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slytherflynn · 4 years

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Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

#Blaise Zabini #muggle!reader #blaise x reader #slytherin #hogwarts #lady zabini #harry potter #hp #imagine #fanfic #slytherflynn #part 1

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thdorkmagnet · 3 years

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Trust, Promises, and Resets

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

Anyways enjoy!

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

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

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

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

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

Knock, knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You do?" Frisk asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"But how do you-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Undertale #My writing #Sans #Frisk #Papyrus #Dunkle Sans

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elaboratedbee · 4 years

Text

Bigby x Reader

Request For: @awfullest

Rating: E

Summary: The Mundies think that there are five love languages, and Bigby’s going to need to learn how to speak every single one of them if he’s going to get you to understand how he feels.

Word Count: 4623

Note: i loved this prompt!! i thought it would be super cute to come up with all the ways bigby could try and get the reader’s attention without being obvious :’) big thank you to @punxgal for teaching my dumbass what a taglist is, so i started one! just hit me with a message if you want to be added (or just want to rant about bigby lmao) ily guys!!

Taglist: @punxgal

Five Ways To Say I Love You

“You know, the Mundies think that there are five love languages,” Snow informed him, watching with a faint smile of amusement as Bigby quite literally banged his head against the wall of the Business Office. While usually she didn’t enjoy dispensing love advice; after all, she was a very busy woman, watching Bigby experience any kind of emotion, let alone love, was more than worth it. His pining was probably the most amusing thing that had happened in Fabletown in a long while, so she was happy to be his confident.

“And I can think of five ways to tell Mundies how that sounds fucking stupid,” came Bigby’s gruff response, but he did finally move away from the wall and come around to join her at the desk, which she could only assume was Bigby Speak for her to continue.

“Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch.” After Snow had revealed them, the wolf repeated the list under his breath as he committed them to his memory, before he huffed in frustration.

“Nothing I do works! Nothing I say comes out right and they’re just so –”

“ – perfect, I know,” Snow cut him off, more than familiar with this particular rant, “maybe if you ever did something about it and made it clear that you were interested, they might actually respond positively. You’ve been pining for months, Bigby! It’s getting embarrassing.” His scowl was lost on her, as she was more than used to dealing with an angry Bigby and his frustration at his own love life certainly wasn’t the worst she had dealt with.

“Fuck off, it’s not pining,” Bigby growled at her, as he produced a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Snow didn’t bother to argue the point, because she could tell by the long and hopeless drag he took of his cigarette that the Sheriff already knew that it was true. “I’ll try that Mundy thing.” Bigby admitted after a long time, before he nodded at her and stalked out of the office to patrol the streets of Fabletown, or whatever else he got up to whenever there wasn’t some major emergency that he contacted her about. Well, that was about as much thanks as she could expect. She sighed, and rolled her eyes as she watched him retreat. Men.

Words Of Affirmation

Bigby was head over heels for you. Since Snow had become the Deputy Mayor, there wasn’t much about Fabletown that hadn’t improved. Not everything had changed drastically of course, and there wasn’t a night that went by on the job that the wolf didn’t wish that things could be better for all of the Fables that lived here, but he could console himself with the fact that they were getting better. Slowly was better than not at all, after all. He supposed that he should apply that same philosophy to his feelings for his current infatuation, since he did think that he was making slow progress. You had taken a job casting spells and creating glamours on the thirteenth floor almost half a year ago, now, and it had taken barely any time at all for Bigby to realise that you were everything he had ever wanted.

Every so often, a crime occurred that could benefit from the help of someone who was proficient in magic, such as covering up the scene of a particularly noticeable crime from Mundies or assisting with the aftermath. Bigby had recently found himself running to you every single time a matter like this befell, with the whispers and teasing from some of the other staff at the Business Office being more than worth the chance to spend so many prolonged hours working with you and witnessing your gift. This often came with the additional bonus of being able to show you that he was made the Sheriff for more than his strength. Most of the Fables thought that he was given the position purely due to his violent streak, so to be able to display his prowess at investigating crimes made a nice change.

Tonight, was one of those nights and the two of you had ventured out to cast a spell over a building that had been set on fire by an arsonist. Although the fire had been combatted with the help of some water nymphs, the plumes of black smoke obscuring the horizon were sure to pique the interest of any Mundies within a couple of miles radius. It struck the Sheriff that now was the perfect opportunity to use the first of Snow’s techniques as he walked you back to the Business Office, enjoying the pleasure of hearing you rant and rave about howof all of the possible crimes, arson was certainly the most pointless and dangerous. Bigby loved how passionate you were, how you could probably form a strong and justified opinion on almost any topic. He loved the way you used your hands and gesticulated wildly without even realising, like you were always casting a spell. It certainly felt like you had cast one over him, after all, he was constantly thinking about you. The first thought on his mind in the morning, and the person running through his mind whenever he attempted to sleep.

The two of you reached the business office and entered the deathtrap elevator. He took the opportunity to employ his first method as you had fallen silent when pressing the button for the thirteenth floor, before hitting the one for Bigby’s Office, too. The wolf felt a spark of happiness as he noted how well you knew him, his routines and habits. Although he hadn’t known you for very long, it was obvious that the Sorcerer was the kind of person that noticed the little things, that cared for each and every person that came into the Business Office looking for help, whether it be a standard glamour or something with far higher stakes. The dedication to their job was something that Bigby could very much relate to, and the fact that you often complimented the Sheriff on his duty to Fabletown made his heart warm in his chest – not many people did.

The only problem was, every time Bigby had tried to compliment you back, he failed miserably. Either it came out completely wrong, or it didn’t come out at all. But this time, it would be different. He had used the entire walk to plan what he was going to say, and now was the time to implement it. As the elevator rose, Bigby removed his cigarette from his mouth and met your eyes, trying not to focus on your mesmerising beauty. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, his voice rough, “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the best Sorcerer I know.” The words were genuine, even if they were a little bit gruff and came out a little fast, and the Sheriff internally celebrated. Finally. He watched closely as your eyes lit up with joy and pride and you stood up just a little bit taller than before. It had made every bit of stress worth it, in Bigby’s eyes.

“Thanks, Bigby. I’d say you were the best Sheriff I know, but you’re sort of the only Sheriff I know,” you teased him with a smile, and leaned forward to punch his shoulder gently. God, everything seemed to come so easily to you, he noted. The way you spoke and joked with him, managing to drag a smile out of him even on his darkest days, the way you touched him so casually. Perfect. The elevator doors slid open, and you flashed him one more bright smile before you were gone.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bigby slumped against the elevator wall and luxuriated in the feeling for a long moment. On some level, he could recognise that it was mildly insane to feel such euphoria over such a minute interaction, one that you probably wouldn’t even remember when tomorrow arrived, but he didn’t care. The elevator arrived at the Business Office and the door opened to reveal Bluebeard standing there. His eyes narrowed when he saw the Sheriff, and his mouth opened, but he was cut off as the wolf walked right past him, dropping his cigarette at the man’s feet.

“Fuck off, Bluebeard.”

Acts Of Service

“Bigby, you really don’t have to do this,” your voice came from behind him as continued his way down the hall, carrying the large wooden desk in his arms. Considering your hard work, it was really only a matter of time before they got promoted, and Bigby was incredibly pleased that your talent was being recognised. Along with the promotion came a brand-new office, that Bigby was currently help you move your things into.

“It’s no trouble, really,” he insisted once again and that was telling the truth. The desk was really no problem for the wolf to manage, but the praise made it feel even lighter. You followed along behind him with a box of personal affects, pictures and stationery, along with a little cactus that, to quote you, ‘even you couldn’t kill.’

They entered the office, which, like most of the Business Office, was somewhat in a state of disrepair. The lighting was dim, the window dirty and the paint a faded, peeling yellow. Even still, he watched you regard it as if it were a silver palace, a spark in your eyes. Unlike Bigby, you were an optimist, always able to see the bright side of life and the best in people. It was a refreshing change to the wolf, who very rarely had a reason to give people the benefit of the doubt in his line of work. You saw the best in him, having never been afraid of him for a second, and throwing him a bemused look whenever he tried to pull his ‘big, bad wolf’ act around you.

“Thanks for helping me,” he felt a hand on his arm and the warm pressure grounded him, causing him to meet your eyes, “there was no way I could’ve dragged that heavy ass desk down this hallway. You’re handy, you know that?” The compliment was strange, and Bigby huffed at the word. Handy. There was something almost domestic about it, which caused a warmth to spread through his chest.

“Yeah, well, I’m only downstairs if you need me,” Bigby reassured you, the feeling of being needed satisfying the more primal parts of his nature. To be able to help you, provide for you, was what the wolf inside him desperately craved.

“Good to know you’re not just a pretty face,” you teased him with a wink and Bigby almost choked on his own spit. He felt hot under the collar all of a sudden and he cleared his throat before he was able to answer, much to his enchantment's clear amusement. Even though you were clearly fucking with him, the implication that you thought he was attractive was enough to imprint this very moment on his mind for what he was sure was the rest of all time.

“I’m a man of many talents,” the Sheriff managed to reply, his voice rich with sarcasm as he bumped his cigarette packet, making one shoot up out of the box. He raised it to his lips, quirking his eyebrows at the other Fable as means of asking for permission, a very rare honour that was not often bestowed upon. You nodded their approval and the wolf sparked up, taking a deep drag. After all, he was fairly sure that if he didn’t find something to focus his thoughts on, he was going to kiss you here and now. The way that you were leaning against the desk, the one that he had moved for you, was testing his self-control in ways that he hadn’t expected. What he wouldn’t give to just push you over the desk and –

“I think it just needs a new coat of paint,” your voice (thankfully) interrupted his thoughts before they could spiral any further. Bigby grunted and exhaled his smoke.

“I can help with that.”

Receiving Gifts and Quality Time

It had taken him forever to find, but Bigby didn’t plan to admit that to anyone else. He held the cassette tape in his hands, remembering so clearly the first time you had showed him one. One late night, he had caught you leaving the Woodlands as he approached, bruised and tired after a long day. He wasn’t particularly happy that you were here at such a late hour, you work ethic concerning at times; it made him worry that you didn’t get enough rest, which was more than ironic coming from him. Despite how battered he must have looked, it didn’t stop the smile from breaking out on your face at the sight of him, and it made his long day seem just a little less long. As you walked through the glass doors, Bigby noted a strange device in your hands, with wires that followed all the way up to your head.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked, amused at the sight of it. It was cold on the street, but the Sheriff was more than happy to linger outside for a little more time as long as it meant he got to speak to you.

“It’s a Walkman,” you informed him brightly, and it was immediately clear from your tone that this little device brought you no shortage of joy, “it plays cassette tapes.” The wolf had some vague recollection of what a cassette tape was, although he had never heard of the “Walkman,” so he could gather that it had something to do with music at least. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the little thing, when suddenly you were stepping forward into his space. With bated breath, Bigby tensed as you pulled off their headphones and held them up between the both of you, leaning close.

Don't leave me this way.

The music played and provided him with something to focus his mind on and flood his senses with, which was a welcome release now that your scent was flooding his nose so distractingly. When you were this close, Bigby could see every little detail of your face, and he found himself committing every last detail to his memory. The faint scar you had just above your eyebrow that he so desperately wanted to know the story behind, the permanent imprint on your lower lip that you had left from biting it so much, every shade in your eyes.

I can't survive, I can't stay alive.

You met his eyes, clearly waiting to hear his judgement, but Bigby didn’t offer one, wanting to prolong the moment of intimacy for as long as he could get away with it. He couldn’t help it, after all, having you so close to him was intoxicating. It was a feeling of pride and accomplishment to him, that you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.

Without your love, no baby.

“I like it,” he admitted, although what he really liked was the way his approval made a smile emerge on your face, illuminated by the soft yellow lights of the Woodland. The simple praise was enough, although Bigby wished that he could find better words, more impressive ones. You had a way of making him feel like that way; of making him feel that for all of his inadequacies, he was enough. It was a more addicting feeling than smoking his damn cigarettes.

Don't leave me this way.

Bigby knew that if he stayed stood there for much longer, he would inevitably do or say something that was going to get him trouble, so he cleared his throat and stepped back, watching you click a little button the stop the cassette from playing. You looked almost disappointed that you had to go, but it was late and cold, so Bigby was glad you would finally go home and get some rest. The song’s words came back to him as you bid him goodnight and retreated into the night, hailing a cab. Don’t leave me this way.

He didn’t want you to leave at all.

The Sheriff had laboured over finding the perfect gift for you after that, stopping by many Mundy places whenever he had a spare moment, or his work brought him close to the edge of Fabletown. Gently, he placed the cassette down on your desk, wrapped carefully by Snow after she had seen Bigby’s attempt at it and laughed outright.

Even better, it had become a habit of yours to sit side by side in his office every so often and listen to whatever song had become your recent obsession. He would listen to you talk about what made it good, or why you loved the band and enjoy your company much more than he enjoyed the songs themselves. It had been a long time since Bigby had done something just because he enjoyed it. Not to escape, or distract himself, or to forget, but something that made him grateful for the here and now. Sometimes, he was in a good mood and he offered his opinions, which slowly became more informed over time as you listened and asked for his favourites. Other times, he was exhausted and broken after a day of dealing with the worst that Fabletown had to offer, and he would sit in silence, letting the sound of your music and your voice wash over him. It was like the tide, eroding a jagged stone smooth, corroding away all of his edges and damaged parts so gently that he hardly even noticed.

Stepping back, the wolf smiled proudly to himself and propped a cigarette between his lips. This whole love languages thing was getting easier all the time.

Physical Touch

For all his success, this was certainly the one that Bigby was most nervous about. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for his ability to be gentle. A good chunk of the Fables probably thought that the Sheriff was directly synonymous with bruises and a ringing pain in their heads after he had used force to encourage them to comply with the law so many times.

The ballroom spread out before him, as picturesque and charming as it was every year. Bigby was so nervous that he regarded it more like a battlefield than a ballroom, the polished wood floor masking countless traps and landmines, the spinning and smiling Fables his enemies, waiting for him to slip up. The many twinkling lights gave the room an iridescent glow, but he felt like they were interrogation lights, his nerves rising in his stomach as he waited for you to arrive.

It had been the first year of the Remembrance Ball that Bigby had been the one to convince somebody else to go, considering he was usually the one to be dragged along so unwillingly by Snow. Not this year. This year, he was prepared. He had sacrificed his pride and given up far too many evenings to twirling around the Business Office with Snow once the building quietened at night and while he still lacked a fundamental sense of grace, he was now at least proficient enough that he wouldn’t stand on your feet. For the first time in centuries, Bigby had sought out a brand new suit, one that wasn’t as terribly dated as his previous one, although it was still a simple and understated design. Goddammit, Bigby had even been extra careful on the job the evening before, carefully avoiding taking any hits to the face, so that he wouldn’t be bruised and bleeding. There was nothing else he could do; he was ready.

At least, he thought he was. But no amount of preparation could have prepared him for seeing you walk through the ornate doors. He imagined that the feeling he experienced must have been akin to being struck by lightning, as it travelled through his entire body within the span of a second and paralysed him. It completely broke his brain trying to process how completely and utterly perfect you looked when you were dressed to the nines and he suddenly understood why the other Fables enjoyed this damned dance so much. For in that instant, Bigby would have done it all over again, a million times and lived a million miserable lives just to be given the chance to dance with you tonight.

To his delight, your eyes scanned the crowd and settled on him, so he lifted his glass as a means of greeting, beginning to cross the dance floor so that the two of you could meet in the middle. He quickly lost sight of you in the crowd, but eventually, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Well, you clean up nice,” the voice was familiar and teasing, which made Bigby feel hot under the collar.

“I could say the same about you,” he returned easily, gesturing to your elaborate clothing. The Sheriff wanted to vocalise it so much better. You looked positively divine, to the point where the other Fables within a visible radius had their eyes stuck on you, either jealous or starstruck. Bigby was overcome with the overwhelming desire to make sure they all knew who you had come for and it was the push he needed to step forward and take you in his eyes. He watched your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised that Bigby had been so forward and so confident in leading you into an, albeit very simple, dance. All those evenings were certainly paying off.

Emboldened, Bigby made a second and better attempt, “you’re breath-taking. Nobody can take their eyes off of you.” Watching the blush break out on your face, coupled by your closeness, was enough to make Bigby feel that he was in heaven. Your scent was in his nose, even sweeter tonight with whatever scent you were wearing, and you were safe in his arms, his and only his, even if it was just for tonight. Physical touch, he thought, was quite possibly his favourite love language in the world.

It wasn’t enough, he could never get enough of you. He wondered if he would ever be fully satiated, surely not when felt like he wanted to drown in you. Pulling you close, he could feel how rapid your heartbeat was in your chest, and a smile crossed his face. “I didn’t take you for a dancer,” the surprise was evident in your tone, and not at all unjustified. After all, the Sheriff had refused to dance at this damn thing for quite literally centuries, so he supposed he was equally responsible for the stares they were receiving as you spun on, unphased.

“Like I told you, I’m a man of many talents,” Bigby repeated the sentiment from one of your older conversations, which earned him a laugh that he could feel resonate through his body, which was even better than simply hearing it.

“Alright, alright, be all mysterious, then,” you didn’t push him for a real answer any further, which filled him with a sense of relief, because he was certain that once he admitted to begging Snow for lessons, he was never going to live it down. His reputation as the big, bad wolf was already sure to take a large enough hit just from the fact that he had now been seen by almost every Fable dancing, so he really didn’t think it would be able to survive that on top of it all. Slowly, he could feel you relax into his arms as one song turned into two, then three. The orchestra played beautifully, but after a few songs, he felt a murmur in his ear.

“Man, they should have let us pick the music for this thing,” you joked quietly, as not to offend anyone in the near proximity, and Bigby fought to prevent himself from laughing too loudly and causing them to gain any more attention. The novelty of seeing the Sheriff dance had mostly faded by now, the whispers and comments over with for the most part, so he was eager to retain your low profile. He nodded his agreement, struck by how pleasant he found it that you were so similar to him in some ways and different in others. You were not the type to be overly enamoured by the illusion of glamour that the Fables created for Remembrance every year, but more the type to focus on the simple and understated beauties of everyday life. That, Bigby thought, was something truly rare and special and he intended to never let it escape him.

Bigby knew that he wanted to be with you forever. For the first time, he could imagine waking up next to someone every day and falling asleep with them at night. He wanted to be the person on your mind at all hours of the day and the one to comfort you after a terrible day or listen to your stupid jokes after a good one. Bigby wanted to come home to music blaring out of the tape player, instead of the silence and damp of his apartment. He wanted to part ways not just with a smile when you shared the elevator ride to the Business Office, but with a kiss. God, he was head over heels, and no matter how he said it, any one of the godforsaken five ways, he no longer cared. He just had to say it. He needed you to know.

You moved your hand from his shoulder to straighten his tie with a fond smile and that was it for Bigby. Pulling you close, one of his rough hands came up to cover yours, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could probably feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong. The other cupped your jaw, his touch gentler than he ever thought a monster could be capable of. He watched a thousand different emotions flicker through your eyes as he leaned in, too fast for even the Sheriff to be able to process and recognise them all. Your lips met and everything just stopped. It was like Bigby’s mind went completely blank of thoughts and all he could do was feel. His arms tightened around you as he tried to put all he had into it – every last word that he could never find, every smile that he had wished were a kiss, every song that he would never be able to hear and not think of you and this very moment.

Eventually, you pulled back from one another, but not far. You stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you recovered, breathing together. “The Mundies say that there are five ways to show someone you love them,” Bigby informed you, after a long moment of silence, not entirely sure why he had said it.

“That’s so fucking stupid,” you replied, your voice much breathier than it had been a minute ago, and Bigby grinned widely at how closely your response had echoed his own. It was stupid, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because it had worked, and he had you in his arms and he had kissed you, and he was never going to let you go. You began to sway again, finding your way back to the music and to reality, as much as he wanted to stay wrapped up in that moment forever.

It didn’t matter how many ways there were, Bigby thought, because he was going to discovery every, damn one.

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Mind & Soul (8/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

7.6k ; N S F W, minor angst

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

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I love you for sentimental reasons I hope you do believe me I'll give you my heart

I love you and you alone were meant for me Please give your loving heart to me And say we'll never part

September

The summer days are filled with light and joy, after that, after the big explosion between Charlie and Henry. It was an explosion which he knew was coming, had to have known was coming for some time. It feels good to have gotten all that out of the way now, Henry seems lighter for it.

Heatwaves come and go, and with them so do the lingering clutches of pain. Now the crunch of early autumn leaves snap under foot, and Henry is back to school. A new grade and a new opportunity for growth. His reading is improving significantly, as is his mood; there’s no real arguments anymore. It’s hard sometimes, because of course it’s hard, but you’re all in it together, and that makes things a little easier.

Charlie thinks back to before all of this, thinks back to how miserable he had been, trapped in a marriage he didn’t want anymore, stuck with a wife who hated him. He thinks about it, about how rough the last year had been, how cold she had been to him and how warm you were, how warm you always were.

He thinks about it; the hiding, the sneaking, the lies.

He thinks about it as you shift and turn in bed, the soft sheets kissing your naked body, dawn pouring into the bedroom and casting you into the most gorgeous pink glow Charlie’s ever seen. Birds chirp and the sounds of early morning traffic come to life, and Charlie just feels good.

There’s still hiding, sneaking, and lies. But it’s your bed now too, and that makes Charlie grin against the top of your hair as you hum out a little stretch to greet the day.

“’Morning.” Charlie’s voice is thick and syrupy to his own ears, he’s barely got his eyes open but the moment he can feel you stirring, he finds waking up a lot easier of a task.

You snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close as the little alarm on his phone rings. Charlie groans, smacks a hand over to the nightstand and unplugs it from his charger.

His burner phone lives in the bottom of a drawer somewhere now. He doesn’t need it, not really, not anymore. He isn’t living under the constant surveillance he once was, and though he can’t just be outright with you, it’s much less strict that it was before. He doesn’t save any pictures still, he’s too paranoid for that, for them saving to some cloud somewhere. But the calls, the texts, those all feel like something he can give himself, something he can give you.

His regular phone chimes and rings and clangs through the quiet of the room, and Charlie fumbles to shut it up, making you laugh out a little groan of your own.

“How did you sleep?” He asks you, combing his fingers through your hair. He smiles, because you’re not really bothering to move away from the pillow you’ve made of his chest. It’s a steady weight, a warmth he’s wanted for so long.

“Like a baby.” You grin up at him as the early dawn of morning bathes the room in oranges now. You kiss his chin where you can reach, press your smile against his face, tickling him with your voice as you ask, “You?”

“Pretty damn good.” Charlie holds you by your hips and pulls you up the last couple inches for your lips to be level with one another, and you get the hint, rising up onto your hands and knees on top of him, his hands smoothing around your back, “But I’d much rather be awake with you.”

“Kiss me?” You grin, biting your lower lip around a smile, rubbing your nose against his as the sky goes golden from an autumn sunrise.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Charlie smiles back at you, before opening his mouth up to yours, lips parting, seeking your touch.

You settle yourself against him and kiss him for what feels like hours. Eyes closed, Charlie breathes you in, every drop of you, even the taste of your sleep-sour breath. It doesn’t bother Charlie, not one bit. He lets one of his hands clasp around the back of your neck possessively, his other hand pinching grabbing nipping down your back until he’s got a palmful of your ass and gives it a good squeeze.

He wants you, so fucking badly. But these aren’t summer days where the house sleeps in, no, there’s a schedule and as Charlie kisses you, he’s painfully aware of it. Your tongue is hot and slow against his, and it’s turning him on, the head of his cock lightly brushing against your ass from where your body is moving on top of him.

He’s got to pull you off of him soon, otherwise you’ll both be too desperate to do anything else. He groans against your lips and kisses you three more times, before making a move to sit up. You chuckle and go along with him, climbing off his lap and getting out of bed.

“What time is it?” You ask as you stretch and shake the last little remnants of sleep from your limbs.

“Too early.” Charlie replies, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and watching you move around the room, beautifully nude.

“Better get up and dressed before he wakes up.” You hum playfully tossing a towel at Charlie’s face.

His reflexes are fast enough that he catches it no problem, and if things were different, if Henry knew you were here, Charlie could wrestle you to the bed and the sound of your laughter wouldn’t be such an alerting noise.

But as it were, Henry doesn’t know you’re here this time, he doesn’t know you’ve spent the night, so Charlie lets you get away with whatever you want, towels being thrown at his face included.

“He’s old enough to make himself breakfast now, don’t you think?” Charlie’s never been the most morning person around, but the sight of you walking towards the masterbath that’s connected to his room has him feeling playful in his own way.

“Are you going to shower with me or do I have to be all alone, soaking wet, covered in suds and -- !” You start, before he’s rushing after you and smacking your ass with that towel, making you cover your mouth so your laugh doesn’t ring through the quiet of morning, as he chases you into the bathroom.

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

It’s not long after a little joint-jerk-off session in the shower, that you’re coming back from your house in a fresh pair of clothes, hair done up and chipper. You let yourself in with the key that’s gotten so much use Charlie’s almost worried it’ll wear out, and make a beeline for the kitchen.

School mornings are pretty fast-paced, and it isn’t long before Henry is bounding down the stairs when he smells the brew of coffee – a tell tale sign that you’re here.

“Good morning Henry!” You smile at him, he’s all ready for the day except for his shoes which wait by the front door. Henry’s gotten better at figuring out what clothes go together, and he’s in this very sweet stage where he’s trying to emulate Charlie, so he’s wearing a little button down that’s maybe too big for him.

“Hi (Y/N), whatcha making?” He comes over to you but you put a hand out to stop him from getting too close to the stove as you turn the heat on and grab a pan.

“We are making scrambled eggs, can you help me and get the cheese from the fridge?” You correct, and his eyes light up at the prospect of being a helper and also because he loves scrambled eggs.

“Can I have mine like dad gets?” Henry asks from the fridge as he rifles through the shelves to find the bags of pre-shredded cheese from the grocery store.

“Are you sure? He likes his more runny than you do.” You’re pleasantly surprised, like most kids Henry was a picky eater.

“Yeah I’m sure, I wanna try.” Henry nods, coming back over with an assortment of cheeses and dumping them on the counter.

You begin cracking a couple eggs into a bowl and whisking them up with a pinch of salt, a good handful of pepper jack and cheddar just the way you know the boys like it. Henry hovers behind you standing on his tip-toes to try and look over your shoulder because you won’t let him too close to the stove as you swirl the runny eggs around and around with butter.

“I’m very proud of you for being open minded to trying something new kiddo. And if you don’t like it, I can always cook them a little bit more.” You smile over your shoulder at him and he gets embarrassed from being caught, right at the same time Charlie finally descends in a nice freshly pressed suit.

“Morning dad! (Y/N) and I are making eggs, look.” Henry beckons Charlie over and you can’t help but chuckle a little from his excitement.

“I see, good that you’re being a helper. What can I do, want me to make pancakes?” He asks you, because now that you’re back and there’s coffee in the pot ready for him to pour, and eggs are scrambled he feels like he could be a morning person, he could be a morning person with you.

“Yes! We can use the blueberries.” Henry pipes up, answers his question even though he wasn’t asked.

The blueberries in question were just picked up last weekend at the farmer’s market. It had become a bit of a tradition, you and Henry going to the farmer’s market on Sundays. Sundays Charlie had been working in the theater, taking an extra day to make sure rehearsals were going well, making sure Tom & Jerry were liking what the troupe was doing.

It reminded Charlie of the old days, where he’d call you to watch Henry during his meetings, when he’d ask you to babysit for long rehearsal nights. Every time he came back, you and Henry had found a whole array of treasures, from fresh produce to interesting art pieces and crafts that Charlie had begun to display.

But these blueberries were huge, and even though Charlie hadn’t been there to pick them out, he was excited to taste their sweetness. Charlie smiles at the domestic bliss of it all, goes to the fridge to get the little carton.

“Set the table please, hot pans over here.” He tells his son, and Henry groans and rolls his eyes playfully as he does as he’s told.

The minute that Henry’s out of the room, Charlie steps next to you and begins whipping up the box mix of pancakes for the sake of time, accidentally or maybe not so accidentally bumping your hip with his as you work on scrambled eggs right beside him.

“He’s in an adventurous mood lately.” You remark, gesturing with your spatula to the dining room.

“I know I don’t know what’s gotten into him but I’m glad.” Charlie replies, because he really is glad that his son is starting to develop a more adult palette, and isn’t just demanding sweets for breakfast every morning. Charlie looks around, makes sure Henry isn’t coming back and quickly steals a kiss from your smiling cheek. “You want pancakes too?”

“If you don’t mind.” You nod, taking the eggs out, a perfectly creamy buttery cheesy consistency.

“I don’t, any chance to stay next to you a little longer I’m going to take.” Charlie replies, and you have you nearly duck your head from your own blush.

“You’re such a charmer.” You shake your head, scooping the eggs out of a pan and putting them into a serving bowl.

“Oh I’m more than that.” Charlie’s voice drops as he flips a pancake, leans down to your ear and whispers, “I took the day off work, when I drop Henry off I’m coming straight back to you.”

“Yeah?” A slow smile begins to spread across your face, as you stick the pan in the sink to be dealt with later.

Charlie reaches out to you and you go to him, cross the little kitchen and let his arm wind around your waist. His lips tickle your ear when he nuzzles his face near your cheek.

“Yeah, and when I step through that door, I’ll be very upset if you’re not naked and waiting for me in bed.” He says, and there’s that deep dark quality to his voice that reminds you so much of the very beginnings of this affair, the beginnings of his wanton desire for you.

“I’d never want to upset you, Mr. Barber.” You whisper, and Charlie nearly breaks out into goosebumps from it, from the way you’re able to flip that switch inside him so easily.

And then you’re stepping away, walking the bowl of eggs into the dining room where Henry is waiting patiently. Charlie smiles to himself, flips another pancake off the griddle, and he’s not too far behind.

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

Charlie doesn’t carry too much stuff anymore, when he walks Henry to school. Now he always has a free hand for his son to hold when they cross the streets, they leave with enough time that Charlie doesn’t have to scramble to make it to the theater. Henry doesn’t have to run to keep up with him, and instead of protests, Henry chatters away about all the gossip and news around his school, in his class.

“You’ve got everything you need, right?” Charlie asks as they approach the brick wall that Charlie knows is the start of the school property.

“Ugh dad, that was one time!” Henry rolls his eyes, and they check both ways before going through the crosswalk.

“I know but accidents happen, it’s okay.” Charlie says anyway, careful of his footing as he approaches that uneven part of the sidewalk. “Watch the lip.”

“Are we doing anything this weekend?” Henry asks, completely ignoring him in that way kids do sometimes when they’re wrapped up in their own heads.

“No, what did you have in mind?” Charlie asks back, the two of them stopping in front of the school.

“I was invited to Edgar’s birthday party and I really really want to go they’re going to have a bounce-house.” Henry replies, and that makes Charlie smile because honestly a bouncy house sounds like a pretty fun time.

“If you give me the invitation I’ll make sure you get there honey. We have to get him a present, start thinking of something he might like, okay?” Charlie makes sure that Henry’s backpack and coat and everything are on him and that his shoelaces are tied because he’s that kind of parent, and Henry laughs, shrugging his dad’s hands away.

“Okay – are we still going to go to the park after school?” Henry asks, right as the bell rings and all the other kids start walking a little faster to get up the stairs.

“If the weather stays nice we will. Okay, have a good day!” Charlie gives Henry a hug right as some of Henry’s friends run up the stairs.

“I love you dad.” Henry hugs Charlie back quickly before wrangling out of his hold and joining his buddies, the group of them happy to be reunited after a whole night of not seeing each other.

“Love you too honey!” Charlie calls after Henry, smiling, glad that his son is doing alright, glad that everyone’s alright.

I think of you every morning Dream of you every night Darling, I'm never lonely Whenever you are in sight

When he comes back home, he closes and locks the door behind him, steps out of his shoes and hangs his coat up. He puts his keys in the dish by the door, and runs a hand through his hair, and then looks up and sees you, standing at the foot of the stairs, completely in the nude.

“I thought I told you to wait in bed.” Charlie grins, drinking in the sight of your body in the morning sun. It’s only a little after seven o’clock, he’s got so much time – fuck he’s got all day to spend with you, and your body is so inviting, the way that it’s posing so seductively for him.

“Maybe I wanted to wait for you here.” You shrug one shoulder, being difficult, doing whatever you want.

Charlie will always let you do whatever you want, and you know, you grin, flash him your teeth.

“It’s not fair, to tease a man like this.” Charlie takes a few slow steps towards you, and you take a few steps backwards up the stairs in response. He shakes his head with a smile, licks across his front teeth, wants you.

“It’s only teasing if I don’t let you take me.” You lick your lips, muscles in your breast twitching and drawing his attention immediately, drawing his gaze to the way your nipples are perked up and begging to be pinched, bitten.

“Are you?” He asks, growing hard in his slacks, stepping closer closer closer, “Are you going to let me?”

You only turn around, crook a finger to beckon him forward, and it’s a race to see who can get to the bedroom faster.

He practically tears at his clothes, his crisp button down and suit jacket, his slacks. He hops out of each leg as you roll onto the mattress with a laugh, the bed frame bouncing as he joins you, as he covers your body with his own, stripped down as quickly as he can to nothing but his socks.

He goes dizzy for a second, because the rush of blood from his head to his dick is so fast that he huffs out a groan as you contort your body into all these alluring shapes, soft colors of your skin in the sun blending together, making him so fucking hard.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that? Look at this, look at you. I should get a mirror and stick it on the ceiling so you can watch me fuck you, watch all the slutty faces you make when you’re drooling for my dick.” Charlie’s voice is deep yet insistent, as he wedges a hand between your thighs.

“Touch me, touch me please I need you.” You pin your wrists up over your head, letting them clutch at the pillow while he drinks in the sight of you.

He doesn’t know what he wants from you first, there’s so much he wants to do with you, so many ways he wants to make you feel good, to feel good with you.

“Spread your fuckin’ legs,” He settles on, because his cock is really aching for you, his whole body aches for you, yearns for the pleasure that only you can provide. Your knees fall apart and his hand slides against your slit, already so wet. “That’s it, there’s that pretty pussy.”

You nod, and you let out a breathy moan as he curls two fingers inside you, pushes them past the slight resistance of your body and up against the tight wet heat of your walls. He sits back a little because he loves the sight of it, loves watching his body disappear into yours, watching you take him so well, watching you want him.

“Your cunt just swallows me up, doesn’t it,” Charlie groans as your pussy squeezes around his fingers, his thumb lazily stroking teasing circles around your clit that makes your cunt drip with slick, slick that’s only letting him finger you deeper, “It’s practically begging for these fingers.”

“Your hands, oh they’re so big.” You moan, hands gripping the pillow, back arching enough that your pretty tits push out.

“Bigger than my cock?” Charlie bends you then, fingers you nice and slow, gets you worked up. He loves it when you’re worked up, loves it when you’re blissed out from a well earned orgasm, or two, or three, or or or.

“No – no nothing’s bigger than your cock.” You sigh out happily, voice like liquid gold, like velvet as he licks up a stripe between your tits, kisses at your nipples.

“Hmmm, if you want it you’re going to have to beg for it.” He pretends to think, pretends that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, giving you exactly what you want to hear.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your cunt until he knows you’re good and stretched for him. He’s bigger than average, bigger than most, he knows. He doesn’t ever want to hurt you, and he takes the foreplay very seriously. He fingers you, and kisses licks bites sucks at your tits, until your chest heaves from pleasure and your throat clicks as you moan.

“Can I have it, please? Please Charlie I’ll do anything – anything you want if you fuck me with that big cock of yours, come in me, all over me I don’t care just give it to me.” You demand, a needy selfish brat that he adores, that he wants to please, that he’ll give anything to just the same.

“What if I fuck you all day, hm? Make you sticky all over, come in you so hard that you taste it.” He listens to the sick squelch of your cunt around his fingers as you just get wetter and wetter, desperate for something more filling, desperate for anything to really satisfy that urge.

“Charlie, yes, please!” Your legs bend and straighten, thighs trembling as your hips rise, as you egg him on, encourage him, beg for him, pleas rolling off your tongue like the easy whore you are for him. “Please, please give me that, come in me, make me smell like you.”

Without any warning he pulls his fingers out of you and lines his cock up, pushes it all the way in with one sharp thrust, one that punches out a high whine, a gasp, a moan all mixed up into one, tears it from your throat as you smile so wide, getting what you want, spoiled and greedy and all his, all Charlie’s.

“Oh baby you’re so tight, didn’t I fuck you enough last night? You sweet needy thing, I’ll fill you up.” He grunts as his hips begin to thrust, begin building a fast rhythm that’s got his eyes shut tight, already wanting to drool from the pleasure of it.

“I need it, oh my god.” Your hands dig into his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles move and flex above you as his hips shove themselves right up against yours, his cock splitting you into a thousand pieces.

It’s incredible, it’s intoxicating, the velvet blazing hot grip your cunt has on his cock feels so good, makes him sweat. Your body wraps around his as you try to get impossibly closer, moving and writhing and taking this pounding, taking it so well as he pulls his cock all the way out only to slam it back in.

“You like that? Like feeling me inside you – feel how hard it is?” Charlie’s jaw is clenched from pleasure and he alternates between holding himself up and grabbing at your body, his hips rocking the bed, shaking the headboard, making it smack against the wall from how fast he’s railing you.

“Don’t stop don’t you dare fucking stop – oh, oh yes!” You shout, head thrown back in pleasure as you claw at his shoulders with your nails, as your legs hook around his hips and push his ass, the back of his thighs closer to you, your tits bounce, your mouth is dropped open and all that comes out are yelled curses.

“You’re so loud, shouting out my name, call my name baby.” Charlie grunts, pinches your nipple and tweaks it hard as he angles himself better to get your gspot stimulated at the same time. He searches for it, the head of his cock nudging up hard against your walls.

“Charlie!” You gasp loud loud loud as he finds it, as he grinds his dick against it over and over, making your back arch, your toes curl, your cunt grip him so tight, “Charlie please!”

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.” He pants, his cock throbbing, aching for you, sliding against the wet wet wet heat of your walls. His dick is so sensitive, and with each drag of the head of his cock in and out of your body, he feels like he can’t suck down air fast enough, not even from your lungs, and he tries.

“Yours, all y—oh shit—all yours.” Your body shakes shudders trembles under him as he kisses you deeply, passionately, sloppy.

His hand slides from your nipple to your clit, and he gathers up some of the slick that’s made your inner thighs go nice and shiny, smears it between his fingers and uses it to lube up your clit as he pushes hard and fast circles, zig-zags, back and forth motions times with his thrusts that have you screaming his name.

“That’s – that’s fucking right, you’re mine, my whore,” He encourages, bites down hard on the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, “I bet they’re touching themselves thinking of you, listening to you get pounded, I bet they wish they could hear this pussy weep for me.”

“Ch—Charlie!” You shout, tears starting to collect in your eyes as you gush around his cock, soak through to the sheets, soaking through into his heart, his soul, his cock.

“Shh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, let go.” Charlie’s not far behind.

Your eyes roll back into your head as your pussy pulses, sucking him in just like it did his fingers, coming still. Your teeth chatter a little as your body jolts with pleasure, and that’s so fucking hot that he comes hard in you, hips slamming against yours one final time before he blows his load into your waiting body, pelvis flush against yours as your legs fall limp onto the mattress.

He comes and pants hard, grunting and groaning out his orgasm as your pussy milks him for what he’s worth. His arms are a cage above you, beads of sweat drip down from the tip of his nose and he’s so grateful that it’s turtleneck season because your throat is a series of beautiful blooming bruises that he put there.

The sight of the markings, his markings, his claiming of you, makes more come force itself out of his cock, and Charlie winces, moans and sighs against you as sparks of his own pleasure snap up his spine.

“Mmm, I’m not done with you yet, not yet.” Charlie presses the words into your cheek, kisses you with swollen lips, licks at the corner of your mouth as his hips slowly grind against yours, still not having pulled out. “I’m still hard – roll over for me?”

You’re boneless, but you try your best. He pulls out to give you enough space to flop over onto your stomach, and he grabs his pillow from the other side of the bed, uses it to prop your hips up. Your arms fold under your own pillow and you mouth at the soft cotton pillow case, wetting it with your spit as he slowly slowly slowly slides his cock back into your pussy from behind.

“Oh,” You sigh happily, “God that feels good.”

“Not too much?” Charlie nibbles on the shell of your ear as you take a great deal of energy to wriggle your ass up against his crotch.

“You’re never too much, I never get enough of you.” You moan as he plugs you full of his come, as he fucks it back into you from where it was threatening to spill down your thighs in a steady stream of sticky white.

“Relax for me baby, relax, feel good?” Charlie takes you slowly now, takes his time. He got out his pent up tension and stress, this is about dragging out another orgasm from you nice and easy.

He kneels behind you, your legs bent on either side of his thighs as he rocks his dick into you. Each time he pulls out he sees your come mingling with his, and he’s so fucking thankful that you decided to go on the pill, so thankful that he lets you have this, this gorgeous sight of your pussy drooling his come.

He’s going to give you more, because he’s got so much more to give, and your body accepts it so willingly, it’s enough to make him cry. He smacks your ass because he can, because it’s right here in front of him, and your toes curl and flex. He does it again, and you moan, making out half-way delirious with your pillow.

“So good, you’re so good to me.” You sigh, moan, eyes closed and reveling in the way his cock stuff all his come back into you, the smack of it filling the room.

“You tired?” Charlie asks with a smile, he’s got so much planned for you, he’s going to eat you out for hours, he wants you to ride him, he wants to so much with you, but even as he’s fucking you, he can’t help but think how nice it is to simply sleep beside you too.

“Yeah, but don’t stop, don’t stop – go slow, fuck me slow.” You mumble as you meet him for every careful thrust; and that alone makes Charlie’s own head tip back, like he’s looking up, up at the heavens, thanking them for giving him such an angel as you.

“You’re so wet, I love the sound your pussy makes for me, it drives me crazy.” Charlie murmurs as he rocks into you slow and sweet, feeling your cunt pulse and flutter around him. There’s a steady stream of his own come that’s oozing out of you that he just can’t fit, and that’s okay, he likes knowing you’re stuffed full to the brim.

“I like you when you’re crazy – oh, oh.” You moan, and he takes the opportunity of your open mouth to slip a few fingers against your tongue.

Something about the soft rasp of your mouth sucking on his fingers, coupled with the tight clench of your pussy has Charlie’s chest on fire. You suck on those fingers and moan around them, and his stomach quivers, his thighs shake as he fucks your hot cunt lazily, with more restraint that he really has.

“Touch yourself for me, let me feel you come around me again.” Charlie says, voice even and steady somehow, somehow despite being so close to coming himself again.

And you do, you bring yourself over that edge a second time, and this time it’s more of a slow build, a wash over Charlie’s nerves as he pushes somehow more come into you. He knows he’ll need a break in a minute, his balls have to be empty by now, his cock finally beginning to soften as it throbs inside you.

He sits back and stills his hips, watches as his dick just twitches as he pulls out an inch, just enough to watch himself drain his come into your body.

“Keep this safe for me, you got that? Keep it safe, all of it.” Charlie lets a hand slide underneath you, caressing your stomach, rubbing circles there.

“Mhm, fill me up.” You nod, so tired, lazy and blissed out, your eyes not even bothering to open.

He pulls out for the second time, but this time he rolls over next to you on the mattress, collects you in his arms as his cock softens. Despite his demands, your thighs grow slippery with an overflow of come, it drips down onto Charlie’s side where you sling a leg over his, tangling your limbs together as you both try and catch your breath.

“Shit.” Charlie huffs out a laugh, a pleasure weak hand coming to scrub up at his face.

“What?” You hum out a smile, kissing his ribs.

“We promised to take Henry to the park after class, remember?” Charlie winds his arms around you, holds you close to him as the birds chirp outside, still morning, still sunny.

“Yeah?” You’re confused, having a bit of trouble to catch his meaning, being so blissed out and comfortable.

“Are you going to be able to walk?” He asks, looking down at you with serious concern.

“Shit.” You echo with a frown, not even thinking about that, before looking back up at Charlie.

The two of you chew your lips for a second, before bursting out into bright happy laughter, especially when he rolls over you and smothers you into the mattress, making you complain playfully that you’re right in the wet spot, dammit!

Oh well, Charlie thinks, he’s got plenty of hours left in the day with with you – hours to make you come, laugh, sigh, shout his name, and recover with time to spare.

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

Hours, laughter and many many orgasms later, you and Charlie shower, change, and are trying desperately to not act so pleased around the rest of the world as you walk through Central Park with Henry. True to his word, Charlie brought everyone to the park after school let out for the day. The weather was perfect for a long walk – or in Henry’s case, a run – down the pathways.

“Dad can we get a dog?” He asks after saying goodbye and thank you to a friendly golden retriever whose owner let Henry pet after he asked politely.

“No I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Charlie shakes his head with an apologetic smile, walking so close to you that you might as well be arm in arm, hand in hand. “But you know, maybe in our next house we can get a dog.”

“We’re moving?” Henry asks with a confused arch of his brow.

“Not today or anything, but we’re going to have to move eventually.” Charlie thinks out loud, knowing that they’ve already sort of outgrown their space. Charlie mostly wants to be done with it, with the way it still reminds him of Nicole. “But that’ll be nice, won’t it? We can start fresh and paint the walls any color we want.”

“Can the kitchen be green?” Henry asks the both of you, and Charlie grins, glad for his excitement.

“Sure, why not.” Charlie looks at you with so much love in his eyes, because your kitchen is green, and that’s always been something Henry never shuts up about, whenever you used to babysit him at your place.

“And then can we get a dog?” Henry tries, making you laugh a little at how persistent he could be.

“Maybe if you can prove to me that you’re responsible and will take care of the dog, yes we can get one.” Charlie very hesitantly says, before waving a hand around, “But I’m telling you right now if me or (Y/N) has to pick up the slack it’s not going to happen, okay? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll be responsible I promise! I promise dad.” Henry skips around, making his sneakers light up on the paved path, “I’ll be the most responsible that you’ve ever seen.”

“Okay okay.” Charlie chuckles, and you stop in your tracks, which makes them stop too.

“Hey do you guys smell that?” You look around for a second, “I think we’re right near Pizza Pete’s! I’m starving, how about I get us a couple slices?”

Henry immediately begins jumping around, always thrilled at the prospect of pizza.

“You want any help?” Charlie asks, but you shake your head, knowing it’s only maybe a ten minute walk. You were always such a fast walker, the pizza would be perfectly warm by the time you got back, not so burning hot in the way cheese could sometimes be.

“Nah, I’ll be right back.” You say, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and ruffling Henry’s hair. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll find you!”

Charlie watches you leave, your boots carrying you down one of the side paths out of the park, leaving just Charlie and Henry together. He knew what you were doing, giving them space like this. You did it sometimes, wanting to make sure you never overwhelmed them with your presence – as if you could ever overwhelm Charlie.

“Hey Henry…” He knows, and he appreciates it, because he’s had something he’s wanted to ask Henry, and he feels that talks like these are easier when it’s just them. “I was hoping you and me could talk for a minute.”

“Oh boy.” Henry groans playfully, and Charlie’s glad that he’s in good spirits, glad he’s in a good mood.

“Hey,” He lightly swats at Henry’s arm as they wander over to an empty bench, sitting down next to each other and watching people go by. “I just. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I don’t want us to have another fight, so I know it’s uncomfortable but I gotta ask and make sure.”

“Yeah, I’m okay dad.” Henry says with a small smile, and Charlie can’t help but feel sad about how fast his son’s had to grow up from all this, how strong he’s had to be in the wake of Nicole’s leave.

“Because if there’s something bothering you, I want you to know you can talk to me, or to (Y/N), or if you feel like you want someone else – ” Charlie starts, but Henry shakes his head, cuts him off at the mere suggestion of a therapist.

“I don’t want anyone else, I’m okay, really.” He nods, putting his hands in his hoodie’s front pocket, his feet swinging from where they don’t quite reach the floor, sitting on the bench. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me honey.” Charlie gives a soft smile, pats his shoulder.

“I know.” Henry shrugs. He doesn’t look up at his dad, “But I still do.”

Charlie taps Henry’s shoulder to get his attention, and the kid looks so much older than almost-nine, that it kills him.

“I’m okay.” Charlie puts as much sincerity into his words as he can.

“Do you like (Y/N)?” Henry asks out of nowhere, making Charlie freeze.

“…What?” He slowly asks, blinking, trying not to seem suspicious and failing spectacularly.

“You know, like.” Henry looks around to make sure you’re not there, and then he leans over to Charlie, cups a hand over his ear. “Do you like her. Like her like her, I mean.”

“What makes you think that?” Charlie’s heart beats in his throat as he tries to be aloof, frowning, mind racing, palms starting to sweat as a litany of curses string together in his mind, nothing but shit shit shit shit how the fuck does he know does he know did he hear did he see something did he --

“I dunno. You’re happier when she’s around. You’re a really bad pretender dad, it’s embarrassing how much you smile when she’s around.” Henry doesn’t sound accusatory, doesn’t sound angry about it. He sounds embarrassed more than anything, but then he sounds hopeful when he asks, “Things are better with her, I think, aren’t they?”

“I think so. Are you happier when she’s around?” Charlie asks back, because he has to always put Henry first, has to always make sure that Henry’s happiness comes first.

Henry mulls over his words for a little while, and Charlie wonders if it’s hard, trying to express emotions he’s not had the experience for yet, doesn’t have the words for yet.

“Yeah. I miss mom a lot, but (Y/N) is…she’s good, isn’t she? I like her, I like that she’s with us.” Henry says, and there’s an honesty in his voice that has Charlie tearing up, has his heart thud thud thudding in his chest.

“Do you think maybe, one day she could move in with us and be around all the time?” Charlie all but whispers, not believing that he’s even saying these words out loud.

“You do like her!” Henry calls out triumphantly, and Charlie immediately scrambles to pull the brim of Henry’s beanie down onto his face to get him to be quiet, making him laugh.

“Shh!” Charlie tries, but to no avail.

“I knew it.” His son is so smug, so smug that it’s almost unbearable. “You should ask her out, take her on a date.”

He snorts a laugh then, because oh if only this kid knew. Actually, no hopefully he never knows, never finds out the real truth of it all. But damn, what sort of irony was this?

“It’s not that easy Henry.” He settles on eventually, which isn’t a lie, that part.

“How come?” Henry asks, always full of questions, questions that Charlie can’t answer, can’t find some way to sugar coat it for him, can’t find a way to break that fall.

“Because of mom, I’m still married to mom.” He sighs, and Henry frowns, as if he somehow hadn’t realized that.

“Oh.” Henry says very quietly, his face scrunched up the same way it does when he’s come across a word in his books that he doesn’t understand. “But…but if she’s not coming back, then why – ”

“Because she could come back, and she would be very upset if she found out. And it would be very bad if we were upset.” Charlie’s chest pangs with horrible guilt, wishing beyond belief that things were different, that he had any say at all in the separation, in any of this.

But he doesn’t, and life doesn’t ever work out the way anyone wants, and Charlie’s just lucky to have Henry and to have you.

“I still think you should ask her out.” Henry hops off of the bench and holds out a hand, waiting expectantly for his dad to take it, “One day.”

“Okay.” Charlie groans dramatically, pretending to be old and have stiff bones until Henry is laughing again, smiling again. “Maybe one day I will.”

I love you for sentimental reasons I hope you do believe me I've given you my heart

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

A few days go by, since his talk with Henry at the park. It feels good to be even a shred of honest with his son, even though he isn’t really, not fully. He doesn’t know if he ever will, about that. The affair will be one of those dark secrets that you pretend never happened, something you and Charlie will take to your graves.

That little admission, that little truth of liking you feels better to have said out loud. Henry likes knowing, Charlie thinks. He thinks Henry likes having a secret with his dad all their own, so many adults have so many secrets. Charlie doesn’t try to dwell on it too much, tries to keep things light.

But every now and again, Henry will give a smug smile, or an encouraging glance to Charlie when you’re around, and he has to pretend that he’s got no idea what Henry’s on about. You think it’s so endearing, because of course Charlie told you, but you’re good, you play along and pretend to be none the wiser.

Charlie is dropping Henry off at school once again, checking his coat, his laces. The bell has rung, and Henry’s friends are waiting, and in his backpack are birthday invitations of Henry’s own, a weekend party at the go-kart place that Henry is so excited about.

“Have a good day honey!” Charlie waves to Henry as he bounds up the steps.

“Bye dad – love you!” Henry calls over his shoulder as he meets up with his pals.

“Love you too I’ll be here to pick you up right after class, okay?” Charlie keeps waving, until a twinkling laugh grates his ears. He turns and sees a woman sticking her hands into her coat pockets. Charlie collects himself and stands up from the crouched position he’d been in to hug his son and asks, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just sweet. Don’t see many handsome single fathers dropping the kids off these days.” The woman is clearly trying to pull something, trying to flirt. “Definitely don’t see many kids shouting out I love yous.”

“I do my best.” Charlie tries his best not to grimace, the last thing he wants is a war with someone on the PTA or something.

“You’re Charlie Barber, right? I recognize you from the newspaper. Broadway, or something right?” She smiles at him, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear in a way that he thinks is supposed to be alluring.

“Or something.” Charlie mutters, looking around, trying to find some escape. He sees the little coffee shop, the one he brought Henry to, the one he used to bring you to too. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He crosses the street just in time before the little red hand begins to flash, and he thinks he’s safe behind the security of the glass door as it closes behind him, when instead he’s faced with a ghost in front of him.

“Oh my god.” He can’t help himself from saying, stunned, trying to blink away this apparition.

“Hi Charlie.” She says, and he almost can’t look at her, his stomach immediately churning.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” He feels his knees start to give out from under him, before he completely registers some tall strong and handsome LA meat-head standing next to her, his mouth going dry, mind spiraling, reeling, panicking, “Who the fuck is he?”

“I’m here to give you these.” The man says, handing over a manilla folder filled with what has to be divorce papers.

“And I’m here to take my son.” She says just as coldly, as casually.

And Charlie wants to scream and shout and rage and throw a fucking fit, because for the first time in six months, he’s standing in front of Nicole.

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

Tagging some pals! @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog @schopenhauerdeathsquad

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #marriage story #adam driver marriage story #adam driver character #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber fanfic #charlie barber smut #charlie barber fluff #charlie barber angst #my writing #mind and soul

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hale-13 · 3 years

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Happy FanFic Writer Friday!

Can you give us three of the most angsty and three of the fluffiest fanfics/one-shots you have along with sharing a few lines from them? They can either be a posted story or wip you're working on :)

Happy (beyond late because I have been a hot mess recently) FFWF! <3

So sorry this took so long - I wanted to give it the time it deserved and, since my job consists of staring at a dog in an O2 cage all night, I happen to have plenty of time! For the sake of everyone’s dash, I’ve added a cut below :)

Angsty

99.99% of what I write is angst so this is a little difficult but lets put this from least to most (in my opinion anyway lol)

Slipping Through the Cracks

“Better if he leaves you now,” a little voice in his head whispered. “It’s better to be alone.” And maybe at one point he would have fought against that mindset but now he couldn’t help but agree. Peter destroyed everything he touched and everyone around him was doomed for misery. Better for Ned to get out while he could.

Caliber

I’m not going to share any lines from this as it may be triggering to some. I’ve wanted to cover gun violence for a long time - I don’t often get political on the internet/in my fics but this is a cause I believe in strongly. I could get on a massive rant about common sense gun regulations and how America is failing our youth but I’ll spare you. This fic is not the best and it was hard for me to read through again and again to proof it but I plan on revisiting it at a later point to improve it some.

Crimes of Opportunity

Peter wakes up with a gasp that quickly disintegrates into a series of painful coughs. His entire body aches and pulses like a giant bruise and his chest feels like its on fire. When he’s finally able to kind of catch his breath he tries to look around. Wherever he is is pitch black. The distinct smell of rot surrounds him and he shivers. He’s on his side, crammed in an uncomfortable position with something cold and damp resting over his legs and against his back.

He tries to shift his legs, tries to move the weight off of them and feels it shift sickeningly against his bare calves, the sound of skin brushing skin echoing in the small space and Peter gags in realization.

“Not right now,” he tells himself as bile rises, burning his esophagus and the back of his tongue before he can swallow it down. “You can’t right now.”

He should have listened to Tony, Peter realizes, and it may be one of the biggest regrets of his life. He should have listened when Tony told him to stay out of it.

“If I get out of here,” he bargains with himself, “If I get out of here.”

Fluff

Ugh this was the hard part! I have very little fluff so I’m picking my fav fluffy scenes in no particular order :)

We Can’t Have Faith for Everybody - Chapter 9

“I trust you,” Peter’s voice is still a little hoarse and he’s sure his own eyes are red rimmed but he does trust and believe her.

MJ suddenly lets out a snort of laughter and grabs his other hand in hers, leaning in to peck him on the lips. “We have this whole penthouse to ourselves with no parental supervision and we’re literally crying in the doorway,” she cackles out and Peter starts laughing with her, both of them a little hysterical and leaning on each other for support as they crack up. It takes a few minutes for it to die down to giggles but they do eventually collect themselves. Peter pulls her in the direction of the living room.

“Want to watch The Office and make out?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and causing Michelle to laugh at him again.

“Duh loser,” she answers with a smile.

The Softest of Endings

As the intro to Finding Nemo started, Tony reached over to snake his arm around Peter’s shoulders to carefully pull him into his side. Peter went willingly and then went nearly boneless when Tony threaded his fingers into Peter’s hair and started untangling it. They watched the movie in silence for a bit, Peter resting more and more into Tony’s side before it fell asleep – all before the school of fish even went on their field trip.

Tony continued to massage Peter’s head as the movie played quietly in the background and couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have the kid in his life. Sure, Peter had definitely shaved a few years of his life and was the reason his hair stylist still had a job but Tony wouldn’t trade it for anything. And, as much as he may bitch, the recovery may be his favorite part. Days spent lounging around watching movies and cuddled up with his kid?

Heaven.

Repressing the urge to grin, Tony leant over and gave Peter and gentle kiss on the side of the head before relaxing back and letting his own eyes slip shut. An afternoon nap sounded just about perfect to him.

Conditioned

Tony let out a soft chuckle, squirting a healthy dollop of the shampoo into his hands and lathering it up before applying it to Peter’s hair, working through the snarls and tangles with care and scrubbing the leftover blood out of the curls. Peter went nearly boneless under his ministrations and Tony would definitely be lying if he said he didn’t milk the washing and conditioning portion at least a little bit. He knew that Peter had to be feeling pretty miserable and it settled something buried deep inside him to provide just a little extra comfort.

All too soon, though, he had rinsed out the last of the conditioner leaving Peter’s hair clean and dripping as he turned off the water. Peter made no move to get up or to open his eyes, breathing deeply and seemingly on the very verge of sleep, so Tony grabbed one of the towels and started to wring the extra water out of the kid’s hair, running the towel through it cautiously. “Just need you to sit up for a second here kiddo okay? Then you can nap, scout’s honor.”

Sorry this took so long!!

#happy ffwf!#ffwf #thanks for the ask!

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goodtimingz · 4 years

Text

dreaming you would come true

intro. pt1. pt2. pt.3. pt4. pt5.

a/n: i’ve been deep in jae-content rn and i couldn’t find alot of jae fics. I haven’t written fic in a year and Y/N isn’t my style but i hope you enjoy if you see this~ (and if for some reason jae decides to look for fanfic again i’m gonna scream T_T)

(i was inspired to write after reading @noona-clock ‘s fics.)

tags: student!life, jae day6, fluff, college!au, suggestive topics (babies close your eyes)

▶︎ the one where you meet jae in your second year of college and it’s basically love at first sight. just little excerpts of what i think a relationship w jae would be like c:

We live a life always dreaming for a dream to come true.

The night was brisk, summer had left as as quickly as it arrived this year. You shoved your hands into your pockets, eyes and ears pricked. It wasn’t like walking to the library was an unsafe task, but you were very aware of the sound of your own footsteps on the footpath. No drunkard or sleep deprived student would catch you off-guard tonight, not when there was so much studying left to do.

The library was lit brightly amongst the countless street lights and you pulled your bag tighter, heaving a sigh. Finals were near, very very near. Waking up everyday felt like a choice between dropping out and becoming a street busker, or actually getting your diploma and a couple thousand dollars of debt.

In saying that, you had to remember that times like this always passed, and when you were old and wrinkly you would appreciate the memories of your university years. (Or something like that).

Relishing in the warmth provided by the huge library, you climbed up the stairs mentally preparing yourself for a long night ahead. You were staring at your feet the whole time, an argument of “you gotta” and “but i don’t wanna” on your mind.

That was, until a shiny iPhone fell on the stair by your foot. You blinked as reality came back into focus, reaching down to pick it up automatically. Preparing a quiet greeting, your words caught in your throat when you met eyes with the handsome stranger. Brown eyes and soft blonde hair, alongside the deep eye bags matching your own (not that they took away from the overall cuteness of the tired boy.)

The two of you had paused briefly, your reason being because of how handsome he was and his... you weren’t sure. The phone buzzed in your hand and the boy broke the staring contest with a small smile. He looked effortlessly cool and tired as hell.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, taking the phone and checking it over for any damage. You could only shrug, the distant memory of finals bringing you back to reality.

“It’s all good,” You managed, but what you really wanted to say was more like, “How haven’t I seen you around before?” “Who are you, what’s your name and can I have a hug because you look like you’d give good hugs.” Of course, you didn’t say those things, and he was still standing in front of you as cute as ever.

[ 제이; jae ]

“How come I haven’t seen you around before?” He winced slightly as how forced his words sounded. He really didn’t want to make it obvious that he found you beautiful, but he couldn’t miss such a good opportunity. His life was in dire need for some romance or atleast comic relief. Choosing to study in the library tonight instead of staying in his dorm was the best idea he had since he used his loan to buy a guitar and labelled it as ‘course-related costs’.

Jae watched as your expression brightened at his words (which he found adorable), he also noticed you had matching raccoon eyes (eye bags 4dayz) and the classic student ‘I’m dead inside’ expression.

“I’m not sure, but I hope that can change from now.” Your response sent butterflies flying straight into Jae’s stomach. The way your eyes smiled slightly, lips curved and a head tilt.

If he hadn’t totally fallen for you at first, he definitely had now. (Youngk: SIMP!)

He wasn’t going to let you leave him speechless (although you definitely had), so he fumbled over his words feeling his ears grow hot and probably red. “I-Yeah,” (awkward chuckle) “I hope so too.”

No! Ask her out or something, what if you never see her again? It took all of Jae’s restraint not to facepalm then and there, which would have been profusely embarrassing on his part, instead choosing to ball his hands into fists. He assumed you could already see his blush rising, but the way you patiently gazed at him made it feel okay.

[ Y/N ]

“I study here every night… Can I get your name...? ” You figured he needed a little help and there was no way you were leaving this interaction with the cute boy’s name. He was cute enough to look good under fluorescent lights - and that’s saying something.

“Jae.” Perfect, a cute name for a cute guy. You nodded gently, “I’m Y/N, I’ll see you around then, Jae.” His name fell off of your lips effortlessly, and you hoped he liked hearing it as much as you enjoyed saying it.

If college and swiping through Tinder endlessly had taught you one thing, it was to turn away first (in all situations).

1. because your mood always improved (cute boys always had that affect) and you couldn’t show them your beaming smile just yet (secret weapon).

2. you really needed to gain self control because studies were calling like a siren

(but mostly to hide the fact that flirting had you feeling like a fish out of water, so you had to stop fronting to hide your blush.)

Your footsteps felt purposeful as you walked through the library to a study room. You silently made a mental note to yourself, that you would study on that floor every night from now on. You couldn’t predict that Jae had the exact same idea, but it was something to look forward to.

[ 제이; jae ]

When Jae arrived home, he hadn’t stopped thinking about he’d first laid eyes on you. Everything he had studied for the last 4 hours went in one ear and out the next. His mind ran over the image of you over and over again, replaying the way you smiled and the squint in your eyes. The way your hair fell, how your voice sounded saying his name... And the denim jacket over the hoodie look you were sporting... damn, you were so his type.

Although he was always open to falling for a stranger (because he’s cool like that), he had never expected it to happen tonight, or truly believed it would happen at all.

YoungK spun around from his desk in their shared room, interrupting Jae's thoughts. “Why do you look so happy? We have 2 weeks until finals and you’ve been miserable every other day.”

Jae smiled without meaning to, he tried hard to bite it back because you two had just met and he probably seemed a little crazy lying in his bed staring at the ceiling with a grin. He couldn’t help it, there was just this feeling that you were something, and he was certain he would make ‘something’ into ‘something serious’.

Jae turned to face Brian with a great double chin despite his boney frame, “I met a girl.”

YoungK laughed knowingly, “Finals will pass by quickly if you fall in love.” Jae scrunched his nose at the mention of finals again. Although it was probably a warning, YoungK had a way with words that made it seem all the more appealing.

He denied falling for you when Brian asked later that evening, but he may as well plan the wedding - he was that deep.

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makingspiritualityreal · 4 years

Text

When Depression Becomes your Comfort Zone

I am definitely not in a place I used to be compared to the extreme emotional lows of the past. What is mostly left by this point in my life is fear of my situation actually getting better.

Now because I am myself, this is not going to stop me from seizing any opportunities that appear in front of me and I work on my life in some small ways every day, even if it's not much. It might sound ridiculous, since technically a person with long lasting depression or enduring any kind of permanent suffering should be dying for an immediate improvement in their life. However, our survival psychology as human beings is such that we get used to everything, the good and the bad. A lot of suffering in our lives comes from the fact that a pattern is being broken in some way. Human beings hate being shaken out of their comfort zone and they often resist it in most ridiculous ways even to their detriment, when technically the change would mean pushing them in a better direction.

What I wanted to talk about here is a very complicated emotional process that goes on behind the scenes when you endure depression for a longer period of time. At the beginning, when in some way your life plummets there is a feeling of oppression and the lingering desire for freedom. Maybe freedom and expansion you experienced in the past, or maybe it was purely conceptual. That's what happened in my case, I wasn't even looking to my past to make my future mirror it, since I don't like to dwell in what's already gone, I just placed hope in my actions and potential new results coming from them. I was raised with an expectation of doing my best to achieve best results, so I grew up with an assumption that hard work always ultimately pays off. However, life is more complex than that, so in time as I grew up, things stopped working the way they used to work when I was younger. Every human being has a threshold for disappointment, everyone has an exhaustion limit to how much they can stand before they break down and something snaps in them. At a certain point in my life, I found myself encountering nothing but blocks and disappointments. My work and efforts amounted to nothing and wherever I would go I experienced closed doors. It's like there was a wall closing in around me telling me that no matter where I go, I will be ultimately stopped. I was used to a life that wasn't perfect...but it was a life that existed, something was alive around me, and in my own quirky way I was part of the world. Then I got to a stage where all of this was taken away from me. Since I'm extremely stubborn, I would still try to do my best. Every time I saw an opportunity, I did my best to take the most out of it. Enjoy the little things, a sunny day, good food, a small meeting with friends, when I still had them. Eventually, even those little things were taken away from me. I was forced to adapt to spending many years in a space where there was nothing and no one around me. In time, even though I was obviously miserable and probably still hoping for something deep down, I gave up on my efforts, seeing that they amounted to nothing.

Then, as I made the necessary psychological changes that this period required of me, after the transformation I needed to go through, I started to see openings. Things were not the same as before, and neither was I, but new things were appearing in their place. And as they were appearing I noticed how much I got used to staying in this narrow, suffocating space that was slowly killing me. I was always brave, even recklessly so, diving into any situation that seemed promising, and suddenly I was afraid to step out of my apartment and visit a friend, whose house I have been in countless times since childhood. I was afraid of going out into the world and outside of my depression bubble, because I was attacked by all the things that make a person feel alive, all the things that were taken away from me and that I felt were no longer for me. It hurt to be around people who were free of the burden that I’ve been carrying, people who would mock, misunderstand and not be able to relate to how diminished I felt as a person, and all the self hate that I carried inside.

This was the moment I realised how much energy goes into digging yourself out of depression once you are forced to crawl into it. It takes an immense effort to do things on a daily basis, and it feels draining. It’s draining to keep up interactions with people who might potentially hurt you and make you crawl back into depression if they prove to be hurtful. All this fear is enough to make you want to retreat and fall back into old comfortable habits, just to survive.

But we are not here on this planet to survive. We are here to thrive, each of us in our own unique way. Which is why even after everything that happened, I keep moving forward, I make new friends and I invest my time into those people who care for me, and new projects that matter to me. Whenever I would ask myself, would I go back to the past, the answer is no. The things I left behind needed to be left behind, because they were not right for me. I was not myself, not who I could fully be, so these parts of me needed to fall away, and since I was reluctant to part with this stage of my life, it had to be forced upon me. Whenever enormous losses happen to us, it seems unlikely at a time, but it is for our greater good. So often we enjoy superficial success with people and in situations that are not really right for us. Because it feels easy, we fall back on it, even if somewhere deep down there is a small part of us that is unfulfilled. The universe wants us to thrive, so it will keep removing those things that don’t work for us from our lives, even if to our eyes it looks like a huge personal loss.

So often doing any of this feels like too much and I feel so alone it’s difficult to keep staying alive in the first place. I force through my comfort zone every day and always risk everything. Even if there is a self destructive part of me that wants to retreat and never come out or try anything new, I realise the danger that comes with standing in my own way and being the source of my own self undoing. So even if there are things I can’t do immediately, or the things I know I have to do feel uncomfortable, I commit to them every day because this is the only way I will ever get anywhere.

#personal #depression

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

Text

Hi guys! I I'm an ENXP and I was looking for some advice about knowing myself better. I saw the mods are ENPs and maybe you guys could help me. I recently noticed a pattern regarding my own actions that is basically ruining my life. I seem to rely too much on my Ne, specially about my future and my career. I'm ruled by a need of pursuing anything that catches my attention in a determined moment. I obsess over it for a while and then move on. I've changed my major 4 times now. Every activity I do is temporary. And if I don't find something I can obsess over I get depressed and bored. Anyways, I think this has led me to not trust myself anymore, since I can't commit to anything because I lose interest in everything and I'm always looking for new possibilities. I have reached a point where I can't allow myself to pursue everything I want and I have to make decisions and commit. But I'm too scared to become trapped and take responsibility for my own decisions. I think this would be easier if I knew myself better, but I don't think I know who I am besides my own random interests, which is weird I guess. How can I develop my own Fi? Or Ti? How do you guys deal with your dominant Ne? How do you commit to things? I'm 23 by the way. Shouldn't I have developed some Fi or Ti or something by now? I turned to mbti because I wanted to gain a better understanding of myself but holy shit this is hard. I could only recognize my dominant Ne. All this self analysis seems useless if I don't really know myself, I realized I'm not self aware at all. So anyways, as fellows Ne doms how did you guys developed your auxiliary functions? Any advice will be amazing! Thank you guys for everything you do here!

The first thing you need to do is recognize is you are an Enneagram 7 and all of this is ‘normal’ for them in lower health levels. To overcome this, you have to ‘grow up’ as a 7 and stop allowing fear of commitment or quick loss of focus from dominating your life. You have control over yourself, you are not utterly helpless to your whims (said the Fi user who has a moral tone of ‘you make your own choices and messes and you have to get out of them’ ;).

7s have to learn to be open to the scary idea of commitment to reap the dividends of hard work.

Read the 7 profile and see how allowing yourself to ‘run away’ from commitment (which includes not finishing or devoting yourself to any project) can hinder your life. Once you recognize WHAT you are doing, and WHY you are doing it, you can develop the power to STOP YOURSELF from doing it, or from allowing ‘excuses’ or fear to run you away from good things.

ENTP Mod. : Charity is right. Here is also where the judging functions come into play. With Fi, you can eventually weed out that which you aren't personally passionate about/ those goals which don't align with your personal values. With Ti, you can see a chain reaction of the patterns in your life, and determine the most effective path to help yourself using logic to streamline your processes, make it more elegant.

Slow the hell down. Force yourself to stop running toward the future and live right now. Repeat the mantra of ‘right now is all that matters today’ a 100 times an hour if you have to. Be present. Be invested. Bring yourself into ‘now.’

My co-mod is a 7w6 ENTP who suffers from a lot of the same issues; I will nudge her to offer her two cents to this post, in regards as to what she is currently doing about it. Basically, she had to talk herself into getting a permanent job rather than talking herself out of it. Once she got into it, she realized it didn’t suck as much as she feared. Her brain is her own worst enemy.

I had to talk myself into this job. I gave myself lots of reasons why I would love it. It might sound a little unrealistic going in with pre set expectations but at least you will not go in blind. Making a pros cons list is always a good idea. It helps to sift through your multiple ideas, and narrow down the ones which can really work. Test out the feasibility of your ideas, opportunities before hand. Talk to people, do your research. Just remember that things will never be as bad or boring as you think them to be. This is a cliche but something which helps me in the mornings when I know I have boring work to do is "Get up, dress up, show up. Never give up." Also it helps to live from day to day. Don't worry too far into the future, you never know what variables might upset your plans.

Work-wise, a 7 needs to travel, get the ‘high’ of meeting new people, and not to be involved in sheer detail-driven grunt work. They need challenges to work toward and obstacles to overcome. Pick a career that offers you all of that. If you do not, you will have a string of 6 months at ___ jobs that do not look good on your resume. Find a career in something that you feel passionate about, that offers some kind of mental stimulation.

ENTP 7 co-mod is an attorney who loves to find ways to ‘get around things’ in the law.

ENTP Mod. note: Always try to remember the root of your passion when you feel like defecting from one option to another. If you must leave, leverage what you have learned in one place and how you can dress that up to make your hopping about look good. That's what I did, and it worked for me. Some of the reasons I love my job are the constant intellectual stimulation, creative aspects of it, my love for criminology pays off, meeting interesting people. Sure there are sucky days when you have to deal with the bureaucratic demons. But that won't be every day. Unless your role requires you to do something like it. In which case I would suggest that you avoid picking up detail heavy, low Si or adherence related work which will make you feel miserable and frustrated. Try to pick something that plays to your strengths, improve your weaknesses. Compete with nobody but yourself. Every day you are better than you were, yesterday. Even with a little effort. It is important to not give up. It is so hard for 7s but we have the gift of rationalizing. So instead of using it as a mechanism to justify dropping things, use it to tell yourself why you should stick around. You as a 7 can make most things fun. So find little tricks and ways to make the work day fun. Whether it is achieving small, impactful targets or making games out of small, low stakes things. Also, having money and being able to live nicely is fun. Nobody is gonna pay you if they think that their money will be wasted on training you if your pattern is just leaving jobs. It took me a long time to develop this perspective but I am glad I did.

I (ENFP 6w5 sp/so) chose a career in magazine editing, because it gives me time to do what I actually love, which is write novels. I’m afraid I can’t give you advice from my own life that would work for you, because a 6w5 sp/so is far more focused and driven to finish their projects than a 7w6, which means I push through ‘the boring, tedious bits’ of projects regardless of how ‘excited’ I am. It’s not fun to edit a book 7 times, but I still do it. I force myself to show up to work, to sit there for 3 or 4 hours, and commit to X amount of words, pages, etc.

Do you think it’s “fun” for me always to keep this queue stocked, or to type up characters at the end of a long day because the queue is low? Or go back and update old profiles and move them from this blog onto wordpress? No. I hate it sometimes. It’s boring as hell. But I committed to it, I will see it through, even though looking into my “to update” folder makes me want to scream. I tackle huge projects one step at a time. I’m disciplined but I can procrastinate at work, rather than doing whatever needs doing.

Which really is the bottom line. You want to finish things? Just do them. Force yourself to show up and do the work, even if it’s “boring.” Most of life isn’t fun. Paying the bills isn’t fun. You do boring stuff to make a living, so you can have the money to do fun things. If you do not learn to do it, whether or not it is fun, you will wind up ‘stuck at home this month, because I have no money.’

That frustrates a 7 even more than being bored at work.

Accept that your fear of commitment is a fear-driven lie.

You are not going to get trapped by committing to something or someone. Head types massively over-think things and allow fear – in the 7’s case of “missing out” on better things – to dominate their life. Admit it’s fear. Admit that allowing fear to ruin your entire life is stupid. Then do something against the fear. Do the thing fear tells you not to: commit and work at it. Fight the urge every day to leave. Stick it out, and prove you ‘can’ to yourself.

Middle functions. You’re in college so you should be seeing either some Ti analyzing or Te “buckle down and set goals and get this schoolwork finished by the deadline” kicking in. Are you more inclined to self-doubt and beat yourself up like a young FiTe user after ‘failing’ to organize your time efficiently or to make excuses and blame external circumstances like a young TiFe user?

My Fi has always been strongly evident, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. Things that set off a NOPE response in me vs. the ‘rest of everything, which I don’t care about.’ The intense sensitivity as a child. The compassion for other people and especially for small animals. The understanding of emotional dynamics and how people ‘feel.’ The constant angst between caring too much about people’s feelings and being low Te blunt or rude when I’m having an off day. The ‘going away from everyone’ to deal with my feelings in private. I have always fiercely, Fi-ishly known what I like and do not like, and have no ability to ‘tolerate’ things that I do not like. Once, I didn’t like half the people seated at my table at a public event, so I shut down completely and did not say a word to anyone at the table for two hours. My Fe friend also hated them, but smiled and charmed them all. Lucky girl. She can fake her feelings. I can’t.

- ENFP Mod

#enneagram #enneagram 7 #enfp #entp #mbti #7w6 #entp mod

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rainiedeforest · 4 years

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MDZS headcanons - Madame Lan and Qingheng-jun [PART 1]

So... it happens that I was rewatching the show and I found charming and hilarious how all the people in the town found so many similarities between Lan Wangji and Lan Shizui (when he was Wen Yuan and little and clingy and so so cute that you wanted to put him inside your pocket to protect him), and also, and also I had this need to put in words some ideas about Madame Lan and Qingheng-jun because I think that we only knew a part of the story (the same story that was created by the elders who hated Madame Lan so… Was it all really true?) I cannot imagine Madame Lan or Qingheng-jun telling his sons the real story (they had better things to do as spending time in the first case and meeting them in the second) Also, I’m a sucker for romance in all ways so… here I am xD. Hope you like them :3 (It’s a little long and it will have mistakes because english is not my first language, sorry in advance. Also, this is longer than I have expected so... I will divide it in three parts.)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

But first of all, the names. I’m going to give a name to Madame Lan (because only madame lan isn’t enough) and also to Qingheng-jun (whose name I think is only a title). Also, I’m sorry about any mistakes I could make, I don’t know Chinese and I only have access to Google translate and some other online dictionaries.

Madame Lan

Birth name: Zhi Aiyan: 治爱艳

Zhi (治) for “to rule”, but also for “to treat (a disease) Ài (爱) as in love Yàn (艳) as colorful, splendid.

I have searched the meaning in a online dictionary and the combination of (爱) Ài and (艳) yàn has this meaning: plaintive and beautiful or melancholy but gorgeous. And I think it will suit her really well.

Courtesy name: Lan Yingyue (蓝映月)

Yìng (映) as in to reflect (light), to shine. Yuè (月) as in moon

The name complete with the surname means reflection of the blue moon (and the why of this name... you will find it below)

Qingheng-jun

Birth name: Lán Suān qū (蓝酸曲)

Suān qū (酸曲) means “love song”

But also, thanks to the dictionary; I found that suān (酸) could means “sick at heart; grieved; sore; aching, pedantic; impractical” and that qū (曲) means song or tune.

Courtesy name: Lán Tiáo Hé (蓝调和), because this two characters means harmonious, to mediate, to reconcile, to compromise.

Headcanons

Zhi Aiyan belongs to a small family specialized in medicine and, more concretely, in problems with the golden core. His father is a cultivator that had learned all he knew thanks to his teaching under the wing of the branch of the Wen Clan that cultivates the medicine (the same branch as Wen Qing and Wen Ning). Her mother, on the other hand, was part of the Wen Clan when she was younger and before she married Zhi Aiyan’s father.

Her parents met there when his father was studying and fall in love with her mother, so Zhi Aiyan always wanted a love match like them.

They live in a small town near Yiling, where her father teaches her all about medicine and the art of cultivation with the help of her mother. She is a great student and soon she also made a little name in the cultivation world, destinated for only men and really few women. But, she isn’t the only one they teach, because his father has a few disciples that are also willing to learn.

When Aiyan turned fourteen, she engaged with one of the disciples of his father. She didn’t want to marry at first because she has in mind a lot of things she wanted to do with her life and also thoughs she was too young to marry anybody. Although, with some time and only because it was something her parents wanted for her (and they always wanted the best for their little girl), she learned to appreciate his fiancé, thinking that she has fallen in love with him at the end.

One night, when she was fourteen and she was searching for some medicinal herbs his father needed, she met Young Master Lan, Lan Tiaohe, in a forest near her house. He was badly injured but she helped him with some leafs of wild ginger and cut the blood of the open wound he had. Tiaohe didn’t saw her or had the opportunity to thank her because: first, he fainted because of the pain and second ‘cause she runs away scared when she heard the voices of the other disciples of GusuLan (they where 'harmless' and would take care of the young man, but she couldn't risk being mistaken for the person who had hurt Tiaohe).

Three years later, Aiyan was traveling before her wedding, searching some medicinal herbs to gift to her fiancé the day of. She was outside the city of Gusu when Tiaohe saw her and “fall in love at the first sight”.

But was it really “love at the first sight”? Tiaohe knew he felt a connection, an attraction to the mysterious woman, but he barely knew her. He was a hopeless romantic so love at the first sight sounded great for him.

He tried to talk with her, but the woman disappeared faster than a flicker. When he reaches Cloud Recesses, he found his little brother he told him that he had saw the perfect girl. “Believe me, Qiren, she looked like a goddess with the moonlight at her back illuminating her and her light color hanfu. I haven’t saw anything so beautiful ever.” Lan Qiren thought his brother had lost his mind because who would like to chase girls when you can improve your cultivation?

Aiyan and Tiaohe met some more times, but, although the young master was really handsome, Aiyan was engaged and his intents never gone to far. He would never insult her that way.

With the months passing, they developed a little friendship whatnever they met in night hunts, learning little things about each other.

One day, when Aiyan was seventeen, she heard that GusuLan Sect Leader had died because of an ilness and that his son, Lan Tiaohe, would succeed him as Qingheng-jun. With that news, she wanted to comfort Tiaohe (because she cannot imagine her life without her father), but she wasn't even near Gusu, so it was difficult to do it. Nevertheless, destiny was on her side and she found, one month later, Tiaohe in the forest. Aiyan comforts him when he said her that he was scared that he would mess up as Sect Leader, but her words made him secure again and happy.

A few time later, her parents decided the date of her wedding and she told Qingheng-jun in a letter (one of many). He congratulated her although he was feeling like dying inside. The woman he was in love with was going to be of other man, she was going to smile at him, hug him, kiss him... That man was going to be the most afortunated of all the world.

Lan Qiren was preocupaded for his older brother, because he was melancholic and sad and seems more a living dead that the brother he knew. That woman, because the cause of his problems had to be one, wasn't what she wanted for his brother and he hated her a little each day. “What happenend, xiongzhang?” “Yingyue is going to get married” “Who?” “The goddess of the moon I have talked about like... everyday.”

Lan Qiren had mixed feelings with that confession but said nothing. That ‘Yingyue’... What Qiren didn’t know was that that name had been given by Tiaohe to her so he will be able to talk about her without anyone being able to trace her and put her in danger (being engaged and all that, it would have been a scandal to talk about Aiyan using her birth name).

The night before the wedding, while Aiyan and his father were in a night hunt, having a last bonding time before she was gone, they fell in a trap. She asked for help of the group of disciples from the GusuLan Sect that were hunting in the forest but, as the monster they were fighting was too powerfull, the elder that was guideing the group left they at their own luck, saving also his disciples. Aiyan’s father died before her eyes.

Aiyan and her mother cancelled the wedding because they were mourning the loss of a father and a husband, respectly. Aiyan and her mother cancelled the wedding because they were mourning the loss of a father and a husband, respectively, and it wasn't time for celebrations. Now, they were all alone in the world.

Aiyan searched his fiancé for comfort, thinking he was going to be with her and her mother in this difficult moments. But the reality was different. She found that her fiancé not only has orchested the death of her father, but also he was aiming to take control over the medical information for selling it.

Aiyan was miserable. She couldn’t conceive that she had been deceived for so long by her fiancé, who had put his own ambition ahead of something else as the health of the people, wishing to keep the medical writings of the Aiyan's family.

Qingheng-jun, for his part, did nothing but talk Qiren about Aiyan, the feats he had heard from her, about how proud, strong and independent she was. A free spirit. The elders heard him one night and weren’t happy about it ‘cause they were preparing the engagement of Qingheng-jun.

Aiyan, devastated, searched revenge, first against her fiancé (whom she managed to drive him away) and, later, against the elder of the Lan clan, although she knew that it would not be so easy to reach the second.

She investigated on the outskirts of the city and was sure she would get him ambushed, however the one she finds is Qingheng-jun. Aiyan, hurt, shouted her that their friendship meant nothing for him, that his clan believed themselves superior just because they belonged to a large sect and that any life that was not their own was less than nothing.

Qingheng-jun wasn’t understanding anything and asked her to please explain to him, but Aiyan was so angry that she tried to attack him with her sword, Bichen. She just had to avenge her father, even if that wasn't going to bring him back. Qingheng-jun gently stopped her and tried to make her reason in a soft voice.

But the same elder who had let her father die in that night hunt, had followed Qingheng-jun so that he wouldn’t commit any madness, seeing the girl and misinterpreting the whole situation (Aiyan was crying in Qingheng-jun's arms).

After a heated discussion, Aiyan shouted all her doubts at the elder (Why didn't he help her father? Why was he so close to her fiancé? What did he get out of all that?) And Qingheng-jun asked his master to please clarify all that.

When the eldest refused to tell her absolutely anything, not wanting to know anything about an opportunistic and dirty woman who only wanted to climb and gain a power position by taking advantage of Qingheng-jun's good feelings, Aiyan launched her into attacking him with her sword, hoping that way she received some more answers, achieving nothing. Just a few wounds that she would have to deal with as soon as she was alone.

Qingheng-jun tried to stop them, calming Aiyan enough to stop her attacks, but his master demanded that, for the sake of the clan, he get away from that bad woman and return to have the upright life that was expected of him, a person of his high position. The man rushed to attack her and, after a few defensive movements with her sword, Bichen pierced, mortally, the body of the elder Lan, who cursed her before falling to the ground and throwing at the air a warning signal.

Aiyan was completely paralyzed without knowing what to do while Qingheng-jun felt his whole world breaking. A disciple who had come by the signal, witnessed the scene and fled to raise the alarm.

Qingheng-jun takes out a small sack with wild ginger leaves and tries to keep his master alive, panicking.

"I ... I did not ..." Aiyan, who never killed people but heal them, was so scared that she couldn’t even run away even if Qinghe-jun was begging her. This was the worst situation he could have ever imagined. He couldn't lose his master and the woman he loved in the same night, it was too much for him. The man had been a second father to him, but Aiyan... She was the woman of his life, the chosen one, the woman for what he knew he would leave everything behind, just as the founder of his sect, Lan An, had done. Qingheng-jun grabbed Aiyan's hand and fled as fast as he could as soon as he heard the rest of the disciples arrive at the alarm voice.

When they were far enough apart, Qinghe-jun spoke to Aiyan and asked her to run away for her life. He could bear not seeing her again as long as she was safe and sound, somewhere in this vast world. He knew that the rest of the clans would persecute her if the elders of GusuLan stipulated that she was a dangerous criminal. But Aiyan couldn't do that. She couldn't leave her mother alone. She had already suffered a lot with everything that had happened.

"I don't mind receiving the punishment. I know what I've done." "It was in self-defense!" "They won't see it that way, you know that." "A-Yan, please." "Sorry, Suanqu."

Then, Qingheng-jun, after cursing slightly, stared at her for several seconds, confident, as wonderful as the night when he first saw her, and told her the only solution he had been able to come up with. It wasn't the brightest idea, but it would keep her and her mother safe. Aiyan didn't understand at first, repeating the bows until she saw what it meant, stopping before the third. And she refused, but Qingheng-jun pleaded her that it was the only way to save them both.

"No!" "It’s the only way!" "The only solution? Let me be punished! I killed a man!" "I can't lose you, Aiyan! Not you... Please..."

As Qingheng-jun tried to convince her, they both heard the footsteps and voices of the rest of the disciples. With one last pleading look, Qinghe-jun removed the ribbon from his forehead and wound it around her wrist, glancing at his sectmates as they reached them, led by other elders and her younger brother Qiren.

“What’s the meaning of this?” “It’s just what it’s seems.” “Xiongzhang, please, come with us.” “I can’t. Not without her.” “She is an assassin!” “No. She is my wife.

***

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

#Mdzs #Mdzs novel #Mdzs headcanons #The untamed #The untamed headcanons #Qingheng-jun #Madame Lan #lan zhan #Lan Wangji #Lan Huan #Lan Xichen #Lan Qiren #Headcanons #GusuLan #my writing

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