friendship and long rides. He wasn’t really paying attention because when their eyes locked, he saw the panic, he saw the fear of whatever was going on in her head.

**

The next time he sees her is at the movies. Her eyes are darker along with her nails that are now a hunter’s green; camouflaged but still visible. While they’re waiting in line for snacks, he lifts her hand in his and runs his thumb over the color.

“This is a pretty color, I’ve never seen it on you before,” he says.

“Yeah, um…wanted to try something different,” she shrugs. “Do you want the blue icee?”

“Is that even a question?” he raises a brow, and she laughs.

Once they’re settled in the seats the previews start. Calum opens up the bags of sweet and sour treats while she opens the boxes of milk duds. The large bowl of popcorn (with extra butter) is settled between them, long red straws sticking out of their frozen drinks.

Throughout the whole movie, it’s an action romantic comedy, Calum keeps glancing at her. He watches her fingers disappear in the popcorn bowl, her hunter’s green nails appearing black in the dark theater. Calum’s seen enough movies to know this moment is foreshadowing the darkness she’s slipping into. He’s preparing himself for the fall but he’s not entirely sure she is.

**

Two weeks have gone by and he hasn’t seen her since the movie. Their schedules didn’t align so he decided to surprise her with takeout from her favorite Asian restaurant and chocolate cake from her favorite bakery.

When he opens the door, he hears Friends playing on her tv and he finds her horizontal on the couch. The hood of her sweatshirt is over her head, her arms wrapped around her torso, her black nails clutching the fabric.

Calum braces himself for what he’s walking into, sets the food on her counter and crouches in front of her. He pulls her hoodie back a little so he can see her face a bit better, her eyes are distant and staring off behind him.

“Hey,” he says softly then touches her hand. It’s very cold. “Y/N.”

Upon hearing her name does she finally look at him. Her eyes have filled and spilled with her tears in a matter of seconds. He links her fingers through his.

“Hi,” she mouths, her voice barely registering.

“Is this about…him?” he asks delicately.

About a year ago he chipped away at the welding on the box. He knows it involves a guy. He knows it’s about bad timing. He knows it’s about deep emotions.

She nods and the tears erupt more. She buries her face in her hands then adds another layer by hiding in the pillow.

“Nope, nope, hey,” he tugs on her arms. She’s pliant and allows him to drag her in a sitting position. He takes the place where her head was then brings her onto his lap. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” He murmurs and pulls her hoodie down so he can rub at her hair.

She sobs loudly into his neck. Calum holds her as tight as he can, murmuring comforting words in her ear. Her sobs would subside, but he wouldn’t let go until she did. She’s very good at keeping her emotions at bay and even better at keeping people further away from her harbor. She doesn’t ask for help often, she doesn’t open up too much and when she does it’s always the footnoted version.

Three episodes of Friends later, her hold lessens, she gives a big sniff and peels herself away from Calum. He uses the sleeves of his shirt to wipe at her tears and nose.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “I brought food. I’ll heat it up for you.”

She nods and falls back onto the couch. He rubs her knee then heads into the kitchen. When the food is prepared on plates he brings it to her and she takes it, scarfing down the first few bites heartily.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally speaks when her plate is empty.

“I know,” he nods looking over at her until she meets his brown eyes. “It’s okay.”

Calum ends up staying the night, his mind reeling from what the history is with this mystery guy. His thoughts get away from him as he stares at the ceiling above the couch. Was he some celebrity that kept her under the radar and broke her heart repeatedly? A Prince from some far-off country that got her hopes up and crushed them again and again?

He’s tossing and turning until he hears the shower turn on. Sad songs play over and over on her speakers, her voice singing along with the yearning words. Ghostin’ by Ariana and When the Party’s Over by Billie replay one after another.

She’s really hurting.

Calum bounds off the couch and opens the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” he makes sure his voice is a little louder than the music.

A sniff. “Yeah?” her voice is thick.

“Just want you to know I’m here,” he shuts the door and sits next to the shower.

His heart aches when he hears her crying again, the vocals echo and bounce off the tiles. Her sadness fills the room just as it’s filled in the hidden box of the guy who’s making her feel this way.

Four more repeats go by and the shower is finally shut off. Calum scrambles off the floor, sees her tug the towel from the door of the shower. Her shadow figure wraps it around herself and she opens the door. Her skin is red from the hot water, as are her eyes and cheeks from crying more tears. He grabs another towel and helps dry her hair while she stands there avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s been five years, why do I still feel like this?” she asks quietly.

“It hurts the most when it meant something.”

He left the bathroom after he dried and brushed her hair then waited for her in her bedroom. There’s pictures on her desk from high school. Her and some guy at prom. Her and the same guy a little bit older posing in a selfie on a couch, drunken smiles on their faces. Her and the same guy a little older again posed outside.

This must be from that box. She’s cracked it open and Calum is staring at some of the pieces that have broken her wholly.

“His name’s Henry,” she explains suddenly behind him.

Calum turns to her voice. The drastic change from the happy girl in the photos to the sad girl before him startles him. He remains silent to let her speak or to go into silence again. She moves onto her bed, sitting in the center and tucks her legs against her chest.

“We never dated. But we were always…together. Together in the physical sense for four years,” she continues. Calum joins her cautiously on the bed and listens. “Back and forth always. After every relationship we fell back into each other. He’s the longest relationship I’ve had, and it wasn’t even a real one.

“We cared about each other, and…I think he loved me. Time wasn’t on our side. It was too much or too little, I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Just when I think I’ve let go; I dream of him. Then he’s on my mind for days. And now this time…” she shakes her head and Calum pulls her against him. “I went on socials and I found out that he um…he’s a dad now. And I feel so stupid because that could have been me if we kept what we had. I feel stupid because a part of me wanted it to be me.”

Calum doesn’t fully understand the ins and outs of their relationship, but four years of physical affection and a rock to lean on, that’s a lot of history. He also doesn’t fully understand how this guy didn’t make it official with Y/N. She’s the perfect best friend with a big heart.

Calum wishes he knew her in school because he would have been the one to take her to prom. He would have been the one take her to movies and dinners and surprise her with flowers. He would have made it official rather than keep her guessing.

“I’m really going through it and I don’t know how to get out,” she whispers sadly.

“I think…” Calum heaves a big sigh and kisses her wet head. “I think you’re just cracking the surface of breaking free. I can tell he meant a lot to you and you meant a lot to him. Even if he never said it, you’ll always be a part of him just like he’ll be a part of you. Someone that important won’t just poof away.”

“But I want him to, it hurts.”

“I know it does, sweetheart. I’ll help you in any way I can, okay?”

“You’re so understanding and you’re so good, but I don’t want to cry over another guy when you’re here.”

“That’s what best friends do.”

She turns her head and gazes up at him. He notices the storm in her eyes aren’t as dark, her lips are chapped from the cracking of memories she spilled out.

“Calum, you’re more than my best friend.”

He hears a deeper truth in her statement, and it causes his breathing to quicken. The subtle yet very noticeable flick of her eyes to his lips causes him to react. He gives her a quick peck, but that smallest touch sent an enormous shock through his system.

They settle against her pillows, the kiss wasn’t awkward, but it filled them both with questions. Questions that will be answered at a different time because right now he wants to hear this most vulnerable part of her life. She takes his hand in hers first and plays with his fingers while she talks.

He makes comments and asks questions to try and understand a bit more. Calum kisses her head when her voice starts to shake. Hours go by and the sky starts to lighten, birds are awakening.

“Hey,” she says right as he’s about to fall asleep. They talked all night, but she quieted down about twenty minutes.

“Hm?” he opens his eyes.

“We match.”

He looks down at their intertwined fingers when she taps on his nail. His polish is chipped away from chewing on a hangnail then smiles at the black color. He lifts their hands and kisses their knuckles.

“I feel what you feel.”

“What exactly do you feel?”

“I felt you slipping. I can sense your emotions when no one else can, and I guess I painted my nails subconsciously because I didn’t want you to be alone in the dark,” he explains. She’s quiet for a moment and he thinks she really fell asleep this time.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be this bad again.”

“If you are, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“Cal?”

“Hmm?” he sighs. It’s getting harder to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want her to stop talking. He doesn’t want her out of his arms.

“When I’m dreaming tonight it will be of you.”

**

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​

[yungbud]

Silent Treatment+X

Req? Yes! @madonnasinn said: Can you write a smut about Dom ignoring y/n over a petty fight they had a few days ago, and y/n parades in a very tiny skirt around him when they go out to have dinner with his friends (to get his attention). He then gets really mad because all the guys keep eyeing her, which she knows he hates so she tempts him and fuck in the restaurant bathroom 🤭 just a lil idea i had LOL

Word Count: 2.4K

Tw:Light choking, semi-public sex acts, a little bit of thigh spanking/smacking, idk smut obviously.

A/N: Feast

—

You sat in the kitchen with Dom. Well, Dom sat, you stood, washing the dishes as he talked to you about how the album was going.

“I’ve just been so stressed for the past three fookin weeks trying to get this done. I just want it to be perfect, you know? And I keep wanting to go back and tweak it but Gav tells me not to.” Dom ranted, absentmindedly picking at his nailpolish while he did. 

You reached for the knob of the faucet, turning the water on to rinse off the dish in your hand, accidentally turning it too high and ending up being splashed with water, soaking the bottom half of your shirt.

That reminded you, tomorrow you had to do the laundry, then clean Dom and your shared room, then you’d have to shower– No, that wouldn’t work. You’d have to shower then do laundry before you leave, or else you’d end up being late for your appointment.

God, these last few weeks had just been so stressful. You felt like you barely had a chance to breathe, you’d finish one thing and up would pop the next. Oh, and you couldn’t forget lunch right after your appointment. You hoped there wouldn’t be traffic, you can’t be late because (Y/B/F) would only be visiting you on their lunch break, they’d have to go back to work straight after. 

Who were you kidding, it’s LA, of course there’d be traffic.

Should you reschedule? You were both so busy as is and this was the one time your schedules had allowed you to meet up in what must’ve been months. 

Shit, you thought, how long had it been? You began replaying the last few months in your head as you absentmindedly scrubbed at the plate in hand.

“And you’re not even listening.” Dom pouted.

“No, no I am. That’s great sweetie.”

“What’d I just say.” He tests, looking at you, his raised brow doing very little to hide the fact that he’s annoyed.

“You were talking about the uh- The uhm,” You paused, mustering all your brain cells to remember what he had just been talking about. The towel squished between your hand and the counter as you leaned against the sink, your fingers coming up to stroke the bridge of your nose as you thought “The drums, you just finished the last of it, right?” 

The oven dinged, signalling the food needed tending too. Your mind flipped as you searched the kitchen for the oven mit.

Where could you have possibly put it if not right next to the oven where you could’ve sworn you left it. You spun, searching the other counters, even going as far as to look in the sink before realizing it had slid to the floor right below where you put it. Sighing, you leaned down to grab it, pulling open the oven to tend to tonight’s dinner.

“Uh, what else happened today?” You ask, trying to keep your mind on track. You were careful not to burn yourself as fussed with the food

“Shit, babe can you hand me the tongs?” You ask, reaching a hand out behind you. That’s when you realized he hadn’t responded.

“Babe?” You try again, turning around only to realize he’d already left. You scoffed, grabbing it for yourself before leaning back. Standing straight, you take a moment to bask in the warmth of the oven before closing it. 

*~Three days later~*

Dom raised his head to look at you, your spoon clinking against the side of your bowl signalling your entrance of the living room. He looked back to the TV just as soon as he had looked over, obviously too invested in whatever he was watching to acknowledge your existence. A sigh of relief left your lips when your butt hit the cushions, leaning back into the inviting, cushiony supports.

“Ugh, this week has been so stressful. I feel like I haven’t had the chance to sit in like… forever.” You say, your eyes focusing on what was playing in front of you. It was an old episode of the great british bake off. 

You laughed a bit, but it came off more as a hum.

“You know, I heard when contestants would cry, Mel and Sue would stand by them and use un-airable language so the footage wouldn’t make it to the final cut. Isn’t that so thoughtful?” You say, trying to perk some conversation out of the boy sitting next to you. 

He wasn’t responding. Your eyebrows furrowed as you searched through anything you might’ve said to upset him recently. You couldn’t think of a single thing, come to think of it, what was the last thing you had said to him? Hell, when was it?

You realized quickly your last exchange was in the kitchen, and even that had been cut short by him leaving. 

Yes, that’s right. When you had crawled in bed with him that night, he had been asleep and you were in such a rush the next morning you couldn’t remember if he was awake next to you when you woke up. He wasn’t exactly avoiding you as much as he was not talking to you.

Had he seriously been giving you the silent treatment for that long? 

“Is everything okay?” You tried, sure you were only getting in your own head. Your eyes had completely left the TV at this point, focusing solely on the quiet boy next to you. There was no response, not even so much as a nod.

“You haven’t talked to me in almost a week.” You continued

“Doesn’t matter. Even if i did, you wouldn’t be listening.” Dom retorted

“I’m sorry i made you feel that way. It honestly was not my intention, i’ve just been so caught up this week.” You were sorry, but it seemed awfully ridiculous to have gone this long giving you the silent treatment just because you had been distracted.

The conversation ended entirely there.

Dom hadn’t said more than two words to you since your argument, doing everything in his power to avoid you. It wasn’t hard, after all he was a very busy man. Especially with the release of his new album coming up, there were interviews and meetings to be had, but at a certain point they became less of a responsibility and more of an excuse.

You were on twitter, you had seen his fans practically begging him to take a break, but taking a break would mean seeing you, and that just wasn’t something he had been in the mood to do recently. It was bad enough already that he had to go to dinner with you.

That was okay, you would help him get in the mood. Or, rather, out of his mood. If Dom wanted to be petty, fine, you could be petty.

You slipped the soft material up your legs, admiring your reflection in the mirror. If Dom was going to ignore you, you were going to give him something to ignore. 

You knew this skirt would do the trick, every time you saw another girl or, fuck it, boy, prouncing around and one of these skirts even you nearly fucked them. Everybody looked good in these, it was a fact of life, you’d decided. You knew you definitely looked good, you almost had to stop for a moment and touch yourself to the sight, but glancing at the clock you realized you didn’t have nearly enough time for a bit of self pleasure.

You were practically already running late, spending all your time getting yourself ready to grab Dom’s attention. You added some finishing touches before heading out to the living room where Dom sat, waiting for you patiently. 

Any other time Dom would’ve been right next to you in the bathroom, admiring your work on your makeup, outfit and hair, but today he stayed in the living room

You tried not to smirk as you made your way into his line of vision. The look on his face was completely worth the hours of tireless work, though. He’d turned his head to look at you, a distinct glare replaced by shock, his eyes widening a bit as they landed on your outfit. It was tight and loose in all the right places and only added to your stunning features. 

“What?” You teased,

He tried to recover quickly, returning to his pouty state, not even bothering with a response as you followed him out the door.

You were sitting at the table, surrounded by you and Dom’s friends when someone finally made a comment on your appearance.

“You look really good, (Y/N).” Tom commented, everyone nodding in agreement as the conversation momentarily shifted to you.

“Thank you! I thought so.” You praise yourself, smiling down at your outfit.

The conversation drifted off again, a newfound confidence bubbling up in your chest. You reached over to Dom, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. It stayed there for a moment before he moved it, and it continued on like that. You did everything in your power to remind him of how good you looked and how short your skirt was until he motioned for you to stand. A couple eyes turned to you as you walked off, but no one asked any questions.

Dom was practically dragging you, your feet fumbling as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. When you realized where you were headed you glanced at him, eyes wide, but he wasn’t looking back. His eyes were focused on the bathroom doors ahead, his jaw clenched, gorgeous green eyes shadowed by his black eyeliner.

“Dom, what are you doing?” You began to plead, uncomfortably aware of the fact that you were about to walk into a bathroom with your boyfriend in front of the whole restaurant. You glanced around, checking for any cameras or onlooking eyes. There were none in sight, but you knew that didn’t mean much.

Your head clobbered light as he pinned you to the stall, his eyes burning into your own. Your gaze faltered, looking everywhere but him. Normally sex with Dom never made you nervous, he had always managed to make you feel safe and comfortable, but going from complete silence to being pinned against a stall in The Olive Garden so abruptly made you timid. His hand pressed down on your shoulder, your legs bending until your knees hit the tiled floor, staring up at him through your lashes. Dom hastily unbuttoned his pants, maintaining his gaze, er, glare on you. Your eyes flickered from his own to his hard dick springing from its constraints, watching as he stroked himself achingly slow before his tip slid past your lips, sliding himself across your tongue a few times, his head leaning back as he felt the warmth of your mouth surround him. 

You hollowed out your cheeks, eyes remaining on his expression. When you reached up to replace his hand with your own you felt a harsh tug on your hair. It took you a moment to realize what he wanted from you, but when you realized you let your jaw go slack. Dom’s hand remained wrapped around the base of his cock, shoving it down your throat unexpectedly, causing you to gag.

Your mouth hung open, weary not to let your teeth scrape against him as he thrust into your mouth. You pulled back a bit as you gagged, your head lightly hitting against the wall behind you. Dom continued to push forward, his hard cock pushing farther and farther back in your throat. You were pinned between his thrusting hips and the bathroom stall, you had no choice but to let him fuck your throat.

Not that you were complaining.

Well, you couldn’t.

You gagged around him, hands coming up to grip at his hips as he continued to use your mouth to get himself off, angelic moans falling from his plush lips.

Dom finally took mercy on you, pulling away and grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, staring down at you.

“You look so pretty gagging on my dick.” He says, wiping the tear coming from your eye. His hand makes its way down to your neck, wrapping around it and pulling you to your feet.

 “Or maybe it’s just that fucking skirt.” He adds, slapping your thigh before lifting the skirt up to reveal your lace underwear. A groan slips past his lips, bringing his fingers against your core. You let out a sigh of relief as his fingers rubbed against your clit, glad to finally get some relief after all this time. It was short lived, though, as he pulled you to your feet using the grip he had on your throat, tilting your head up to look at him.

The air around you seemed to freeze, your eyes roamed eachothers faces, desperate for one another. His lips came against yours slowly and then all at once, his hand remaining around your throat as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat remained between your legs, working steadily at making your legs shake for him.

It was almost embarrassing how ready you were for him, so needy that the slightest touch beckoned a whine. Things became heated again quickly, his hands moving from your neck to your thighs, a quick hop before you wrapped them around his waist. 

Dom reached between your legs, trying his best to move the material without dropping you, eventually giving in and letting you do it instead. Reaching between your legs, you wrapped your hand around him, lining his hard dick up with your aching core. He paused there for a moment, enjoying the feeling before pushing himself in. His lips reconnected with your own, thrusting into you a few times before sighing and setting you back to the floor. Your eyebrows furrowed up at him, unsure what to do before he was spinning your around, pinning your face against the wall. You felt him slide between your lips once more before pushing in. It took him a moment to find his rhythm, but soon you were being pounded against the bathroom stall, pathetic moans falling from both your lips, Your senses clouded by pleasure leaving you completely lost to your surroundings.

You would have to be petty more often.

[prettywordsyouleft]

for cc can i get a sensitive topic drabble request with jinyoung or mark from got7. i saw a post you made awhile ago about facial hair to an anon asking for help. i was wondering if you could write about Y/N avoiding the idol because she hasn't yet shave? thank you for writing this if you feel comfortable to. there's hardly any representation of womanly struggles in fiction like this.

I appreciate the opportunity with this topic. Because I feel it important to talk about, I didn't cut the word count on this one.

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader

Word count: 582

______________________

Bliss surrounded you. Much did Jinyoung's arms. You held onto the remnants of your delicious dream with the same man holding you to his bare chest for only a second longer, his hand on the prowl towards your face.

You moved faster as the sudden understanding flushed you with awareness, placing a hand right over your mouth and chin that he had been inching towards.

"Morning," he greeted with a quirked eyebrow. His gaze was still unfocused for a moment more, Jinyoung blinking away his sleep. "Why are you doing that?"

"Morning breath," you replied with a muffle, and Jinyoung chuckled huskily, trying to tug your hand away.

"I don't care if you haven't brushed your teeth yet. Let me kiss you."

"I care. I'll be right back!"

Dashing into your bathroom, you shut the door quickly and moved towards the basin. Peering into the mirror before you, you leaned in closer to inspect your face.

Whilst times were changing, you knew that it would take a whole lot more for women to open up about their facial hair. As long as you took care of it, much like other body hair, it didn't bother you.

But it had been a while since you had dated, and it was always awkward to broach the topic in the beginning. Your reaction had been based on vanity. You wanted to look good for Jinyoung.

Reaching for your razor under the sink, you quickly lathered up the area on your face that needed attention, running the device over your skin and cutting away the hairs that had grown overnight.

You finished just in time for Jinyoung to open the door, his dark gaze regarding you as you placed a towel to your face. Looking at the sink, you realised you hadn't brushed your teeth yet.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, stepping into the bathroom, eying the razor on the countertop.

"You guessed?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Have you seen how easily my five-oh-clock shadow arrives if I--"

"You're a guy. It's mean to happen to you."

"You're embarrassed?" he assumed. "Don't hide from me. I'm not going to judge you. Has someone done that to you before?"

As you noticed the protectiveness settle into his eyes, you relaxed, realising this was different. You nodded softly. "Guys tend to like feminine things about women. You know, one guy didn't even understand when I stopped shaving my legs in winter. It's a lot more effort to keep tidy than some people realise."

Jinyoung's jaw tightened with the information before he let out a deep breath. "I don't care."

"I want to look good in front of you."

"You look amazing in front of me right now."

"I'm not even dressed."

"Precisely." His eyes raked over you in a way that made you dizzy. "Waking up next to you has been something I've wanted for so long. Your morning routine too. I want to fit into your world, and I can't do that if you're excusing yourself away because you're worried I'll think badly."

"So it's not a big deal?"

"The only big deal I have about this is someone made you feel like it was," he announced, pulling you against his chest. You buried into him with a relieved sigh. "That and you left me hanging. I want to kiss you."

"I still have morning breath," you told him, and Jinyoung hooked his finger under your chin, inching closer.

"I really don't care."

______________________

My ask box is open for this week’s Chelle Chats!

[protectchara201x]

(ignoring all the other juicy Deltarune 2 stuff to shove Chara Talks into it lololol)

I haven’t been super active on this blog because frankly I have like, three? looong analysis/theorycrafting posts I’ve been putting off working on and it fills me with shame to log in and see them waiting in my drafts.

But.

With the release of Deltarune Chapter 2, I wanted to talk kinda in general about how I thought it could impact the fandom’s perception of Everybody’s Favorite Demon Baby, and also point out something in specific about the Weird Route that might connect back to Undertale.

Putting it under the cut to avoid spoilers and long-winded ramblings for the unwilling. Includes spoilers for the Weird Route.

(NOTE: may update later if I notice more things for to put in section II. I’d like to make a full list of parallels if I can tidy them up.)

I. Pre- vs Post-Release Thoughts (you can skip down to II if you don’t care, it is genuinely Long and Pointless)

Okay, so first off. I got SO worried like, the day before the new chapter dropped? It hit me that whatever new stuff we got out of this, people would connect back to Undertale, and. Honestly, I really do hate connecting everything back to Chara, because I do think of Kris as their own character and I really like them and don’t want to ignore everything they got going on. But, I am first and foremost a shameless Chara stan and they’re very important to me, so I kinda... did spend a few minutes reeling from all the new DR stuff as its own stuff, and then immediately started thinking about how this would reflect back on Chara in Undertale lol.

But that’s ok for me to do here because this is my All Chara, Only Chara, All The Time blog, so I am gonna only really talk about Deltarune here to talk about them lol.

So yeah, I started getting anxious beforehand worrying about how everyone would take any and all implications and apply it to mean “aha, Chara IS evil!” The fakeout with the pie reveal in the anniversary stream was a big relief, but I still got worried leading up to the release about what could be in it.

Because part of why I’ve always thought that “Chara was genuinely evil from the start” and even “ok maybe not TOTALLY evil, but Chara was still a kinda bad person” were unlikely was, even if you throw out all the other popular Chara-sympathetic theories. To me, both these takes just seemed too below TF’s talent and the way he wrote all his other characters with depth and love; a Chara like the one these theories propose just doesn’t belong in a world created by TF, and the way the Dreemurrs talk about them overall, the way TF made a point of having Chara say they were guided and repeatedly, correctly blame you the player for the destruction in Kill-All, I was sure that he never intended them to ever be as bad as the fandom sometimes tried to make them out to be.

... Like, mostly sure. Like, 80% sure? Because he never ever talks about them, so it’s impossible say for sure, and it is still theoretically possible that “Chara was and is bad” was the cold-ass take he’d intended all along. So yeah, leading up to the release, I started getting antsy that whatever new lore came out of it, either he’d directly confirm “Chara was a villain?” “*cocks gun* Always has been” or there’d be something that’d at least heavily implicate them, or could be twisted to implicate them, as a negative force. More ammo to be used against them in the Chara Debate Circles would be a drag, and outright confirmation of them as a villain would honestly break my heart and I’d be forced to disown Toby Fox, My Beloved Cool Dad.

And, right now? Tell the truth, I’m SO relieved and I am SO happy. And not just because of how much depth and characterization it seems Kris is getting! (imo, because rn I just headcanon them as an unhappy teen desperately trying to keep their new friends going on adventures with them and trying to fight back against the player’s control)

I love how this chapter seems to be TF doing course-correcting based on fandom interpretations. Because Kris just isn’t evil, even if they are a knife teen, even if they are the Knight, they’re just NOT evil and that’s canon, baybeeee; it’s made clear in this chapter and the previous one that they love their family even outside of the player’s control, they care about their new friends even outside of the player’s control, they’re established as a weird creepy kid but no one sees them as scary or evil, they’re just Kris, and even in the Weird Route, TF made a point of hammering in the differences between Kris and the player in the Weird Route: Susie and Ralsei notice how distressed Kris seemed after you have Noelle ice Berdly, Noelle heard a voice that she said wasn’t Kris telling her to kill, and the FUCKING Spamton fight: “Kris called for help... but nobody came” again and again, and then “You whispered Noelle’s name”... you, not Kris.

I know TF has never commented much on fans’ perceptions of Frisk and Chara, or who exactly is pulling strings in different routes. But after all this, and especially after seeing all the little winks and nods to fandom jokes in this chapter (what comes to mind: pulling everyone’s leg by seeming to have Kris attack Toriel with a knife only to reveal that pie theory was right, Susie not liking Ralsei’s real face as much as his shadowed one, Ralsei with a gun getting referenced with the ad, Kris getting a joke fixation with knives after the fans made Chara and Kris have knife obsessions as a joke), and seeing what looks like him try to correct some things (what stuck out to me was doubling down on showing that Kris is loved and valued in their family: lots of fans came away from Chapter 1 thinking that Kris was not valued as much as Asriel, but here we see that Toriel is supportive of Kris’ friendship with Susie, and it’s stated that Asriel is the one who used the crappy controller, not Kris) -

I think while he hasn’t commented directly, while he admitted to being overwhelmed by Undertale’s success, while he tends to be pretty tight-lipped about the lore (whether that’s because it’ll be addressed by future chapters or because he prefers to let fans sleuth it out), this chapter convinced me that Toby does keep tabs on fan reactions in Deltarune, so he probably does with Undertale too and would know about all The Discourse surrounding Little Mx Pink Cheeks (and in turn, popular theories like Narrator Chara... Toby if you integrate Narrator Chara into Deltarune being a borderline creepypasta and have the narrator start talking directly to the characters or to the player or the characters start talking to the narrator I will lose my damn B E A N S).

(Kris and Chara not being demonized and the narrator interacting directly with the characters were the only two things on my wishlist going in, I was fine with literally anything else happening lmao)

I even kinda think he’s going out of his way to separate Kris and the player because we didn’t get it before with Undertale, we still insisted that Frisk or Chara was the one doing it, and he’s even using Kris to show that even if this kid can be scary, maybe even mean, and maybe they’re even the Knight (with their reasons unknown), they’re still not a bad kid, they’re still funny and likable, and they still genuinely love their family and friends - which falls in line with Undertale’s cast of complex but likable people who can be antagonists and make mistakes but still aren’t truly bad people, and imo is a direct response to some people fixating on the idea that Chara was always evil because they seem scary/complicated.

... Which is a long way to say that I came out of Deltarune with my confidence fully restored about TF’s intentions with Chara and Kris. Even if he never comments on Chara directly, now I really don’t think TF thinks they’re evil or ever intended for them to be. Deltarune convinced me more than ever that Chara is meant to be complex, yes, and able to be influenced to do horrible things, but they were never intended to be as malicious or shallow as some fans insist.

TLDR:

Toby Fox read your mean fanfiction where Chara is a bad abusive serial killer no one likes, and he made Deltarune in revenge.

... Hm? Ah, you’d like me to get to the point! Right this way!

II. Undertale, Deltarune, and The Point

While no doubt some will still take the voice Noelle hears to be Chara influencing her to turn her into a murderer (I haven’t gone looking for it yet, but I’m sure it’s already a thing because I know this fandom), since it’s made too clear by the game that they can’t blame Kris for this one, I think at this point that’s just being too stubborn to consider other ideas.

If you believe in the totally made up idea used in so many fanfics that Chara is an evil spirit trying to whisper in Frisk’s ear to kill everyone, literally (for some reason) the embodiment of raising stats, and gets more control over people who have increased LV to take over their body... sure. Could be them, they did talk about moving on to the next world and all. I mean, that wouldn’t really make sense because it’s literally never implied in the actual game that Chara encourages you to kill outside of the Kill-All Run or even wants you to, certainly not as the narrator and we get no hint of them doing this as an unseen, unheard third-party either.

Not to mention they’re NOT literally possessing you because of increased LV; they don’t control you even with high LV in any Undertale route other than arguably the Kill-All, and if you fail the Kill-All and it turns into a high-body count Neutral, Chara suddenly stops using first-person narration and showing up in mirrors entirely even though they were showing themself before, the LV remains the same or even can get raised as high as LV 19, nor do they suddenly take over in any other Neutral runs. We can speculate on why (personally, I’d place this either on Chara’s mindset, such as them sinking into shock from the trauma or becoming more assertive as the player feeds their megalomania, or as a sign of Frisk’s withdrawal, leaving Chara alone in the body to take the reins and act out the player’s orders), but canonically, no, Chara does not take over due to high stats.

In fact, there’s even more evidence against this. First-person narration also exists for fleeing your battles in Undertale, even on Pacifist runs with base stats, 0 EXP, and an LV of 1. Since Chara is established to use first-person narration to refer to themself, is the only one who canonically does so, and is confirmed to be present even in all runs through their name and memories always showing up, it seems pretty likely that Chara can take control to flee battle. That means an increase in stats is not a sign of their presence or control, in Undertale or Deltarune.

The most damning blow to the idea that Chara is the voice corrupting Noelle are the lines in the fight with Spamton I mentioned. Kris called for help, but nobody came. You whispered Noelle’s name. Well hold on. If that’s Chara, shouldn’t it be “I whispered Noelle’s name”? As soon as you’ve officially started the Kill-All in Undertale, Chara starts up their “It’s me, Chara” schtick right away, right there in Toriel’s home in the first area, and if they weren’t the narrator before, they’re beginning to speak through the narration now. If the voice was Chara, surely Toby Fox knows it’d be a way bigger “oh shit” moment if the creepy scary hidden route once again switched into first-person, scaring us the same way he did before when we first saw “It’s me, Chara” and knew something was wrong; unfairly or not, their reputation as a villain is still well established and hinting to Chara’s presence with a simple “I” would drive the menace even further, if he intended for them to simply be a demon that possesses player characters when you grind enough. But it’s still just you. The player.

The Weird Route does even more to help Chara’s case than that. Not only is it made pretty clear that Kris and the player are separate, and the player is the one responsible for corrupting Noelle and making her kill... consider how similar Noelle and Chara are, in the Weird Route and the Kill-All Route.

This “voice” that “guides” them in growing strong, compelling them to kill everyone in order to fight for them, eventually driving them to murder people they know. Chara calls themself “the demon that comes when people call its name”, and you whisper Noelle’s name to have her appear to kill Spamton. Noelle’s conflicting emotions towards Kris and the voice as she is manipulated, as she becomes more violent and sadistic, as she goes into shock; does that not sound like Chara, who flipflops between holding you dear as their partner and wanting to move on to the next world together, to be together forever, and them being disgusted by your refusal to accept consequences and the perverse enjoyment you get in killing everyone again and again? Chara, who clings to their quirky narration for much of the Kill-All, but keeps slipping up, who becomes terrifyingly cold, aggressive, power-hungry, and even sadistic, yet still calls Undyne “the heroine”, still seems to still care about their locket, still has moments where they seem to falter?

Noelle does put up significantly more resistance to the voice’s commands than Chara does, and at least much more visibly shows distress and trauma. I don’t think this is a black mark on Chara’s chara-cter either, or an indication of them being more violent or cruel.

For one, while Noelle is still herself with her own soul, it is heavily implied by Chara, Flowey, and Undertale’s lore that Chara was reincarnated without their own soul, at best perhaps attached to Frisk’s (or yours): as I speculate in one of my currently unfinished theories, while monster souls are made up of love, compassion, and hope and thus Asriel was reincarnated without these qualities, it could well be that human souls are correspondingly made up of their own multiple traits, namely determination, patience, bravery, integrity, perseverance, kindness, and justice; if true, a soulless Chara would be lacking these qualities, which would make them less equipped to resist the player’s commands or to feel as torn up about it.

Also, the player has a hold on them both as “party members” to the player’s vessels, but it is also possible that the player naming Chara and having them directly attached to Frisk also gives them a stronger connection to Chara they can abuse, similar to how Kris and Frisk (as the player’s direct vessels) have much less autonomy than Kris’ party members.

(Fun observation: We know that when the thing controlling Kris forced Noelle into becoming a killer and using her to kill Berdly, Kris was horrified and shaken-up according to Susie and Ralsei. How do you think Frisk felt watching Chara be used to slaughter the Underground and then erasing the world when they’re totally corrupted?)

And lastly... look, Noelle and Chara are both minors, but Chara is significantly younger - a small child compared to Noelle’s teen. I know it’s fiction and strong wills and determination and anime is real and all, but a traumatized young child who died two violent and awful deaths back-to-back, may have literally experienced being a corpse in their own coffin/grave for who knows how long, and then came back ”confused” only to immediately start hearing a voice relentlessly commanding them to kill everyone?? I can absolutely see a traumatized kid shutting down and just going with it out of fear at first, before the LV sets in.

TLDR:

What you do to Noelle in the Weird Route is the same fucking thing you do to Chara in the Kill-All Route.

[syilcawrites]

a/n: hi I’m alive and I wrote this bc of a prompt that @zelink-prompts​ put out!! I thought it’d be a fun little exercise for tonight! It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so I’ve been wanting to get something out ehe. Here’s to posting at 2 AM (I apologize in advance for any typos)! Hope you enjoy!

summary: [Pre-Calamity] It’s Zelda’s 16th birthday and King Rhoam decides to throw a lavish masquerade ball in celebration. Zelda is not happy (when is she ever happy pre-calamity ;-;)

ao3

a party of floating eyes

“I just simply—” Zelda grunts and winces as Impa tightens the corset around her waist, “—simply do not understand why this is such a necessary tradition!” Her fingers dig into the fabric of her vanity chair with enough force to chip her nails.

“Your Highness,” Impa starts, tying the lace, “if we start straying from such traditions, the people will begin to worry.”

Her frown deepens—she knows Impa is right, but every second she spends lolling around with trivial palace affairs, she can feel her precious time slipping away from her.

“Besides,” Impa continues, pulling Zelda’s hair back and smoothing it out, “you’ll be turning sixteen—your birthday has always been a big celebration.” 

Zelda straightens her back out, squirming uncomfortably under the tightness constricting her waist. “Well, if people cared so much about me, I wish they’d let me spend my birthday as I please,” Zelda grumbles, picking up the black, lacy mask that sits on her chair before plopping down onto the cushion. She crosses her arms, staring at her reflection with tinged annoyance.

“I know, I know.” Impa laughs softly. “Just try to focus on all the possibilities that will open up to you once you do hit sixteen though,” she encourages. “Besides, doing this will let the people know that we have everything under control. The less worried they are, the less chaotic the future will be.”

“But everything’s not okay,” Zelda sighs out, rubbing her temples. “I have yet to unlock—”

“You still have the Spring of Wisdom to go to next year. Don’t jump to conclusions, Your Highness,” Impa rebukes quickly. Her fingers work quickly through Zelda’s hair as she begins braiding down her back. “And we shouldn’t give up on the Shrine of Power and Courage, no?”

 Zelda remains quiet.

Of all the things she could be doing to prevent a catastrophe, she has to attend another cursed ball. A celebration for her birthday is far from something she wants.

“Only one night,” Zelda mutters, lightly slapping her cheeks. If she dutifully plays along with her father’s antics, perhaps he will ease his expressions of disappointment toward her.

“A little bit of hair here…” Impa tugs out strands of Zelda’s hair to frame her face. “There! You look lovely,” she says with satisfaction as she places her hands on her hips. Zelda flits her gaze away from her reflection against the mirror to her ajar bedroom window. She can already hear the sound of carriages bumping along the roads and the neighs of the horses resounding through the dark night.

“He’ll be there, won’t he?” The corset feels even more constricting when she thinks about him. That boy . She has to keep up—she cannot afford to fall behind any further than she already has.

“The young knight?” Impa inquires, squinting her eyes in thought as she maneuvers around Zelda to look inside her jewelry box. “I believe he’ll be patrolling the castle grounds.” Zelda relaxes her shoulders as she stares at Impa’s back. “Zelda. You shouldn’t avoid him. You know that you will have to cooperate with him in the future.”

“I’m not.” The lie feels sharper against her tongue than Impa’s gaze. “I’m not avoiding him. I was just… curious.” A half-truth is better than none. Zelda toys with the black ribbon straps of her mask, picking at an unraveling thread. She lifts the mask up to her eyes and tilts the corners of her mouth up.

Zelda has many masks, and adding another one is harmless.

  ——————————————————————

Be graceful. Be elegant. Be poised.

-

Don’t blink too often. Don’t eat too much. Don’t laugh too loudly and never laugh without a hand over your mouth.

 -

Zelda sneakily picks at the piece of bread that Impa had snuck to her earlier, nibbling on it in between greetings and returning plastic smiles—but the music. The music is irritating Zelda. There’s an instrument out of tune—a violin, maybe—and every time the bow strokes the A string it lets out a glaringly out-of-tune high-pitched squeal.

The only good it does is mask the growls of her stomach. She is starving, but starving is something that she has grown familiar with. Starving for food, starving for affection, starving for power, starving for—

“Your Highness?”

Zelda immediately hides the piece of bread behind her back and glances up at the soft voice. A Zoran who resembles that of a Fuschia flower—Princess Mipha, wasn’t it? If she recalls correctly, Mipha is one of the candidates for the Divine Beasts.

“A-A gift,” she continues, her cheeks tinted pink. “For your 16th birthday.” She holds a palm-sized box out to Zelda—baby blue with a white ribbon.

Zelda blinks at it for a moment, a bit dazed. No one has ever really handed her a gift-wrapped present before. Most of the guests have been handing them to her father—extravagant gifts that were mostly catered to him anyway—and now there is a gift for her here, directly being handed to her. They’ve only spoken to each other once, during Zelda’s mother’s funeral. Aside from that, whenever they had the pleasure of being in one another’s company, they acknowledged each other.

“Thank you,” Zelda says stiffly, accepting it with her free hand as she stares down at it. She brushes a thumb over the smooth surface of the box. Zelda sneaks a glance at her father, who is busy talking to another guest. She stuffs the bread in her mouth—earning a wide-eyed look from Mipha. “Pardon me, I haven’t eaten all day,” she admits sheepishly, gulping it down quickly. 

“Oh dear, you haven’t eaten at all?” Mipha almost gasps, her expression strung up in worry. Zelda waves her hand at her and shakes her head.

“I’m sure the last guests will arrive soon.” She holds the box with both hands now. “Is it alright if I open it up now?” Zelda asks, lowering her voice a little. A warm smile spreads across her face. She nods.

Zelda tugs the ends of the ribbon—it slips out of the knot easily—and lifts the lid. The object sits comfortably against a red velvet cushion: a stained glass flower. Zelda lifts it up slightly up in the air—an array of colors dance across Mipha’s face as she views her through the glass.

“I’ve recently taken up glass welding,” Mipha says quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. “I’ve heard that you’re currently researching an endangered species of flora. Although this won’t particularly aid in your research… I apologize…” she trails off, sounding faint.

“It’s beautiful!” Zelda clasps her hands over Mipha’s. “This is the best gift I’ve received today, there’s no need to apologize.” A smile breaks across Zelda’s face. A handmade gift? For her? A recreation of the Silent Princess at that! She tries her best to keep the excitement from brimming out of her voice. “It’s lovely, Princess Mipha. Thank you.” She clears her throat as she catches her father staring at her from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m grateful that you like it, Princess Zelda.” Mipha beams happiness, with a look of relief. She glances at the entrance—and does a double-take.

“Oh, please, enjoy the celebration and the food.” Zelda gestures to the ballroom, sitting back down. “We’ve cooked our finest dishes.” Food that she wishes she could eat herself, but she has to stand at the entrance with her father because he won’t let her get up until everyone has come through the door.

Mipha curtseys—she has always been so elegant—as she wishes Zelda a year of happiness, before quickly hurrying to the door. 

Zelda follows her trail, and watches her happily clasp the hands of—Zelda involuntarily scrunches her nose at the sight that she sees before her. Impa had told her he was patrolling outside on the castle grounds. Why in Hylia’s name is he inside the ballroom?

“Zelda, I would advise against raising your voice like that. People are watching.” Her father’s voice isn’t unkind, but chastising. She hates it.

She looks down at her dress, to straighten out the wrinkles of the dark blue ballgown. The sheer fabric has been irritating her the entire night, and she’s almost positive that she’s lost a diamond droplet or two that had been sewn onto the dress. “Father,” Zelda whispers, glancing at him. “This feels like a waste—”

“It is important to remain friendly with our diplomats. You know this. Especially with the prophecy—we must remain united with the others.”

Well, it wouldn’t matter if they were united or not if she couldn’t unlock her sacred power. She’d rather spend her birthday standing in the water of a Spring than next to her father.

“Just do as I say tonight for once, Zelda. For my sake.”

She balls her hands into a fist, scrunching up the skirt of her dress as she does so. “All I ever do—”

“Your Majesty!”

Her voice gets drowned out by the incoming guests, and she is soon tossed into the shadow of her father once more.

  ——————————————————————

Zelda makes sure to stay across the ballroom from Link—it’s easy to do so, considering how much he sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s easy enough to avoid a stranger—the lack of familiarity makes the task simple.

“A drink, Your Highness?” a passing maid asks, lowering the metal tray for her.

“So much for a masquerade, you can recognize me from a mile away can’t you?” Zelda murmurs lightly, grabbing a strawberry pink drink.

“Your beauty is unmatched. It’s hard not to notice you,” the maid says kindly as she bows her head.

Zelda lets out an uneasy laugh—compliments never sit comfortably with her. “Well, thank—”

“His Majesty would like to formally introduce a faithful knight of the Hyrule Kingdom, who has proven his worth and skill at the young age of ten,” the Court Poet announces, ceasing side conversations down to a murmur.

Her father—looking rosy-cheeked and kind, as he always is in front of guests—ushers the knight out of the crowd, and into the middle of the room with him. “This young man has risen through the ranks and proved his devotion in keeping peace within our lands at a very young age, and even the Goddess Hylia has blessed him—Link, the Knight who has drawn the Sword that Seals Darkness.” Her father’s voice is nothing short of impressive. He’s able to cease conversations within seconds, by the strength of his voice and presence. Zelda quirks an eyebrow up as she stands on her tiptoes to see above the sea of heads—a very stiff-looking boy standing next to a large, bulky man who is taller by half his height is quite a scene to see. “He will fight alongside my dear beloved daughter Zelda, to maintain this peaceful, prosperous time.” 

Eyes shift to her—black and beady behind the masks they adorn. Zelda grits her teeth as she bows into a deep curtsey.

 -

One… two… three…

 -

She straightens her posture and clasps her hands in front of her gingerly. As long as she doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, she’ll be fine. Just smile.

Zelda tilts the corners of her mouth up.

Coos of oh’s and ah’s reverberate off the walls of the ballroom, shaking her to her bones as they clap.

“To commemorate, the Hero and the Goddess-blood Princess will offer the first formal dance of the night,” the Court Poet announces loudly, spotting her almost immediately.

Her smile drops from her face, and she methodically shifts her narrowed eyes to Link.

He stands as stiff as a board.

She takes long, brisk steps to the center of the room.

 -

Be graceful, elegant, poised.

 -

Do not look into their restless eyes, because they will worm their way through the black of her irises and find out she is a Goddess-blood Princess who has been abandoned by their savior.

 -

Zelda stares at the creases between his eyebrows as she approaches him—they’re one step away from bumping noses.

He places a hand on her waist, but it mostly hovers over her, like he’s afraid he’ll burn himself if he gets closer. Zelda places one hand on his shoulder. His other hand floats in the air, unsure. She grabs it hesitantly, and settles to look at his lips instead: pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t want to be here, either.

The music starts jarringly, like the morning bell that rings at six in the morning. The violin is still a pitch to high—why hasn’t anyone noticed it yet? Not even the conductor?

Zelda digs her nails into his shoulder as they move—the brush of wind that follows their movements eases the anger that has risen in her.

“Just do as I say tonight, for once, Zelda. For my sake.”

And dancing with the boy who has fulfilled his part of prophecy will help complete hers?

They miss a beat—he steps in at the same time she does, and her forehead almost smacks against his. Zelda almost trips over the skirt of her dress as he accidentally steps on her foot.

She glances up at him—his mask is simple, but it’s as light as starlight and makes her squint a little. Her eyebrows furrow together. It doesn’t last long once she remembers the hundreds of eyes that watch their every movement.

But then he does it again.

Zelda sucks in a sharp breath. “You do know that there is plenty of space for you to step upon aside from my feet, right?” she murmurs between her teeth, making sure her smile is still plastered on her face. The edge of his ears flushes red.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with a brief, apologetic smile. There’s a finality to his voice that makes her tilt her head in curiosity.

He steps on her toes again.

Zelda’s mouth twitches—she bites her tongue to distract herself from the pain shooting up her foot. “You don’t know how to dance, do you?”

His ears turn a shade darker.

A small sigh escapes between her lips. She straightens her back and tightens her grip on his hand. “Keep your eyes down and follow my feet.” She repositions her other hand to rest more securely on his shoulder. She would prefer not to have a mouthful from her father for messing up the first formal dance of the ball.

Their eyes catch—vibrantly blue and innocent. He nods. 

Even though he concentrates on the pattern of her feet lilting across the marble floor, he still brushes against her heels. She glances up at him—beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he concentrates on their feet, with the tip of his tongue sticking out ever so slightly.

Zelda swallows back the giggle bubbling up her throat.

“Hm, think of it as… sword fighting practice, maybe? There’s formation in that is there not?” Zelda inquires. A good knight must be efficient at their footwork, or else they’d stumble over during a fight and fall. “Try to be light on your feet like when you’re fighting.”

“Like fighting,” he echoes, his face lighting up at her suggestion—she feels the tension chip away from his shoulders as they make their rounds, passing by the ambassadors and royalty encircling them. 

Zelda keeps her voice low: “Left, back, right…” she instructs him quietly, as her own shoulders relax at his slight improvement. At least he isn’t stepping on her anymore. The music becomes tolerable, once she decides to focus on their own two pairs of feet sliding across the floor and the sound of his breathing.

The loud, booming round of applause drags her back to reality—she releases her hands from him immediately and takes a step back to do a quick curtsey.

“Thank you.”

The sound of his words catches the tail end of the wind—quiet, almost inaudible. She raises her head, but by the time she does so, the crowd greedily surges toward them to fill the empty space that used to belong to them.

[robinrunsfiction]

It’s A Love Story - Part 1

(YN) was sitting at the kitchen table working on her algebra homework when the music that had been coming from the garage for hours finally stopped. A few minutes later five sweaty teenage boys burst through the door.

"You guys are finally starting to sound good," she complimented, albeit slightly sarcastically.

"Thanks kid," Gerard said, ruffling her hair with his sweaty hand.

"Ew get off me," she whined, swatting at him. "And don't call me that."

"Gerard, don't pick on your sister," their mom said, walking into the kitchen. “Ray, Frankie, Bob, would you boys like to stay for dinner?”

“I told my mom I’d be home for dinner tonight, thanks anyway. I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow,” Ray answered with a wave before heading for the door.

"He's my ride," Bob mumbled, following him out.

“Frankie?”

“I’d love to, Mrs. Way,” Frank replied overly sweetly. Gerard and Mikey rolled their eyes as (YN) tried to stifle a giggle.

Frank had been in the same kindergarten class as (YN) and Mikey, and they quickly became friends. They all grew up together, playing in imaginary worlds with Mikey and (YN)'s older brother Gerard and his friend Ray. Even though she was the only girl in their group, (YN) was never made to feel like the odd one out or forced to play the damsel in distress.

Eventually playing make believe gave way to only slightly more realistic pursuits when the boys started their band. Having absolutely no desire to be on stage, (YN) turned her attention toward her interest in fashion and design. She spent hours sketching haute couture gowns and jewelry she could only dream of one day making and wearing.

"Hey Frank, did you start the algebra homework yet?" (YN) asked as the family, plus Frank, sat down at the dinner table.

"Yea I got it done in study hall, do you need help?"

"Yea, I'm stuck on a few on problems."

"It's only the second week of school, you're not falling behind already are you?" Her mom asked.

"No," (YN) mumbled, turning her attention toward her plate, pushing the food around with her fork.

"Are things alright? You've seemed out of sorts when you got home the last few days.”

(YN) looked toward her brothers, who tried to avoid her eye. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

Luckily the boys started talking about the band, and (YN) was relieved to have the attention pulled off of her. Ironically, that seemed to be the theme of her sophomore year.

~

The trouble began the week before the new school year began. Her friend Christine lived in a massive house with a beautiful pool and backyard, so she had invited a ton of kids from school over for an end of the summer pool party. The event was such a big deal, there were even upperclassmen besides her older brother attending.

(YN) found a lounge chair to relax in while she waited for more of her friends to arrive. She pulled off her t-shirt and draped it neatly over the back of the chair and when she turned back around she noticed a few guys looking her way, but she didn't pay them much mind. She had just settled in, eyes closed, when a shadow blocked out the sun

"Hey (YN)," she heard someone say.

"Oh, hey Adam, what's up?" She said when she opened her eyes. Adam was in Gerard's grade, and he hadn't really talked to her much before, especially if it meant having to go out of his way to do so.

"Nothin much. You're gonna be a sophomore next year right?"

"Umm, yea."

"That's cool,” he nodded. “Getting your driver's license soon?"

"Yea, me and Mikey both got our tests scheduled on September 12th, right after our birthday," she grinned.

"Nice, so you're gonna be running wild all over town?"

(YN) burst out laughing at the absurdity of the question. "I doubt it, I'm not the wild type."

"Aw, come on, I bet you could be if you tried," he laughed, leaning down so he was looking in her eyes. "I was wondering, have you ever-"

"Lazzara!" Gerard shouted, cutting him off. Both (YN) and Adam looked over at Gerard who had a strange expression on his face. She wasn’t sure what the look was exactly, but (YN) was certain she’d never seen him like that before and it was a little scary 

"I'll be right back," Adam said with a sly smile and a wink before walking off. 

It took a while, but eventually (YN) was certain that Adam was not coming back. In fact she didn't see him at the party at all after that. However she really didn't mind, because shortly after Adam disappeared Frank arrived and sat down on the lounge chair next to her.

"Sup? Soda?" He said, offering her a can.

"Ooh, yes please," she nodded, taking the beverage from him.

"Hey (YN), did you bring sunscreen?" Mikey asked, seeming to appear out of thin air behind them.

"No, and that reminds me I forgot to put any on too. I hope I don't burn," she grimaced, exchanging looks with Frank and her brother.

"You should cover up then," Mikey said, holding out her shirt that she had left on the back of the chair.

"Oh right," she agreed, a little confused at the level of concern Mikey was taking regarding her skin health as she pulled the shirt over her bikini top. "I bet if you ask Christine, she probably has some sunscreen we could use."

"Yea maybe," Mikey said, draping a towel over her bare legs.

"Stop it," she said, kicking the towel off. "Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm helping," Mikey replied.

"Go away," she snapped, throwing the towel at him. Mikey retaliated by draping the towel over her head and when she pulled it off, he was gone.

"So annoying," she grumbled.

"If we find some sunscreen, I could help you put it on, if you want," Frank offered. "You wouldn't wanna burn."

She couldn't help but blush at the idea of Frank putting his hands all over her back and arms and... "Thanks, umm, maybe," she laughed nervously before quickly changing the subject.

(YN) spent the rest of the afternoon talking to Frank, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. Whether it was one of her brothers hovering obnoxiously close, or other guys at the party staring at her unabashedly, she had to wonder what the hell was going on.

~

The school year started as usual, but the same feeling of being watched overwhelmed (YN) as she walked down the halls of Our Lady of Sorrows Academy. At first it felt like she was being sized up like a piece of meat and the guys who were looking her up and down were hungry dogs. But as the week progressed, it was as if they couldn't avert their eyes away from her fast enough. When she tried to strike up a conversation with any guy other than her brothers, Frank, or Ray, they were abrupt and cold toward her.

"Can I tell you guys something that’s probably gonna sound crazy?” (YN) asked as she sat down in study hall with her friends Christine and Marie.

“Of course,” Christine nodded, leaning in.

“I know I’m not like hot or popular to begin with, but I feel like almost every guy in school is avoiding me."

Christine and Marie exchanged glances. "Umm, so you haven't heard?" Marie asked.

"Heard what?"

"Well first of all, I don’t think you’ve looked in the mirror recently because sweetie, the summer was very kind to you. You're totally hot, and that’s the problem,” Christine replied. 

“Hot? I'm not even doing anything different,” (YN) mumbled, feeling herself blush as she pulled the cardigan of her uniform around herself more tightly. “And what do you mean, that’s the problem?”

“I heard that Gerard told Adam that if he so much as looks at you, he’ll put a hit out on him. I guess word has gotten around to all the guys in school,” Christine shrugged.

"Are you kidding me?!" (YN) blurted out and the other kids in the quiet study hall looked over at her.

"Miss Way, do you have a problem?" Mrs. Simon, the teacher supervising the study hall, asked from her spot at the front of the room.

"Nope! I, umm, am just surprised at the answer to this equation. I really love chemistry," she lied, trying to cover up for her outburst.

"What are you gonna do?" Marie whispered when everyone in the room turned their attention back to their own work.

"Nothing," (YN) shrugged.

"Wait, really?" Christine asked, totally surprised.

"Yea, because the guy I like is one of the few that won't be intimidated by Mikey or Gee."

"Who?!" Marie asked excitedly.

"I'm not telling anyone, because if it gets out, my brothers will lose it."

"Oooh, star crossed lovers," Marie grinned.

"Hardly," (YN) replied. "I doubt he even likes me like that."

~

"So you're coming to our birthday party, right?" (YN) asked as she and Frank sat at the kitchen table after dinner that night. The algebra homework was mostly finished, but forgotten for the moment.

"Have I ever missed it?"

"No," she rolled her eyes, but smiled. She knew she could always rely on Frank to show up for their birthday.

“Are you gonna make a super big deal out of it because it’s your sweet sixteen?” His tone was a little teasing.

“Oh yea, if I don't get a brand new BMW, I’m gonna throw a tantrum," she deadpanned.

“So you’re finally gonna start acting like a true OLS Academy girl?”

“Ugh, hell no,” (YN) groaned, rolling her eyes again. "There's a reason why Christine and Marie are my only girl friends."

"And it’s not because you spend all the rest of your time hanging out with us nerds?" He smirked.

"You nerds have always been my favorite people to hang out with. You're more interesting than 99% of that school."

"All of us, or just me?" He trailed off, suddenly becoming very interested in the pencil in hand.

"Yea, you're like in first place, then Christine and Marie, then Ray, Mikey, and Gee, then everyone else in the world."

"Damn, that's a lot of people to be ahead of," he replied with a goofy smile.

"Well you're really cool and always nice to me so yea," (YN) blushed.Silence hung between them, and for a moment she thought he was about to reach over and take her hand.

"Umm... (YN), ya know I’ve always-"

"How's the homework?" Gerard asked, bursting through the door from his basement bedroom.

"It'd be easier if you weren't always barging in," (YN) snapped. She hoped the blush on her cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.

"Don't do your homework in the kitchen then," Gerard shrugged.

"It's where the snacks are," she whined, but then a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. "But I guess that’s fine, Frank will just have to go up to my room where we can shut the door and work in peace and quiet."

"I'll tell mom," Gerard replied.

"Tell her what? That you're annoying and distracting me, her long suffering youngest child, her poor, only daughter, from her studies?"

“Yea I’m the annoying one,” Gerard muttered before grabbing a soda from the fridge and retreating back downstairs.

“I should probably get going, it’s getting late,” Frank said, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt pulled up to show just a sliver of skin under the hem and (YN) couldn’t help but stare.

“Yea, umm, thanks for staying late and helping me,” (YN) said, getting up to walk him to the door.

“Just say the word and I’ll be here,” he smiled.

(YN) nodded, wanting to ask him what he was gonna say before Gerard interrupted him, but couldn’t find the courage to do so. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she smiled, holding out her arms for a hug.

Frank smiled back and wrapped his arms around her. She worried for a moment that she was holding on too long, but he wasn’t in any hurry to pull back either. When they finally did part, he waved before heading out into the cool New Jersey evening. (YN) shut the door behind him, and leaned against it with a dreamy sigh, the lingering feeling of his arms around her would be wonderful to fall asleep to that night.

Part 2

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 6:

Warnings: WHOLE lot of angst, mutual pining, Haley’s return, some smut but it’s sus, Hotch in a pickle.

Word count: 4,245 (it’s a big-un)

———

“My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?” - Fyodor Dostoevsky 

———

The electronic voice fills the small kitchen. “You have no new messages.”

It’s been two weeks of the same routine for him. He wakes up alone, gets Haley’s answering machine, eats breakfast alone and goes to HQ. Comes back home, checks his messages again, eats dinner and sleeps. There’s a small sharp stab of realisation, a split second of questioning every morning, where he wonders if it’s even worth it to keep trying to win her back - if he truly loves Haley or if he’s a creature of habit. 

If maybe they’d both be better off without one another. 

He swallows that thought quickly, pushing it as far down the abyss as he can, not ready for those thoughts to see the light of day quite yet. He settles for the former, concluding that maybe he’s both, she’s comfortable, she’s familiar - his first love. 

But what about-

No. 

It’s a beautiful kind of irony, really, he thinks. That Haley would chastise him for working late, for not coming home some nights, for being absent-minded, but in the 2 weeks she’s been gone, it’s the most he’s worked a regular job. Been home by 6pm, with all the free time he can spare. 

If only she could see me now, he thinks. 

He laughs wryly at the sense of humour the universe supposedly has, his desire for working in the field suddenly subsiding when she left. 

Maybe it was the guilt. 

He hasn’t seen you in those two weeks, either. Not since the night in your apartment when you’d told him to give Haley whatever she wanted, a pensive look on your face as you’d bid him goodbye. He’d been screening your calls, avoiding you for some reason. 

Misplaced guilt again. 

He’d finally called you back on the third day - lamenting the fact that Agent Barnes had assigned him to HQ to work the profile and that McCall would be your detail. 

He’d lied. 

Barnes had done no such thing, and Hotch had cursed himself again for lying unnecessarily, an impulse he seemingly had no control over. His mouth was speaking before his brain could catch up yet again, unable to filter out the lies he knew was telling. He had no reason to lie - not really. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to face you, to be around you when Haley wasn’t around, and his stomach churns at the possibility of why. 

Yet another thought he vows to push down into the abyss. 

Truth is, he’d thought about you almost as much as he’d thought about Haley the past two weeks, missed your ironic jabs, the smell of your hair, the way you laughed. Truth is, it was himself he didn’t quite trust to be around you, and he didn’t quite know why. 

He realises then - he misses you. More than he should. 

The front door opening brings him out of his stupor, his ears twitching. He grabs the gun out of his holster and checks the time. 

7pm. 

He slowly crosses the kitchen, walking into the passageway and sees the front door wide open, rain pelting outside in the dark.

“Hello?” He calls out, his gun trained in front of him. He calls out again to no answer. He cracks open the doorknob into the living room to do a quick sweep, checking behind the door, the windows - clearing the room when he hears shuffling in the passage again. He re-opens the door that connects the living room and passage swiftly, training his gun on the front door as he hears a shriek. 

He stops in shock, dropping his gun back to his side. 

A pair of blue eyes look at him, two bags in hand, hair wet from the rain. 

“Haley?”

———

“Hey, it’s me, Em.” You can hear her eye roll through the phone. “I’m trying you for the fourth- no- fifth time, today. I know you’re there. Call me. Bye!” You chew the inside of your cheek as you listen to her voicemail, feeling guiltier by the minute that you were avoiding her. 

You hadn’t seen her since before all of this started, her mom being posted in Rome for the holidays hadn’t exactly helped on the communication front. Now, she was back in town, and although you loved her dearly, the prospect of having to go meet her with a FBI security detail in tow, to have to explain and relive this entire thing fills you with dread. Not to mention, you haven’t really had the energy or the overwhelming desire to talk to anybody for the last two weeks. 

Where do you even start? 

You play with your necklace absent-mindedly, the cool gold comfortable under your fingers as you run the pendant along the chain. 

The telephone rings again, and you press the screen button, thinking it’s Emily.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s Dad. Pick up.” 

You fumble with the phone, clicking the button. You take a deep sigh. “Hey, Dad.” 

“Sweetheart! How are you? It’s so good to hear your voice.” He sounds full of worry and you suddenly feel guilty for screening all of your calls. 

“I’m good, Dad - sorry I haven’t called you back, I guess I don’t feel too good.” You lie, chewing your lip.

He immediately starts to worry, asking you if something happened, if you need a doctor. Offers to have his aide pick you up and bring you to him. 

You smile. “No, no, Dad, it’s nothing like that. I’ve just been busy with work, I guess I’m a little tired is all.” 

“And there haven’t been any more incidents?” He asks. 

“Actually, no. I’m going into Quantico tomorrow morning to speak with Agent Barnes, but I- I don’t know, maybe he’s gone? I don’t know, I feel a little better about this now.” Hope flutters in your chest at the prospect of maybe, finally being able to live your life again, free from the shadow of your tormentor.

“That’s great, sweetheart!” You can hear his smile. “Do you need me to come with you?” 

You tell him no, and bid him a quick goodbye, promising him that you’ll come by for dinner later this week, maybe even to celebrate. 

“That’s great, honey, I’d love that. Oh! Before I let you go - Elizabeth and Emmy are back in town and I know Emmy would love to see you.” He poses it as a question, knowing in his voice that you’d been avoiding her. 

You pause. 

“Give her a call won’t you? Please.” 

“I will, Dad. I gotta go.” 

The receiver clicks as you set it down. You think back to the phone call you’d shared with Hotch two weeks ago, the way he’d ended the call so abruptly, so coldly, almost felt like a farce to you. You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, figured things didn’t go well with Haley and he’d be back in a couple of days. 

Then a week passed. 

And then another one. 

And you were still getting interviewed by Agent McCall, drawing up lists of people you’d spoken to in the last year, trying your best to just get on with things, hoping that McCall would tell you Hotch would relieve him soon. Hoping the phone would ring or that he’d walk in the door until you realise - the man was trying to do right by his girlfriend, if anything, you didn’t possess his mind at all. 

You sleep that night preoccupied with the thought of Hotch, realising that in all your naivety and miserable, false hope - you missed him. 

———

He watches you through the mirror, your eyes flutter closed at his touch, his breath on your skin as he places hot wet kisses on the juncture between your shoulder and neck. His left hand comes up from behind you, running over your ribs and palming at your chest, thumb tracing your nipple. He continues to thrust into you, nerve endings on fire, finding himself intoxicated at the sight of you gripping him so tight.

You turn your head slightly to your left, your foreheads now touching, breaths mingling, your face blissed out. “Kiss me, Aaron.” You gasp.  

Your lips clash in a mess of teeth and tongues, no real rhyme or rhythm to the kiss as he swallows your whimpers. You moan against his lips as he continues his assault, his hair falling on your face. 

He feels himself right on the precipice, body ablaze, throbbing with you surrounding him, invading his senses. He’s close. 

“Aaron. Aaron, I’m gonna-”

“Aaron? Aaron!!” His body twitches as he wakes with a start, a freezing hand against his chest, shaking him to consciousness. He blinks his eyes open, immediately sitting up trying to bridge the gap between his dream and what was in front of him. Haley shoots him a confused look, watching him as she sets down a cup of coffee on the bedside table. 

He grabs a pillow and quickly places it over his lap to cover the evidence from his dream as Haley takes a seat next to his legs, a hand reaching out to rub his shin over the covers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, you were just moaning in your sleep - I thought maybe you were having a nightmare.” She laughs. 

“No, no. Not a nightmare.” He says absent-mindedly.

His body is still thrumming, heart pounding and he hopes like hell that Haley doesn’t realise what he was dreaming about. He can feel the flush in his face, unable to tear away the image of you in his mind. He thinks then about the irony of the situation - yet again. His estranged girlfriend returned home just last night and this morning he finds himself dreaming of you. 

The guilt settles deep into his stomach, clawing at his insides, heat prickling on the back of his neck. What kind of a man was he, to not even be able to commit to his high-school sweetheart. The woman who’d seen him through school, college, seen him through his career so far. 

There’s another thought that gnaws at him, that begs him to look inward and ask himself why of all days, he dreamed of you today - or at all. What it means for him. But he resolves to table that, pushes it further down than he can stomach and he knows it’s bound to bubble back up eventually. But still, he denies himself the answer that’s right of him. 

He stares at Haley for a moment, reaches out his hands to grab hers and pulls her onto him. She falls onto him with a giggle, as he manoeuvres her under him, their lips pressing together for a chaste kiss. 

“Okay, definitely not a nightmare.” She giggles. 

He tries his best to pour all his commitment and affection for Haley into that morning, concluding in his mind then, that this is what he wants, that this is who he needs to be with. The rest of it could be a passing infatuation - but Haley is familiar. She’s comfortable. She’s what he knows. And isn’t that what love is? 

This is where he belongs. 

——-

You try your best to quell the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, willing them to calm and let you collect yourself. With Hotch confined to his so called assignment to HQ, this would be the first time you’ve seen him for weeks. Your nagging conscience eats at you, asks you why you decided to put in that extra effort to get ready today, why you decided to wear that particular perfume. 

Stop.

You bite the inside of your cheeks again, yet another unsavoury habit you’d picked up as a child, as you mindlessly watch the cars go past the SUV on the freeway. A black sedan keeps a constant speed in the lane next to you, windows tinted almost to black, as you eye it from your peripheral. It slows down quickly, allowing it to move behind you as Agent McCall adjusts the mirror to get a better look. 

It moves to the left, this time, speeding up and cutting Agent McCall off harshly, slowing down and speeding up, brake lights flashing. You look up at Agent McCall, paranoia settling into your bones. He shoots you a reassuring glance as he reaches for his phone, rattling off a partial plate to the other side before the sedan takes off. 

It’s probably not that, you think. 

Probably just some idiot with a new car. 

You should’ve known better. 

As you pull into the parking lot into Agent McCall’s assigned parking space, you look around almost instinctively, scanning the place for Agent Hotchner’s car. Your eyes take stock of the rows and rows of cars before you can even really reconcile with yourself why you’re looking for it. 

You do the same as you enter the bullpen with McCall, trying your best to keep up with him in the bustle of agents carrying their paperwork, telephones ringing and the click clacking of their keyboards. You feel out of your body, an almost deja-vu like sensation, like you’ve been here before. You hold on tight to the lapel of your coat, readjusting your visitor badge to ground yourself as you continue to discreetly scan the bullpen for the familiar head of long floppy hair, the tense shoulders and dark eyes. 

Nothing.

You walk past a desk on your way towards the steps at the head of the bullpen, black letters burnt into a bronze name plate read ‘SA Aaron Hotchner’. Your heart skips a beat with excitement as you take a quick scan but then you realise. No coat, no briefcase on the desk. The overhead lamp is turned off, the desk is made, untouched. The computer screen black. Surely, Agent Barnes must have told him you were coming in today, you think. So where was he? 

You attempt to refocus yourself as Agent Barnes exits his office to lead you and McCall into a room at the end of the corridor, past the offices. He greets you with a small side hug, asks about your father as he makes the introductions. Four other agents sit around the round table, each of them introduce themselves with a firm handshake. 

Official. 

 But still no Hotch. 

A TV hangs on the wall, evidence boards erected on either side. Your driver’s license picture sits on the right hand side and you cringe at the older picture of yourself - it seems like a lifetime ago. The text above your photo reads, ‘Victim’. You swallow thickly, your skin crawling at the realisation that no matter which way you try to spin it, you were already his victim. He didn’t have to do anything else. 

Agent McCall follows your line of sight to the evidence boards and shoots a glare at one of the agents who immediately steps up and turns it over. 

“No, no. It’s okay. Leave it, please.” The agent glances between McCall and Barnes as if to ask permission to turn it back around. “I’m telling you, it’s okay. Really.” You tell him, firmly. 

You take a seat at the table, and go back through a possible list of suspects, people you’ve been with, spoken to, worked with for the last year, but none of them seem to be a good fit. That’s kind of the point though, right - that you never see it coming? 

“Well, we’re closer now than before, with a list of people, we can run priors and backgrounds on them to see if any match the profile.” Barnes explains. 

“Well, what is the profile?” You ask, curiosity piqued. You’ve come to realise you have a sort of penchant for the behavioural arts, even resorting to very basic profiling of those around you, and it was a gift and a curse. 

Barnes steels for a moment, weighing his options, not wanting to scare you. You stare back at him and place your hands on the table, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to go on. 

“Well, we believe he’s a white man, between the ages of 20-30, suffering from something called erotomania. This is when-“

“-You have delusions that somebody is madly in love with you, right?”

He looks happily surprised - proud, almost. “Exactly. We believe he’s somebody you’ve met before, this kind of obsession is too intense for it to be somebody you had just a chance encounter with. That can happen, of course, but it’s exceedingly rare.”

McCall pipes up. “He’s showing psychopathic tendencies and he’s getting angry. Angry that you won’t notice him - that you’ve somehow rejected him.” Your eyebrows twitch. “Remember the blood spatters on the note? The way he crossed out the pictures of you?” 

You nod as everyone falls into silence. 

“And his endgame?” 

Barnes’ lips press into a thin line, as he focuses on the table in front of him. He inhales and stops himself several times, as though he’s trying to find the right words. “He’s not going to go quietly. This level of obsession and anger can quickly turn violent. I know you mentioned there haven’t been any more interactions, anymore notes, but we will be erring on the extreme side of caution for now.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

He takes a long pause. “There’s a strong chance that he’ll go out shooting. He’ll hurt himself and y-” He clears his throat. “Himself and you.” He says, looking at you. 

You swallow thickly. 

“But - we plan on catching this son of a bitch before that can happen. And we will catch him. We won’t let it get to that.” He clears his throat as you all stand.

“Yeah.”

“Look, the profile is sound.” He says, reassuring you. “We wouldn’t have been able to develop it this fast if it hadn’t been for Agent Hotchner volunteering to work it these past couple of weeks so-”

You pause.

“-He volunteered?” You ask, your eyes darting off the table, voice high. 

“I- yes, he did.” He looks at you puzzled, as he leans to look past your body through the window and into the bullpen behind you. He huffs a laugh. “Actually, uh, speak of the devil.” He nods behind you. 

Blood rushes to your ears as you turn around, Hotch shrugging off his coat and running a hand through his hair as he runs up the stairs. You shoot an accusatory look back towards McCall who ducks his head in shame, fidgeting with his tie, caught out in their lie.

You’re somewhere between fury and betrayal, hurt and embarrassed.

It’s a slap in the face.

He’s been avoiding you? 

Hotch’s eyes catch yours through the window, his earlier resolve crumbling almost instantaneously, as he takes you in from bottom to top. His heart jumps as he remembers his dream from this morning, blood rushing. His smile drops quickly though when he sees your expression - and his own eyes do nothing to hide his guilt as he enters the roundtable room, glancing at McCall as they share a guilty look, and then he trains his eyes on Barnes. You keep your eyes focused forward, not trusting yourself to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. Your heart is pounding, and you feel so furious, so sick and embarrassed, like he’d just tossed you aside. 

Calm down, he doesn’t owe you anything.

Still.

You feel him come up next to you, but you keep your eyes focused forward, willing them to keep your attention straight. 

“Hotchner. Come in. I was just tell-”

“Telling us how this profile wouldn’t have been possible without you volunteering for the last two weeks.” You interrupt, placing an emphasis on the word ‘volunteering’. A sudden surge of fury and boldness overcomes you, a tight smile on your face that threatens to snap as you look up at him. 

His face is almost pitiable, he blinks rapidly, his gaze quickly diverting from yours as he tilts his head downwards, his hand scratching the back of his neck. 

Barnes looks between Hotch, McCall and you, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out the situation, the room suddenly feeling heavy. You take a deep breath and go to shake Barnes’ hand, voice higher than it needs to be.

“Well, I really should be going, now. I have to get back to work, thank you so much for your help, Agent.” Your smile is almost a grimace now, your farce slipping. 

He simply shakes your hand slowly, confused at the energy shift, and bids you a quick goodbye, his face still contorted in confusion. McCall goes to follow you as you leave, but you turn back on your heel quickly.

“Oh that’s not necessary, Agent. I’m sure you have some things to finish up here. I can take a cab.” Your words are laced with anger, sarcasm dripping with every intonation. He stops in his tracks, mouth opening and closing, a hand smoothing over his tie. He doesn’t know what to say or do.

You don’t wait for a response, instead turn around to walk out of the doors and down the steps as Barnes wordlessly tells Hotch to go after you. You walk faster than your legs can carry you, refusing to let up until you’re safely in the elevator. You hear footsteps behind you, getting closer and closer, and you hate that you even know what his tread sounds like. 

He calls out your name twice, the people in the bullpen staring as you walk through the plate glass doors and towards the foyer. Your ears burn with embarrassment, you know you’re probably causing a scene, but your anger and hurt outweighs any rational thought you have right now. 

You step into the elevator and press the G for ground floor, as Hotch speeds through the doors, calling your name again. You will the doors to shut faster, he closes the distance between you, and they’re almost there until his hand reaches between the metal, the doors opening again. 

You heave a sigh as he stands next to you, but you daren’t look at anything other than your distorted reflection in the metal of the elevator doors as they close once again. The air feels impossibly heavy, both of you knowing now, that he’d been lying and avoiding you for the last two weeks. It feels like it’s hard to breathe as the elevator descends.

“Can you please just let me explain?” He pleads, searching out your eyes. Your jaw sets into a hard line, and you swallow thickly, your resolve dangerously close to crumbling. “Please? Just talk to me? Scream if you want to scream, yell at me, just say something. Please.” 

You say nothing, try your damndest to pretend he’s not there. He slams the emergency stop button, a gasp escaping you as the elevator jolts to a stop. 

“What - the hell are you doing?” You hiss as you press the button again to release the elevator. 

He presses it again, this time covering the button pad with his hand as he stares at you. You stare back this time, your chest heaving. You try to move his hand off the pad, but he’s stuck to the cold metal, refusing and unrelenting. 

“Just please - talk to me.”

You can’t do it anymore. “Fine. You wanna talk. Let’s talk. Barnes? Barnes assigned you to work the profile? Was I that much of a burden that you not only had to avoid me, but you had to lie about why you couldn’t work my detail?” Are you kidding me, Hotch?”

“No- that’s not what it was. I swear -”

“Don’t you dare. If that’s not what it was, then what the hell was it? I don’t see you for two weeks, I call you and you tell me that you’ve been assigned to desk duty! And don’t think I didn’t see the look McCall had on his face, you told him to lie to me too?” 

He stutters over his words. “It wasn’t that- it just. Haley.”

“Don’t blame this on Haley. She’s not responsible for your actions. You are. You chose to lie to me. You chose to avoid me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is, how disgusting it makes me feel? Like I’m just some stupid plaything for you people!” Your volume rises steadily now, you’re incapable of controlling the rise and fall. 

“That’s not what it was! I didn’t trust-”

“Trust what?” You snap. 

Trust myself. 

“That’s what I thought.” Your voice cracks as you move his hand out of the way and slam the button to release the elevator again, as he stands in front of you, unable to move, his body feeling like stone. 

Plaything?

Your words reverberate in his ears. If anything, it was the opposite. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe. To treat with all the delicateness and care you deserved, cursing himself for doing the one thing he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to break you because he couldn’t face how he felt, because he didn’t want to face how he felt.

The door dings and opens, the main foyer bustling in front of you. You rip off your visitor badge and throw it into his hand as you go to march out of the elevator, Hotch clutching your visitor badge. The guilt settles like concrete in his stomach, penetrating nerve-deep. 

“You don’t want to work my detail? Consider yourself relieved from duty.”  

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[the-sympathetic-villain]

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 2

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with  supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others  are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security  government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile  Picani.  After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr  Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the  prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be  too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 3323

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Crying, Depression, Casual Suicidal ideation, Depriving someone of food, Captivity, Solitary confinement, Knife, Threats of violence, Swearing, Mentions of abuse/torture, Injuries, Panic Attack, Food (Let me know if need to add anything!)

---

    The first night, Logan screamed himself hoarse well into the middle of the night. His body ached with misery, as he yelled and pulled at his restraint. His wrist was bruised and he could feel a this stream of blood dripping from where the metal had cut into his skin but he kept fighting until his body collapsed with exhaustion and he was forced into a restless sleep.

    Agony burned in his chest as the long hours dragged by in absolute silence. Being alone was a rare experience for Logan and one he adamantly avoided. While the sound of the constant chattering of strangers thoughts would probably sound nightmarish to the average person, he'd grown accustomed to the comforting presence of others' thoughts. He was used to the white noise, and though he knew it was irrational, the sudden silence growing nearly painful with every hour that passed.

    The second night, the isolation started to dig its claws into the corners of his mind. The restraint on his wrist limited his movement to only a few feet around the bed and so far, he'd spent hours staring into the empty window on the far side of the room. Anger twisted in his stomach at the thought that he was likely being watched through the one-way reflective surface and he felt like screaming at his silent observers until his voice gave out, but the previous night’s experience had already proved that effort would be futile. Expending the energy would only make him hungrier.

    All he could do was wait.

    The third day, he'd woken to find the restraint on his wrist had been released while he'd slept. He blinked, unsure of what this new revelation meant for him. Rubbing his sore wrist, he sat up to scan the quiet room. The door remained closed, and likely locked, but somehow a container of water has found its way into the room. He stepped off the bed, glancing cautiously at the one-way mirror as he approached the glass jug sitting at the base of his door. He was aware of the danger. Tampering with his water supply would be a simple way to entrap him or drug him, but his thirst quickly overrode any hesitation he had. They were his only access to resources and he knew he'd have to give in eventually or risk simply dying of dehydration. Not to mention, quite frankly, if the people in this place decided to kill him, he had little recourse in stopping them. No amount of bargaining would change that fact that he was at their mercy.

    Next to the water, he found a fresh change of clothes. The sight of fresh white hospital-like clothing brought a bitter taste to his mouth as memories of the night before came rushing back. He hadn't seen a hint of another person since the doctor had left him, taking with him the only people who might be even remotely sympathetic to his situation. He brushed his thumb over the stiff fabric picturing the faces of the two other prisoners who'd been dressed in the same sterile uniform as he now held in his hand. Still, he changed his clothes, feeling a new level of numb as he changed in front of the window.

    Numbness had settled in fully by the fourth night. The hunger left him too weak to stay focused on anything for long. The water provided for him sustained his body in only the barest sense and he could feel his willpower draining away as he spent more time curled in his bed, mind blank as he succumbed to the silence. That night, a particularly sinister breed of depression had taken root in his mind, pushing him toward the precipice of giving up. Dark, self-destructive thoughts clouded his mind as finally drifted off to sleep, making his abrupt awakening all the more jarring as he opened his eyes to find a sharp blade pressed to his throat and a shadow with glowing purple eyes looming over him.

    “Move and I'll slit your throat.”

    Pure adrenaline flooded over Logan at the familiar voice. The man who'd nearly strangled him the first night straddled his chest, silhouetted against the dark room by the eerie red light. Logan swallowed, barely breathing as he as he pressed himself backward, tilted his head away from the blade.

    “You will answer my questions.”

    A whimper escaped Logan’s lips, but he forced a small nod, hardly daring to move under the delicate pressure of the sharp blade.

    “Why's Picani interested in you?”

    “I don't kn—”

    “Find a better answer.” The man's hiss sent chills down his spine as the knife moved up Logan’s neck. “The other night, you blew me back into the wall like a goddamn ragdoll. What’s was that?”

    Logan sucked in a shallow breath as he struggled to keep his weak body breathing. “Tele—telekinesis.”

    “Do not fuck with me right n—”

    “I’m not—” Logan breathed, closing his eyes. “I can move things with my mind—”

    The blade pressed against his throat with a preciseness just short of drawing blood. “If that were true, why haven’t you blasted me again?”

    “I—I don't control it. I never learned how.” Logan blinked, surprised as the blade released a touch of pressure. He blinked, staring up at blank expression on the man's face as he continued.

    “Picani’s guard said you'd feed on me.” The man growled his disbelief as he glared down at Logan. “Explain.”

    “I don’t know what he was—"

    “Not good enough.” The man's deep voice growled above him as the blade returned to his throat. "If you don't start talking, I'll—"

    “Please—” Logan whimpered as the sharp nicked his throat and a thin line of blood dripped down his neck.  “—It's not what you think.”

    “Then explain,” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued but the pressure of the blade eased slightly. “before I start to get impatient.”

    Logan swallowed, feeling a wet streak trail down his face. “Others’ thoughts—I hear them.”

    “Are you telling me you feed on my thoughts?”  

    “No—“ Logan whispered as tears flowed freely down his face. “Please, I don’t know how it works but I can’t—It doesn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone. Please—”

    Logan clenched his eyes shut, stifling a terrified whimper as the blade moved up his neck. His heart pounded in his chest until the blade lifted slightly from his throat and a wet sob escaped his throat. He sucked in a breath as the man leaned back, knife still pointed in Logan's direction as he continued in a hushed tone.

    “Are you listening to my thoughts right now?”

    “N—no,” Logan breathed, avoiding the man's eyes. “I'm too weak. I can’t—I can’t do anything.”

    The man was quiet for a long moment, eyes glinting in the red light as he stared at Logan. “What'd he do to you?”

    “Who?”

    “Picani,” The man's voice softened slightly. “The doctor, I mean. What's he done to you?”

    “I—I’ve been kept alone and—” Logan bit his lip, uncertain about sharing the true depths of his weakness. “—and I haven’t eaten. Anything that fuels my power, he's taken it from me. I can't—I can't hurt you."

    The silence hung in the air for a long, tense moment before the man spoke again, knife still inches from Logan's throat.

    “Close your eyes.”

    A chill crept up Logan’s spine at the seriousness in the man's voice. “Please, don't—”

    “Don’t argue.”

    Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as the glisten of the blade pointed at him inches from his face. Stilled trembling and tense, he let his eyes flutter closed.

    “Move your hands where I can see them.”

    “I'm already blind—”

    “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

    “Fine.” Logan muttered as he rested his head back on the pillow, lifting his hands in apparent surrender. After a moment, he could feel the bed shift as the man climbed off the bed in absolute silence. Logan strained his ears, but he was unable to trace the man’s careful movements after he stepped onto the flow. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to remain still, unsure of how the man would react to even the smallest twitch.

    “If Picani finds out I have a knife because you rat me out, I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands.”

    Logan bit his lip, body shaking as he gave a stiff nod. “U-understood.”

    “Telling him won’t protect you.” The man continued gruffly. “It will only put me in danger.”

    “I won't tell him.” Logan swallowed. “You have my word.”

    “Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

    A bitter from twitched at the corner of Logan’s lip. “The man dropped you back in here in the middle of the night, while I was weak and defenseless, knowing full well that you'd already made one attempt on my life. I'm not so much of a fool to believe him my ally.”

    “Picani was hedging his bets that you'd appeal to my good will.”

    Logan let out a huff, dropping his head to his chest. “Well, it appears he made a miscalculation.”

    “Perhaps.” Virgil sighed quietly after a moment. “Or perhaps not. You can have this, but I want you to give me back the wrapper, so I can hide it later.”

    A small object struck Logan’s chest, causing him to flinch back with a sharp breath. His muscles tensed as his eyes cautiously fluttered open to reveal the ominous sight of the stranger’s eyes glinting at him through the darkness. Slowly, he sat upright, maintaining eye contact as he turned his head down to stare at the protein bar in his lap.

   “Don't make a mess.”

   Glancing cautiously up at the other man’s stiff form, Logan leaned forward to tear at the wrapper. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t about to waste his first chance for food in three days. His hands shook as he attempted to tear into the difficult piece of plastic, growing  desperate as the man above him tensed.

   “Hey, be careful!” The man held up a hand, stopping as Logan flinched at his volume.  He paused, giving Logan a quick sympathetic look before edging closer. “Listen, hand it over for a second.”

   Logan hesitated, gripping the bar tightly as if his life depended on it.

   “Listen, dude. It's all yours, I swear.” The man whispered with a wary smile, holding up his friends as he dropped down on the side of the bed. His movements were slow, as if he was suddenly deliberately making an attempt to be non-threatening. “Just let me open it for you so you don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get backlash for helping you out. Okay?”

   “Okay.” Logan whispered after a moment of tense silence, keeping his head bowed from the man's gaze as the man took the bar from his hands. “Thank y—”

   “Don't thank me.” The man cut him off sternly. He made quick work of tearing the wrapper open before offering it back to Logan. “What's your name?”

   “Logan.”

   “Okay, Logan. Mine's Virgil.”

   The man whisper filled the air as he waited patiently for Logan to take the bar from the wrapper. Logan took a quick bite, watching the man in his periphery as he chewed the small offering of food slowly. His body ached for him to finish faster, but he didn't want to be caught off guard if the man suddenly changed his mind.

   “Listen, I'm sorry.” Virgil muttered as Logan took another bite. “I know I must have scared the shit out of you just now.”

   Logan blinked up in mild surprise at the man's change in tone, still wary of the man's anger as he swallowed his first bite.

   “You were being cautious.”

   “That doesn’t suddenly make any of this shit okay,” Virgil muttered as he crumpled the wrapper into his pocket and stared at his lap. “The way I reacted is straight fucked, but you got to know that Picani only keep his most dangerous subjects this deep into the labs. You're not the first piece of fresh meat Picani’s dropped in my bunk—And when I heard the guards talking about you feeding on me, I panicked.”

   “I assume the doctor has given you plenty of reason to be wary of newcomers.” Logan whispered, still slightly unnerved by the man's choice of words. “H-how long have you been here?”

   “Long enough that I stopped counting the days.”

   Virgil absently ran his fingers through his hair as Logan took in the sight of the man for the first time. His white attire seemed dirtier than before, especially next to the stark white color of Logan’s matching attire. Logan’s eyes tipped up to the man's face. Fresh bruises covered his face and arms and large pieces of gauze appeared to have been haphazardly applied to his head and around his elbows in a poor attempt at first aid for whatever injuries he sustained over the last few days.

   "W-where did they take y—”

   “Don’t ask.” Virgil interrupted abruptly, glancing at the fearful look in Logan’s eyes as he cut him off. He paused, briefly considering the harshness his words before looking up at Logan. “You'll find out soon enough and trust me, you'll wish you never found out.”

   “The doctor—He hurts you because of your powers.” Logan observed, curling his knees to his chest as Virgil’s dark gaze turned back to him. “Doesn't he?”

   Virgil blinked up at him. "How did you—"

   "I saw you starting to turn invisible before the doctor walked in on us." Logan bit his lip, looking shyly at his lap. "Just after I blew you back into the wall."

   "Huh, well, its not invisibility." Virgil huffed, dropping his shoulders as he pointed up at the red lights. "I can manipulate light. It's the reason for all of those."

   "What?" Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at the strange lights.

   "I can't shift red light as easily as the rest of the spectrum." Virgil muttered bitterly. "They put these in here to make sure that Picani always knows where I'm at."

   "And he hurts you because of these abilities?"

   "He runs tests." Virgil blinked, looking up a the fear Logan was barely concealing behind his eyes. “Picani’s a bastard and this—” Virgil muttered, looking disgusted as he stared at his bandages before glancing over at Logan. “—is nothing. He's done much worse to me when he gets worked up. He says its about figuring out how I do it, but if you ask me, he just gets off on hearing me scream.”

   Logan's skin tingled with fear and he could feel tears growing in his eyes as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I felt like that might be the case.”

   “He owns us. We’re not even people to him.” Virgil’s words fel from his lips absently as he rambled. “And when Picani gets a new subject, he's miserable. He a whole new level of sadism and miser—Shit.”

   Virgil paused as Logan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking from the overwhelming series of events from the last few nights.

   “Hey, don't panic.” Virgil jolted upright, turning to rest his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “Wait—No, no, just breathe with me. Don't panic.”

   Logan sucked in a ragged breath as Virgil rested a hand on his chest, applying a gentle pressure to help ground him. His throat ached as he tried to suppress another sob and Virgil curled an arm around his shoulder.

   “You are going to get through this, Logan.” Virgil hushed him urgently. “God. I'll help you but you need to stop. You can't lose it now.”

   “I—I’m sorry.” Logan felt himself tugging on his hair as he whispered between ragged breaths. " I'm s-s-sorr—"

   “It's okay.” Virgil whispered insistently, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders. “You're going to be okay. Just get your breathing under control.”

   Logan nodded, body aching as he suppressed the overwhelming panic seizing his muscles. Slowly, through Virgil’s gentle touches and kind words his breathing returned to normal and his muscles started to relax.

   “There you go.” Virgil let out a sigh, leaning back. "You did okay."

   “I'm sorry.” Logan whispered between pained breaths. “I'm being irrational—”

   “Don’t do that to yourself. Your reaction is the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken place,” Virgil’s eyes tipped sympathetically towards Logan in the dark, flashing with the knowledge of their grim reality. “but you can’t afford to be emotional here. You'll get hurt if you do this around the wrong people.”

   Logan paused, feeling his breathing slow a bit at the kind look in Virgil’s glowing purple eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

   “I mean it. You can't react like that with the doctor.” Virgil whispered, roughly wiping away the streaks of tears off his cheeks. “The doctor will exploit every fear you show him. You have to be stronger than him.”

   “O-okay.” Logan whispered, still trembling as Virgil talked him through his panic.

   “Find a place in your head that you can disappear to when you’re in his hands.” Virgil stated with a pitiful smile as he stared at Logan’s distant stare. “Whatever you do, don’t show him what you’re feeling.”

   “I will—um, thank you for the advice.”

   “It's nothing.” Virgil muttered quietly. “Consider it an apology for waking you up with a shiv to you throat. Alright?”

   Logan sucked on his lip, curling his knees to his chest. “It's fine. I realize now why you acted in such a manner.”

   "It's not fine, but whatever." Virgil shrugged as his lip twitched with guilt. “but either way, you look like shit and I think you should get some rest.”

   “I'm not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at this point.”

   “You need to try. You need whatever energy you can get to get through tomorrow.”

   Logan blinked up at the serious tone in Virgil’s voice as he slid up on the bed and faced the door.

   “I'll keep an eye out and wake you before Picani and his goons show up. Okay?”

   “S-sure.” Logan whispered, chilled by the seriousness in Virgil’s voice.

   “You can trust me on this, Logan.” Virgil paused raising an eyebrow at Logan. “There’s not much I can do to protect you, but at the very least, I won’t let Picani catch you by surprise.”

   Logan let out a breath as Virgil patted the bed next to him. Stiffly, Logan slid over to him and slipped underneath the thin blanket. Uneasily, he rested down on the pillow next to where the Virgil perched, staring at the door. “Thank you, Virgl. I—I know you don't have to help me.”

   “I want to.” Virgil muttered under his breath almost to himself. His voice was so quiet Logan nearly didn’t catch the end of his statement. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

   Logan blinked, considering Virgil’s words as a deep exhaustion crept over him. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring up at the distant look in Virgil’s eyes as he stared at the closed door of their cell. He sighed. Falling asleep next to the stranger who'd had a knife to his throat only minutes seemed like an impossible feat but only a few short minutes had passed before the exhaustion began to outweigh his anxiety. He could feel his eyelids dropping even as his heart fluttered with fear of the man next to him. This had to be a mistake and Logan was well aware of that fact. Yet, as his mind drifted off to sleep, he found himself easing to sleep with the madman with the knife next to him anyway.

---

Author’s Note: That’s it for now, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer before we get to here more about these poor boys. Thanks for reading, and again, if you want to be on the taglist, all you have to do is let me know!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

[mako-bones]

Year Walk (A Zelpha Story)

I have this posted on AO3, but I'd like to post it here as well! This is the second chapter, and it's under a cut since it is kinda long.

Chapter One: The Walk Begins

Chapter Two: Since We Were Kids

Word Count: 2342

~~~

Oh, Jabu-Jabu, this may be the worst day of my life.

Mipha's face was flush with bright blue as the floor slowly receded, flooding out in murmurs and gossip per the request of King Dorephan.

"It IS about lunchtime...Let the Council take a recess and we will return tonight. Mipha? A word. In private, please."

Yes, this was quickly transpiring into the worst day of her life.

The two took a left, into a spacious room decorated in the abundance of silver and aqua blues. Narrow columns served as the only vague doors, but no one was around to think of eavesdropping on the King and Princess.

Dorephan stopped and faced his daughter.

Anxiously, Mipha wrung her hands together, debating between meeting her father's concerned eyes or easily focusing on the wall elsewhere. Although it was hard to ignore his deep, rumbling voice as he hummed.

"You look tired, Mipha-"

"Father, what day is it?" Mipha blurted out again. "What time is it? I-I can't seem to remember what happened yesterday, or the day before that. And I apologize in advance , but I don't know what's going on-"

"Mipha." Dorephan knelt down, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. He lifted another hand to his chest. "Take a deep breath. In...And out..."

While her eyes closed, and she slowly inhaled a shaky breath, she missed the way Dorephan's gaze turned to great worry, but disappeared when she opened her eyes again.

"Could you tell me how you're feeling? You've never been one for bad mornings...And yet, I've never seen you so scared before."

Mipha ran her hands down her face, dropping them into her lap. Slowly, she recounted the events of her nightmare. Leaving out the grisly, goreish battle, and the deja vu paradox she seemed to have found herself in.

It was her and Ruta, against a fearsome enemy. Alone and afraid.

Dorephan scratched at his chin, staring intently at the floor as he listened. Eventually he sighed. "I knew this was a mistake."

"Father?"

"Mipha...You looked so happy when the Hylians and Zorans unearthed the Divine Beast. It was quite endearing, seeing how excited you were when you’re usually so serene. But...Is this truly what you want?”

“Not because it's expected of you, or thrown upon you.” He continued. “But deep down, I encourage you to consider what this truly means. Do you understand?"

Deep down, she did. And she also did not.

She had to be the pilot. Her family, her home, her entire world counted on her. No one would know what it meant to be killed by the monster inside the belly of the beast, and in a strange sense, it was hers to conquer. Again and again all alone, so be it. So long as no one else had to.

And she nodded. "Yes, I understand." She took another breath in and out. “If it’s alright, Father…”

“Go ahead.” Dorephan finished, nodding. “Be mindful of the time, however.”

Mipha’s grateful smile was wobbly and drained, but she dove forward to hug Dorephan tightly before finally taking off through the halls again.

This time, she went the back way, avoiding the flood of curiously wandering Hylians and Zora.

In the East Reservoir Lake, Vah Ruta sat in the same spot she did a year ago. Or was it yesterday? It was the same spot that Mipha had remembered.

Perched between sand and water, her trunk was lifted high into the air, her head tilted to peer at the sky. She did not move, not even as Mipha swam closer.

“Although this may seem like the first time, weren’t you there when the world ended? Was that really you, or was it your ghost and mine?”

No move.

Mipha raised herself from the water, turning and sitting on the shore. The elephant towered over her even more so, its silhouette casting a gigantic shadow over the Zora. Mipha kicked her feet in the water as she continued to ramble.

"Nightmare or not, something was real. Something happened, that much I believe. Though I'm not quite sure how...Or why...At least I have another chance. We have another chance. All the things we never got to say or-"

"Is that you, Princess? Ah, I would know that voice anywhere."

Grass and leaves crunched beneath high heeled shoes, brushed away by a long azure dress. Mipha jumped, eyes trailing up Zelda's dress until she met her dark brown eyes.

There was a look that Mipha couldn't recognize, paired with her smile that didn't quite reach.

"Are you feeling alright?" Zelda asked, finally stopping a few steps away. Her neck craned upwards and she squinted.

"And I thought you did not want to be a pilot. Yet..."

"I was just...Becoming familiar with her, that's all." Mipha said. "I don't really mean what I said at the Domain. I panicked."

"I know." Zelda flashed another smile. "I could see it in your eyes. What had you so rustled? Was it me? I know we haven't had much time to meet since we were kids, right?"

"Right." Mipha nodded, and slid back into the cool water. She gestured to Zelda to follow along the shoreline. "It was only a bad night, Princess. And a hasty morning--But now that you're here, it's becoming much brighter."

Zelda playfully rolled her eyes, kicking a small branch aside. "I can say the same about you."

She paused, and then quietly said, "You seem...Different, now."

"Different?"

"In a good way!" Zelda added quickly, raising her hands. She laughed in a short bark, tucking her hair behind her reddened ear. "I only meant that...Uh...It's just nice to see you again."

They had reached the end of the lake, where a wide pier was stocked with benches, beds under luminous stone canopies, and even snacks in chests nearby. Zelda plopped down on one of the benches while Mipha lingered in the water, leaning on her crossed forearms.

"I do hope I've changed since we were children. You...Also seem different." Mipha squinted, but she couldn't place it. Was it her hair, or maybe her blushing cheeks?

Speaking of blush...

"Have you and Link gotten along well enough?"

Zelda's eyes blew up wide. She looked horrified, confused. She sputtered and sat up straighter. "Link...?"

Mipha blinked, wondering if she should press on or backtrack while she was still ahead. "Your bodyguard, yes? The knight that--Is very skilled in his line of work."

"I-I haven't heard of anyone like that, Princess." Zelda cleared her throat. "Are you a fortune teller now, as well as a Pilot and future queen?"

Mipha sank into the water, cheeks dusting blue. "How do you know for certain that I'm a Pilot? I could easily say no, you know."

Suddenly a rumbling and grinding of stone made both women jolt up, Mipha spinning around to face the noise.

Vah Ruta began to raise her trunk, slowly backing into the water. Zelda tilted her head, ready to begin documenting as she noticed it sinking into the water. But only halfway...

It lifted its trunk, and spewed water like a broken fountain straight into the air. In only a few seconds, Mipha felt heavy raindrops beating down on her skin, rippling the water in a mini rip current.

"Ruta?!" Mipha lifted her head from the rough waters, a scowl on her face. "We talked about this, don't you remember? We are going to have another talk about this...Later. Oh, don't look at me like that, that was very rude!"

Mipha shook her fins out, huffing. To a Zora, it was hardly any different than a light shower. No clothes to ruin, no skin to prune and wrinkle. But for Hylians…

Oh, no. It was then that Mipha realized that Zelda was still standing, clothes ruined and her fingers no doubt beginning to wrinkle. Her face and expression was covered by her soaked hair, but she was staring up at Ruta. Then at Mipha as she quickly jumped out of the lake.

“Princess! Oh, I hope your dress isn’t ruined. Come with me--Surely there’s something at the Domain you can wear as your clothes are mended to. Is that alright?”

“Ah…” Zelda pulled apart her hair to reveal a dazed expression--She couldn’t believe what just happened, and neither could Mipha. “R-Right. Thank you, Mipha.”

As they quickly hurried to the nearby stairs, Zelda turned her head back to stare at Vah Ruta, still in shock. That had never happened before…

"It's not everyday I find something to be surprised about," Zelda mused as she pulled the silver comb through her hair--Short, brown locks that were beginning to bounce with lively curls.

"Is this about the water, Princess?" Mipha turned with another towel in hands, a scarce fabric in the Domain--But luckily there were a few on hand for the unexpected guests in the palace. "I apologize for-"

"Ahaha, no!" Zelda shook her head. "It’s just that...You spoke to the Divine Beast with such...Familiarity. And although it seemed rather playful, teasing us with that rainstorm...It obeyed you immediately."

Zelda rested her hands in her lap, staring at Mipha through the vanity's mirror. "...It just goes to show that there's more sentience to these machines than anyone could have assumed. It raises more questions about the relationship between a Divine Beast and its Pilot. It's fascinating, is all.

It makes me wonder how the rest of the chosen Pilots will follow..."

Mipha blinked, stopping short in her walk to deliver more towels. She had completely forgotten about the others. Revali, Daruk, Urbosa...Did they have the same nightmare, too?

"You're staring." Zelda's eyes flashed with worry, checking her own appearance again. "Did I forget a tangle? Is there a frizz where I can't see?"

"Oh, no, Princess. It's quite beautiful, if I may say." Mipha stepped forward, setting down the cloth to hover a hand near Zelda's head. "It looks...Different, than I remember. What did you do differently?"

And then it hit Mipha, right after the words escaped. At one point, she had remembered Zelda's hair being thick, and long. Always braided tightly down her back in a multitude of elegant braids, decorated in gold to match her dark brown skin. She gasped.

"You did cut your hair!"

Zelda's eyes widened, before she smiled. "Yes, I did." She laughed, a melodic sound that brought a faint blush to Mipha's cheeks.

"I...like it this way. I like it this way." Zelda repeated, nodding her head in confidence. "And there's plenty of hairstyles I can experiment with now. One for every occasion!"

Mipha hummed, and gently trailed her fingers through the ends of the curls.

"It fits you perfectly." She sent a warm smile to the mirror, and stepped back to give Zelda room, hands clasped together.

Zelda's cheeks flushed, but she quickly finished brushing her hair back and pulled it back out of her face. "There's something I'd like to ask of you, Princess."

When she asked, the entirety of the Domain was asking too. The King was waiting, subtle worry etched into his expression.

"Graceful Princess of the Proud Zora, will you accept the humble call to stand with me against the evil that may threaten my home and yours, and become the Pilot to steer Divine Beast Vah Ruta?"

The whole world was holding their breath, and Mipha's heart thrummed in her chest like it did the first time--The theatrics of it all never failed to give her stage fright.

"I accept."

And it was sealed. Mipha turned from the cheering crowd, looking up at her father who only smiled reassuringly with a small nod. He seemed like he was holding back many things, keeping it under a calm expression in the gaze of his only daughter.

"Father...You won't have to worry about losing me ever again. I swear it this time."

"I won't lie." Dorephan let out a sigh, drumming his fingers in a slow rhythm. "As a father, I'm always worried for the wellbeing of my children. But you rise to this challenge with such determination and courage that I cannot stand in your path, only walk next to you and pray that you'll return home safe and sound. In my heart, I know you will. Yet it is still hard to let you go."

Dorephan looked over Mipha's shoulder. "Princess Zelda."

Quickly, Zelda waved to another Zora guard she had been speaking to and stepped to the dais, bowing. "Your Majesty?"

"I understand that the plan is the same?"

"Ah--Yes, Your Majesty-" Zelda reached for the Sheikah device on her hip, flicking away droplets of water as it powered to life under her touch. She tapped away, focused and calculated. Mipha curiously glanced over, watching a detailed map of the land and its various landmarks flicker across the screen.

Colored lines and grids drew across the map, obviously hand-drawn in their wobbly

curves.

In the region over Zora's Domain, a tiny creature similar to Ruta animated its trunk on screen.

"Everything is still on schedule. Princess, tomorrow we'll head for Hyrule Castle to regroup our supplies and soldiers, and then begin our journey to the next region of Hyrule, in regards to the next Pilot."

"In that case...take good care of each other." Dorephan nodded to them both. "I have no doubts in my Mipha's abilities, but I surely do not mean to downplay your own strengths. I only ask that you watch each other's backs...Whatever the case may be...In and out of battle."

Zelda and Mipha both glanced at each other, a faint smile shared between them.

And Dorephan, sitting back and waving them off, his fears begrudgingly took the backseat as he nodded to himself. Of course there would be a flood of Hylian and Zora guards to accompany them; But there was always something special about placing your faith in a friend...And their faith in you.

[cmfan3]

The Perfect Gentleman

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau X Emily Prentiss

Warning: Language

Words: 3.6K

Sorry for making you guys wait for this one. I’ve been a bit busy, but I haven’t stopped writing and I do have more works in the process. Thanks for reading !

The team had just wrapped up a new case in New Orleans with the help of detective Will LaMontagne, Jr. The team made their way towards their SUVs, splitting in two groups. Rossi, Reid and Hotch decided to head to the precinct while Prentiss, Morgan and Penelope waited for the other blonde to finish her conversation with Will.

The detective glanced back at the remaining members before turning towards JJ with a flirtatious glint in his eye, “and now you're leaving? How will I survive a woman like you going so far away?”

Her mouth twitched in amusement, “well, despite what you may have heard... Cell phones can be very good for your health.”

Will smiled confidently as they exchanged numbers, being sure to send a wink her way as she walked back towards her waiting team, prompting a giggle to escape her lips.

Emily’s face dropped as she had watched the whole scene unfold, causing Penelope and Derek to look at each other with concern. “Hey sweetcheeks, don’t think too much about it. It’s just a phone number,” the blonde reached back and softly squeezed the older woman’s hand.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Derek noticed that Emily avoided eye contact, “listen princess, she’s right. It’s not like they’re dating or anything. They’re just friends.” “For now,” the brunette mumbled as she began to chew on her fingernails.

Realising that JJ was on her way to the SUV, the three let the subject drop, but the tension in the car was definitely noticeable. The communications liaison jumped in the back next to Emily, not paying attention to the way all three members tensed as she entered with a bashful smile on her face.

Unnoticed by JJ, who was too busy typing away on her phone, the brunette’s shoulders sagged and her head fell back against her seat. Morgan started up the car and began driving back to the precinct, occasionally glancing back at the older woman with worry shining in his eyes.

After a couple minutes of tense silence, Emily decided that she had enough. Dropping her head slightly and peeking at the phone, she questioned, “so you and detective LaMontagne?”

The question made the blonde’s fingers hover over the screen for a split second before they continued their typing. She didn’t respond to the question, but the blush that rose on her cheeks was enough for Emily’s heart to clench.

The rest of the drive was silent except for the occasional sound of JJ’s fingers clicking away at her phone.

Seven months later and the team was somewhat shocked that the detective and their communication liaison were still in touch. Although JJ tried to stay secretive about it, the team knew where she was going when she was “visiting her mother” every month.

Realizing that the blonde was completely head over heels for the detective, Emily decided that she needed a distraction and tried to find a companion. She brought up the idea to Penelope, causing the peppy woman to let out a series of excited squeals.

Penelope insisted that the older woman should get a cat and so they spent countless days visiting shelters but it was to no avail. Two weeks after the idea was brought up, the team solved a particularly rough case, which caused Emily’s desire for a companion to increase.

The brunette stopped by Penelope’s room before leaving and popped her head through the door, “hey, PG. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I’m going cat searching again today. After that case, I definitely want a friend to come home to.”

“I hope you know I’m definitely coming with you,” the tech analyst jumped out of her chair and began grabbing her stuff, “I can’t believe you were about to go cat searching and not invite your best friend.”

Emily playfully rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle, “yea, yea, I won’t do it again. Buttt, I’ll be in the car. Don’t take too long or I’m leaving without you.” Penelope let out a gasp and called over her shoulder, “Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, you wouldn’t dare. Your credit score is on the line.”

The brunette laughed and began walking away, “ok fine. But hurry up and get your cute little butt in the car. I’m waiting.” The younger woman turned and sent a playful wink, “oh don’t worry sweetcheeks, I won’t keep you waiting too long.”

True to her word, Garcia jumped into the passenger seat only a few minutes later. The older woman reached forward and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car while the tech analyst connected her phone and picked music.

Penelope set her phone down and clasped her hands together excitedly as they pulled out of the parking garage, “we’re gonna find the one. I can feel it.” “Whatever you say PG,” Emily shook her head as her lips quirked up in amusement.

Garcia’s scream rang out across the room, scaring a few passerbys, “OH MY GOD- E! Come look at this cutie! He’s absolutely perfect and don’t even think about convincing me otherwise.”

Emily cautiously made her way over, scared to see what Penelope had decided on, but when her eyes landed on the black cat, she knew that her friend was right. He was perfect. “Alright then, he’s the one,” the older woman chuckled as Garcia’s grin got even bigger.

Emily bent down and picked up the tomcat. Her heart swelled with affection when he pushed into her and started purring softly. Seeing the way her friend was already falling in love with him, the blonde did a little happy dance, causing Emily to give a lopsided grin as her eyes twinkled.

“So, Pen,” the brunette passed the cat to her friend, “what should we call him?” Penelope’s mouth dropped and her eyes widened, “you want me to name him? Em, he’s your cat.”

“He’s our cat,” Emily smiled gratefully at the woman in front of her, “you found him, did you not?” The peppy woman smiled and hugged the cat to her chest as she rattled off names, “Houdini? Loki? Shadow?”

Noticing the way Emily’s features slightly scrunched up, Penelope thought for a moment before she lit up, “Sergio.” The older woman smiled softly, repeating the name to herself before responding, “I love it.”

Emily hadn’t even had the cat for more than a day before she started telling her team all about him the next day. She was talking to Spencer and Derek when JJ walked in, hearing the last few parts.

“You guys have no idea. I absolutely love Sergio. He’s the perfect gentleman. I don’t think I’d ever have found him if it weren’t for Garcia. He always listens and never makes a mess-”

JJ cleared her throat, letting her presence be known to the group of three, cutting their conversation short, “we have a case.” The three looked at each other awkwardly before they got up and headed towards the conference room, the blonde following them.

Why am I upset? It’s good that Emily finally found a man. I have a boyfriend who loves me and I love him. I love Will. So why am I bothered that Emily-

Not realizing that her team members stopped walking, JJ bumped into the older woman’s back, causing her to fall forward. Before Emily could hit the ground, the blonde’s arms snaked around her waist, holding her upright.

Feeling how JJ’s arms wrapped around her, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. The younger woman’s brain seemed to malfunction and she didn’t move until she heard someone cough awkwardly. Damnit Spencer.

JJ jerked her arms away bashfully while a blush was already creeping on her face. She cleared her throat and walked to her chair while Emily took her seat, both avoiding eye contact but still aware of each other’s presence.

Penelope watched the scene unfold and her brain started wracking for an explanation as to why JJ became as flustered as the brunette. Her eyes widened, it hit her. JJ is in love with Emily.

Realizing that the team was waiting for her to start the presentation, she grabbed the remote and turned on the projector. Before turning towards the screen, she gave Emily a not so subtle wink.

The blonde profiler looked between the two women, taking in how the tech analyst waggled her eyebrows and the older woman’s forehead creased from what seemed to be confusion. I need to talk to Pen later.

“Wheels up in twenty,” Hotch’s voice called out. The team members gathered their things and began heading out but before Penelope could leave, JJ placed her hand on her shoulder, “can we talk?”

“Of course, goldilocks,” the tech analyst sat down, pulling her friend with her, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” JJ suddenly became shy, squirming in her seat, “I just overheard Em talking to Morgan and Spence. I guess I just wanna make sure that he’s treating her well.”

Penelope’s eyebrows knitted together, “what? who?” JJ’s hands wrung each other out, “Sergio? Em was telling the boys how she loves him and he’s the perfect gentleman. So I guess what I’m trying to ask is, is he good enough for her?”

Realizing that her friend had no idea that Sergio was actually a cat, Penelope bit her lip to keep from laughing, “yea- yes. He’s good enough for her. More than good enough. He’s what she needed. Don’t worry about it, goldilocks, he’d never hurt her.”

The peppy woman was somewhat shocked to see how her friend’s shoulders seemed to deflate and her face fell for a split second before a forced smile took form. JJ silently got up and patted Penelope’s shoulder before walking out and going to her office.

As soon as she walked in, she shut the door behind her, not bothering to lock it as she fell onto the couch, the tears already building. Come on Jennifer. Why does this bother me so much? I can’t have feelings for Emily, can I? I love Will. We’ve been toge-

Her thoughts were interrupted by Penelope barging in and hurriedly closing it shut behind her. The tech analyst sat on the couch next to her friend and grabbed her hands. Penelope waited until JJ calmed down and sat up before she questioned, “Jen, do you like Emily?”

JJ let out a long sigh, thinking before she answered, “no? Yes? I don’t know, Pen. I have Will. I love him.” Penelope tilted her head and looked at the distressed woman, “but you’re not in love with him… Are you?” The tears that broke free and travelled down JJ’s face were enough of an answer.

The tech analyst gathered her friend into her arms and began rubbing circles on her back, “tell her how you feel.” JJ pulled back in surprise and wiped her tears away, “Pen- no. I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to ruin what she has. What about Will? How do I break the news to him?”

“Take it one thing at a time. Tell Emily first, you’ll deal with the rest of it as it comes,” Penelope insisted. After a few minutes, she nodded to herself, deciding that her friend was right.

JJ reached out and squeezed her friend’s hands tightly, “thank you,” she whispered. The peppy woman smiled, “anything for you, goldilocks. Now go get your woman.” “After the case,” JJ smiled gratefully.

The case had only taken two days and the team had just gotten back to Quantico. The members were each getting their things and going to their respective cars, ready to head home for the night.

Realizing that the conversation she was about to have would be better in private, JJ decided to head to the brunette’s penthouse. Penelope saw the determination on her friend’s face and she couldn’t be happier at how things were playing out.

Emily had just gotten settled on the couch with a cup of red wine and Slaughterhouse-Five. Sergio was sleeping on her lap when she heard knocking on the door. Glancing at the clock, she was confused as to why someone was knocking on her door at 10:27 PM.

After the knocking wouldn’t stop, she called out, “coming!” She set the book down on the table and softly moved Sergio off her lap before she made her way towards the door.

Swinging the door open, the older woman was surprised to find JJ standing there, nervously tapping her foot. Emily questioned, “JJ? Are you ok? Is something wrong?” The blonde took a deep breath before answering, “yes, actually. Something is wrong.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but JJ continued before she could say anything, “I know you just met someone and I don’t want to make anything harder for you. I overheard you talking to the boys and how you met this amazing man named Sergio and how you love him, and well- I guess it made me realize my feelings for you.”

The brunette felt like she was in a dream, but she bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing at the confusion. She nodded her head softly, indicating to her friend to continue.

“I know I have Will. He’s amazing. I love him. I really do. But, I’m not in love with him,“ the younger woman explained. Emily’s eyes widened in realization, but JJ continued, “I’m not in love with him because I’m in love with you, Emily Prentiss. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least tell you.”

The older woman was frozen in place, unable to process what she just heard fast enough since her brain had turned to mush.

JJ searched Emily’s eyes for some sort of answer before she turned and began walking away, the hurt in her voice evident, “it’s ok, you can just forget about it. I’m sorry.”

Seeing that the woman she loved was walking away from her was enough to spur Emily into action. She reached out and grabbed the blonde’s hand, squeezing it softly. Unable to meet the brunette’s eyes, JJ stared at the ground. Emily’s eyes twinkled and a smile tugged at her lips, “I have a confession too. Sergio is actually… my cat.” JJ’s head snapped up and she frantically searched the older woman’s face, her heart swelling with hope.

Laughing at the reaction, Emily slowly pulled the smaller woman closer, placing a hand on her cheek, “and I’m in love with you too Jayje. I have been since I can remember.” The corner of JJ’s mouth quirked up and she turned scarlet, “if this is a joke, it’s not funny Em.”

Smiling softly, Emily leaned in, placing a light kiss on the blonde’s lips before pulling back, “I promise, it’s not. I’m in love with you, Jennifer Jareau.”

JJ wrapped her arms around the brunette’s neck, pulling her in for a more passionate kiss. Emily’s hands reached down and gripped the younger woman’s hips as their lips melded together.

But before things could escalate, JJ jumped back and nearly screamed when she felt something furry rub on her legs. Emily quickly looked down and loudly laughed when she realized it was just Sergio. She bent down and picked him up, “speak of the devil. Jayje, this is Sergio.”

The blonde reached out and scratched him behind the ears, his purrs reverberating through his body. The older woman watched how the woman she loved fell in love with the black tomcat.

JJ’s heart promptly melted from the affection he was showing her. She glanced up and became shy when she saw how Emily was staring at her like she was the only person in the world.

The brunette’s eyes crinkled as a smile stretched across her face, “how about we go inside?” The younger woman leaned in and placed a light kiss against her lover’s lips before speaking regretfully, “I would love to, but I need to go talk to Will and tell him everything.”

Emily nodded understandingly and bent down, setting Sergio back inside before she gathered the smaller woman in her arms, kissing the top of her head, “I’ll be here waiting. I love you.”

JJ’s eyes closed as she hummed in response, leaning into the embrace, “I love you too.” The two separated after another minute, each going their separate way, hearts full and hopes high for the future.

Hearing the front door open, Will leaped from the couch and practically ran towards it. As soon as JJ stepped inside, he gathered her in his arms and sighed a breath of relief.

The blonde backed out of his embrace, noticing how he didn’t give her the same feeling of safety that she got when she was in Emily’s arms. His features formed into those of hurt, “ma chérie?”

“Will, we need to talk,” the profiler sighed as she led him to the couch. She sat down and placed her hands in her lap, quietly thinking about the best way to approach it while he searched her face for some kind of explanation.

JJ took a deep breath before making eye contact, “the first thing I want to say is that you’ve been nothing but amazing to me and I wish I didn’t have to do this because I really do love you, Will.”

“Then don’t do this,” he pleaded while the hurt was evident on his face. Realizing that she was the one causing him pain, tears began to pool in the blonde’s eyes.

She squeezed his hands as she continued, “Will. I love you. I do. But I’m not in love with you.” The detective pulled his hands from her grasp and began pacing and his mood seemed to completely switch, “who is it?”

The profiler looked taken aback, “I- I don’t- what are you getting at, Will?” He continued pacing as he threw his hands in the air from frustration, “you know what I’m talking about Jennifer. Who are you in love with?”

JJ averted her eyes as she whispered, “Emily.” Will stopped pacing and stood in front of her, letting his arms drop to his sides, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The blonde’s head snapped up, her feelings of guilt being replaced with those of anger, and her eyes narrowed, “excuse me?”

“Yea, excuse you. That’s disgusting. You have a man who cares for you. Loves you. And you wanna go and be a dyke? You should be disgusted with yourself. Fucking pathetic,” Will nearly shouted, the malice in his voice clear.

Letting out a breathless laugh as she got up and gathered her things, JJ replied, “and to think- I loved you once. Well I’m glad you showed your true colors, detective.”

“Get the fuck out,” he spat. “With pleasure,” the profiler walked out and slammed the door behind her. As she started her car, she knew exactly where she could go, she pulled out of the driveway, glad to finally be able to love the older woman freely.

Emily was curled up in her bed with Sergio when someone pounding at the door woke her up. She glanced at the clock. 1:13 AM Fucking hell. I swear to god, if it’s anyone but Jennifer-

Her thoughts were interrupted when the knocking continued, causing her to get out of bed and pad towards the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called out and when the knocking didn’t stop, she yelled, “hold your goddamn horses! I’m coming!”

Upon opening the door, her anger faded into worry, “Jen-” When suddenly, she was cut off by the younger woman practically jumping forward and passionately connecting their lips.

Pulling away for a breath, Emily saw stars behind her eyelids and a smile ghosted her lips as she let out a shaky breath. JJ’s face broke out in a carefree grin, “I’m sorry, I had to.”

“It’s not like I’m complaining,” the brunette laughed and pulled her lover into a soft kiss before leading her inside and shutting the door behind them.

The two women were cuddled up in Emily’s bed. The older woman had her arms wrapped around JJ while the blonde laid with her head on Emily’s chest, listening to her heartbeat.

Emily ran one hand through the blonde hair while her other hand lightly travelled up and down JJ’s spine. Feeling safe in the brunette’s arms, JJ wrapped her arms around the other woman’s torso.

The younger woman cleared her throat, “I just wanted to tell you that me and Will are officially over.” Not able to see her reaction, JJ focused on how she heard Emily’s heartbeat quicken and how the brunette smiled into her hair.

Emily audibly swallowed before she questioned, “how did the conversation go? And what does it mean for us? I definitely want to build something with you Jen, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

The smaller woman looked up and made eye contact with the chestnut eyes she’s always loved, “it definitely didn’t go how I expected, but it’s over. And I want to build something with you too. That’s all I want. I want to grow with you. I want to love you for as long as you’d let me, Em.”

Leaning down, the older woman placed a gentle but loving kiss upon JJ’s lips before she pulled back and caressed her cheek, “I can’t think of anything that I’d want more, Jayje.”

“I love you,” the two women simultaneously declared with goofy but loving smiles on their faces as they got comfortable in each other's arms and let the exhaustion of the day overtake them.

[wkemeup]

Call to Action

inbox request: “hiii i'm really curious what's gonna happen if bucky gets assigned to work undercover again? 🥰“ by @sarge-barnes-sir​ ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 1.7k warnings: sweet loving angel bucky, kas cant let go of this series yet  a/n: surprise!!! we’re not done with our Sundays yet! I do plan on doing more of these, so keep sending in ideas if you have them!  🌹series masterlist 🌹

You woke to an empty bed; sunlight streaming in delicately from the soft overlay of ivory curtains and the soothing scent of a freshly steeped tea at your bedside, steam still rising from the mug. Stretching your arms up over your head and then out to the sides, you frowned as your fingers curled around the empty sheets beside you.

“You can’t ask me to do that, Steve,” Bucky’s hushed voice carried from the kitchen.

You turned to the door, narrowing your eyes upon the thin crack in its frame. It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be at the apartment, but the clock to your left told you it was far too early for a friendly visit. Judging by the tone in Bucky’s voice, it couldn’t be anything good.  

“It’s not me, Buck. It’s way over my head.”

You quietly pushed aside the sheets, setting bare feet on the hardwood floors and grabbed for the robe hanging over the bathroom door. You slipped it quickly through your arms and wrapped it at the waist before you carefully pushed open the door. Disregarding the state of your hair laying frizzy and untamed at your shoulders, you crept down the hall.

Bucky was pacing in the kitchen, hands clenching at his sides, head shaking defiantly as he muttered under his breath. Steve sat at the table, watching with every stride Bucky took as he laid back into the chair; though the rigidity of his posture betrayed the calm persona he put on.

“I’m not going back under,” Bucky asserted. He didn’t seem to notice you emerge from the hallway as he continued to pace divots into the tile of the kitchen floors, but Steve did. His back straightened, his expression melting into something mirroring an apology as he met your eye.

“I’ve been out for almost a year,” Bucky continued, stare focused on the floor, tunnel-visioned and disregarding Steve’s attempts to draw his attention to you. “I told Fury I was done, Steve. He can’t pull me back in! Hydra was my last job and I’m-- I’m not leaving Y/n after everything we went through. So... So, you can tell Fury to fuck off!”

An unsettling silence took over; only Bucky’s muffled footsteps and labored breaths carrying through. You hadn’t realized how tightly your jaw had clenched until you tried to speak.

“They’re sending you undercover again?”

Bucky froze dead in his tracks, his head snapping up to find you watching him from the hallway. His eyes were wide, lips parted. He uncurled his hands, though it looked as though it ached to do so, and brushed them on his pants. Light blue plaid, white t-shirt with the neck a little stretched out. He was still in his pajamas.

“No,” he answered quickly though it wavered in his voice. He closed his eyes, hearing the hesitancy and he dropped his chin to his chest. He took a minute, found his breath, and when he looked at you again, he softened, a smile pushing up at his lips though it seemed forced. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

Bucky made his way to you, his hands gently settling on your shoulders and soothing their way down your arms to encase your hands in his own. You kept your stare on his chest, trying to find something to focus on, and it helped as he squeezed your hands. Something real. Something solid. Bucky.

“I thought you were training recruits,” you murmured.

“I was.” Bucky winced as it came out. “I am.”

“Fury’s used to relying on Buck for this stuff,” Steve explained, slowly standing from his spot at the table. “He wasn’t happy when Bucky stepped down from the field. You’ve got to understand, he lost the guy who’s got more successful undercover OPs than anyone else in the Bureau. Bucky’s good at what he does. He put a lot of bad guy behind bars and saved a lot of lives.”

You knew. Probably more than most people.

“They can’t make him, can they?” You hated how small your voice sounded; frail like a child’s. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist, afraid that if you lost contact with him for even a second, he’d be pulled away. You missed how Bucky glanced back in Steve’s direction for the same assurance.

“No, they can’t,” Steve replied calmly, a slight smile on his lips just barely noticeable.

You nodded, though it didn’t ease the racing in your heart. You held your arms tightly around Bucky, listening for his heartbeat to center yourself. “Do you want to?”

“What? Of course, not,” Bucky replied without skipping a beat. “Why would you even ask that?”

You shrugged. “You’ve saved so many people. You're clearly meant for this work, Bucky. I don’t want to keep you from that.”

You knew what that felt like; to be held from the one thing that made you feel whole, to be pushed into the shadows of a life you were never meant for, to be cast off to something less than what you deserved. It was different from what Brock had done to you, but it still had the same result, didn’t it? You were keeping Bucky from the job he dedicated his life to.

Bucky shifted slightly in his stance and he gently began to pry your arms from around him. It caused a jolt of panic at first, but then his hands soothed their way up your arms, to cup at the side of your face, guiding you to meet his eyes; stunning painted brushstrokes of blues and greys and oceans and summer skies.

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” Bucky told you, a sincerity heavy in his voice. “I promised that nothing would take me from you again and I meant that. I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes fell downcast, struggling to hold his gaze. “But if I wasn’t around--”

“But you are,” Bucky pressed, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then the other, then the tip of your nose, until he pulled back with a smile. “I love you, sweetheart. That changes things. Before I met you, I would have taken any case I could get my hands on for the excuse to throw myself into a world that wasn’t my own. I would have jumped at the chance to pretend to be someone else for a while and lose myself in a new identity. But I don’t want that anymore. I want to be here. With you. I want to spend all my days loving you. Is that so much to ask?���

Another kiss to your temple, then your jaw, your cheekbone, until you were smiling again. He was so beautiful when he looked at you like that, like he thought the whole world of a woman who spent so many years told she was nothing.

“I just don’t want you to wake up one morning and feel like you lost something by being with me,” you explained slowly, quietly, and your eyes trailed down to his chest to avoid his eyes.

“Not possible,” Bucky eased and you felt his lips as the touched the crown of your head. “There hasn’t been a morning that’s gone by where I haven’t woken up feeling like I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You looked up at him, awe and wonder, stunned silence, and he gently leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Steve was still standing in the kitchen, averting his gaze, though he was smiling. Bucky brushed a thumb over your lips as he pulled back.

“Doesn’t matter what I do for a living,” Bucky continued. “You’re by my side. That’s all that matters.”

You grinned up at him, a laugh bubbling under the surface. “But you hate the recruits.”

“I don’t hate the recruits,” Bucky argued, rolling his eyes when Steve began to snicker from the kitchen table. “They’re just little shits that would walk head first into a wall if I didn’t hold their hands.”

He was laughing again, bright and joyful, and tension hanging thick in the apartment began to dissolve away. Bucky turned back to Steve, his arms held tight around you.

“We good, brother?”

Steve nodded, a rare smile upon his face. “Yeah, man.”

“What will you tell Fury?” Bucky asked.

Steve pursed his lips. “Pretty sure if I remember your words correctly... ‘fuck off.’”

Bucky winced. “Maybe not that.”

Steve shook his head, that same carefree smile on his face he reserved for quiet moments like these upon his face. It was really quite sweet when you thought about it. This broad, stoic man with the weight of his team on his shoulders who only learned to let go when he knew it was safe. He cared so deeply for his friends and you were proud that Bucky had someone in his life like Steve.

“Sam’s been itching for his turn in the field for a while now anyway.” Steve shrugged, beginning to gather his things and head to the door. “I’d say it’s about time we break in the new kid to fill his spot. Danvers is a hell of a recruit, Buck. You did good.”

“She won’t take your shit, Rogers,” Bucky teased as he squeezed you a little closer. “Sam's either. Nat will love her.”

“She’ll fit right in.” Steve laughed.

There was a pause, a beat, and Steve held his stance by the door for a moment longer.

“I never thought I’d see a day when Bucky would turn down a job,” Steve said, leaning against the frame. There was a gratefulness in his eyes as he looked at you, a soft smile upon his lips. “It’s nice to see you happy, man. You got a good woman to thank for that.”

Steve nodded at you, an appreciation you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to grasp completely, and you smiled back at him. Bucky chuckled a little, heat rising in his cheeks and he nodded in agreement. As Steve, turned to leave, you felt Bucky press a kiss to your forehead; the little reminders that he was there, that he loved you, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

the f word bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

hello yes i absolutely loved the last episode and will probably be writing more bucky soon. i have quite a few drafts for him so i hope you guys like these lol

backstory (same as liar, liar) - she can see the future (or versions of it) through dreams and visions; she can see someone's past and memories by touching them; and she can stop peoples actions with her mind. Sam introduced her to Bucky without knowing about her powers and they started dating. (OC superhero name: Arcana)

Song: redeemer by palaye royale

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

The compound had finally been rebuilt and I was glad to be back. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the apartment Bucky and I shared in the city, but nothing felt quite like this. After all, it was my home before and during the blip and I was devastated when it got destroyed in the fight against Thanos. Everything about that felt like ages ago now.

From the foundation to the ceilings, everything looked so familiar yet so new. I remembered moving in to this place after Steve had found me robin hooding my way around the streets of new York. It was unlike any place I had ever been and it was a permanent place I could call home after being kicked out for having powers. For being different. But the agents around never made me feel that way, and neither did any of the avengers, especially Steve.

And now walking around, the smell of paint and sawdust in the air I found it hard to keep it together. There was a legacy in this place. And though the team still trained here from time to time it felt strangely empty. There was no Tony stark tinkering on things in the basement, or Natasha making an abundance of snacks in the shared kitchen. It didn't quite feel like home anymore. But then again I guess it didn't need to. I had a new home, with bucky. With my fiance. God that felt so good to say out loud.

"Fiance."

I whispered to myself, looking out the window at the landscapers working hard on the new lawn out front, mindlessly turning my engagement ring around my finger. The smile that found it's way to my lips couldn't be hid. I was too enamored with him and his decision to start a new life with me to not smile when I thought about it. He made me feel like me again, and that was something that hadn't happened in a while.

"Glad to see you back."

I heard from behind me, seeing sam's reflection in the window and turning to face him as he stood next to me.

"Glad to be back."

He looked over at me with a knowing smile, his hands together behind his back.

"You busy?"

He asked, nodding to the window and I laughed.

"No, watcha need?"

He offered his hand out and we began walking, starting through the common area.

"I've been in contact with some people, y/n,"

He paused, looking over me as i awaited his next statement, anxiously.

"I think we found her."

I slowed my pace as I took on the weight of his words. We had been looking for my younger sister for almost two years. The entire two years it took to rebuild this place as well as my relationship with the man I will soon be calling my husband. It almost felt unreal.

Similar to me she was thrown out when her powers developed. Even after the blip. I only wish I had known she was left here by herself during that time. when I tried to reach out and recieved nothing in return I just figured she had blipped with my parents. But that wasn't the case. And now she was still out there, alone, rejected.

"Where?"

There was a sadness and an urgency to my words as he pulled one of the monitors away from the wall. He tapped a few buttons before showing it to me, video footage of someone who looked like her. Or at the very least a shadow of my memory of her. She was seven years older now than the last time I saw her.

"This was from yesterday near the navy pier in Chicago."

I sent him a look, strained behind bloodshot eyes and furrowed brows.

"Sam... If I can get to her... I- I don't know what I'll do."

The words were broken and the way he looked at me, he knew this was important. She was the only thing that kept me going for so long.

"I talked to bucky, he said he had you both packed already. We can leave right now if you want."

When I realized what he had actually said I paused for a moment, staring at the ground with my hand placed over my stomach. God I didn't need this today of all days. He could probably tell something was wrong, off more like it.

"Y/n?"

He asked but I didn't answer him. I was just trying to focus on not getting sick.

"You coming?"

Sam asked and I shook my head lightly, feeling nauseous again. I almost didn't want to look at him in case he could read what was going on. He knew this was important to me but I didn't even know if I could get on the jet with them. Not with the way I had been feeling recently.

"you guys go ahead, I'll meet you there."

I managed and he drew his brows.

"Meet us there. you've been waiting for this for so long. Y/n... Is everything okay?"

He asked and I nodded quickly. I wanted to say something else but I couldn't hold it any more. I held up a finger to him for a second before turning quickly and running down the hall to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed I was on my knees looking at my lunch for a second time. My whole body felt terrible as I sat there, sweat beading against my hairline as I heaved again. When the feeling passed I stood and cleaned myself up, breathing heavily and looking over my tired face in the mirror. God, was this what I had to look forward to? I just wanted to get through one lousy day.

The truth is, I wanted to go with them right now, right this very minute. to get my sister. But I had been getting sick all day everyday for the last two weeks. I was almost one hundred percent sure I was pregnant. And Bucky new it was happening. Whether he had an idea what was going on or not; even though we hadn't talked about it yet. But then again we had more pressing matters. It could wait until after we got her back, if we even could.

But what if it took longer than that? Was the wait gonna be worth it? I mean, Hell I hadn't even actually checked to see if my speculation was right or not. God I had no idea what I was going to do if I was actually pregnant. I had some pretty important things going on right now after all. I was on the cusp of getting my only sibling back on top of missions and planning a wedding. What could be more stressful than that?! I shook my head at the thought. One problem at a time. When i turned to leave I tried to avoid Sam, leaning against the opposing wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I thought you said you were good?"

He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

"I am."

He hummed before following me closely.

"I have an idea why you want to meet us there now. Does bucky know?"

He asked and I sent him a look.

"Know what?"

I asked and he raised a brow.

"Come on y/n. You two tell each other everything. You're practically glued together at the hip."

I laughed.

"We haven't talked about anything."

He grabbed my arm lightly to stop me, spinning me to face him.

"But I'm right? You're pregnant?"

He asked, a hint of worry and pride behind his voice. I looked to the floor for a second.

"I don't know yet, I haven't had the time to get a test yet. I've been a little preoccupied."

He nodded once.

"If you can get that test Tonight I'll cover for you. We'll take the jet, make a game plan, and you meet us there tomorrow."

°°°°°°°°°

When I made it to their hotel room the next day I couldn't help the butterflies in my stomach. I was getting my sister back after two years of searching. This was finally it. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Sam answering it with a smile on his face.

"Glad to see you could make it."

He said, a shit eating grin turning up where the genuine happiness had been. I sent him a look, following him inside.

"well hello to you too Sam."

i said kissing his cheek quickly and walking across the room.

"Hey baby."

I greeted, kissing Bucky gently when he looked up at me from his place at the foot of the bed.

"How was the trip?"

He inquired as I sat beside him, slipping my hand in his and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Good despite the amount of pit stops I had to make but id say worth it."

He just hummed and kissed the top of my head. There was a long silence before Sam cleared his throat, taking both of our attention.

"So are we just not gonna talk about this?"

He asked and Bucky sent me a weird look before turning back to Sam.

"Talk about what?"

He asked and Sam looked like he was gonna attack him for being so stupid.

"it can wait till later, right now we have more pressing matters."

i said, brows raised.

"my sister is more important."

°°°°°°°°°

there were shots fired before i stepped out into the open, looking around wildly for her.

"Erin!"

then suddenly everything stopped. i could feel her presence around me, closing my eyes as it got closer.

"y/n get back here!"

i heard Bucky yell, more shots being fired. but i kept walking.

"Erin."

i whispered.

"there's nothing here, lets go."

Sam called but i shook my head. i knew she was here, she had to be.

"Erin."

i said again, holding my hand out. then i felt something, snapping my eyes open and seeing her in front of me, surrounded by a haze.

"you came back."

she said, broken.

"of course i came back, you're my sister."

i said through a sob, feeling Bucky's hand at my arm. when i looked to him everything went back to normal, both of us ducking down as another shot went off.

"we need to go."

he said in urgency.

"but Erin-"

when i looked back to her she was gone.

"y/n there's nothing there."

"no, bucky she was right here. she was. i-"

i reached my hand out again, and i could still feel her. when i touched her again i closed my eyes. she was still there but now i was dragging her along as Bucky dragged me.

"come back to me."

i whispered.

"i have to stay."

i shook my head.

"not if i can help it."

i said, freezing everything, gripping her hand tightly. i squeezed my eyes shut and in a moment the haze had dropped.

"Erin."

i repeated, opening my eyes slowly and her now standing in front of me. when i sighed out a sob, everything when back to normal.

"damnit y/n i told you to stop doing that to me, we had an agreement-"

he started, pausing when he saw Erin.

"Bucky, meet my sister."

i said, letting him go and pulling her into a hug. the tears free fell down my face as he touched my back gently. when she pulled away she offered her hand for him to shake.

"ive heard a lot about you."

she said and he sent her a confused look.

"we're connected now. it only takes a second to relive a lifetime."

i mentioned, looking to her with an intense fondness.

"thank you for giving her a home while i was gone."

she told Bucky, pulling him into a hug.

"and for this."

she said, placing her hand at my stomach. he sent me a knowing look as Sam flew down to us.

"that was one hell of a trick y/n."

he said, looking between Erin and I.

"i told you id do whatever it took to get her back."

"and I'm glad to be, even if i cant stay with you."

i sent her a look.

"you dont have to keep running anymore. come help us on missions, stay at the compound, make a new life for yourself."

"babysit when you need me?"

she asked with a laugh. i shook my head in amusement.

"so i take it we're finally talking about it?"

Sam said. i nodded, a small smile on my face as i leaned into Bucky, looking up at him endearingly.

"yes Sam, i took the test, i am indeed pregnant. happy now?"

i looked to him for a second before Bucky touched my chin gently to bring my gaze back to him.

"very happy."

he said before kissing me gently.

"very happy indeed."

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

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

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 2 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

The air conditioner paired up with the sound of the rain against the windshield and the wheels against the wet road quell and soothe both your stress and nausea alike; drowsiness replaces them and allows you to relax with a sigh. It feels odd to have someone driving while you're resting at the back, though there's not much you can do about it. The drag of your steps as you tried to climb into the car even with the help of your co-workers had been sufficient for Papyrus to insist you laid down and for Sans to agree with him. The latter's driving remains slow and careful throughout, strikingly different compared to how he usually was when handling his own vehicle. You assume he's doing it for your sake, until a faint melody you once believed to be coming from the radio turns loud enough to make the car's windows boom and vibrate.

A cheery beat floods your ears, and -- when you sit up straight -- you can see there's what looks like a parade taking place right in the middle of the street. Large tents, plastic ponchos, and colourful umbrellas help shield against the ongoing rain. There's a flower float with Frisk's face on it, along with a cat-dog hybrid standing on top of it, clad in a student uniform and waving a flag with a presumably newly-opened school's logo stamped on it. You recognize the monster from one of the few unbelievable tales -- now facts -- Frisk had told you about, though you can't exactly bring yourself to take in the oddity of that sight. Seeing Temmies walking around and near the float isn't the strange thing, but -- rather -- the fact that there's an entire choir of them marching forward along the streets, singing almost effortlessly to the complex tune of the song. Not only that, but there's another float following behind them, this one promoting free education and advertised by a college graduate -- also a Temmie, with the only noticeable difference from the rest being she's wearing a teacher's suit jacket and a pair of glasses.

Just as you hear the car's signal click left, you spot Frisk amongst the small crowd surrounding the second float. They're sporting a bright yellow raincoat, smiling wide, and with their hand held tight by Toriel's, who stays behind while they wave back at all the Temmies and passerby waving at them. Some drivers stop to take in the scenery while others drive by quickly; what sends alarms off in your head is realizing how exposed Frisk is to the public and how little protection you notice around them.

"Wait," you call out, word blurted. "What's…" Your eyes fix on them and how calm, happy, and carefree they seem regardless of those dangers. A pang of jealousy makes its way to your chest when you see they encourage Toriel to join them, bringing her out of the shadows and into the spotlight. "What's going on?" You try to shake those feelings aside, yet you can't help the persistent and bitter emotion that comes with knowing Toriel had played a major, supportive role in one of Frisk's biggest journeys. She'd been their aid for almost two entire months -- a time when you could only work yourself down to the bone, and stress and cry over your loss, neither of which helped much at the end of it all.

"That was supposed to be one of the surprises, but well…" His voice sounds tense -- as if he's read right through you. "But with what happened, well-"

"It's… It's okay."

You try to calm yourself down.

He didn't need to say anything else.

It wasn't his fault, just as it wasn't Toriel's or anybody else's. You'd refused to take the medicine specifically prescribed for you, and that resulted in you having to occupy a busy friend for no reason other than purposely neglecting something you were supposed to adhere to for the betterment of your health. Toriel was watching over Frisk as she so promised. On a similar note, Papyrus had been more than kind enough to offer you the back seat of his car for you to rest in while you made it somewhere to eat after dropping him off where he needed to be. He accepted the risks of running late simply to agree with Sans on picking you up from work, and he even rejected using your own vehicle to keep it protected from the rain.

What you didn't comprehend was why none of the monsters informed you about this earlier than today.

"I understand this was meant to be a surprise, but…" Your tone falters, though you clear your throat to regain strength. "But why didn't you ask for my permission first -- before letting Frisk take part in something like this?" You stop for a moment. "I- I'm not against it, but after what happened at the bus, I…" 

You grab your knees and squeeze them, preventing yourself from getting emotional. 

"I fear for their safety." You swallow hard, feeling nausea returning. "If things were different, I wouldn't mind, but they're not. The Surface is too dangerous for them now." Reluctance makes your chest hurt. "I'm not seen as a good parent by many, and then there's that whole thing with CPS and Frisk's custody, and... And now my health, too." You huff and take a breather. "There's just so many things I'm afraid will go wrong, that I… I-"

A familiar warmth covers your face; two hands slip around your waist.

"Easy now," the eldest of the two says. "Else you're gonna end up faintin' again," he adds, well-mannered humour tracing his sentence.

You hold on tight and shudder at the feeling of his face pressing against your collarbones. His head stays there while you settle down; his hands -- conversely -- run up and down your back, attempting to further calm your stress. No other words are said as he remains that way.

At that, you continue with, "I'm afraid of them being this out in the open, a- and even more when I can't be there for them." 

You let him go and stare right at him, eager to set things straight. 

"It's amazing you're celebrating Frisk's achievements in such a wonderful way, b- but..." A smile shows on your face, conflicted with reluctance you can't avoid and a bitterness you try to shake off. "But I'm their parent, Sans," you add, words strained. "I… I've only known you for a few months, and yet," you say, hesitating, "and yet… You're like this with me. I don't understand how you and others can be this way, s- so quick to trust and befriend, but… I can't be that way. Everything's going too fast, and I need a little more time -- until I figure out what actions I should take as a parent." You grab his hand and squeeze firm at it, smiling again afterwards, a bit more honest than before. "I'm eternally grateful for everything so far, but… Please don't forget I'm still Frisk's main guardian, e- even after all that." Notwithstanding, your smile doesn't last long. "Maybe I'm bitter, or maybe I really do have the right to feel angry about this, but either way... I need to be careful." A pause and a breath. "And I acknowledge I'm not the best parent, but… But I still need to prioritize Frisk's safety before everything else."

Sans nods and squeezes your hand back. "I'll let others know about this too, then -- If that's alright with you, 'course."

Your smile returns. "That would be nice."

"Would you feel better knowing there's a protective barrier surrounding the parade?" Papyrus intervenes, helping ease out the mood. 

He's now sitting behind the wheel, replacing Sans while he stays with you by the back seat. His driving is much more careful, yet his speed is quicker now that the parade's left more space for him to pass through. "We haven't turned a blind eye to this situation either, (L/N)," he says, looking at you from the rear-view mirror. "Frisk's safety is just as important as their happiness!"

You look to his side and later at the parade, staring more closely to notice the reason for Frisk's raincoat still being intact is a barrier similar to Sans's magic, though of a different colour compared to his.

"We were going to inform you after you clocked out of work, but…"

You let out a chuckle -- more defeated than anything else. "I apologize for that, then." You bring a hand to the back of your neck and rub at it. "I've been... reckless, as of late."

"Why's that?" he asks, sounding just as intrigued as Sans looks.

"I haven't been taking care of myself like I should. If I were, things wouldn't be like this. I... I would've been healthy, and Sans would've told me about this. I was irresponsible with my health, and now I'm bothering others to help me with something that could've been avoided."

Your confession is followed up by a sharp inhale and a shudder as you then add, "I haven't done anything to change how many hours and days I work every week, now that I don't need to do that as much, and…" You hesitate. "And I haven't been taking the doctor's orders that seriously, either." Your hands return to your knees, where you squeeze tight enough to almost hurt yourself in the process. "I don't want to grow dependent on them -- the medicines prescribed to me. I'm… I'm afraid of them changing who I am, and… And I just don't want to risk the possibility of affecting Frisk because of this, either."

Sans grabs your attention by holding your hand again, more careful than when you went to squeeze at his. "You should let the doctor know, then. If you're scared of what that stuff'll do to you, the best you can do's ask her about it." He lets go, giving you space to breathe. "She could keep your doubts in mind, and maybe tell you to visit her if that new treatment does you more harm than good with time."

You don't acknowledge you've made it to Papyrus's stop until you see him set the shift on parking. The cheery music's now fainter, and the parade can still be seen when you look back. The only difference is the change in scenery, as you now stand in front of what looks like a culinary university, large, tacky, and colourful banners promoting the acceptance of the monster population into their campus. "I need to go now, but…" He smiles, almost as bright as the sun shining behind the rain clouds. "We can discuss more later, if you'd like!"

You smile back and wave goodbye; he steps outside after that and walks off, leaving Sans to give you one final glance before going back to the front seat.

While he adjusts, you observe Papyrus from a distance, who's now making his way to the line at the entrance gates of the university.

"So…"

At that sound, you face the mirror and meet Sans's gaze.

"Where to?" he asks. "And don't say home, 'cuz I know you ain't eaten yet."

"What's easiest for you," you reply, fixing your posture. "You've already done enough."

He stays parked to turn to your side. 

"Doesn't mean we can't talk more about it," he says, "It's your right as a parent to set boundaries and all that, but you really do need to take better care of yourself, (Y/N). Not just for Frisk's benefit, but for yourself, too." He sighs, turns back to the wheel, and grasps it tighter, continuing after with, "And I acknowledge I also failed to do my part, 'cuz -- like you said it yourself -- you shoulda known about this stuff sooner than today. Surprise or not, I coulda hinted at it. I promised I'd keep you informed, after all." Recognition flashes in his irises, and he stops for a minute. "That being said, we've gotta finish up the rest of that tour soon -- It's been a while."

"Don't remind me, teddy bear." You grin and slump on your seat, huffing afterwards. "There's so much stuff to do, I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me about it." He lets a broad smile show through and spares a quick glance at the mirror to wink at you. "Wouldn't really complain over another day like the one at the hotel."

You look away and hide your grin, feeling it widen. "...I'll keep that in mind, then."

• • •

“So,” the skeleton says, hands slipping under the table. An awkward stiffness overcomes his shoulders, and his gaze takes a while to meet with yours. “You heard about it from her first, huh?”

You gulp some water, needing to cool off. 

“Yes,” you reply, grabbing the medicine out of your belongings. The headache’s still going strong, even after having ended work an hour ago. “Are you really working an office job now? ...What about your other job?” Catching on to how invasive you’re being, you take another sip to bring the pills down and breathe in deep. “Sorry if it seems like I’m being nosy, but… I just want to know if you quit selling hot dogs because of me.” It’s a strange sentence no matter how you look at it, and even more so when you consider the on and off romantic relationship you share with the monster; or to put it bluntly: a friend with benefits -- or a man-friend, as your godmother had so accused him of. “I… I feel like I’m responsible for this, so I’d really like to know.”

Sans grins, takes his drink, and swirls it around. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you yet.” He sets it down and breaks eye contact with you to retrieve something from his suitcase. When he finds the item, he places it on the table, revealing a yellow folder about as thick as the menu left beside you, open to display an array of desserts, one you'd tried the evening before you stayed with him at the hotel, and the other you had today as a way to make an impromptu meeting with him about what happened earlier with Brenda's own fair share of invasiveness. “I know it seems way too coincidental, but I really am workin’ in an office now.”

You pick up the folder, set it in front of you, and keep a hand over it.

“It’s about that thing Tori wants to talk about with you.” He tugs at his jacket’s sleeve; that sight makes you take in the oddity of his looks right now: wearing a suit and tie. He’s like a whole other person today. The main two things that remind you he’s still the same as before are his low voice and mellow personality. Even his posture and body language are different, as if to match with the formality of his attire. “Open it,” he adds, facing your eyes again. “It’ll kinda spoil the surprise she has for you, but I think I owe you a better explanation after what happened today."

You consider his words and eye him for a moment. While he has a more proper posture, the monster’s the same one you met months ago. He’s still himself -- formal wear or not. “It’s… It's alright,” you say, smiling. “I’ll wait until Saturday.”

Tension seems to let him go, yet he still replies with, “You can open it, really. Tori said it was fine, and that she could use the extra time this saves up to take you somewhere with her.”

“...Is it really okay?” You pull your hand back from the folder, emphasizing your words.

Sans nods, sighing the rest of his rigidity away. “Go ahead.”

Doing as told, you tear it open as carefully as you’re capable of, preventing potential damage to the documents waiting inside. From there, you retrieve a single sheet of paper first, its texture rough and giving out at being far more important than all the other files found under it. You turn it around. The words ‘Frisk (L/N)’ and ‘student’ instantly pair up and click into your mind. There’s a school under Toriel’s name written down, along with a print of its logo and motto -- the former you recognize from the parade. 

“I…”

You can’t find the proper words to say to him. It worsens when you decide to take a peek at another document, seeing your name right in the middle. It's not as thick as the previous paper, but it still holds potential for a new future. Besides Toriel's stamp of approval and a small paragraph stating the terms, a single, empty line waits for you at the bottom. Your signature's the only thing missing for the agreement to be made.

“This is…” You shudder out a gasp, almost forgetting to breathe.

The skeleton breaks the ice, saying, “Tori’s school finally got approved, and she was thinking of havin' you and Frisk in it.” You face to his side, holding back a flinch when you notice he’s moved closer to you; the table helps keep some distance between you, fortunately. “Whaddya say, (Y/N)?” he asks. “You don’t have to answer right away, but… Just know the offer’s up, and that we see you guys as a family.”

You hoist yourself over the table and reach out for a hug, using that to replace any words you could possibly direct to the monster in front of you. He returns it, maintaining his hold on you until you break it apart -- a bit complicated to do when you notice you’re letting yourself get sentimental again. That allows your mind to drift back to the past and the more recent memory of Brenda’s visit.

“Thank you...” Your words come off in a murmur, lacking anything to say even now. 

You sniffle to restrain the emotions forming up inside, from disbelief and contentment, to melancholy and excitement. Were this a movie and were you on closer terms with the monsters, you would’ve imagined kissing the one in front of you in the sheer spur of the moment. Unresolved tension and personal limitations team up to delay any progress of that kind with him. “So you... I take it you’re in charge of keeping finances in order while her school finally opens?” you ask, changing the topic. You need time to think -- just like he’d mentioned. Having Frisk study in Toriel’s school didn’t seem like a bad choice if you were going to be paying for it, and if it would help bring more word out about her school. You working there was a wholly different story, finding the offer a bit too good to be true. It wasn't because of the goat lady, but rather due to it feeling like you were straight-up taking advantage of her and all the other monsters’ kindness. 

“Precisely,” he replies, grinning. 

His expression freezes up, and it’s only when he sits back down that it loosens. The proximity left between you after the hug's kept itself present without you acknowledging it by full. “I can work the numbers fast, so that way Alphys can focus more on plannin' out the structure and how science class will be laid out, since we all wanna leave things runnin' well before we can start employin' any other monsters.” He meets your eyes again and winks. “And of course, any cute human who’s willing to help us out.”

You glance away, feeling your face turn warm. “I'll… I’ll think about it.” Then, you look back to him; a question pops into your thoughts. “But what service could I provide you with? I've only got an Associate's in Business with what, well... happened in the past.”

“You say that like it’s nothing," he replies, chuckling. “You could easily take up three different positions with those preparations you've got.” Then, he sits back and takes the check when a bunny waitress arrives with it. “You’ll see what I mean when you talk with Tori this Saturday. Can’t really keep spoilin’ the surprise for you anymore.”

Beat to it, you put your wallet away and shift on your seat. “Alright,” you say, taking the folder with you. “But could I still make it up to you somehow? I know Brenda can be a bit, well... tough to handle, so it's only fair for me to do this."

“I’m perfectly fine meeting up like this. And she came by right as I was about to clock out, so I’d tell you it’s no big deal, but…" He trails off to stare at you, done with paying up. "If this's a crafty excuse for us to keep on hangin' out, then I'm all on board with it, puddin'."

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