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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

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how to be a heartbreaker: rule three - rafe cameron

Rafe Cameron’s privileged upbringing has let him get away with far too much, for far too long. Between his tormenting of the pogues, running his mouth without consequence, and arrogant attitude, it’s time someone knocked him down a peg. Breaking his bones didn’t work, but maybe you can break his heart.

co-authored with my love, freya @rekrappeter

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader, unrequited!JJ x reader

warnings: angst, starting a relationship under false pretences, drinking and drug use, implied smut hehe

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this one is my personal fave hehe, you’ll see what i mean when you get to the end. please please please leave us feedback, freya and i read every comment and cry hehe

“And if that doesn’t work?” you questioned, eyes solely on JJ. He moved from standing next to the chalkboard to flaking on the couch beside you. He had an arm resting on the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder. He had just gone through rule number two and you were starting to think that there was no way this could work. It sounded too cliche, too romcom teen movie.

JJ sighed, sitting up slightly, “It’s going to work, trust me.”

“Trust you?” Pope asked, “You haven’t even thought this plan through.”

“We actually spent hours going through these rules,” John B pouted.

“Any time JJ spent trying to find a word to rhyme with attached doesn’t count,” Kie quipped.

“Listen, babe,” JJ turned his body to you, your legs brushing as you looked at him nervously, “You trust me, don’t you.”

Despite the inner voice in your head that sounded suspiciously like Pope telling you otherwise, you did. “I do,” you told him softly.

He grinned, sharp canine teeth on display, “Once you’ve got his attention, you have to take it a step further.”

Your brows furrowed, a step further? Ever your protector, Pope piped up, “What do you mean a step further, JJ?”

“You know,” he trailed off dramatically, “You have to look him in the eyes and plant one on him.”

Sighing in relief that was what he meant by a step further, before freezing and stuttering out, “y-you want me to kiss him?” You gagged a little at the thought of putting your lips on Rafe’s. How did JJ expect you to kiss Rafe Cameron, your friends’ biggest bully without immediately vomiting after.

“That’s disgusting, JJ!” Kie called out, arms crossed over her chest, “You can’t seriously be asking y/n to kiss him.”

“If there’s no action, this will be a very short plan, it won’t work without the kiss.”

You glanced around the room at the prying eyes, waiting for your answer. You thought back to your previous late night adventures, some more questionable than others, and if you were comparing them to Rafe, looks wise, you concluded that you were getting somewhat of an upgrade. “I-I guess,” you replied hesitantly, wondering if it was too late to back out, but JJ’s brilliant grin at your words kept you silent. He clapped his hands together in excitement, muttering a quick ‘perfect!’ before continuing.

“Rule number three: leave them at the door, wanting more”

There was tension in the air as you lounged around John B’s living room. You were glaring at JJ, Kie was glaring at the new addition of Sarah Cameron, and Pope was glaring at the scholarship application brochure in his hand.

You, of course, were still pissed at JJ for his outburst at the club the other day. You didn’t understand why he was so mad at you when all you were doing was furthering his stupid little plan. Briefly, you allowed your mind to wonder if part of his frustration was related to jealousy, but you quickly killed that thought. You had loved JJ your entire life, and you were sure he had some inkling of that fact. Not to mention he was so transparent he was almost see through, unable to keep a secret if you paid him a million dollars. If he had any feelings toward you, you would have already known.

The tension between Sarah and Kie was a little more hostile and you knew you didn’t have the whole story. It was something to do with Kie’s kook year, you knew that. You also knew there was something about a birthday party Kie had to find out about on instagram and something about the cops being called. It wasn’t really your business, and honestly their issues kind of overshadowed yours and JJs, which you were grateful for because you didn’t need the pogues sticking their noses in your business. Especially Pope, he would have a lot to say if he knew you and JJ were arguing because of your antics with Rafe.

Pope’s tension made the least sense. He was the smartest guy you knew, and if any one of you was going to get off the island, it was Pope through the scholarship he was currently glaring at.

Wanting to break up the awkward tension, you were never one for awkward silences, you opened your mouth without a clear idea of what you were going to say when the silence was broken by Sarah first.

“So, y/n...” you looked over at her in shock. Honestly, you weren’t even sure she knew your name despite having been clinging to John B for the past few days like a koala on a tree.

“Sarah...” you replied back in the same tone, dragging the last syllable of her name out. You weren’t entirely fond of having her here either, but you weren’t going to be as hostile as Kie.

“I didn’t know you were such good friends with Rafe,” she spoke and you almost choked on your own spit.

“I- what? We’re- we’re not,” you stumbled through your words, confused at the sudden interrogation.

“Well he wants to know if he can have your number,” she shrugged a shoulder at you, trying, and failing, to look disinterested.

“Hell yes!” JJ shouted, clearly forgetting that the plan was supposed to stay between the five of you.

“Shut up, JJ” you glared at him, still having not entirely forgiven him yet. “Sure, Sarah, that would be okay.”

“Why the sudden interest in my brother?” Sarah asked suspiciously, despite her own issues with him, he was still her brother after all.

Suddenly in a panic, you struggled to come up with a good enough reason, so you blurted the first thing that came to mind - “I dunno, I'm bored and he’s hot.” Pope definitely choked on his own spit, and JJ shot you a funny look, his brows furrowing together.

“You think he’s hot?” You weren’t sure if JJ was just playing along for the sake of Sarah or if he really was annoyed that you found Rafe attractive.

“Well, yeah,” you replied, unsure of how to defend yourself, “He might be kind of an asshole, but any girl with eyes can see he’s attractive. Kie back me up here.” Kie gave you a look that read ‘what the hell’ and shook her head. Rolling your eyes, you just sighed and shrugged. “Are we going to watch a movie or not? I brought maltesers.”

Settling deeper into the couch, you grabbed the throw blanket that had ended up on the ground and covered your cold legs with it as John B messed around with the tv. You groaned when some cheesy action flick appeared on the screen, turning your head to glare at John B, “I thought we were going to watch Disney?”

“You were outvoted,” he shrugged and sat beside Sarah, throwing his arm around her. You rolled your eyes at him, ripping open the bag of chocolates and tossing a couple in your mouth. You rolled your eyes for a second time when JJ’s hand stretched out his hand between the two of you on the couch.

“Get your own maltesers,” you told him with a glare, holding the bag a little closer to your chest.

The movie passed by without much excitement on your behalf, b-level action movies weren’t really your thing and you thought you were about to watch Tangled or something. You noticed JJ wasn’t really paying attention to the movie either, he looked like he was deep in thought for once in his life. Annoyingly, he kept turning his head to look at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. You decided if he did it one more time you were going to kick him, but the next time he turned to look at you, he scooted over until there was no space between your bodies.

“Do you really think he’s hot?” JJ whispered, his breathing tickling your ear.

“Who? Shia Labeouf?” You asked, eying the actor on the tv screen.

“What? No I don’t care if you think Shia La-whoever is hot.” JJ replied tensely. His tone caused you to look at him again.

“Well, who do you care if I think they’re hot?”

“Obviously Rafe, stupid.” He snapped back. You couldn’t understand what he was so bothered for.

“Don’t call me stupid, and whoever I think is hot is really my business anyway, not yours.” You were starting to get annoyed again.

“Thinking Rafe Cameron is hot is stupid, y/n. He’s the enemy!” He whispered harshly back at you. Your eyes flickered toward Sarah to make sure she hadn’t heard him. “Maybe Kie would have been better at this plan.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could think better of it you punched him in the arm as hard as you can, a satisfied smile gracing your features when he whined. “Stop being a dick, you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“As your best friend, I’m just looking out for you,” he grumbled, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“I’m a big girl, J, I can take care of myself.” You replied.

“Can you two lovebirds stop arguing?” John B called from across the living room, earning a distasteful glare from JJ.

Your stomach dropped at the disgust you thought you saw in JJ’s eyes, but you were saved from any self-deprecating thoughts by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

unknown number: hey

unknown number: shit sorry this is rafe, sarah gave me your number

“Well that didn’t take long,” you whispered to JJ, pretending like your earlier conversation didn’t exist. You shoved your phone in his face, smiling a little when he grabbed your wrist to pull back your phone so that he could read.

“You’ve got him right where we want him,” he replied back, not nearly as excited as you thought he would be.

“Do you still want to continue with this?” You asked softly, hoping he would call the whole thing off because you didn’t think you had the courage to tell him you weren’t sure you could do it.

“Of course, I didn’t waste my entire Sunday coming up with the rules for nothing,” he replies back, with a bit more life to him.

Looking at him warily, your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard of your phone, you didn’t know how to respond, should you go with flirty? Disinterested? Sighing you eventually just gave up and replied simply:

you: hey

rafe cameron: are you busy later?

Scrunching your nose up at the text, you wondered if this was his lame attempt at a booty call or something.

you: depends what time

rafe cameron: i’ll pick you up at 7, text me your address

You weren’t sure if you should show JJ the message, it’s not that you were thinking about hiding it from him, you just didn’t want him to go off on you again. When JJ’s upset with you, it’s truly exhausting. That thought reminds you of how angry he was last time when you didn’t ‘keep him in the loop’ or whatever, so you turn your phone to him again. You nibbled on your bottom lip, watching his eyes read the message. His stare flickered to your face, vague of any emotion.

“It’s six now, you better go,” he whispered to you, not wanting to let the others hear him.

“But we’re watching the movie,” your brows furrowed close together.

“Rafe Cameron wants to take you on a date, I wouldn’t keep him waiting,” when the words left JJ’s mouth, he turned his focus back to the small television in John B’s living room and that was the end of the conversation. Sighing, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes to heaven, and stood up from the couch, allowing the blanket to fall from your knees to the floor, earning the attention of Kie.

“Where ya going?” she hissed, wrapping her fingers around your wrist.

“I have a hot date,” you stuck your tongue out, climbing over Pope’s legs that were spread across the floor. You ignored your friends’ questions, knowing JJ would fill them in once Sarah left the room, you didn’t want to disclose in front of her that you were going on a date with her brother, with the aim of breaking his heart.

Standing in front of your closet, it occurred to you that you didn’t know what to wear on a date with a kook. For some reason, you didn’t think ripped cut-off jean shorts and an off-the-shoulder crop top would be the most appropriate. Sighing you wondered why you were so concerned at all, it’s not like this was an actual date with a guy you were actually interested in. Rafe Cameron’s good qualities started and ended with his appearance. Finally deciding on a simple sundress, you figured you wouldn’t look too out of place wherever he ended up taking you. You took the time to braid your hair and throw on a little makeup, not wanting to look like you tried too hard.

You had finished getting ready right about the time your phone buzzed with a text from Rafe letting you know he was there. Shaking the nerves off, you quickly answered the door, feeling more than a little subconscious as his eyes took in the modest state of your home. You weren’t the poorest of the poor in the cut, but you knew your entryway couldn’t even possibly begin to compare to that of Tannyhill.

“Hey,” you said simply, twisting your wrists nervously as his critical glare fell on you, eyes slowly roaming your figure up and down.

“Hey,” he parroted back, moving to follow you as you led him out the front door and locked it behind you.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you hummed, stepping down off your porch and following Rafe to his truck. “Let me guess, some fancy expensive restaurant on the coast.”

Rafe looked over his shoulder at you, a smirk resting on his lips, “You’re not that lucky” he teased, absentmindedly reaching back to clasp your hands together. He’s been longing to touch you since he last saw you, and the electricity from your touch sent him soaring.

Your heart beat a little bit faster in your chest, unwelcome thoughts betraying you again as his larger hand engulfed yours. Biting your lip, you let him lead you to the truck before he opened the door for you and helped you make the step up inside. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, eyes scanning the few belongings inside. There was gum in one of the cupholders, a blue iphone cord attached to the media center. You caught a glimpse of a photograph tucked into the sunvisor of the driver side and wondered briefly who would be contained within it.

As he entered the other side of the truck, it occurred to you that the interior smelled like him, a distinct mix of laundry detergent and something you could only describe as soothing. As he started the truck, his last spotify playlist started to play and you smiled a little bit at his eclectic taste in music.

“You gonna rip on me for my playlist?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his face as he took in your reaction.

You mimed zipping your lips, “my lips are sealed.” He chuckled, throwing the truck into reverse and driving off. You sat in silence for a while before it began to feel awkward, “So if we’re not going to some fancy restaurant, where are you taking me? McDonalds?”

He laughed out loud this time, “Do I look like the kind of guy that takes a girl on a first date to McDonalds?”

You pretended to think before shrugging, “I dunno, I don’t know what you’re into.”

“You could find out,” he smirked at you and you were grateful his attention was on the road rather than your facial expression as it took you a solid five seconds to recover from his remark. Willing the intrusive thoughts away again, you had to keep reminding yourself that you were talking to Rafe Cameron, public enemy numero uno, and you were on a mission to break his heart.

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” You asked, ignoring his remark.

He shook his head and replied, “nope,” lips making a popping sound as he enunciated the ‘p’. You just huffed and sat back in your seat arms crossed. Looking out the window, you didn’t like surprises ordinarily, and you especially didn’t think you’d enjoy a surprise from Rafe. You were half certain he was going to kill you and dump your body in the woods somewhere.

Rafe took the opportunity to look at you as you pouted slightly, eyes focused on the blurring landscape out the passenger side window. He couldn’t explain why he was suddenly so drawn to you, sure he’d always thought you were attractive, and he loved to use you to get under Maybank’s skin, but he’d never thought about you the way he was now. Truthfully he always thought you and JJ had some sort of thing going on, that was why he had picked at that thread so often when it came to the pogues. And now, you were in his truck and going on a date with him. You, a pogue. He almost thought it was too easy to get you to agree to go out with him, wondered if it was some kind of trick, but he didn’t think you were the type of person to do that.

It didn’t take much longer to arrive at your destination, and you were confused when you stopped in some random field, Rafe having backed his truck up to where a sheet was pinned between two trees.

“What? What’s going on here?” You asked him confusedly, a little worried that he was actually planning on murdering you, and was going to roll your body up in the sheet or something.

He just chuckled at your expression, telling you to ‘stay put’, and you watched as he went to the back and rolled up the truck bed cover. You tried to crane your neck to see whether he was grabbing his murder toolkit, but you couldn’t quite see from your position. You waited another few seconds, seeing only his face and broad shoulders in the rearview mirror as he moved things about in the back of the truck. Finally, he appeared on the other side of your door and opened it for you, offering you a hand and helping you out.

As he led you to the back, you gasped seeing the back of the truck outfitted with what looked to be a very soft comforter and a few fluffy pillows. At one end of the truck bed sat a yeti cooler, filled with what looked like pop and snacks. It was then that you also spotted the mini projector and your mind put two and two together, realizing Rafe had put together a little drive in movie for just the two of you.

“Did you do all this for me?” You asked softly, brain trying and failing to reconcile the Rafe who would put this all together with the Rafe who had literally just beat your friends to a pulp and spoke about you so vulgarly.

“Well I actually did it for another girl, but she cancelled and you were next on my list,” he sassed back, causing a small smile to cross your face. This time you didn’t have to pull on some happy memory in order to fake it, the smile happened all on its own. “C’mon I’ll help you up,” he offered you his arm.

“Don’t you dare look up my dress,” you warned him, taking his arm and allowing him to help you up into the bed of his truck. His other hand lingered on your waist as he assisted you. You situated yourself against the pillows, watching him dig around in the cooler before tossing you a pop and a bag of maltesers. Your grin widened at the sight of the red bag, before you looked back at him asking, “how did you know maltesers was my movie snack?”

“A little bird,” he shrugged, and you realized it had to have been Sarah. The thought gave you a little guilt as you remembered her suspicious gaze and realized she was right to be suspicious of you.

Settling in beside you with his own pop and snack, he sat close enough that you could almost feel his warmth, but not close enough to actually touch you. After he pressed a couple of buttons on his phone, the familiar beginning of the Little Mermaid began to project on the screen

You couldn't believe that Sarah had remembered your argument with the pogues over which Disney movie was the best, and even more than that you couldn't believe that Rafe had asked her about it. You just blinked stupidly at him, and he responded with a small smile at your dumbfounded look.

As the movie played, you found yourself shifting closer until you were resting against his side, your head on his shoulder. He didn’t make a single move the entire movie, his arm just awkwardly laying there, and you had to admit you were surprised. Based on the way he acted and the way he spoke, you had assumed he would have been pushing the limits throughout the entire movie, but he had been nothing but respectful. Again you were feeling uncertain about whether you could actually go through with this plan, but a different pair of blue eyes, those belonging to your best friend, appeared in your mind and you remembered how they had looked with one swollen almost shut.

Deciding to up the charm a little, you poked him and whispered, “you can put your arm around me, I won’t bite... unless you ask me too.” His laugh was slightly strangled as he shifted his arm to wrap comfortably around his shoulders.

During the scene where Ariel and Eric are on the boat as Sebastian and the other sea creatures serenade the two of them to the tune of “Kiss the Girl” you noticed Rafe out of your peripheral vision watching your reaction and occasionally dropping his gaze to your lips. Feeling a surge of confidence, you lifted your head from his shoulder and pressed your lips to his briefly. It felt like nothing ever had before, electric and sweet. As you pulled away, you witnessed his eyes remain shut and, smirking softly to yourself, you laid your head back down against his shoulder.

After the movie was over, he helped you get down and drove you back home before walking you to your door. “I had a good time tonight,” you said shyly, looking up at Rafe through your eyelashes. His taller figure engulfed your own as he grabbed your waist and pressed your lips together as you had done during the movie. Lost in the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up on the tips of your toes to deepen it. His body pressed you into your own front door as he began to trail kisses down towards your neck, nudging your jaw with his nose to push your head to the side and allow him to suck a bruising mark on the juncture of your shoulder.

Who were you and what were you doing right now? That was Rafe Cameron pressing you into the door and claiming your lips with his. You hated him so much, didn’t you? But your body was betraying you, leaning into his hot touch and kiss.

Gasping, you pushed him away from you, the physical distance allowing your clouded thoughts to part and reason to break through. Breathing heavily and heart racing in your chest, you briefly pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “goodnight,” before slipping into your house and pressing your back against the door. Thirty seconds passed and you realized enemy status be damned, you were attracted to Rafe Cameron and you didn’t want the night to end yet.

Throwing open the door, prepared to chase after him, you were surprised to find him leaning against your door frame, body weight held up by his thick arm. Smirking cockily at you for a moment, you just stood there and stared.

“I-”. Before you were able to get a word out, he was wrapping an arm around your waist and pushing you into your house. You let him lead you in, pressing you against the door to shut it behind you, and kissing you with a passion you hadn’t felt before. You made out like this for a few minutes, bodies pressed flush together, tongues exploring each other's mouths before you lightly shoved him and pushed yourself off the door.

Reconnecting your lips again, you let your hands wander his body, stopping to squeeze his ass the way you had been day dreaming of that day on the golf course. Chuckling a little into the kiss, he responded by squeezing your left breast before trailing his hand down to grip your waist. You began to walk backwards, leading him to your room without ever breaking the kiss.

You squealed as he tossed you onto your own bed, before his warm body covered your own on top of the comforter. His arm wrapped around your back, lifting your body forward so that your head fell back against your pillows. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down for another passionate kiss. His hand gripped the bottom of your sundress, slowly pushing the material up your body and caressing the skin he revealed beneath. Your own hands made quick work of the buttons on his button down before sliding under the material to push it off his chest.

You weren’t thinking of the plan, or the implications of your actions, or even the reactions of your best friends as you let him rid you of your clothes, hands and mouth touching and tasting you everywhere. You didn’t think of the look that would inevitably cross JJ’s face as Rafe entered you slowly, groaning lowly above you at the sensation. You didn’t even think about how this was probably just Rafe’s endgame to his earlier flirtations - an attempt to bed you and he was successful. No, instead you spent the night thinking about how good Rafe Cameron was making you feel, damn everything else.

Tag list: htbah taglist (link to add yourself to the google form in the series masterlist!): @solllaris @drewswannabegirl @starrystarkey93 @httpstarkey @sweetlysilent @drewstarkey @dontjinx-it @ultranikilove @spencereidbasis @meaganjm @starlightstarkey @thortheestallion @jiaraendgame @idocarealot @tempestuousjj @pink-meringues @dpaccione @arianabrashierstuff @softstarkey @loveylangdon @xenagzb @teenwaywardasgardian @prejudic3 @nxsmss @canibeoneofthepogues @outerbanksbro @obx-direction-sos @nqbmf @digniteas @annedub @colorful-queen-of-the-roses @yesp0ny @loveniallandharryonedirection @fantasticpsychicfanfish @girls-breaking-hearts @beautyandthebleh @casper17 @mozz-are-lla @parkershoco @unfortunatekiwitrash @loverofmineluke @slutforjjmaybank @skiesofthesketchy @httpstarkey @sugarcoatedcalum @amorisxx @trinnwazheree @stargazingstarkey @obx-saltlife @juliarose21 @hyperactive2411 @sophiesshitshow @mcarignan @pizzapizza-Kira

rodeo rafe babies who said they were interested:

@royalmerchant @outerbankslut @honeyycheek @jellyfishbeansontoast @ilovejjmaybank @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @https-luna @butgilinsky @rae131415

diverdcwn everything taglist:

@velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @maybankfullkook @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bluesiderudy @anxietyandtacos @diverrdown @stargazingstarkey

(if the tags dont work again im deactivating)

#rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #freyby writes #diverdcwn writes #htbah

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talesofphantombandits · 3 years

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Zero to Six ~ An Unexpected Visitor - Edited version. Part 2.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c

Zero to Six ~ Part 1. Edited Version Zero to Six ~ Part 3. Edited Version. Masterlist.

“Hey, anyone there?”

To say Zero was a mess would have been a big understatement. After she had shut off the coms she must have sobbed for a good thirty minutes before she picked herself up from the floor and decided that a glass of rum would help calm her nerves. She knew that One would take his sweet time reaching out to her again, and wouldn’t let the others contact her either. So she waited, he mind was reeling but she knew technically Six’s death wasn’t her fault. She still felt to a degree that if she hadn’t of picked him he would still be breathing somewhere, maybe with the love of his life on a nice sandy beach. But then again if she hadn’t of picked him she would have had to pick someone else, and that someone else would have been in that car dead instead of Six.

So when Fours voice travelled through her speakers she immediately shot up from the floor, leaving her half filled glass where it sat and tripped her way over to the laptop. Picking up her headset she tried not to sound so distraught. “Four, never thought i’d be so happy to hear your whinny little voice.” She tried to sound lighthearted but failed miserably.

She could tell that he was also trying to mask how much he was hurting. “How are you Zero?” She was shocked, out of all the team Four and Six seemed to have bonded the most, probably due to their similar ages and interests.

“How- how am I? Four, how are you doing? Out of us all you were the closest to Six.” She wanted to do nothing more than hug this man right now.

“One just threw him into the sea, like he meant nothing. I really don’t want to talk about it right now Zero or I might just go out there and strangle One. But I wanted to at least make sure that you were okay.” Her heart started to beat so fast she thought it would beat right out of chest. He was worried about her in a time when he should have been worrying about himself.

“I’m sure that’s not how it was, One cares about us deeply. But I’ll respect your wishes and we won’t speak about it, but I’ll be here when you’re ready to so. As for me, I’m fine. Shaken up but fine, You don’t have to worry about me Four.”

“I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like it, but I do really care for you Zero. So do the rest of the team, but you tell any of them I said that and I’ll find out where One keeps you and murder you in your sleep.”

She chuckled at the empty threat. “Yeah, good luck with that one. One would never give up my location willing or not. Plus what makes you think I’d succumb so easily with out a fight.”

She heard the deep chuckle and knew some smart ass comment would follow it. “Believe me darling, from the moment I step through your door you’d be falling at my feet.”

“OKAY as much as I’m glad to have the old cocky Four back, I’m cutting you off now. Get some sleep you idiot.”

“Okay mummy.” He said in a mocking tone.

She couldn’t help it and decided she would have the last laugh. “Is that one of your kinks Four?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe we can carry on this conversation when we meet.” She knew he was smirking. “Night Zero, dream of me. I know I’ll be dreaming of you.”

She couldn’t say another word so she just shut down coms and slammed her laptop shut. “Stupid little shit,” Why did he make her feel like this, especially when he wasn’t here to do anything about it.

She leaned back on her chair, stretching out her arms over her head her back clicked in several places which made it feel so much better. She needed to put a reminder on her fridge to do a work out tomorrow, she was starting to become so stiff sat at her computer all the time. There were parts of her that really yearned to be out in the field with the rest of the team, even if it was only a one time experience, who knows she might hate it and want to come back to her stuffy flat life. Who was she kidding, she wanted adventure and a little bit of risk here and there and she wanted her family. She would however have to have a little conversation with One about the safety of the team and about treating them better. Her heart had broken hearing how fragile Four could be. They might have been ghosts but underneath they were still human beings with feelings, and if One was going to crush that then she had a problem with it.

Maybe that was why she was so interested in Four? 2 years with only One as her only physical human contact and it was starting to take a toll on her, Four challenged her every time they spoke. And she loved a good challenge. She sat at her desk for two more hours, despite scolding herself for sitting too long that her bones began to ache. But she had research to do which consisted of finding a new team member and the faster she got it done the faster she could send it off to One and she could stop beating herself up about potentially bringing in a new person just for them to die like Six did. After a while she decided that she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She sent the research to One, saved all the documents then shut her laptop down and proceeded to walk to the bathroom to take a nice long hot shower.

The warm water calmed her immensely, when she stepped out and put on her silk pyjamas she felt even more sleepy then she did when she was in front of the laptop. As soon as her head hit the pillow she drifted off to sleep.

.........

She shot up in bed, heart racing.

The loud banging coming from the front door was real, she hadn’t just dreamt it. She suddenly thought of Four’s threat from earlier but quickly shook it from her head. Don’t be stupid, It can’t be Four. Her eyes snapped to her bedside table to see 3am blaring on the digital clock. “What the actual hell, who decides to go bang on someone’s door at stupid o’clock in the morning?!”

She grabbed her gun from under her pillow, pointing it out in front of her, she was in full on attack mode. She exited her room and headed down the hall and towards the front door, all the while sticking to the walls. She waited a while, gun pointing towards the centre of the door maybe whoever had knocked got the wrong flat and moved on. But then just as she started to lower the gun the door rattled and the knocking began again, only louder this time.

“Zero! open up its One.”

Zero cocked her head to the side, was he actually serious? She carefully walked towards the door, gun still raised. Peeking through the peephole she confirmed that it was in fact One at her door. She sighed rubbing her tired eyes but opened the door just wide enough so he could slip in.

“Hey!” He made himself at home straightaway, walking past her to go sit on her couch.

She shut the door making sure it was locked, she then made her way to stand in front of him but not before setting down the gun on the coffee table. “Don’t ‘Hey!’ me you dumb ass, what the hell are you doing here?!”

“Nice gun! is that new?” He leaned forward and inspected the weapon.

Was he being serious right now? “ONE!” He’d woke her up just to come and annoy her? “I asked you a question.”

“I came to give you your plane ticket.” He stood up slightly and pulled a ticket out of his back pocket, he extended his arm out to Zero.

She took it off of him and examined it, it was a ticket back home. Home was also where their base camp was. “You never come to give me my plane ticket in person, what’s really going on? Is this about Six?”

He just rubbed his face in frustration, the first real emotion she’d seen from him since he’d entered her living space. “Can you at least get me a drink before we discuss this?”

She just sighed and looked towards her kitchen. “I only have rum.”

“Then we shall have rum!” She just rolled her eyes but continued through to the little kitchen. If she was going to stay awake through this she might as well poor herself a small glass as well.

She handed him the glass and then settled herself in the seat across from him. “So, talk.”

She took a sip of her drink but very nearly spit it out when he spoke. “I want you in the field for the next mission.”

A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind all at once, that she found it hard to focus on One as he continued to speak. She was going to get her adventure, she was going to get to show the whole team that she wasn’t just some computer nerd, she was going to be able to breath the same air as Four, she was going to be meeting her family.

“Zero! Did you hear me?” She looked to One who had leaned forward in his chair.

“What?”

“God I hope you weren’t dreaming up the perfect scenario of finally meeting Four.”

She was still in shock but managed to ask. “Did you just say that I’m finally going out in the field?”

“Just the once, with Six gone we need all the help we can get in the next mission and you are my best eyes and ears.” He looked so calm just sat there sipping from his glass when she was sat opposite him freaking out. “You will keep your identity a secret though, none of the team is to know that you’re there.”

Just like that One had given her, her deepest wish and then crushed it right in front of her. “How will that work? They will know the sound of my voice anywhere.”

“Not if you put on a accent.” This was cruel, even by One’s standards. “Listen it’s for the best that you don’t interact with any of them. You’re lucky that you have full anonymity.”

“What if I don’t want that? What if I actually want to meet the only family I’ve ever had? I don’t get why you lock me away from them.”

“It’s for your own safety, you’ll thank me one day. Look at what happened to Six, do you want to end up like that?”

She was seething now. “You really hurt them today you know, Four got in touch with me. He wanted to see if I was okay after what happened to Six.” She had to pause to stop herself before her voice broke.

“I know you want us all to work as a team but some how distance ourselves from one another. We all maybe faked our deaths but were still human One, it’s human nature to care deeply for those that are closest to us.” The tears were welling up in her eyes now. “You just tossed him off the side of that boat like he was nothing. Is that what you’re going to do to the rest of us?”

He just stared at her for a long second then necked his drink and slammed the glass down on the table next to where the gun still laid. She didn’t even flinch, instead she stared him down.

“I think it’s time for me to go.” She just scoffed and looked down at her hands that were placed in her lap, she couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. “I looked through your research before I came here.”

He got up from the couch but didn’t make any move to the door. “I think Blaine is the perfect fit for number Seven. As soon as I land on home turf I’m going to recruit him and introduce him to the team. In a months time I’ll contact you with a meeting place to discuss your field work.”

“Great, another person I picked for you that you’re going to rip from their family and make their life hell.” He didn’t say another word and she didn’t look up from her lap.

All she heard was his footsteps walking towards the door, it swinging open and then slamming shut again. Once she was completely certain he had gone her head fell in her hands. She rubbed her face and felt a sweeping wave of sleepiness draw over her, she stood up and picked up the gun that was still on the coffee table. She made her way to the door to lock it properly, she then made her way back to bed and placed the gun back under her pillow. She hoped that just as before the tiredness would over take her and she would fall into an effortless slumber, but as she laid her head gently on the pillow and closed her eyes all she could see was Six’s lifeless body and all she could think about was how she’d put him there.

No way was she getting back to sleep.

#6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfic #four fanfiction #billy fanfiction #billy #billy x reader #billy x oc #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #billy x scout

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Dating Klaus Hargreeves Would Include...

Here’s some more Hargreeve sibling dating headcanons! Klaus edition this time around!

Klaus would be the first one to admit that he is selfish

His drug use stems out of his own need, his own cowardice and, to mask the guilt of that fact, he uses more drugs.

Soon, he is so numb that he doesn’t even feel when his feet hit the cold pavement, chilled due to the Autumn weather that had taken root in the city.

His bare feet slapped against the sidewalk until he found himself in a park under a dark sky littered with stars.

Klaus didn’t know why he left.

Klaus didn’t know if it was because he was high or if it was because he was coming down.

The sight of junkies, all too similar to himself, leaning against walls frightened him.

They had been crumpled, arms crooked with needles in their elbows or smoke drifting lazily from their lips.

Some looked dead.

Klaus didn’t want to risk seeing their spirits.

That’s why he left.

He wanted to find peace and quiet, even if it didn’t last long.

What Klaus wasn't expecting to find was….you.

You didn’t really know why you were out at such an hour either.

You surmised it was stress, anxiety that had been eating at you for a while now.

Life had a way at getting you down and sudden, unplanned walks were a good way at curbing that feeling.

However, you had never seen the man sitting at the bench you normally sat at during this nightly adventures.

He was with shoes, hair messy, with mismatched clothes.

A frown was plastered on his features, his eyes alarmingly distant even as you made your way to him.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Hmm? What?”

When he turned to face you, your breath caught at the sight of his glossy green eyes.

“You seem….lost...maybe?” You ask, shifting your weight on your feet as you stood before him. “It’s really late, most people are hitting bars or heading home.”

“I guess we’re not most people then, are we?” Klaus counters before scooting on the bench to make room for you.

You sit beside him and agree.

“”I guess we aren’t,” you sigh, sitting beside him.

“So why are you out at during the witching hour?” He teases and he smiled softly at you.

It is the brightest smile you have ever seen and the dejected expression he once wore has seemed to disappear.

“I uh, I’m here to conjure spirits.”

“Funny, I’m here avoiding them.”

You cocked your head at the man and he stared at your confusion with humor lining his lips.

It was then you noticed the red rimming his eyes and the unmistakable umbrella tattoo inked on his inner wrist.

He followed the path of your eyes and let out a sigh before extending a shaking hand to you.

“I’m Klaus Hargreeves, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

And thus a strange little courtship began.

Neither of you were looking for a companion that night, but it turned out it was what you both seemed to need.

Klaus couldn’t help but be taken by your outright kindness to him, a stranger until moments ago.

And you couldn’t help but be totally infatuated with the patch work of a man sitting beside you.

The night was spent exchanging thoughts on city life, the people, the best places to eat and drink.

“The bar I just came from has fantastic Sex On The Beach. Very smooth, if you can get past the smoke.”

“I’ll have to give a try sometime.”

“I mean, it’s still open now,” Klaus suggested, momentarily forgetting why he had left the bar in the first place.

“Then why aren’t you there?”

Klaus opened his mouth to speak but closed it hastily, eyes never leaving yours as he thought of what to say.

“I wanted more...lively company,” he said finally.

That company continued as you and Klaus exchanged phone numbers.

You didn’t dare call Klaus first, fearing that you might scare him off.

So when Klaus called you, because he really doesn’t care, you were relieved.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, Klaus right?”

“No, it’s Jesus.”

“I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Wanna talk about it over drinks?”

His voice is higher pitched when he asks, as if Klaus is nervous about your response.

If you could see him on the other end of the line, your suspicions would be solidified.

Klaus had worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers working at the phone cord like a lifeline.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous.

Klaus was never nervous when it came to momentary romance, timeless flings.

Klaus could call a list of lovers and not shake once.

Something about you made him tremble….

….with fear or excitement….both…

“I would love that, Klaus.”

“Good, how about that place I mentioned. The one on 5th?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

The place was packed when you arrived and the pounding music didn’t help anything.

Your heart was beating so fast that you fear it might explode in your chest at any given moment.

But then your eyes lock with Klaus’ when he turns away from the bar, two very colorful drinks in hand.

“There you are,” he says and you’re instantly at ease.

Many more of these ‘date-but-not-a-date’ dates occurred.

You always made time for Klaus, even calling him before bed.

“How was your day, my love?” Klaus asks one time.

The term of endearment slipped from his lips without thinking.

He flushes on his end of the phone, waiting for your replied with bated breath.

“It was okay, boring though.”

“I could make it more exciting,” he teases, his worry smoothed over by the sound of your voice.

Even before you actually ‘get together’ you two flirt a lot

To the point where your friends and Klaus’ friends think you’re already dating.

Neither of you mind it.

You two were seemingly made for each other.

It was an unspoken manner in which Klaus soothed your, seemingly, every anxiety.

Something about his honeyed voice as he chatted with you over drinks or in the way he laughed at your terrible jokes.

It was an unspoken manner in which it pained you to watch Klaus destroy himself too.

Little ticks and behaviors here and there hinted his struggle at you.

The bloodshot eyes and hand tremors that you had first thought were quirks were now telltale signs in your mind.

“Klaus, you’re shaking,” you say one day. You’re both on the park bench where you met, chatting until you noticed his trembling hand.

“Y-Yeah, it’s no biggie really, just uh…”

He stops when you grab his hands in yours, soothing your thumb over his skin.

“How long has it been?”

“What?”

“Since you last used?”

Klaus didn’t ask how you knew.

Klaus only felt shame, something he had evaded for a long time.

He felt guilty for not telling you himself and being the cause of the pain written across your face.

He lets you help him get better, even though he’s scared.

You enlist him in support groups and even visit rehab centers with him to see if he wants to give it a try.

Going to some support meetings here and there to give him even more of a boost.

One meeting, you’re listening to an older woman talk about how heroin addiction drove her to lose her home, her family, her husband.

Klaus grabs your hand when she finishes and you send him a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Klaus sniffles, hoping you believe him.

You don’t.

You decide to spend the night after the meeting at the crappy apartment Klaus had rented out.

The two of you just talk and snack.

You tell him about your childhood and Klaus spares you the more gruesome details of his own.

He tells you more about the specifics of his powers.

“The drugs….it keeps the ghosts away,” he explains, “they get awfully chatty at night.”

“You can call me,” you suggest, “whenever they’re too loud.”

“Well, I won’t have to tonight,” Klaus teases.

He realizes he exposed too much in his flirtatious tone and feels shy suddenly.

You lean a little closer to him, ready to flirt back despite the wild pounding of your heart when Klaus stands up.

“I’m going to try to sleep. You want the couch or the bed?”

With a heavy heart you get ready for bed, mentally kicking yourself for not making a move when you had the chance.

But then you feel angry with yourself because Klaus is in a sensitive spot right now and you don’t what to seem like you’re manipulating him.

So fighting the urge to tell Klaus how you truly feel about him, you settle into the couch in Klaus’ living room.

You nearly dead asleep when you hear Klaus start yelling.

You’re about to stumble off of the couch when Klaus is suddenly standing at your side.

Tears trail down his cheeks and your heart breaks when he speaks.

“C-Can...can I stay with you?”

Rather than answer him verbally, your hands find Klaus’ and pull him down on the couch by your side.

Limbs tangle together, you arms thrown over Klaus’ shoulders as he holds your waist tight like a lifeline.

His face is pressed to your chest and you feel the heat of his body melting into your own.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers as your busy your fingers in the trendrils of his soft hair, “for being here.”

“No place I would rather be, Klaus.”

When you wake the next morning, Klaus’ face is pressed in the crook of your neck with his nose brushing against your jaw.

His arm is tucked over your waist and holding you close to his chest.

Klaus is all soft when you take in his still sleeping form.

Eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks, plush lips parted for shallow breaths.

Then his green eyes peel open to hold your haze and you swear you’ve fallen in love with him.

You didn’t mean to, it just happened.

“I hope I didn’t drool on you,” he murmurs and you smile at him.

“I don’t think you did.”

You both just lay there for a while, with Klaus tracing his fingers over a patch of exposed skin.

“When are you going to kiss me?”

He’s serious when he asks you, not timid, but quiet, very unlike Klaus.

“When you want me to,” you reply softly, not wanting to push it too far.

Klaus shifts then, resting his weight slightly on top of you so his face is looming over yours.

He is all you see

And you are all he’s ever wanted

“Then why are you waiting?”

With that, you lift your hands to Klaus’ face and pull his lips down to yours.

Slightly chapped and dry, his lips meld against your own as if he were half of your whole.

Not much gets done that day, but somehow you find yourselves some semblance of a breakfast.

In an unspoken way, you and Klaus fall into place together.

Klaus often spends time at your place, sleeping over as he hates to be alone with the spirits.

He’s been sober for a while now, thanks to his work hard and your support.

He reminds you about how much you helped him dig himself out.

He reminds you when he wakes you up with kisses.

“Good morning my love, my darling, my-”

“Klaus, this is sweet but I have to piss.”

He reminds you when he tries to cook.

“So how does breakfast for dinner sound?”

“The salmon didn’t work out?”

“I don’t know how to cook fish, but I do know how to scramble eggs and burn bacon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t sass me.”

Klaus loves it when you both mix up your clothes.

He’ll wear one of your sweaters and you’ll be in a pair of his pants.

“We really need to do the wash together to tell the difference.”

“Do we? I quite like seeing you in my clothes.”

Dancing around your apartment to old records Klaus took from his family home.

“You don’t talk about your family much…”

“Because I don’t want to,” he chuckles, but you can hear the pain behind the laugh.

You don’t press it.

You don’t have to because, eventually, Klaus tells you everything.

He needs you kindness and your support more than he cares to admit.

And you need his love more than you’re willing to say.

He’s a little spoon most of the time but he’ll spoon you after a particularly rough day on your end.

He loves to play with your hands and fingers.

They’re like his own fidget toy.

You’ll just be sitting on the subway with him and he’ll play with your fingers.

He loves to kiss the tops of your hands.

“Well, I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

“For you, my love, anything.”

Anything indeed.

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (15/?)

AO3

If there’s one thing Janis has learned about herself throughout this entire experience, it’s that she really hates hospital gowns. It’s definitely not the self-revelation she expected to be having during this process, but life is weird like that, and she’s sitting in an unfamiliar room changing into the thing and thinking about how much she dislikes them. The flimsy material makes her feel like she’s not even wearing anything and she feels drowned and lost in it. Finding the arm and head holes was an adventure in itself, trying to work out what was fabric and what wasn’t. She knows that they’re not exactly built for fashionable purposes, but damn would it kill the American Medical Society to give some shape to this thing so she doesn’t feel like the ghost of a little Victorian girl?

And that’s not even touching on the fact that it refuses to stay closed at the back, because that’s not something she wants to spend even five seconds thinking about.

They only have one useful function she thinks, putting aside all their medical uses because she can’t understand or really bring herself to care about those. The only part of this thing that actually seems beneficial is the way she can slip Purrlock into it undetected. He sits against her shoulder now, hidden by the collar, his paws soft against her shoulder and his nose rubbing against her skin. It’s a comforting presence, one she desperately needs right now. The clock behind her ticks closer to 3 o’clock, the time Doctor Wiley agreed to schedule their appointment for.

She swallows past the lump in her throat and presses her hands against the bed in an attempt to get some heat into them. She won’t kid herself, not now, not after everything she’s been through with herself. She’s not scared of pain. She wouldn’t be even if she hadn’t been assured she’d hardly feel anything. She’s just scared about what comes afterwards. Because no amount assurances from her doctor or any nurses can settle that feeling that has clung to her back and wrapped itself tightly around her soul.

She gives Purrlock one more squeeze before the doctor comes in, both her parents and a nurse in tow, all of them having left her to give her some privacy. It’s not Doctor Wiley doing it, and she can’t decide how that makes her feel. It would have been a lot better to have a familiar face doing this for her.

Her own clothes are folded on a chair beside her, except her hat. That stays on, she decided, no matter what.

“Are you ready Janis?” the doctor asks. She’s pretty, with lovely eyes and one of those smiles that should be soothing, but it isn’t doing anything for her.

“Yep.” She winces when she hears her voice cracking. Her throat feels like sandpaper but she feels too worked up to ask for water. Besides, she doesn’t want anything to put this off. The sooner she’s in, the sooner she’s out.

Purrlock’s presence remains steadfast as her vitals are checked, her blood pressure, her heart rate, and she pulls herself up on the table, turning onto her side as instructed. She doesn’t know if anyone else can see it, but nothing she does feels like it’s her own body. Rather it feels like she’s watching someone else doing the movements for her. Like her brain has been taken over and she’s just along for the ride.

“Okay, we’re going to numb the area now, okay?” the nurse asks. “You might feel a little pain.” She nods minutely, her thumb stroking Purrlock becoming faster. If anyone wonders what she’s doing with her hand inside her gown, they don’t ask. The nurse wipes something cold across her skin before there’s a little prick there, barely enough for her to register it.

She avoids her parents’ eyes as they sit down next to her. She won’t say it, but she wishes they weren’t here. The weight of their gaze that they try to make supportive only makes her more uncomfortable. She doesn’t want to have to put on a brave face now.

“Okay, there we go.” The doctor’s voice comes in, a little more cold and mechanical than Janis would have liked. “That’s all working well. Can you feel anything there?” Seconds, or minutes, pass without her saying anything, and Janis realises she’s probably poking at her back.

“Um, yeah, I mean no, I can’t feel anything.” She wraps her hand around her cat and tries to take a deep breath.

“So I’m going to put it in now, okay?”

That’s when Janis’ blood goes from being cold to being pure ice, stiffening over her chest and stopping her from breathing properly. Oh god what’s the procedure for having a panic attack right now?

“Okay.” Her voice is so small and weak that it doesn’t even sound like her. Not even in her darkest moments has she ever felt as powerless as this.

She lets out a small gasp as a sharp sting attacks her back and her free hand curls into the mattress, her face screwing up as a small whimper escapes her as well. It’s over quickly, but she feels the sensation lingering on her skin.

Screw her image, she thinks, and she takes Purrlock out and holds him against her chest. Her parents are probably sighing at her right now, half-pitying looks on their faces, but she has her eyes trained on the wall behind them instead.

She doesn’t know how much longer it takes, not bothering to count anything. All she knows is her own breathing, making them last for as long as she can and trying to blank out anything else, even her own thoughts. She just clutches Purrlock harder, her other hand twisted into the mattress until the pressure on her back finally eases up.

“Okay… and we’re done,” the doctor says. “You’re going to need to keep laying there for about ten minutes or so, just to make sure everything’s okay down there. Make sure you keep pressure on it, okay?.”

Janis nods slowly, flexing her fingers just to check. She made it. She’s still here. Them, as her mouth slowly curls into a smirk, she mumbles “that’s what she said”, just loud enough for her parents to hear.

Her dad laughs at that. Her mom slaps him for it.

She turns onto her back, letting out a quick sigh as she gets off her side, and shakes out her arm, stiff from laying underneath her for all that time. Then curiosity begins to take over, so she shifts slightly and slides her hand beneath her, her fingers coming across a bandage across her lower back far wider than she would have thought.

“Hey.” Her dad slaps her arm lightly, raising his eyebrow at her. “You’re meant to be applying pressure to that spot.”

“I am,” she sighs, wriggling her hand out of it. She presses her body into the mattress to prove her point. “I just wanted to see what was there.”

“You can look at your war wounds all you like later, okay?” he tells you.

“Do you need anything?” her mom asks. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you some water if you need it-”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m okay, really. Just bored.” And tired, but she leaves that one out. She leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling, squinting at the light glaring into her eyes. “Can you pass me my phone?” She does so, and Janis immediately swipes past every message she’s received since this morning and ignores any and all social media in favour of scrolling through pictures of her dad. After a minute, she turns it on airplane mode, even if no-one has actually texted her yet, just in case. It’s too early to let people contact her. She needs mor distance between herself and what just happened before she can even process it, let alone tell someone about it.

Her back still kind of hurts when she gets back to her own room, enough for her to manage but still. She crawls onto the bed, the short walk through the hall having depleted whatever energy she had to begin with, and barely remembers to actually get under the covers. She’s asleep just moments after her head hits the pillow, her toy cat still clutched to her chest.

*****

She goes home that Friday; the two days having dragged out into what felt more like two weeks. The whole time she felt bogged down with anticipation, her head snapping up every time her door so much as opened or Doctor Wiley passed her in the hall. Every moment was so fraught with anxiety that she could barely sit still, despite the weariness seeped into her bones. The combination alone made left her nauseous and even though she could blame it on the meds, there was always that feeling lurking just below the surface or lingering in the back of her mind. She can fake it to everyone else all she wants but she can’t lie to herself. All she can do is wait. The problem is that’s the last thing she wants to do.

Still, she’s home now, and at least she can sink into her own couch and stroke her dog and try to detach herself from the past week. It isn’t easy, especially with the painkillers her mom picked up, but the change of scenery at least does something for her. She curls up even more, pressing as much of her body as she can into the cushions, as her mom sets her sandwich down in front of her. She rubs her cheek before she goes and Janis does her best to keep herself from pulling away, even managing a smile for her. She’s getting better at this whole thing.

“You feeling okay kid?” her dad asks as he comes in.

“Fine,” she replies through a yawn. “Back hurts but that’s nothing new.” Her dad hums in agreement, turning his attention to the TV, but his hand curls into a fist by his side, his jaw clenching just enough for her to notice and more than enough to make her stomach clench. She’s not the only one waiting for results and despite their best efforts to hide them, her parents’ anxieties are just as much a part of the house as the walls and floors are.

Her mom shares a look with her dad as she sits down on the arm of the chair, her fingers running through his hair, and something else in twists in Janis’ gut. Her parents are entitled to their privacy, just like any other person, but when it’s a private discussion about her, it doesn’t sit right with her. She hasn’t quite faded to nothing yet, and she sure as hell can pick up on those silent conversations that pass between them, all worried glances and quiet touches. She doesn’t know what they say exactly, but she knows that it’s always about her and it makes her want to throw something at the wall.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” she announces, breaking through the tight silence that had fallen over the living room. She pushes herself up, wincing again at the ache in her back, and that of course sets off an alarm for her parents. They half-stand, arm extended and eyes wide, the exact same pose as though they’re actually the same person. Janis pulls her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m okay. Really. I can make it up the stairs by myself.”

“If you’re sure,” her mom says, nervousness lining the edge of her voice. “Are you going to eat your sandwich though?”

“Oh.” She turns and quickly retrieves it from the couch, spinning back around just in time to see relief flood her mom’s face. “I’ll see you guys later.”

She doesn’t go straight upstairs though. Instead she turns the corner and lingers outside the door, her ears straining and her body pressed flat against the wall. From there, she holds her breath and waits, though for what she isn’t quite sure. She doesn’t work it out either, because seconds and then minutes pass, and the only sounds she hears are her own breathing and the faint voices on the TV. If they are going to talk about her, it isn’t happening now. And so she turns on her heel again and heads upstairs this time, closing her bedroom door tightly behind her.

Much like she did a few days ago, she crawls onto her bed, groaning against the flash of pain in her joints. She can’t be bothered to actually pull the covers over herself, so she stretches and grabs a blanket from the foot of her bed and tangles herself in that instead. Her bag sits by the foot of her bed and she tells herself she’ll unpack it later, even though her definition of later has become much more broad than it used to be. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and lays it beside her, the screen so dark and shiny that her face is reflected in it, albeit stretched and distorted.

She finally worked up the nerve to talk to Damian last night, sitting in the armchair next to her bed. Granted, he had texted her first, but she had answered, and that had seemed impossible this week. What’s more, she told him mostly everything he’d want to know about the procedure. She had embellished a little, making herself sound braver than she had been really, and she doesn’t know whose benefit that was for. But what matters to her is that she told someone, and that he seemed fairly okay with it. Maybe he’s making good on that promise he made to her.

She lets out a long sigh, her throat growing tighter when she thinks back on that exchange. The way he had looked at her, the tears shining in his eyes. Desperate for a solid answer she can’t give him. She wants nothing more than to wake up tomorrow morning and to tell him and everyone else that she’s back to normal. That there’s no more hospitals or medicines and she can go back to school. Or better yet, to wake up tomorrow and for this all to have been a horrific dream. Unfortunately for her, the past weeks have drained all that stupid naïve hope out of her, and so the last thing she feels before she drifts off is the pit of uncertainty sitting heavily in her stomach.

******

She’s not much better by the next day, physically or mentally. She feels it even before she wakes up; it’s crawled up and over her like ivy over an old brick house. She wakes up in the late morning with her brain feeling like static and her vision half-blurred, buried beneath her blanket and her clothes wrinkled from sleeping in them. Against her better judgement, she rolls over, half-sits up on her elbows and blinks rapidly until her eyes adjust to the half-light of her bedroom. Her parents must have come in at some point last night, because the curtains are closed and her room is significantly less messy than it was last night. Either it was her parents or she’s taken to sleep-cleaning.

The next time she wakes up its past noon, and regardless of how much she’d like to just stay here until her brain fixes itself, she figures that the least thing she could do is show her face to her parents and announce that she hasn’t died or become a vegetable since they last saw her.

Her train of thought stops there and a coldness washes over her despite her sweater and leaves goosebumps on her skin.

She pulls on her discarded beanie and a pair of fuzzy socks and heads downstairs, finding Maxie sitting at the bottom and springing to life upon seeing her, tail wagging and eyes bright. She smiles, albeit just a little bit.

“Hey buddy,” she tells him softly, scratching behind his ears. “Either you’re really happy to see me or you really need to tinkle.”

She lets him follow her into the kitchen, counting on her parents to let him out if it’s the latter.

“Morning kid,” her dad greets from the table, a newspaper spread out in front of him. “Was just about to get worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” She reaches up and grabs the first box of cereal she finds down from the cupboard. “Just tired.” The box feels heavier than it should as she heads over and grabs a bowl. “Where’s Mom?”

“Oh she’s out meeting some of her friends for coffee,” he explains. “You know. Girl time.”

“Girl time,” she agrees with a nod. She thinks, but doesn’t say, that it’s good for her to be getting out. It’s not really a conversation she wants to have with her dad, not with where it could lead to, but it’s true all the same.

Just as she’s starting her breakfast (or lunch, really), there’s a knock at the door; a fast, sharp rap, probably on the glass. Janis looks over at her dad, finding him just as lost as she is. Apparently neither one of them were expecting visitors. He shrugs and goes off to answer it, probably expecting a neighbour or relative. They’ve been coming over almost every week now, bearing baskets or bags full of treats, for them. Fresh pastries, baskets of fruit, home-cooked dinners ready to stick in the oven. All out of the goodness of their hearts. Janis only hangs around for a little while in those cases, just enough to answer the basic questions, before finding some excuse to slip out. Nine times out of ten, it’s more her parents’ friends than hers anyway.

“Janis?” her dad calls from the door. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” she mutters. She sighs and heads down the hall, taking the cereal with her, perplexed as to who could be calling for her. Damian doesn’t even need to knock anymore and Cady always texts before they come round. Maybe it’s just another classmate, someone she got along with like Sonja or Sophie. That’d be nice, she supposes.

She stops dead in her tracks the minute the person comes into view. Her dad stands to the side, his eyes on her, and standing in the doorway is Regina George. Regina George is at her house, clad in a white sweater and blue jeans, a silver bag across her body and a Tupperware box in her hand. Her hair falls just to her chin, rather than in the long waves everyone knows her by, but that’s nothing more than a footnote in Janis’ brain. Regina George is at her front door. Alone. And an invisible force has flung her right back to that middle school yard, complete with everyone staring at her and her heart fit to burst right out of her chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks sharply. Regina blinks, taken aback by the venom in her voice, and disgust curls in her gut. Maybe there was some freak lacrosse accident and Regina tragically lost her memory from middle school onwards. That’s the only reason she can think of as to why she would be surprised by this, because otherwise she should know that they are not friends.

“Hey,” she says. “I um… I made some pastries and I thought-”

“I don’t take charity,” she says. Heat rises in her cheeks. She may have promised to play nice for Cady’s sake, but Cady isn’t here. No one is, and even though she’s in her own home, she feels more vulnerable than she has in years. It’s not a good feeling and she fights it off with every defensive tactic she knows. “Not from you.”

“Okay,” she sighs and Janis’ fist clenches. She wonders if she could still take her in a fight in her current condition and decides that yes, she most definitely could. This cereal bowl for example could do some serious damage to her face if she throws it hard enough. “Janis… can we talk?”

“Excuse you?”

“Can we talk?” she repeats, exasperation creeping into her voice. Oh the audacity, Janis thinks. “Just for a minute?”

She takes a step back. She doesn’t want to talk to her, that much is clear. She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone but if she did, Regina would be the exception. And just her being here in her house is flipping every switch Janis has, her nerves buzzing and an electrical current surging through her. And she knows Regina, and she seldom wants to just talk. There were a lot of times in the past where she “just wanted to talk” that ended in her getting her way and Janis feeling winded. It would be immensely satisfying for her to slam that door in her surprised little face, and then open it just enough to take the pastries off her and slam the door again. And then dump the pastries for good measure.

But… she can’t say that her curiosity isn’t piqued. The fact that Regina took the effort to make pastries and take them all the way to her own house as a kind of… what, peace offering? Does Regina do peace offerings? How many people can say they’ve had Regina come to them?

This is a once in a lifetime event, and yes, maybe she’d like to see where this goes. And that’s the reason why, even as every part of her screams ‘no, no, no!’ she says, “Fine.”

Her dad raises his eyebrows at her as Regina walks past him, silently screaming “what the hell is wrong with you?” at her. She’s asking herself that same question. Maybe those pain killers are more effective than she thought. Even as he takes the Tupperware box off Regina, his eyes don’t leave her, asking for an answer or an explanation or for her to blink twice if she needs help.

Regina stands in a middle of them, wringing her hands.

“We can talk in my room,” Janis tells her. “You remember where it is?” Regina nods. “Good, go one up, I’ll be there in a second.” She opens her mouth, probably to ask what she meant, but thinks better and closes it before turning around and heading up there. The idea of Regina in her room makes her skin crawl, but she wants her out of sight and earshot for now. She waits until she hears her door opening and closing and, fighting back a shudder, she says, “Dad… if we’re not done in ten minutes?”

“Come and get you?”

“I was going to say, ‘assume that I have thrown her out the window’,” she says. “But you know, that works too I guess.”

Her dad nods, a hint of a smile on his face, but his eyes are serious.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks her. “I mean… you hate this girl. You have good reason to as well.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that makes Janis smile, ironic as that is. She feels less alone in it. But she crosses her arms over her chest and gives a small nod.

“I do…. But you just have to trust me on this,” she tells him. “I have my reasons. Besides, I can play the cancer card any time I want her to leave.”

“You’re a terrible child,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. “I’ll blame it on her influence.”

When she gets up to her room, Regina is standing at her wall, studying one of the paintings on it. It’s one of hers from sophomore year, and Regina looking at it makes her wince.

“Hey.” She jumps nearly three feet at the sound of her voice and manages to compose herself relatively quickly. Janis closes the door behind her and whacks on the light. “So go on. You wanted to talk.”

“I did,” she says. She pulls at her sweater and straightens it out, the gesture looking so unnatural on her that it actually scares her a little. Since the second they met, Regina has exuded a confidence Janis could only aspire to. Even after everything fell apart, Janis had to admire that part of her. Even if it was faked, it was convincing. Now she’s standing in front of her, all nervous eyes and fidgeting fingers and somehow her biting her lip in anxiety scares Janis more than her cruel smirks ever did.

“So are you going to?” she asks. “Talk, I mean. Or are you just going to stand there like a dumbass?”

Regina laughs-actually laughs-and nods and lifts her chin and looks her in the eye and after what feels like a lifetime she says

“Janis… I wanted to say that I’m so sorry-”

“No.”

Regina blinks, looking like a deer aught in headlights. Janis simply stares her down, betting that this wasn’t how she thought this interaction was going to go down and yeah maybe getting soe petty satisfaction out of that, what about it?

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” she shrugs, a grin tugging on her lips. There’s a power stirring inside her that she hasn’t felt in months, probably not since she stood up on that table in the gym and finally let rip. It lights up inside her, igniting every part of her tired body and running through like wildfire. Even if it’s not enough to block out why she’s really annoyed about it, she can still stand and revel in the image of Regina standing across from her in complete uncertainty. That’s what makes the next word taste so sweet on her lips. “No.”

Regina’s mouth opens and then closes it again, annoyance slowly creasing her face. Janis continues eating her cereal as if Regina isn’t even here.

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” she says. “I can say it in French if you like but it’s more or less the same thing.”

For a second, there’s a flash of the old Regina, appalled that someone dared to stand up to her and crush the dream she had in her pretty little head. Weirdly, Janis finds she had missed that Regina, even it’s more of a comfortable familiarity than anything else. Ironically, Regina at her most bitchy is Regina at her most safe.

“I… don’t… get it,” Regina says, the words drawn out as she tries to connect the dots in her mind. “Why no?”

Janis sets the bowl down on her nightstand, the bang echoing off her walls. As she folds her arms, her nails dig into the skin and her whole body shakes with the effort of holding herself back from throwing herself at Regina. Or from holding back the tears that prickle at the back of her eyes. Either one.

She could lie. It would be easy to do so, especially to her. It wouldn’t even be a lie, just an omitted truth. But for whatever reason, she doesn’t feel like doing it.

“Because…” She steadies her shoulders and takes a deep breath. “Because you’re only apologising because of my cancer.” Her voice stayed surprisingly steady the whole way through, but they both hear the crack at the end. “And the one thing worse than a fake apology from you is a pity apology.”

“Janis,” she says. Her face softens and Janis wants to rip it right off. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me-”

“Correct. And so I don’t.”

“But it’s not because of….” She swallows hard. “Because of that. After the spring fling and over the summer I did a lot of soul searching and-”

“Regina I cannot begin to tell you how much I do not give a flying fuck about your soul searching,” she says flatly. She sighs and shakes out her hands, trying to get some feeling back into them. Feeling she’s buried for years come flooding back to her, blooming up from every corner of her soul and settling under her skin. All that resentment and anger that always simmered below the surface comes to a boiling point. “I don’t want you to apologise to me when you’re not fucking sorry.” She shakes her head, finding a bitter smile on her face. “I’ll tolerate a lot but you treating me like an idiot isn’t one of them. I would have thought you knew me better than that.”

“Well we haven’t exactly been close lately,” she mumbles. Her lips roll into a thin line, her finger tapping away at her forearm as she thinks. “You’re never going to believe me are you?”

“Nope. Not unless you strip naked and run up and down this street in order to prove it to me.”

“Pretty sure that would get me arrested.”

“Yeah well, that would be an added bonus.” She nods at that, a suppressed smile on her lips. She goes to move forwards but thinks better of it and stays where she is.

She doesn’t want to believe her. Hell, she doesn’t want to. Regina will never really understand the extent of the crap she went through. She doesn’t know about her puking at 4am, about those nights where she looked up at the ceiling until her eyes burned, about how her soul diminished little by little every time she crossed the school gates. She doesn’t know how it wasn’t just Janis’ life she ruined; it was her parents’ too. She doesn’t know how long it took until she could stop flinching from people, stop worrying that every compliment was backhanded or that every invitation was a set-up for something ugly. She’ll never know and Janis is so sure that she won’t care either. She doesn’t want her apology and wouldn’t even if it was genuine.

But the worst part of all this is… part of her thinks it might be. And she has no idea why that’s the case. She knows that trusting Regina George is like picking up a wild snake and thinking it won’t bite you. She’s got bite marks to prove it. That’s exactly what makes all this so painful for her, this feeling deep in her gut that she can’t ignore no matter how many traumatic memories she buries it under.

She closes her eyes and prays she won’t regret this.

“You want to prove it to me?” she asks. “You want to prove that you’re sorry?” Regina nods, a hopeful spark in her eye that looks uncharacteristic, but also too genuine to be fake. Her stomach clenches as she speaks, the words battling through her teeth. “Tell me afterwards. Tell me when I’m healthy and I have hair and I don’t need people’s pity. That’s when you can tell me you’re sorry.”

“That might take a while.”

“No it won’t.” There’s a defensive edge in her voice that she hadn’t expected. If the way Regina’s eyebrows shoot up is anything to go by, that was a shock to both of them. “I had this test thing last week to check how things are. And that’ll prove that I’m nearly done.” She hopes Regina believes what she’s saying because she sure as hell doesn’t. “By December this whole thing will be over anyway. Then, if you’re still willing, you can come over here and grovel and beg for my forgiveness.” She raises her chin. “There’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Regina nods slowly, no doubt weighing up her proposal in her head. Regina George doesn’t take deals, she only makes them, and this role reversal is strange to both of them. And at least for Janis, there’s a small thrill involved here. The upper hand in regard to Regina isn’t an easy thing to come by.

“Deal.” She holds out her perfectly manicured hand and Janis, after a moment’s pause, takes it, finding it cold. “See you in a few months, Sarkisian.”

“And then afterwards we can go and ride some flying pigs,” she mumbles.

Regina huffs a laugh at that and before she can stop herself, Janis does the same.

She follows Regina downstairs, intending to see her out the door. The two of them are in a tight, prickly silence as they go, unsaid, unknown words floating in the air between them and neither one willing to act on them.

She feels her dad’s eyes on them as they reach the door.

“See you later then,” Regina says, the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. Janis only hums in some sort of agreement and even that doesn’t dissuade her.

“Say hey to Karen and Gretchen for me,” is her response, and Regina tells her she will.

She waits until she sees Regina walk down her driveway and actually disappear around the corner before allowing herself to feel relieved, to let it flood through and around her and to breathe properly and fully for the first time since she came over. She collapses face-first onto the sofa in the living room, much to her dad’s amusement.

“So how was it?” he asks.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know,” she says, not bothering to lift her head from the cushion. “Just your regular dramatic teen girl stuff.”

“Mm-hm.” She doesn’t need to look at him to know he doesn’t believe her, but he also doesn’t press on it. “Well, the good news is, she may be a scum-sucking fart-mouthed life ruiner, but the makes amazing pastries.”

“Dad!” Her head snaps up at that and the room tilts and dips before steadying again and the black dots fade. “You ate her pastries?”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asks. “Just leave a box of perfectly good pastries sitting the cupboard never to be eaten? They were screaming my name, Janis.”

“You could have burned them. You could have set them on fire. It would have been immensely therapeutic for me.”

“Are you telling me that instead of sending you to therapy, I could have just set things on fire and gotten the same result?” he asks. She nods, a sharp pain flaring up as she does so, and he bursts into laughter.

“Oh stop,” she sighs. She rests her head on the arm of the couch, pressing her forehead into it like it can absorb all her pain from her. “What are the flavours?”

“We’ve got two. One’s apple and one’s this pecan thing.”

“Damn that witch. Making flavours I love like that.”

“She’s a fiend indeed. So which do you want?”

Her defences stay up for a microsecond. The she shoots her hand out and metaphorically waves a white flag.

“Pecan please,” she asks. “And can we at least burn one of them?”

Her dad laughs, but he doesn’t say no either and she takes it for now.

******

When Janis wakes on Monday morning, it’s with a deep, deep pit in her stomach. She knows what today is before her brain is fully awake, even before her eyes are open. She goes back to the hospital today.

And there’s a very high chance her test results are sitting there waiting for her when she gets there.

She pulls the covers up over her head and burrows under them, pressing her head further into the pillow and trying to get back to sleep. It really shouldn’t be too hard, not when she’s fallen asleep in far less comfortable positions before, in far brighter and louder places than her bedroom. But once, this once, her body doesn’t give in, and sleep deserts her in record quick time. She’s facing the music today whether she likes it or not.

Her dad is coming with them today, he told her last night.

“I know nothing might be happening tomorrow,” he had told her. “But just in case, I don’t want to miss anything.”

And as they get into the car, Janis sliding into the back this time with her hospital bag beside her, she feels a heavy sense of déjà vu. Despite how it feels like centuries, it was only two months ago she was getting into this car, whispering goodbye to her house and this whole was beginning.

The uneasiness doesn’t lessen when they get out of the car, or when they ride into the elevator. Outside the windows, the sun struggles against the grey clouds, its light blocked out bit by bit. When they stop outside her floor, her breathing is coming in pants and her hands are clammy and sweaty no matter how many times she wipes them. She considers just turning and running, pictures herself swiping her mom’s keys and making a break for it, getting into the car and driving off. She’d never make it far, but it’s a nice fantasy to tide her over.

The whole place feels off, she thinks as they make their way to her room, trying to smile and nod at people, pretend it’s business as usual, pretend there isn’t a sense of dread gnawing away at her. By the time they get within spitting distance of her room, that uneasiness has taken her over entirely and it takes all her effort to keep herself walking straight and steady. It’s not that she wants to collapse into her bed anymore, it feels like it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing.

She doesn’t bother unpacking, but her mom on the other hand makes it her mission, filling the small cabinet with all her possessions, leaving her laptop on her tray table just as she likes it. None of them speak though, so the only sound is the cars outside and her mom bustling around.

It takes five minutes for Doctor Wiley to finally show up. And if Janis felt uneasy before, she feels pure, unfiltered panic injected straight into her veins at the sight of him. He clicks the door shut behind him and her heart stops beating.

“Janis,” he greets. “Mr and Mrs Sarkisian.”

“My test results,” she blurts out. She locks eyes with him, willing him to look at her by sheer force alone. “You have them, don’t you?”

He blinks at her, perhaps alarmed at her institution, but his head then moves in a slow nod and her hand clenches around the bedpost.

“Well?” she asks.

“Janis…” She bites back her cheek. The déjà vu from the car comes back again stronger, less like a memory and more like she’s travelled back in time. Her chest grows tighter than she thinks it’s possible. “We looked at your results and… it seems the treatments now aren’t enough.”

Not enough.

The past two months of her life weren’t enough. All the events she missed and the sleeping through days and the vomiting and the passing out and the losing her hair… none of that was enough. Nothing she’s done up until now has been enough. Her lost days pile up in front of her eyes and blow away like dust because they didn’t. Mean. Anything. Apparently.

She wants to scream all this at him, to ask him why he couldn’t work this out earlier and what the fuck these past weeks have been for if they haven’t been doing what they should have been doing and why she had to essentially lie to every person she cares about if it wasn’t working anyway. But her mouth stays closed, her hands by her side and her body on the bed. She feels more like a hollow statue than a real person, her veins empty and her brain blank.

“So… what does that mean?” her dad finally asks. The room had been silent for so long she had actually forgotten what a person actually speaking sounds like. She doesn’t dare look back at her parents, because she knows it would either kill her more or throw her the opposite direction and she’d lunge at Wiley and tear his skin off. Or she’d scream and scream until her throat was raw.

Maybe that would feel good.

“Well… the good news is that it’s not…. It’s not the worst news you could receive.”

Maybe not for you she silently tells him.

“What it does mean is that we’re going to have to extend your treatment here,” he says. “For another four weeks.”

Four weeks? What’s four weeks? She can’t even see past today. He could have said four weeks or four years and it wouldn’t have made a difference as far as she’s concerned.

“Four weeks,” her mom echoes. “So it would end…” Her voice trails off and it becomes a question rather than a statement.

“In January, rather than December,” he finishes. “And another thing… we think it might be better if Janis stayed here permanently rather than going home.”

“But…” It’s only when everyone’s eyes land on her that she realises she had actually spoken at all. She takes as deep a breath she can and goes on, her voice so, so small. “What about my dog?”

“Your dog?”

“My dog,” she explains. “Going home. It’s the only time I can see my dog.”

Somewhere in the very, very back of her mind, an impossibly tiny part of her is saying ‘really?’. But Maxie is all she can think to care about right now. Wiley’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly and he turns and looks to her parents for any kind of direction.

They get it, of course, and her mom’s hand comes up on her back.

“We’ll work something out,” she says. The softness of her voice makes her flinch. “We’ll work out a FaceTime with him. Okay, sweetheart?”

Through her tight throat, she manages to slip out an ‘okay’.

Wiley keeps talking, some spiel about optimism and close monitoring and priorities, but the words ricochet off her and fall meaninglessly onto the floor. If they really matter she’ll get told them again. Or not. She doesn’t really care and she’s not sure if she should be worried about that.

“Janis? Janis?” She blinks and Wiley is looking at her, eyes anxious behind his glasses, his mouth drawn into a grim line. “Do you have any questions.”

She does. A lot. The first one is ‘what the actual fuck’ but nobody probably has the answer for that. Most questions she has probably don’t have an answer, but there’s one she’s willing to try.

“I… Did I do something wrong?” she asks. “Is that why all of this didn’t work?”

“Oh my goodness, Janis, no.” Wiley rushes over to her, pulling the chair over and sitting opposite her. There’s so much determination in him that she almost believes him. “Listen… things like this happen. They happen more often than we’d like to admit. But they do.” He shrugs, looking pretty helpless for the person who is meant to be in charge of this. If he doesn’t know what’s happened, then where does that leave her. “Sometimes the cancer is just more aggressive than we first thought. And we need to redouble our efforts. It’s not your fault, Janis. Don’t ever think it is.”

He can’t tell her not to do that. She can’t tell her not to do that. No-one on this Earth can make her stop thinking that. But for his sake, and her parents, she nods and mutters something that sounds like an okay, and after he exchanges a few words with her parents, he leaves, off to tend to the dozens of other kids in his care.

Her body bounces slightly as her back hits the mattress. It’s a nice kind of feeling. It makes everything feel less real. Even more so when her head falls back and she looks at the world that way. She doesn’t bother moving, not even when her head starts to hurt and she starts feeling dizzy. Out of the corner of her eye, she feels her upside-down dad leaning against the wall, his cheeks puffed out as he exhales. She can only see her mom when she cranes her neck, leaning against the wall with her head on her dad’s shoulder.

“Janis, sweetheart are you okay?”

“Nope,” she sighs. She

“Of course she’s not okay.”

“It was just a question, Alex.”

That pulls her up, even if it’s only halfway. If there was a fight brewing her face stopped it, the tension between them fading into the background. Bigger problems and all that.

She is the bigger problem. Not really, but her cancer is.

That’s when everything slams back into her; realisation, feelings, panic. It explodes inside her like a freshly thrown grenade and it blows up all her plans and her promises in its wake.

“Holy crap,” she gasps. She draws her knees up to her chest, her eyes burning and her cheeks burning. “Oh my God!”

“I know, love, I know.” Suddenly there are hands on her back, her shoulders, her arms, and she feels suffocated by them. “Oh I’m so sorry, kid.”

“No.” She wriggles and pushes the arms away, her last semblance of sanity being the reason she doesn’t smack them instead. She jumps of the bed, stumbling over the tiled floor. Her heart beats frantically, wildly against her ribs. When she puts her hand on her chest, she feels like she holds it in her chest, barriers of skin and bone be damned.

“Janis-”

The room shrinks more than it ever has and everything is on top of her, around her and she can’t breathe, can’t move for all of it. All she feels is the eyes on her and the cancer in her blood, confining her here-

“I need to go,” she chokes out. Spit runs down her chin, tears down her cheeks. “I just… I need to be alone.”

Her mom goes to protest, but her dad takes her hand, his head shaking and something muttered to her. As usual, something about her that she doesn’t know.

As she falls to her knees on the bathroom floor, she keeps her mouth covered, her whole body wracking and trembling. A sound is ripped from her throat, something that sounds more like an animal than a human, primal and deep and so, so afraid. She’s afraid, more than she’s ever been before. High school girls is one thing. Having her identity thrown out for all to see is one thing. But she could control how she reacted to both of those. Both of those were other people, external forces attacking her and she chose how to defend herself. Now the attack is coming from inside her, and her fate is in everyone else’s hands and everything is out of her hands. All she can do is subject herself to others and even then they get it wrong too.

She hug her knees against her chest, wishing she had brought Purrlock in with her. Or better yet, if Damian was here again, holding her tightly and making her feel like she isn’t alone. She shakes her head quickly, bawling at the sharp, throbbing pain in it. She doesn’t want Damian here. Not if it meant he’d see her like this or have heard that.

Oh God. The realisation crashes over her like a tidal wave and drowns her. She’ll have to tell them all. Again. Tell her friends that this thing isn’t over months after she told them she had cancer to begin with. The weight drags her down, pulling her soul right into the floor, pressing it into the wall until it becomes part of it.

She’s just one person. Just one person. Surely there has to be a limit to how much one person can take, right?

At some point, she wipes the tears off her face and stretches out her legs. Her body feels hollowed out and yet completely full at the same time. She’ll either explode or wither away to nothing and both are fine with her. Both are better, in her mind, than what her actual future holds for her.

As her mind unravels, she finds herself wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t told her mom what was wrong. If she hadn’t ran into her dad in the bathroom. If she hadn’t went to that doctor’s appointment. Applied to old-fashioned method of “ignore it aggressively and hope it goes away”. Gone to school, applied to college and for a while at least, been normal.

When she looks down, her phone is in her hands, switched off. She didn’t even realise it was in her pocket. She turns it over in her hand; it holds every person she’s ever loved in there. She switches it on, trying to avoid the sight of her reflection. She can only imagine what that’s like. She’s an ugly crier at the best of times.

She swipes it open and goes to her contacts, swiping through the list until it becomes nothing but a bright, black and white blur. Among everything else she’s feeling, she’s lonely. The kind of loneliness that comes up around a person and builds walls between them and everyone else. The kind that sends her hand lying back whenever she tries to reach out. The kind that in the end, drives everyone else away anyway. No matter how badly she wants to-and needs to- make those calls. She can’t. She physically can’t. Even the thought of talking to anyone churns her stomach.

Well, there’s one exception. She looks at the screen, the name only there because Cady put it. She’s hated it ever since and contemplated deleting it so many times, but now it seems to be her only option.

God, she really is desperate.

She has the sense to send out a quick message first, just to be sure, and she spends about ten seconds in half-hopeful waiting. As she does, she strains to hear if anything is happening outside. Her parents must have gone off somewhere, out on a walk to try to clear their heads or off to talk to someone. Or they’re doing the opposite eavesdropping on her. Or they’re doing something she really doesn’t want to think about.

She mutters ‘ew’ to herself just as her phone buzzes into life, the name filling up the screen. She takes a second and watches it ring, questioning whether or not she should do it. She feels like somehow this is crossing a line, even if the only person she’s hurting is herself. When she was younger she swore she’d never do this again, never let loneliness drive her back to her.

But her younger self didn’t anticipate this, did she?

“Hey,” she says into the phone, her voice cracking as she speaks. “Hi, Regina.”

“Janis?” At least Regina is just as confused as she is. This has to be the first time in five years she's initiated contact. “Um… hi?”

“Are you like, cutting class right now?”

“Oh you have so much faith in me,” she sighs. “No. I had a free period so I was doing laps of the lacrosse field. What’s up? I mean this is-”

“Trust me, I know.” She swallows past the lump in her throat and feels her face crumple. “I just…. I needed someone but I didn’t want to talk to anyone I actually like right now.” She shrugs. “So here we are.”

“Here we are,” she replies. They fall silent and Regina’s breathing crackles on the speaker. She can almost picture her, standing in her sports stuff on the presumably empty field, face contorted in confusion and unsure of where to go.

Janis presses her hand into her knee and takes a deep breath. When she presses her hand to her cheek, she finds it icy and clammy. She pushes herself onto one knee and keeps her eye on the toilet, just in case.

“So what did you want to talk about?"

"I got-" She pauses, the words catching in her throat. It hurts to say those words. Like someone is pricking her tongue with a pin. But strangely, it’s also so relieving. Like she’s carried a weight on her back and it’s not taken off entirely, but it’s lessened. "Do me a favour and don't tell Cady about this, okay? Or anyone."

"Keeping secrets?" There's an accusatory undertone in her voice that for a moment brings Janis' old self back.

"Don't accuse me of shit," she snaps. "I've got enough to be dealing with without you being a bitch."

When she doesn't respond, Janis worries she may have hung up on her, and she thinks 'there goes whatever crumbs of a relationship we had'. But then she comes back, a small "sorry" in her ear and she can breathe.

"Thanks." She breathes out and lets her head fall against the wall. She sniffles and hopes Regina doesn't notice. It hurts, what she's about to say. Like someone is pricking her tongue with a pin. But strangely, it’s also so relieving. Like she’s carried a weight on her back and it’s not taken off entirely, but it’s lessened.

"I got my test results back today." She feels Regina sobering up on the other end and she bites back a wave of tears. "And they're not pretty."

#cadnis #cadnis ff #janis sarkisian #regina george #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #fic: heart of stone

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efrmellifer · 4 years

Text

Célèbre

“You know, Etien, I still cannot believe you agreed to this, when it feels as though you only just returned from your year-long sojourn.”

“I’ve never been to a proper Ishgardian gala,” she replied, meeting Aymeric’s eyes in the mirror with a smile. “Well, I suppose excepting our wedding reception. So this would only be my second one.”

Aymeric laughed softly. “Then it would stand to reason that we had better make it special, hmm?”

“What do you mean?”

He settled his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm on her skin even after she’d soaked in hot water. “What did you plan to wear?”

“The dress from Starlight,” she replied, turning to look at him. “Did you have something different in mind?”

“I did,” he admitted. He stepped to his armoire, aware of Etien’s gaze on him, and peeled back a layer of linen over a garment hung there.

“Oh,” Etien breathed, only just audible where she sat. “My goodness.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. Ye gods, how long has this been here? How did I never find it?”

“Well, you aren’t prone to snooping, so that would explain it, I think.”

Etien giggled. “Fair enough. Can I put it on?”

“You may, though you might require some assistance, as it does lace up the back.”

“I could lace it up myself, I’m sure.”

“Let me help you? Please, Etien. I missed getting to do these simple things for you that one settles into in the everyday. We… have never really had an ‘everyday,’ have we?”

She exhaled sharply but quietly through her nose, rising from where she was seated before the mirror. “No, we haven’t. What was the longest we had? A fortnight? A moon?”

“Long enough to form habits to miss when it was over.” Aymeric sighed, handing the dress to Etien so she could get into it and do up the busks.

“That is the size of it.”

He watched her start at the bottom and work her way up, the boning conforming to her body as the dress took its proper form around her.

“Wow, it looks like the night—Aymeric.”

“Yes?”

She looked up at him, teeth glinting as a sly smile spread over her lips. “The night sky?”

He returned the smile, glad his thinking had been understandable to her. “After drawing the fabric of night across Norvrandt, I only thought it fair that you drape it over your body to conclude. It looks quite lovely.”

She looked down, examining the dress now that it was on her, considering the flecks of shimmering silver, stars in a bed of deep blue. The crystals accentuating her bust served much the same purpose, though despite their glint, they were more like clouds on the horizon.

She nodded in approval, stepping closer to Aymeric again and turning, offering the loose lacing to him.

“You’ll let me know the second it’s too tight, yes?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you can crush me more than the weight of—all right, ease up a little.”

With a little chuckle, he slackened the laces. “Better?”

“A little tighter, please.”

“Remember, you will want to dance.”

“Oh, will I?” She gave him an easy, amused smile. “I know. I just like the pressure that firm lacing brings. It feels more secure.”

Aymeric tugged the laces, holding them and slowly pulling them until Etien said with a nod, “Perfect.”

He tied the laces into a bow, commenting, “Not to mention, the guest of honor has to be resplendent.”

“Guest of honor?” Etien crinkled her nose slightly, striding across the room to grab her sapphire earrings.

“Indeed. Let me see what Estinien’s invitation to this event said.”

Etien paused in slipping the earring into her piercing. “Why do you have Estinien’s invitation?”

Without looking up, Aymeric answered. “He brought it here to ask me what I knew about this, and I had to tell him, as shockingly little as he did. But, this is how it reads. You are cordially invited to the Fortemps residence to join the family in celebrating the return of Etien Mellifer de Borel, champion of Ishgard and sister to Lord Artoirel, Count de Fortemps. Guests are also encouraged to offer their congratulations to her and her husband Ser Aymeric as they celebrate their first year of marriage.”

“Well, it’s been two, hasn’t it?” she asked, squinting to help herself remember as she scrutinized herself in the mirror.

“Only the Fury knows that, my dearest.”

A wistful look came over her. “Was it really a year ago?”

“It was. Though it feels longer when you recall that we spent a fortnight in the Black Shroud and we were called back to Ala Mhigo nearly as soon as our feet had touched the stones of the airship landing again.”

“Oh, right, and it was so cold when we got back.”

“A misfortune of the changing seasons.”

Etien responded in the affirmative with only a soft “Mm” in the back of her throat. The seasons. It felt like she hadn’t experienced a season in years. That was what had thrown her internal clock off the mark for so long after she’d started adventuring outside the greater Twelveswood.

Eventually, the systems of her body had adjusted to the new normal of traveling to and fro between wildly differing climes and locations, and she’d been learning to deal with that in its time, as well. And it was certainly better to do so here at home, where there was no gritting her teeth and pressing forward despite the sensations low in her belly, the flick of her tail a beckoning flag to anyone who could interpret the signal.

But she didn’t want just anyone. She wanted the man now holding out her fur-lined cloak to her, so they could step out and take the short walk to Fortemps Manor.

Not the Nuhn. Her husband.

Etien shrugged into the cloak, her earrings swaying where they dangled from her ears, and feeling suddenly both very mature and like she was playing dress-up in clothing that was too grown-up, too fancy for her.

As much as she had enjoyed how she looked in the mirror, as much as she liked wearing pretty dresses, being dressed now in something so fine, boned corsetry and crystal-studded netting, felt odd compared to the leather and metal layers of the armory.

But then, she didn’t want to always be the battle-maiden. She quite liked being a happy housewife, soft and in love. She even didn’t really mind being a noblewoman in title, even if it didn’t feel quite right.

She took Aymeric’s offered arm and let her chin lift in something akin to pride as they strode to the door and out into the crisply cold night. She could play this role as well as any other, frippery and furs the uniform of the high houses.

A cheer went up as Etien and Aymeric’s outerwear was taken, a few guests lifting their drinks and calling their greetings.

Etien’s ears moved to dip in embarrassment, but they flicked forward again as she fought the urge to be overly modest.

She waved to the people still looking at her, giving them as wide of a smile as she could manage. She slipped her hand into Aymeric’s, leading him away from the door.

“We had better go find, Artoirel, don’t you think?” she said, the look in her eyes shockingly urgent to him.

“Of course. Lead the way, if you think you know where he is.”

They found Artoirel and Emmanellain sitting together, Artoirel making his way through a story he didn’t seem to want to be telling, Emmanellain lounged boredly beside him.

Both looked up as the pair approached, overjoyed at the distraction to ease their respective burdens.

“Etien! I’m so glad you have arrived,” Artoirel said, taking her elbows to pull her closer and press a single kiss to her cheek. “You have saved me from the most dull conversation I may ever have had. Though I feel they may want to hear your stories now,” he told her, voice low so only she, Aymeric, and Emmanellain could hear him.

The three of them laughed. “Yes, it’s good to see you, too,” Etien replied. “Go, host your party. Hopefully I’m as good of a storyteller as I am an archer.”

“Is that not part of being a bard?” Emmanellain asked, sitting down again.

“Well—it is,” she began.

Emmanellain just chuckled as he took a sip of the wine he’d put down when she’d arrived.

“Were there no skirts you were seeking and pursuing?” she asked him, sitting down herself, smoothing the material of her dress over her knees, spine straight.

She ran through every story she could share without revealing so much of the truth—tales from the Crystarium, mostly, all the details removed so she had only traveled to “a distant city”—and could feel herself beginning to fade and falter.

For a blessing, again, someone approached the couch she was now perched on, having replaced Artoirel before.

And when she looked up to see who it was, she broke into a wide smile, more genuine than her earlier one.

She moved to rise, but was encouraged to stay seated as he approached, sliding his fingers under hers.

Estinien lifted Etien’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss just above her knuckles, so her wedding ring hit his chin. “Viscountess.”

“Estinien, please,” she murmured.

“Lady Borel, then.”

“Estinien,” she repeated, her voice slightly more affected.

“Etien. You look radiant. Let me guess, Aymeric picked that dress out?”

She looked down at the dress, admiring it again. “He did. Another winner. He dresses me so well.”

“Fine taste in wine, fine taste in a woman, and fine taste in her clothing, that’s our Aymeric.”

She looked up to see Aymeric blushing under their praise, trying to hide it in the crystal goblet Estinien had handed him. Her eyes crinkled and lip pulled back in a playful grin. “Truly.” She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. “I tire of chatter.” She rose. “Can we dance, Aymeric?”

He stammered for a moment, handing over his glass and giving Estinien’s back to him, one in each hand. Then, he offered his hand for Etien to take, and lead him to the space cleared for dancing.

The hired musicians were playing a slower song, a waltz they were fond of, when Aymeric and Etien reached the dance floor. So it was even easier to flow with the music, natural as walking.

“Is this the first time we’ve danced since you came home?” Aymeric asked, tilting his head as they turned.

“Certainly for longer than a single boxstep as we maneuvered around each other,” Etien admitted. “We still don’t dance enough.”

“Hard to find the time, when the battlefield has to take precedence over the dance floor.”

“But not right now. Ghimlyt is quiet, Norvrandt is at peace, and the Coerthan night is cold and beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Aymeric replied.

Etien’s eyes closed slowly, accompanied by a light sigh as she accepted the compliment. “I’m blessed to be welcomed home and celebrated by a loving family and in the treasured company of my darling husband. Anyone would look beautiful when they were so happy.”

“I’ve half a mind to kiss you right now.”

“And why not the whole mind, ser?”

Laughing, Aymeric drew her closer and bent to kiss her.

It was a quick, chaste thing, and yet a whisper and a whoop went through the guests assembled. Caught.

Etien giggled, lifting a hand to her lips as they both stepped back, putting some distance between their bodies.

“There are some things which are somehow never acceptable,” Aymeric sighed. “Shall we continue this elsewhere?”

“That was why not the whole mind, wasn’t it?” she asked as they scampered down a hallway.

“I don’t suppose we can fault people for holding onto social rules that don’t cause anyone any real harm,” he said with a light shrug, moving closer to the window they stood before, watching the night sky mirror Etien’s gown in a darker, more wintry shade. “It likely will become something of the city-state’s quirk, eventually a value of the elderly that the youth ignore despite being chastised, and then someday, be gone completely. Perhaps that will be the sign we’re fully a part of the Alliance.”

“I refuse to make a habit of asking about Alliance politics, when I’m only there to offer my feet-on-the-ground perspective to half the leaders attending, but are you not already an integrated part? After all that to-do before the Sultana’s banquet, and then after Azys Lla? I admit, I was fairly distracted in both circumstances, but I could have sworn… and if they insist on dragging three-quarters of the Congregation out every time a cannon goes off--”

“Etien,” Aymeric said quietly, taking her hand. “I know I started it, but we aren’t here to speak of the Alliance. We’re here to celebrate that you’re finally, finally home. And, to people who paid attention, to rejoice in the anniversary of our union.”

“Right,” she replied, voice soft as her gaze turned from the window to their threaded hands between them. “Happy anniversary, darling.”

“There’s no poetry already written or that I could compose now that would fully capture how this last year—these last two years, the three years I’ve had the privilege to know you—have been the most joy-filled of my life, for all the hell we’ve seen within them. I only wish we had ever gotten to spend much time together in that span.”

“What, stolen moments in your office and long weekends of me pretending I was your average runaway-turned-immigrant to Ishgard weren’t enough?”

“No,” he admitted. “I accept it, because all the time I get to have with you is precious, and because we both have the pressure of our acquired positions, but… sometimes I do wish we were ‘normal’. That we didn’t have to pretend.”

Etien was silent for a while, the mix of moonlight and distant lighting of the house making her eyes glisten—or perhaps that was a result of held-back tears. She blinked twice rapidly and then gave her response. “Me too.”

Far away on the dance floor, the music swelled, and with it, Aymeric’s heart. Despite the world and the myriad duties they had to fulfill in it pulling them apart, how many moments had they had like this? Where it was just the two of them, ensconced in their own little world where the stars shone only for them?

He could think of a few times, and in them, he had always felt so alive. Alive and in love, there with Etien and knowing that no matter what happened in the next moment, who needed them and what had to be done, those moments were theirs. And they were spending them together, wanting to be nowhere else.

If he had to steal them, then he would be the best thief the world had ever seen.

“You know,” he mused, trying desperately to lighten the mood and make up for bringing it so low, “out there, they can stop us from expressing our affection, but when it’s just the two of us, and we are supposed to be celebrating…”

Etien took a second, but then she gave him a grin, the one that made her eyeteeth glimmer in the moonlight. “When could they ever really stop us?”

She rubbed his thumb while they still held hands, then let him pick her up and met his lips with her own eagerly, one hand cupping his cheek, fingers catching stray strands of his hair between them, and the other arm slung over his shoulders. The typical position for when he held her aloft like that, attempting to support some of her own weight, but trusting him enough that she didn’t need to worry about letting her legs hang unsupported. She didn’t scrabble for purchase. He had her, as he always had her.

They broke for breath, and when she’d had her fill of air, she spoke. “I didn’t get to say it before, foolishly choosing to joke, but I want to make sure it’s said. I was nervous the day we met, even though Haurchefant told me I had nothing to worry about. I don’t think he had any idea what the years held for us, but he was right regardless. These have been three of the longest years of my life, but it’s like I said in my letters. A life with you is better than any alternative. I want slow years with you, so I can savor the time… rare though it is.”

“It won’t always be.”

“That’s what I’ve been praying for.”

“I intend to make it so, sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, please do,” she breathed, pulling him in again for a more heated kiss.

They separated when they heard footsteps, but it was too late.

Estinien had taken in the tableau, familiar though it was, in some ways. Etien’s right ear visible to the side of Aymeric’s head, a leg hooked over his hip, one exposed silver pump glinting in the dim light.

And then, the sheepish expressions, until they saw who it was that had come to them.

“I had come to bring you your abandoned wine, Aymeric,” Estinien began, “but I see you’re drinking deep of something else.”

“Aye, well…” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to join us, if you can keep quiet.”

“Oh, not a peep,” he assured the couple. “I cannot say I wouldn’t have been more shameless if it had been me.”

“It can be,” Etien said. “Would you say we’ve been here long enough, Aymeric? I never know how much time needs to pass before we look rude.”

“We had better take another turn talking to people,” he said with a near groan, taking his wine from Estinien. “Then we can leave. Bag up some celebration to bring home.”

Etien giggled, hooking her arms through both Aymeric’s and Estinien’s for a moment, before they went back into the party.

She would certainly be more a lively guest with that to look forward to.

#fic #Aytien #Wyrmelliferel #suggestive but not like...#please do not expect me to use accents properly in titles XD

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years

Text

Inuyasha’s New pup 1-3

When Souta had first heard the news that his mom and sister were going away for a week to a spa treatment, he was excited. with his grandfather on a seniors cruise for at least two weeks he would have the place to himself and was already thinking up tons of evil little ideas about how to have fun, As if reading his mind though his mother had nixed all those plans in the bud. "Before you go and plan all night video games sessions with your little friends, I want you to know we got you a babysitter." she said and smirked. Behind her Kagome giggled behind a hand as Souta got a pout on his face. "You know the lack of trust around here is appalling! Kagome can go and run around in the past and your OK with that, but leaving me all by myself?" the Boy huffed and crossed his arms, then froze, opening his eyes and a look of panic on his face. "Please tell me it's not Mrs.Watanabe again! she's looking after her grand daughters for the summer!" Images of being forced into endless tea party's and dress up filled his mind and then boy shuddered. "-Snk- No Sweetie. as cute as you were in that sailor dress.." Mom paused there and a crimson flare came to the boys cheeks as he glared. "I talked it over with Kagome and we found a better babysitter for you that should make things easier on you." Souta raised a eyebrow at that even as Kagome snickered at the mention of the dress. (Mom had insisted on taking a picture before letting him get changed too since Kagome had been in the past at the time!) "sooo who's gonna be looking after me?" Souta asked then flinched as a hand was on his head suddenly. "It'll be me and you pup." Came Inuyasha's voice. Souta broke into a big grin and turned around, then hugged the half demon. "Yes! does this mean I'll go to the past and have adventures too and get weird powers like Kagome?!?" he asked, excited. "NO!" came the combined voices of mom and Kagome. "Yeahhh Sorry pup. I was all for taking you back to the past with me but your mom and big sis tore me a new one. and 'sides, we don't have AC in the feudal era and there's a heat wave going on." Inuyasha chuckled. he'd taking to calling Souta pup after seeing him in a doggy Halloween costume and unlike when anyone else tried to call him that, Souta didn't mind if it was Inuyasha "Ehhh fine. I'm sure this will still be a super awesome week! I'll teach you how to play battle monsters on my computer and you can train me to be kick butt like you and-" "whoa, easy there pup, Breath." Inuyasha chuckled as Kagome and her mom giggled. It was clear to all the adults Souta had a boy crush on the half demon. There was a few more pleasantries exchanged and then Kagome and her mom had to go and catch their train, making a big show of kissing and hugging Souta who squirmed and wiped off the lipstick and whined as his mom stated over and over she'd call every night so he wouldn't miss her. "Moooom I'm not a baby!" he whined and huffed. "mmmmhmm.. Tell that to someone who doesn't wash your bed sheets." Mom had said and then headed off, Leaving Souta to fume and blush as Kagome walked away from Inuyasha. "Just remember what I told you, he's really sensitive about his bed wetting so don't make fun of him or anything, just help him wash his sheets and put his futon out to dry." Kagome said in a low tone. "Don't worry, I have a full proof plan to handle it!" Inuyasha said and smirked. "..No potions, magic, or other weirdness or I swear I'll pin you back to that tree by your nuts." Kagome growled then went and joined her mom. "Women.." Inuyasha huffed. a lesser demon would of taken her warning to heart and backed off on his plan, but Inuyasha was a legend in his own mind and knew what he had planned would A) make things easier on him and B) help Souta in the long run and C) would just look cute. Walking over to the Lil pup Inuyasha ruffled his head, then bent down and wiped at the boy's face. "You missed some lipstick. Mom's, Am I right?' he asked and wagged his eyebrows. "heh..hehehe yeah! Come on, let's go play battle monsters!" Souta said then his tummy grumbled. "Sounds like I should feed you first." Inuyasha chuckled. the boy froze and got a worried look on his face and Inuyasha raised a eyebrow, then chuckled. "What I made for Kagome was soup to help her feel better. I'm just making ramen for us." Inuyasha clarified for the worried pup. "Oh thank god!" Souta said and wiped imaginary sweat off his brow. "Just for that I'm making soup for supper." Inuyasha teased and winked so the pup would know he was kidding. "Oh yeah? if you do I'll run away like TH-" Souta said, getting ready to take off then inuyasha just snatched him up and put him under one arm, carrying him inside. "...I let you catch me." "of course you did." Souta sat at the table, blushing a little at just how easily Inuyasha had man handled him. then again he shouldn't be THAT shocked, Kagome could still pick him up and carry him, for a little while at least, and Inuyasha was SO much stronger. Sitting at the kitchen table with his elbows on it and his head in his hands and his butt in his booster seat (he wasn't short, the damn table was too high, or that was his story) Souta watched as Inuyasha prepared their lunch. 'He's just so damn cool. I wanna be just like him when i grow up!' Souta mentally gushed. The dog demon seemed to have the act of making ramen cups down to a art and rooted though the fridge for them to get something to drink, his head disappearing in the fridge and then coming back out with a confused look. "heh. Souta, is this yours?" he asked and then pulled out a clear baby bottle, that was half filled with milk. Instantly the boys face turned crimson as he shook his head no. "NO! That was from a little kid mom was babysitter a couple of days ago! they musta left the bottle in the fridge!" he said fast, knowing that despite it being the truth, the way he was acting would make it seem like he was lying. "Heh. if you say so. You know, I think you'd look cute drinking out of this. and would save me having to worry about any spills." Inuyasha said, but shrugged and went to put the bottle back. Souta whined, Kagome must of told him what a butter fingers he'd been lately, dropping cups when walking from room to room to the point mom made him drink at the table now or would bring the cup in to him. "well..uh.. I'll make you a deal." Souta said, rubbing the back of his head. "oh?" "I'll use the baby bottle just for like..this week. but only inside..and i get to stay up for a extra hour." "heh. Deal." Inuyasha said and then took the bottle out and unscrewed the cap and wrinkled his nose. "I'm gonna wash it out first though. this milk is going off. Last thing I need is you with rotten egg farts." Inuyasha teased and stuck his touge out. "heh.. hehehe yeah! all fear my all mighty BUTT!" Souta giggled and wiggled his butt around in his booster seat. 'eh, I can suck out of a baby bottle for Inuyasha. not like he knows how to work a camera.' Souta thought. Washing the bottle and nipple out, Inuyasha decided to throw the little pup a bone and filled it with some pop, pausing to go and drain the cups as they were done and dumping their contents in two bowls. getting the bowls, the bottle, his own cup of pop and some chopsticks on a tray, he carried it over with a towel over his shoulder and smirked. "Lunch is served my lord." he said and winked. oh, the Lil guy LOVED that and giggled lots and it was shocking just how perfect Souta seemed for what Inuyasha had in mind. between the booster seat and just how natural he looked drinking from the baby bottle (using both his hands to hold it, like a real baby!) Inuyasha kept finding himself watching Souta eat with a smile, and slowly enjoyed his noodles and drink. Souta on the other hand, you'd of sworn he hadn't of eaten for a week the way he slurped his food down, getting broth all over his shirt and face and letting out loud belches. "Heh, Maybe I shoulda gotten you a bib." Inuyasha teased and nodded to the boys shirt. "Oh..Uh..well i skipped breakfast this morning..ehehehe." Souta said, rubbing the back of his head. "mom calls me her little black hole." "..What's a black hole?" Inuyasha asked, tilting his head, and since Souta had finished his ramen and Inuyasha could always make more later, he slid his bowl over to the boy and listened, only half understanding what he was hearing. with all the ramen gone, Inuyasha grabbed the towel from before and used it to wipe down Souta's noodle covered face and got him to take off his shirt so Inuyasha could put it in the wash. Souta had drained his baby bottle, so Inuyasha refilled it with some milk then told the little pup to go and watch some TV while he cleaned up. As he took off for the living room Inuyasha watched as the boy dropped the baby bottle three time, and looked a little tired. but then again what little guy wasn't tuckered out after a big meal? Souta felt a little weird at first, using the baby bottle around Inuyasha, but his hero didn't seem to think anything less of him and seemed happy he was mature enough to use one. (or at least that was the spin Souta was putting on it) He was fumbling more then normal and found himself kinda glad his milk was in the baby bottle with all the times he dropped it, and was glad it was milk not pop since A) the pop would of been all shook up and mighta popped the top off and B) well, he actually didn't really care for pop, just didn't want Inuyasha to think he was a baby so he had forced it down. Plopping on the couch he turned on the tv and browsed the channels, there wasn't anything really on except for a few shows meant for younger kids. 'so it's between Sazae-san or the weather channel. yeahhh. Sazae-san it is' he thought and settled in. the baby bottle had opened up a little bit from all of the drops, and Souta didn't notice till he looked down and saw a wet spot on his jeans, on the upper thigh though thankfully and after readjusting the cap he decided to just tug'em off and he'd toss them to Inuyasha when the half demon came in, or went he got up to use the bathroom. 'It's just us guys anyways.' he reasoned, sitting on the couch in his red briefs. Inuyasha poked his head into the living room to check on him, and grinned ear to ear. "So apparently this is a pants optional zone?" Souta, who had been mid drink smirked around his bottle and then pulled it out, giggling. "The bottle was leaking and i didn't wanna get the couch damp." he explained. "oh, VERY mature reasoning." Inuyasha said and nodded. having his hero praise him Souta grinned like a Cheshire cat, at least till a big yawn over took him AND his bladder signaled it was time to tap a kidney. "what are we watching?" Inuyasha asked, coming in and sitting down. "Oh, you can change the channel if you want, I gotta go take a leak." Souta said, then reading the confusion on Inuyasha's face clarified. "I gotta go pee pee." "oh! heh, well ok. do you need me to go with you or something?" "N-no! I just was letting you know!" Souta said, instantly blushing. "Hey hey, calm down.. I was just asking." Inuyasha said putting his hands up in defense. "...sorry. ehehehe." Souta said and yawned again then got up and headed for the bathroom. it wouldn't be till he got to said bathroom that he noticed a damp spot in his dark red undies and blushed terribly..there had been that one point where he'd zonked out for thirty seconds. taking care of natures call he decided he'd go and make a detour to his room and get dressed again before coming back. Inuyasha could smell the slight accident as he came in, and waited for Souta to fuss up, but either the little guy was hoping he wouldn't notice or was truly clueless. there was even a slightly damp spot on the couch and Inuyasha knew he'd have to clean that, but oddly it didn't bug him as much as it should since if anything it was going to make putting the little guy back in diapers, at least for nap times and bed times (and maybe more judging from this) easier. Realizing Souta had been gone far too long just for a tinkle, Inuyasha got up to go and check on him, taking the baby bottle that was still half full with him. There was no one in the bathroom, though Souta's damp undies were on the floor and Inuyasha pictured the boy streaking around the house in his birthday suit and laughed softly, then pictured Kagome's reaction if she found out. "...I better go make sure he's getting dressed." walking into Souta's room Inuyasha had to bite his touge to keep from laughing out, the little pup had tugged a light blue t-shirt on and had a pair of shorts on the bed..and a pair of black undies halfway up his legs before he'd laid down on his bed and apparently dropped off to sleep, half dressed. 'And here I thought I'd have to put a sleeping pill in his drinks to get him to take naps.' Inuyasha thought with a ear to ear grin. he quietly left the room and went and got his bag he'd packed for this weekend, and came back to the room as quickly as possible, catching Souta as he was sleepily tugging his undies up. "heh, tired little guy?" "Y-yeah. think it was all the -URP- ramen." Souta said, burping mid sentence. "Might go for a little nap if that's OK." "Of course! butttt I think before you go for a nap, we should get you in some protection." Inuyasha said with a big grin. "huh?" Souta asked, confused, and rubbing a eye. Inuyasha smiled and then reached into his bag, pulling out a thick white diaper. "...I'm still dreaming aren't I? because otherwise are you OUT OF YOUR MIND!?!" Souta huffed and crossed his arms. "What do you think is easier, Cleaning your bedding and then laying your futon out to dry in the sun, Or just tossing out some wet diapers in the trash? I already have to put the couch cushion out." Inuyasha pointed out. "...Oh..you uh.. noticed that." "Yeahhh buddy. I noticed. now I could just put you in diapers 24/7 for the rest of the week but I wanna be fair, and just diaper your butt for your nap and your bedtime..unless you start having more daytime accidents. but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Souta huffed and whined lots, biting his lip and clearly trying to decide what to do. "Souta, I'm gonna make this kinda easy on you. one way or anther your butt is going in this diaper." Inuyasha said and put it down on the bed, taking out some baby powder too. "But I would like it if you'd let me diaper you and prove you're a mature young boy taking responsibility for his accidents, instead of being a huffy little toddler whining he's a big boy." Souta huffed again, and had his thumb at his lips, lightly biting the end of it but really it looked like he was fighting the urge to suck it. Finally he spoke up. "You can NOT tell mom or Kagome about this, and it's only when i'm sleeping. Deal?" "Deal." Souta covered his face with a pillow, unable to watch as his hero tugged his undies off and then proceeded to put him back into diapers. with the big bulky thing under his butt (Inuyasha didn't even bother to tell him to lift, he could easily move the boy into position) he felt his nether regions getting coated with baby powder and even though his his pillow he could smell it. then the diaper was tugged up and taped and the pillow was gently tugged away from his face, with Inuyasha giving a warm caring smile to him. "there? was that so bad?" the demon asked. Souta semi sat up, braced on his elbows and looked down. at least it was a plain white diaper, not a nursery print or something but it looked so big and bulky, and when he tried to close his legs together it was a no go. "...I don't even think I can walk in this!" "well good thing it's just for when your sleeping then." Inuyasha chuckled. Souta pouted but if he was being truthful, the big bulky diaper around his hips kinda maybe sorta not that he'd ever admit it, or even think it too loudly in case a mind reader was walking close by, felt nice. "I..I..uh.." Souta squirmed a little more in the bulky diaper, then eyed his ba-ba..('Baby bottle!' he reminded himself) on the dresser. Inuyasha followed his gaze and and reached for for the bottle, handing it to Souta. "You still thirsty?" "Y-yeah. thanks." Souta said and laid back on his bed, baby bottle in mouth and wiggled in his diapers. trying desperately to ignore just how natural it all felt. 'Maybe this week will be even better then i thought..and i wonder if Inuyasha has one of those suckie thingies.' Souta thought. before he could ask though the milk apparently finished him off and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, not seeing Inuyasha gently taking the bottle. The half demon would close the boys curtains, and tug his blanket up over him, then as a after thought, pop a soother with a red mouth guard on it into his mouth. "have a good sleep Lil guy~" the half demon whispered, and tip toed out

Chapter 2 Souta squirmed slightly as he sucked on his paci. he wearing light red pair of short-all's with a puppy face on the front. under the short-all's he was wearing a white diaper shirt and of course under THAT he was wearing two of the thick diapers daddy Inuyasha had gotten. Daddy had him in a big stroller and he was strapped in tight, and daddy had a big diaper bag over one shoulder as he pushed (wearing his ball cap of course) and the diaper bag was clearly labeled after daddy had gone and stitched it, as 'SOUTA'S DIAPER BAG'. they were going to the park so Souta could get some outdoor playtime in whether he liked it or not, and daddy was talking up how cute Souta was going to look. "I bet you'll be the cutest boy on the playground, playing in the sand box or going down the slid. if you want, I'll even push you on the swing set!" Souta was of course less sure about all of this and his tummy was gurgling lots from his nerves and the big breakfast they had had. "uh..Daddy..what if people i know are there?" Souta asked, taking his paci out first. "then they'll get to see the real you, a bigggg cute and adorable baby butt.Unless you'd rather go back to being a total big boy all the time." Inuyasha chuckled. the big baby shook his head no and popped his paci in as they came up to the play ground part of the park, eyes darting around but so far it was just toddlers and their mommies and daddies., some of who were looking over at the pair oddly. Inuyasha paid them no mind and unbuckled the big baby from his stroller and helped him to the ground, Souta wearing white sneakers and red socks and the bulk of his diaper butt made it so he could only take a few wobbly steps before his legs gave out and he plopped on his butt. "Awww~ Is my widdle guy having trouble walking?" Inuyasha coo'ed, gushing and leaning down. "Do you need daddy to carry you? he doesn't mind!" Souta was blushing but nodded, and reached up for the half demon who easily picked him up and set him on his hip, a arm under his butt while Souta snuggled into him. "where do you wanna go and play first?" Inuyasha asked, using his free hand to drop the diaper bag in the stroller and tugging it over to a bench by a few moms. "Would you ladies do me a favor and watch this for me? my little guy isn't ready to walk yet." Souta whined and buried his face in daddies chest at that as the ladies chuckled. "oh of course, how old is he?" One mom asked. "Eight going on one. before you ask, this was all his idea, though he's gone a little shy." Inuyasha said. the other mom smirked and reached out and patted Souta's butt. "is that true little guy?" Souta pulled his face out of daddies chest and suckled lots on his paci, but nodded his head. "Awww!" "so cute!" with the mommies watching their stroller the pair headed off for the swing set, since going up and down the slide while unable to walk wouldn't be a good idea and it wasn't big enough for Inuyasha to go down with him. getting Souta sat in one of the baby swings was a little bit of a struggle, because despite his small size the bulky diapers were semi in the way. Still with a bit of effort the little guy was secure and Inuyasha ruffled his hair, making him smile behind his paci before gently pushing him a few times and then letting Souta just go back and forth on his own. It only took a little bit though before Souta got bored of the swing, plus some of the other little boys were giving him the stink eye for hogging the baby swing. taken over to the sand box Souta made semi friends with a 3 and 4 year old who deemed that despite his bigger size, since THEY were both in big boy undies, they were the big boys and Souta hada listen to them. Souta just smirked and nodded his head and they lent him a bucket and shovel, he was in charge of making the basic foundations for the fronts they were gonna use for the toys soldier the older of the two boys had (though the finishing touches they put on them mostly involved tracing a line around the mounds and sticking twigs in them, but hey, he was just a big baby, like he was gonna argue) The only bad part was his tummy hadn't gotten all that much better and he kept letting out muffled farts. "hey, if hafa go poopie you needa get outta da sand box." the older boy said. "yeah! dun want da sand ta smell like fart all day!" the younger one said, nodding his head lots. "Sowwy!" Souta lisped around his paci. even as he said it, he leaned forward and let out anther LOUD fart,only this time it wasn't just a fart. cheek's flaming up red he rolled over onto his hands and knees and the paci fell out into the sand as he started to grunt. "is he?" the younger of the two asked, holding his nose. "Ugh, yeah! HEY MISTER! YOUR BABY IS POOPING!" the older called, then held his nose to, tugging his pal away from the big baby as the back of Souta's diaper expanded as much as it could in the confines of the short-alls he was wearing. Inuyasha had been talking to the mommies, but now came over and smiled even as Souta's stinky funk filled the air. "Is that right buddy? are you making daddy a present?" Inuyasha asked, kneeling down and rubbing Souta's back, and pocketing the dirty paci. "N-No! just farting!" Souta said, trying to save face even though it was pretty clear to anyone what he was doing. "really? are you SURE about that? daddy can just check you know." Inuyasha said, and just kept rubbing Souta's lower back, which oddly..helped his poopies come out faster. "Uhhh I..I..yeah! So..Y-You can go back and talk." Souta said. "heh. Buddy if you wanna stay in your poopie diapers for awhile, thats a at home thing." Inuyasha said in a low voice, then talked louder. "I think daddy better check for presents." with that Inuyasha stood up, but then picked Souta up under his armpits and lifted him up into the air, so he could sniff his bum. "whew! somebody made daddy LOTS of presents! we better go get you changed!" Inuyasha chuckled, pulling Souta in for a hug and setting him on his hip again, squishing the boys muddy back side in a way that wasn't as awful as Souta had pictured a poo poo pamper would be. "ok Souta. now it's time to wake up." Daddy said." as he walked over to the stroller. "huh?" "wake up sleepy head. come on. wakey wakey." Souta's eyes flew open and he sat up in his bed, looking around confused. "about time. it's almost 5 and I figured you MIGHT wanna have a few hours awake before your bed time." Inuyasha chuckled. "besides, I think somebody needs a diaper change." Souta tilted his head, looking around his room and then slowly it dawned on him. "Oh, it was all a dream." he said out loud as Inuyasha cocked a eyebrow."i uh..ehehe..hada dream I was at the park with you, in diapers and with a stroller and everything, and went poopie. felt so real I swear I can still smell the stinky diaper." the boy said, rubbing the back of his head. then he sniffed again and realized that he COULD still smell the poopie diaper, and when he wiggled his butt around his diaper felt..muddy. "Yeahhh that part wasn't just a dream buddy. I came in and found you grunting and pushing and tried to wake you up but me shaking your back lightly just made it come out more. My bad." Inuyasha said sheepishly. Souta tossed back his blanket and felt his cheeks color at the site of his swollen diaper. He had wet it and clearly messed himself. Looking away from it he went and looked around the bed, spotting a paci by his pillow and snagged it popping it in his mouth. "Hey hey, it's OK. accidents happen! Maybe the milk was going off, who knows!" Inuyasha said and patted Souta's back. "but at least you were in a diaper for your accident right?" Souta suckled and nodded. "So how about we go and get you cleaned up and then you can put on some normal undies and we forget allllll about this?" Souta thought for a moment, then suckled a lot more on the paci in his mouth, having figured Inuyasha had given it to him while he was sleeping, then shook his head no. Inuyasha was slightly taken back by that. He'd figured Souta, with all the blushing was upset and wanted to get changed asap.As was Inuyasha felt bad, and was wondering if maybe he hadn't cleaned the pacifier right or if he had made the ramen wrong and that was why Souta had had his accident. "ok..uh..did you wanna clean up by yourself?" Inuyasha asked, thinking maybe Souta didn't want the help. again, a head shake. "Dooo you wanna uh..STAY in it?" He tried, rubbing the back of his head, and again, anther head shake no. "ok throw me a bone here, what DO you want?" Souta squirmed a little, and suckled more, then pointed at the duffel bag with the diapers in them, then grabbed his pillow and buried his face in it. "Ooooh." Inuyasha smirked, getting it now. "I can change you and put you in anther diaper if that's what you want Lil guy." Souta slowly lowered the pillow and grinned behind the paci and nodded his head. "Ok Lil guy, lay back, though i better open a window before we start. if you're just stinky now.." Inuyasha said and winked, then took a pillow to the face. "...you're lucky your cute." Souta giggled as he laid back on his bed. his window was open and so was his diaper and while the smell wasn't that pleasant, he felt just like a little baby and it felt pretty darn good. Once he was all clean (Inuyasha had been really smart and gotten wipes with the rest of the supplies, which in turn made Souta picture him buying all of this and giggle behind his paci) Inuyasha had him lift up his bum and got the clean diapie under him and once he was all powdered it was taped up. "I'll go dispose of the 'treasure', you get dressed and we'll go and figure out what we wanna do." Inuyasha said and walked out with the dirty wipes inside the stinky diaper, holding it out a bit from himself and with his hand on as little of it as possible. Souta slid out of his bed and took a few experimental steps in the diapers, recalling how he'd fallen on his butt in his dream and (thankfully) found he was able to walk, albeit with a waddle to his step. waddling over to his dresser he looked though it for a pair of shorts to wear. Settling on a pair he'd had for gym class, and was red with white strips up the side, he tried to tug them one and found they were a little bit too tight with the bulky diaper. Sliding the back down he tossed them onto the bed and went with a looser blue pair and they JUST fit over the diaper, but were a little too snug for his liking so again, then got slid down and joined the other pair on his bed. 'Well this doesn't bold well.' Souta thought, rubbing his chin with the paci still in his mouth, then settling on a white pair of shorts that even with the draw string tied, he had been forced to tug up lots. Mom had said he'd grow into them and now apparently they were his last hope. Third time was the charm and they fit over the diapers, and he only had to tie the drawstring in a loose bow. the top of the diapers semi showed but he figured once he got a shirt on it would be all good. Thankfully getting a shirt on wasn't as big of a challenge and soon he waddled out in his white shorts, and a pair of white socks, with a t-shirt that was white for the body and had red sleeves. toddling into the kitchen Inuyasha was washing out hi- the baby bottle and turned to smirk. "I was starting to wonder if I'd have to come in there and dress you. did you have trouble getting pants that would fit?" he asked and Souta nodded. "Hmm, Maybe tomorrow we'll go shopping and get some thinner diapers for you then." Souta whined and shook his head no. "OK I'm not playing 20 questions every time i ask you something. what do you wanna do then?" Inuyasha chuckled. Souta huffed and then took the paci out. "I wanna go get pants that'll fit over this. and more diapers! I don't think you'll have enough if I'm wearing them ALL the time while your here." Souta said and grinned. "well considering I didn't even know if I'd be able to get you to wear for bed and nap time..." Inuyasha said and stuck out his touge. "You uh..gonna be using the potty at all while wearing them?" "III might? I dunno. kinda not sure how I feel about using them since i was asleep for it." Souta said and rubbed the back of his head. "Fair enough. but we can get more even if you just wanna wear and still use the potty." Inuyasha said and having cleaned the baby bottle headed for the fridge. "You want some more pop?" "actually not a big fan, do we have any milk left?" Souta asked. "heh, yeah, something tells me I better pick up more tomorrow too while we're out. Might have to make a list." "I'll 'menber and tell you..though uh, you do have money right? Like, vendors don't take dead animals as trade here." Souta said. "..Oh really? and here I thought I was gonna go and hunt a wild boar to pay for your diapers." Inuyasha said deadpan. "Your mom and sis left some cash and for your information, I can trade dead animals in for money at some of the butcher shops. how do you think I brought the diapers your wearing smarty pants?" "..you know in hindsight.." Souta said sheepishly, then accepted the baby bottle from Inuyasha and drank the cold milk. "So what do you wanna do till supper pup? I figure I'll order something around 7ish." "hmmm, we could go outside and play some football for awhile." Souta suggested. Inuaysha looked a little unsure about that. "Uhhh you sure you wanna do that pup?" he asked. "Whattt? Is the big bad Half demon scared of the diaper boy?" Souta giggled and turned around and swatted his puffy butt twice. " -Snk- no, I'm more worried because you can sorta tell your wearing a diaper, even with those shorts on." Inuyasha pointed out. "well I might as well get used to wearing outside now, I'll be wearing them out tomorrow." Souta pointed out. "Well semi thought you'd wanna go out in undies while shopping." "and HOW are we suppose to tell if my new pants or shorts will fit over the diapers then silly?" Souta asked and giggled at the dawning look on Inuyasha's face as he took anther swig from his ba-ba. "Touche. was just thinking about you. I might sorta kinda like you ya dork." Inuyasha said and playfully punched Souta in the arm, then picked him up and set him on his hip, just like in the dream, and headed for the door. An hour later the pair came inside, with Souta tired by happy and Inuyasha more or less the same. they had taken turns in the net and Souta had won 5 to 2 and never suspected a thing about how Inuyasha had let him win. the only slight problem with the whole thing had been when some people had started up the shrine steps, apparently a sight seeing family and had assumed the house was a shrine, but Inuyasha's hearing had picked them up and he'd gotten his ball cap on and turned to ask them to leave. (Though he had a feeling the two young boys of the family, 5 and 7 by the looks of them had seen Souta, and also noted the padding judging by the grins and giggles coming from them) Naturally Inuyasha kept this to himself when it became clear Souta thought he was still in the clear, since he didn't wanna upset the little guy and since the family looked American he doubted it was really going to be a issue. he sent Souta to go and wash up while he called the pizza place, following a script that Kagome had left him so he didn't sound too weird and had a large meat lovers on it's way by the time Souta came out of the bathroom, admittedly with the dirt gone since he had turned it into muddy smudges. "you know, I hear theirs this amazing thing, called soap and water. and if you use it, you actually get clean." Inuyasha commented and then went and got a rag from the sink wet and soapy and motioned the diaper boy over. "GASP! Is that how that works?" Souta said, and stuck his touge out at the demon and giggled. "you know, if you just wanted me to wash you, you coulda just said so." Inuyasha commented, wiping down the boys face and hands and arms. "wheres the fun in that?And what did ya order?" Souta asked as Inuyasha wiped down his legs. "Pizza, a meat lovers. So if i have to wash you does that mean I'm gonna need to cut your food up and feed you too?" Inuyasha asked and smirked. the boy froze and blushed. "er, I think that MIGHT be going a little too far." Sensing he'd gone a bit too far Inuyasha nodded and dropped it. "So wanna watch a movie while we wait? I figure we can eat in the living room." Inuyasha said then added. "well you'll eat on a blanket on the floor. I've watched you eat." "heh, fair enough and sure! But I get to pick the movie!" Souta said and then dashed into the living room. (Well maybe dash wasn't the right word for the boys movement with the thick diapers, seeing as it had swelled a bit from his sweat while playing outside.) 'mental note: next time pick him up and carry him before he trips and hurts himself.' Inuyasha thought shaking his head and then moved to follow.

chapter 3

In the end Souta picked Kiki's delivery service and Inuyasha found himself struggling to get into it. Still, the Lil pup clearly liked it, giggling and coo'ing as he watched it so that helped make up for the boredom. They were half a hour in when a knock at the front door. Souta started to get up, with a cry of 'I'll get it!' but thankfully his diaper butt slowed him down and Inuyasha firmly but gentle pushed him back on his butt. "I think I'll get it, Your in huggies and I'm the one with the money remember?"He asked. "Oh..yeah." Souta giggled and blew a raspberry. Chuckling at what a cute diaper dork Souta was turning out to be Inuyasha went and answered the door, glad he'd decided to be the one when it was a high school aged boy with the pie's. the guy stared though lots and it wasn't till Inuyasha paid and closed the door he realized why and cursed softly. "Smart. REAL smart." he muttered, as he'd taken the ball cap off when they came back inside and had forgotten to put it back on. "Maybe he'll just think I'm a furry." Walking back into the living room with the pizza pies', Inuyasha was taken back for a second as Souta was in just his diapers, his shirt and pants folded up neatly on the side of the blanket. "Do I wanna ask?" Inuyasha asked smirking, as he set the pizza down. "I don't wanna get Pizza all over my clothes." Souta said with a giggle. "Oh! well that was VERY clever of you little guy!" he said, and reached over to ruffle the little guys hair. "ehehehe yeah!" Souta beamed with pride, then got a funny look on his face. "Er..Inuyasha.. did you put your cap on?" "..yeah no. in hindsight I should let you answer the door. I figure buddy will just think I'm a furry or something." "heh. hehehe silly 'yasha!" Souta giggled. Getting the little diaper boy 2 pieces of pizza on a plate and refilling his baby bottle, Inuyasha sat down with some pop and 4 pieces on his plate. He had toyed with going and grabbing a bib he had seen in the dish towel drawer and tying it around Souta's neck, but given how the little guy had reacted when he asked about cutting up his food and feeding him Inuyasha didn't wanna push the little guy too far. Still, he found himself fascinated watching Souta eat as by the time they were done, he had pizza sauce on his chest, his arms, and SOMEHOW in his hair. 'Ok I don't care what he says, next time we get pizza I'm feeding him.' If Souta was telling the truth he was a little disappointed that Inuyasha hadn't put a bib on him, though he figured it was his own fault for his reaction to being fed. Still, to encourage a bib for his next meal Souta went all out being a big messy baby, getting sauce all over himself and giggling as he saw Inuyasha's eyes twitching. with the meal over, and the movie basically done Inuyasha turned it off and smirked at Souta. "Did you even get any in your mouth?" he teased. "Some! And it was good!" Souta said then let out a loud belch, followed by a muffled fart. the fart brought a light blush to his face as he hadn't meant for THAT to come out but Inuyasha just smirked. "My pup is gas powered now huh?" Inuyasha teased. "Do need a diaper change or anything? Actually, never mind on that, you need a bath. your more sauce then boy at this point." Souta giggled, having been about to admit he'd been soaking his diaper off and on during the movie and was pretty soggy. Inuyasha picked him up under his arm pits and carried him towards the bathroom, with Souta getting semi nervous as he was carried because his diaper was sagging BIG time. "I was gonna ask if you needed to sit on the potty before your bath but I think you're all peed out." Inuyasha chuckled. "eheheh..well i figured why bother getting up when.." Souta said sheepishly. "hey, not complaining." Inuyasha said. He set the little guy down on his feet as they got in the bathroom, un-taping the soggy diaper and balling it up and tossing it in the bin, then moving to start the water, looking over his shoulder. "While I'm filling up the tub you can still try and use the potty if you want." Souta nodded and then let out anther poot, and popped a seat on the toilet and let out a few more thunder poots as Inuyasha got the tub filled up for him. "heh, all good? you're not gonna you know what in the tub are you?" Inuyasha asked as he shut the water off. "NO!" Souta huffed, crossing his arms and blushing BIG time. "ok ok. Do you wanna wash yourself or.." Inuyasha trailed off. "oh..um.. " Souta rubbed the back of his head, "You can wash me a guess, but I wanna play with my bath toys after!" Souta said and pointed to a cabinet. "heh, Fair enough." After getting the little fart machine clean, and letting him play for half a hour in the water Inuyasha claimed Souta was wrinkled enough and pulled the plug, helping the pup out of the tub and drying him off with a thick fluffy towel then swaddling him in it and carrying him to his bedroom. He hadn't bothered to go and get Souta's pants and shirt since it was almost bedtime though he had left the little guy alone to go and get the baby bottle and get it cleaned out, having refilled it with just water for the night since they were getting low on milk and figured Souta would want some for breakfast in the morning. he had a blue mouth guard paci for the little guy to nurse on as he handed him one of his stuffies (A puppy dog this time) and then proceeded to get Souta in anther thick diaper and then tickled his tummy as Souta nursed on his paci and hugged the stuffie. "You ready for bed or want a bed time story first?" Inuyasha asked, having set the ba-ba of water on Souta's night stand. "Stowy!" Souta coo'ed around his paci. "..Your just too damn cute, you know that right?" Inuyasha said and tapped a finger on Souta's nose while the Lil pup giggled and nodded. Getting up he walked over and looked over the selection of books Souta had on his dresser, then picked one called 'The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs!' and started to read to the little guy, who conked out before he was halfway though the first story. Inuyasha was confused, they had been out shopping for a little while and the longer they were out the more bold Souta got (not that he minded that) but they had also gone to a few stores Inuyasha hadn't of expected. case in point, at the moment they were at a junior miss which just happened to have a big baby section and Souta had shoo'ed him away while going to pick out a few thing to try on. It wasn't that he wasn't all for Souta wearing whatever he wanted, it was just that well..he'd expected a diaper BOY to cuddle and look after and now it was looking like he was gonna have a little sissy on his hands. 'I hope he's not as moody as his sister.' Inuyasha thought with a little smirk. of course he liked liked Kagome but there was times when she just got on his last nerve, such as having to sit and wait on her to pick out outfits or once a month when there was just NO pleasing her. Still he would TRY and be a nice supportive daddy, or at least that's what he told himself till Souta pulled back the Curtain and skipped out. He was wearing a pair of pink flat's, that had hot pink bows on them, followed by a pair of knee highs that were a lighter shade of pink then the shoes. he had on a hot pink diaper cover over his diaper, with some light pink frills on the butt (Something Inuyasha got to see as the boy turned around and patted his butt) and was wearing a pink (the same shade as the shoes) dress that had puffy shoulders with the skirt part ruffled and FAR to short to cover up the boys diapers when he was standing. To top the look off he had a bow in his hair, once again hot pink and stood back up and blew a kiss at Inuyasha. "what do you think daddy? Aren't I the cutest widdle sissy ever?" Souta gushed and did a little twirl. "I uh..well.." Inuyasha stammered for a reply. "Oh! I know the problem!" Souta said and snapped his fingers, suddenly Inuyasha was in a matching out. "You wanna go twinies! that's ok! I called Kagome back and she can watch both of us!" Inuyasha was frozen in shock and shame as he looked at the bulk between his legs, and at his reflection, then heard Kagome giggling. "Awww there's my little sissies!" She giggled and snapped pictures of them both, Souta posing and Inuyasha trying to cover his diaper up. As he did so Sango and Koga and every one was suddenly there, all pointing and laughing at the padded and sissified demon. Sitting up in his bed in the guest bedroom, Inuyasha was drenched in sweat and blushing badly as he panted. "Ok. That's it. no more ranmen before bed." he groaned and flopped back on his back, trying to get back to sleep. Thankfully the rest of the night was nightmare free,And Inuyasha was woken up about 10 minutes before his alarm clock would of gone off anyways by Souta jumping on his bed. "Come onnn, it's morning, we can do stuff again!" the Lil pup giggled, crawling up the bed and shaking Inuyasha. "I don't suppose you'd just go and let me have the 10 minutes left I have on my alarm clock?" Inuyasha asked, smirking and trying to pull his blanket up but then caught whiff of why Souta might of been eager for him to wake up. "heh, Did you make boom boom in your sleep again, or woke up and decided you might need some smelling slat to wake me up?" Inuyasha said, rolling over and tugging Souta in for a hug. "ehehehe..Woke up smelly and uh.. it's not the worst feeling in the world but wanna a diapie change." Souta said and nuzzled into the half demon. "Alirght. fair enough, though do you always mess the bed, or this just a special treat saved for me?" Inuyasha teased, letting go of the boy and sliding out of bed in just his boxers and sliding a pair of loose red jogging pants on. "Oh, Totally planed this all JUST for you. you know me, the gift that keeps on giving." Souta said sarcastically then blew a raspberry, carefully getting out of the bed. "You know, I don't HAVE to change you till after we eat." Inuyasha chuckled and winked so the pup knew he was teasing. Still the threat had a semi expected reaction, and the front of Souta's diaper grew a little damper. "I'll be good!" One smelly diaper change later and Souta was in his booster seat, in just his diapers and chowing down on some oatmeal while Inuyasha enjoyed some eggs and bacon. Souta would of gone for the eggs and bacon but somehow it felt more babyish to have the oatmeal and he was in a super babyish mood that day. he could of just had cereal too but Inuyasha pointed out that they had enough milk for a bowl of milk and a little bit in his baby bottle or a decent amount in the baby bottle, and well, bottle won hands down. He was also wearing the white bib with the yellow ducky on it and had almost asked Inuyasha to spoon feed him, but recalled how he'd turned that down the night before and didn't wanna be a hypocrite. "So where were you thinking of going for your clothes?" Inuyasha asked, looking a little nervous for some reason. "Uhhh they have a department store in town that has a grocery section, so I figured we'll go get it all done in one. why?" "No reason!" Inuyasha said a little too fast, and then turned to read the newspaper. Souta raised a eyebrow but figured he'd drop it. he was after all acting like a big baby, so who was he to call someone else out on a few quirks? After a quick wash up (he tried hard to make sure he only messed up his bib, and for the most part manged) Inuyasha got a white t-shirt on and his ball cap while Souta tugged on his shorts and shirt from the day before. "So..I don't wanna push you or anything, but do you think I'm gonna need to pack a diaper bag?" Inuyasha asked him. The thought of getting a diaper change in a public bathroom crossed Souta's mind and his face turned crimson. but then the idea of being stuck in a leaky diaper till they got diapers or worse, a smelly one wasn't too appealing either. "uhhh how long you think we're gonna be out?" Souta asked. "well, we're walking sooo I dunno, Hour, maybe two? was thinking we'd get lunch at a noddle shop." Inuyasha said, then winked. "And if your good MAYBE we'll go and get you a toy." "Oh oh! I want a Ultraman figure! wait no, a new football! wait no I-" he started to gush, getting all excited. "ONLY if your good." Inuyasha said again and chuckled. "I'm ALWAYS good!" Souta giggled and stuck out his touge. "I've heard horror stories from your mom and Kagome about taking you shopping." "oh..well. I'll be good this time. not like I have to wait while you go and try on every pair of heels in a store." Souta said and made a face. "heh. true. so coming back to the million dollar question: Diaper bag or no diaper bag?" Souta put a hand to his chin, looking all thoughtful then finally nodded. "better pack one just in case. better to have it and not need it.." he trailed off. "then need it and not have it. got ya pup." Inuyasha said and went off to go and pack one. with the duffel bag repacked so there was only two diapers in it, along with the baby bottle now filled with water and a paci just in case, Inuyasha took the pups hand and they headed out the door.

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shadowofthelamp · 5 years

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ADVENTURES IN PARENTHOOD: CHAPTER 3

Summary: Dib starts a log and there is a discussion about genetics.

Reblogs, comments, tags and likes all very appreciated!

Warnings: Mpreg

Wordcount: 1060

Link to fic on ao3

Previous chapter

“Okay, so, we’ve got anywhere between four and nine months for this thing to grow.” Dib had crossed his legs, arms settled in the hole between them and palms pressing couch cushion. “Luckily, since we’ve graduated, we don’t have to worry about missing any skool, or anyone getting curious when you start looking fat.”

Zim scoffed. “Zim won’t-”

“Zim, you’re growing something inside your body. You’re going to gain some weight.” Dib pinched his cheek like he was a cute child, earning himself a hiss and a furious swipe that only ended with Zim’s claw getting tangled in Dib’s sleeve. It took a good thirty seconds to free it, and Zim mumbled to himself in Irken as he tugged at his glove.

“Fine, fine. What else?” Zim drummed his fingers on his leg.

“The symptoms for humans are… uh…” Dib had to think for a moment. “Nausea after a bit, I think? Mood swings, which I am not looking forward to having to deal with considering how insufferable you can get normally,” (a comment that got him a ‘hey!’ and another shove) “And cravings, which could be interesting considering how you normally react to human food. We’ll have to see on that one.”

“I see why they moved things to smeeteries.” Zim narrowed his eyes. “This seems so inefficient.”

“Hey, this way it’s however the dice fall instead of programming something into the DNA. You can have surprises. Besides, that didn’t always work- they never expected you, did they?”

Zim flashed a toothy smirk at Dib. “Of course not- no one could predict me!”

“See? Some variety is fun. Besides, I’m a direct clone of my dad but we’re pretty different.” Dib shrugged. “Genetic diversity ensures that some with different adaptations will survive in crisis.”

“But only using the best DNA of the most successful ensures that our race will continue to be the best.” Zim argued.

“Come on, I thought you loved chaos.” Dib nudged him. “It’ll still be our kid no matter what. Besides, your body would pick the best stuff to share, right? I dunno if your Pak can actually do that, but if it could, it totally would.”

“It will- I accept no less!” Zim hopped off the couch. “I’m getting popcorn. You want that disgusting cheesy mess, no?”

“Yeah, as long as Gir didn’t get into it. He slobbers over everything,”Dib called out as Zim started rummaging around in the cabinets. He used his Pak legs to get to the top shelf, pulling out a pair of bags.

Dib pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipping through to the camera. “Alright. Hey, future Dib, welcome back! This is day one of-”

“What are you doing?” Zim dropped the popcorn on Dib’s head, staring at the small screen.

“I’m starting a log, so we can keep track of progress.” He turned the camera up to show Zim better, and Zim smacked it into Dib’s lap, the phone turning off.

“You will not use your record-y thing to show anyone my true form!” Dib grabbed the phone and held it protectively against his chest.

“Relax, I’m not going to show anyone. This is for my personal notes. Besides, if it’s like an experiment, you’re going to want records, right? Half the city has seen you out of disguise by now anyways.”

Zim glared at him, and Dib threw up his arms.

“Okay, go grab your disguise, happy?”

Zim stretched an arm out to the end table, sticking out his tongue a bit as he adjusted his wig and contacts. For the hundredth time, Dib wondered if he ever replaced them- they were the same slightly-translucent white and purple as ever, and you could see the pink underneath if you squinted. Zim gave a thumbs up, and Dib started another video.

“Hey, future Dib, and future Zim if you start bugging me about sharing the footage. This is day… well, it’s one for us, but when did the thing actually start growing?” Dib looked up.

“Three days ago.” The computer said.

“Okay, day three, then.” Dib moved the camera to include Zim, who flashed it a bright grin. “So far Zim looks the same as usual. We just found out about half an hour ago. Irken gestation takes about four months and humans take about nine, so we’ll see which of us it’s more like when we figure out how fast it’s growing.”

“Which will be me. It’s mine, after all, the Dib just started this by having such sweet bloodmeats.”

Dib elbowed Zim in the chest. “No, you started this by being such a biter. You’re lucky I like wearing coats that cover them up, asshole.”

Zim snickered. “You should be honored to be marked by an irken elite.”

“And you should be honored that I keep lending you money so you can make rent and buy Gir food, you brat.” Dib rolled his eyes. “Anyways, Zim, pull your shirt up a little just so we can have a visual.”

Zim stuck out his tongue before doing just that, only showing his lower stomach.

“Note the lack of a bellybutton, and defined hip-bones despite being weirdly muscular-” Zim yanked his shirt back down, jabbing Dib with a pointy elbow, who coughed. “Okay, okay, geez. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, but I’ll try to update often with what happens. Dib out.”

Zim immediately removed the wig, pulling out the contacts and setting them both back on the end table before grabbing his popcorn.

“If you’re done looking at your own dumb face, I wanna watch a movie.”

Dib tucked the camera away. “Alright, as long as you don’t start clinging to me when you get scared. I’ve still got the marks from the scary clown one.”

“Why would anyone make that?” Zim shuddered. “And invaders do not cling!”

Dib tugged up his sleeve and raised an eyebrow, three small circular marks clearly dug into his skin. Zim laughed nervously. “Eheh… it was to keepyou from being scared! You humans make those movies to frighten yourselves, no?”

Dib grabbed the remote and adjusted his bag of cheesy popcorn on his lap. “Whatever makes you feel better.” He flipped through the channels until he found one that looked promising.

It turned out to be horrible, but Zim’s commentary made the experience worth it anyways.

#invader zim #zadr #dib membrane #zim #mpreg #shadow writes stuff #iz blogging

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

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Only For A Moment Ch. 37

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Nada. Just good sweet soft well earned fluff.

A/N: Y’all. I’m still fucked up that Truth is over. Just needed to get that out of the way.

Originally this chapter was going to be longer and maybe not as much pure fluff. Then I decided, nah, these two have earned a goddamn reprieve. I hope y’all like these tender moments. I hope you love this pair as much as I do. (No one will love them like @wonderlandmind4 though, lol!)

Enjoy my pumpkins!

Tags are open!

“No.” Your tone is hard and final.

Bucky lets his head drop to the kitchen table with a thud. “Y/N…” He groans into the wood.

“I’m not fucking doing it Bucky. I’m not going to fight-”

“It’s not like I’m suggesting we duke it out until we’re both bloody.” You don’t say anything else, you just stare at him with a stubborn expression.

Sighing he pushes away from the table and walks to the door, bracing himself against the frame, attempting to gather his senses. After a minute he hears you stand, your arms wrap around his waist and you lean against him. Tenderly he pats your arms before covering them with his own.

“I just need you to be safe, Y/N…” He lifts your hand to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“I know,” you whisper between his shoulder blades, forehead resting on his upper back. It’s not the response he was expecting.

“Then why-” He turns to face you, words freezing on his lips. Your face looks crumpled, eyes glassy brow furrowed. “Doll?” His fingers caress the scar on your right cheek.

Your eyes flutter closed before you take a shaky breath, “I’m… Bucky I’m so tired of fighting… I’m… I’m just tired.” When your eyes open and meet his he thinks he may shatter.

Cupping your face in his hands he swipes away the tears that trickle down your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can we… pretend, just for a few days maybe that this is all there is?” His hands slide to your shoulders and you lean into his chest, “Just us… just this… no one potentially hunting us, nothing to run from, nothing to fight…”

“Of course we can, darlin’.” He holds you tight and sways you a bit in his arms, pressing a kiss to the soft crop of your hair. “Of course we can…” It breaks something in him how little you’ve known peace in your life… If he can give you even a little… maybe training could wait.

“Hey,” holding you at arm’s length he tilts your chin up. “Can you bring the mattress to the living room?”

Your eyebrow ticks up and he smirks, “Uh… ok.”

“Trust me.” He pecks your forehead and pushes you in that direction. As you lift the mattress he heads to the fireplace in the living room. The rain may have lessened but the cold has settled. In just a minute he sets the dry wood crackling.

“Put it here,” he gestures in front of the fireplace. You settle the floating mattress down staring at him with a crooked smile.

He pulls you to him, hands sliding under your sweater. “Bucky…”

“Shh…” His body hums from the little sound you make at the feeling of his breath on your ear. “Trust me.”

He undresses you and then himself. While he could and would happily take you once more that’s not his goal here. Kneeling on the edge of the mattress he pulls you down into his arms. Cradling you against him he lays you both down on your side, your back against his chest facing the fire.

“Rest,” he breathes into your ear. “We have all the time in the world.”

For a while, neither of you sleep. You just revel in the heat from the fire and Bucky’s body pressed close to yours. Listen to the sound of the fire crackling, his steady breath. Eventually, though you both drift off into a deep sleep.

When you wake a few hours later it’s late afternoon. You haven’t moved and he’s still out if his light snores and steady breathing are to be believed. You’re a bit stiff from having been in the same place for so long but you feel more relaxed and rested than you have in… well years.

You let your power slide over your skin between Bucky’s arms and your torso, lifting just enough so you can slide from his embrace without waking him. He groans just a touch before turning onto his stomach and settling back to sleep.

A little smile curls the edges of your lips as you watch him for a moment. The afternoon light and the glowing embers of the fire painting every shadow golden. He looks so peaceful so… well beautiful. You wish for a moment that you could take a photo, capture this forever…

Duh. You do have a camera. Quietly, you pad to the bedroom and pull your phone from the bag. The screen may be cracked and the camera low quality but you snap a picture anyway. Maybe you’d delete it but for now, it feels good to have saved this.

Back in the bedroom, you slip into leggings and a thick oversized sweater before fishing out your copy of Anne Rice’s Servant of The Bones. Without a sound you creep outside, curling your power around the old door hinges to keep them from squeaking.

Despite the storm earlier, the sunset is blazing bright and beautiful, pinks and oranges and reds. You breathe in a lungful of clean rain washed country air. It doesn’t quite smell like your childhood but it’s so close. You had forgotten how peaceful being away from the city could be.

Softly you laugh a bit at yourself as you sit on the steps of the back porch. You ran as far away from rural life as possible. Ran to lose yourself in the noise and people and smog. It was true you found a new version of yourself there. Someone who couldn’t sleep if it was too quiet and who didn’t mind that there was rarely a peaceful spot in the city. Someone relished in a packed and reeking subway car because it was so unlike what you’d known before.

But you never actually lost the child who would wander for hours in the woods, fish for crawdads in the ditches after a rain, or pick dewberries in spring and fall.

She was always in you when you ran off to the beach in the middle of the night to watch the water and be alone. Or when you’d lay on the roof after a nightmare wishing you could see the stars. You feel her here now in the quiet of this old abandoned farm, the soothing sound of the breeze through the trees, in the smell of the rich damp earth. It’s good to have her again. Good to know even after everything she’s still here.

You hear the floorboards creak in the house but don’t feel the need to drag your eyes from the scene before you. It was just Bucky, no need for worry or fear here. He takes a seat behind you, thighs flanking you. You lean back into him. He’s solid and comforting. A low contented hum vibrates through his chest as his arms hold you close.

“It’s beautiful here.” You lift his right hand, turning it over, studying the callouses.

“Mhm, better with you though.”

You laugh softly, leaning your head back to look up at him. “Sap.” His smile is so gentle as he meets your gaze and plants a kiss on your forehead.

His lips are still pressed to your skin as his whispers, “I love you.”

For a moment you hold one another’s gaze, both seemingly awestruck. “I love all of you.” Bucky’s emotions are just at the surface, his eyes close and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

Your head falls against his chest once more and you sit in comfortable silence, soaking in the beauty of the moment. Honestly, you could have stayed there forever. But after a while, your stomach growls in protest at being ignored.

“Come on,” Bucky stands, extending his hand to you. “Tomorrow’ll have another sunset.”

You’d intended to eat earlier before he brought up the ridiculous notion of ‘training.’ Now you actually take in the spread. He must have been bringing things in all week. Wine, whiskey, bottles of water, snack food, vegetables, canned goods, fruit are all stacked on the counter and open shelves of the kitchen.

“Plums?!” Greedily you grab the dark purple fruit. It’s just soft enough to tell you it’s perfectly ripe and you bite in. The taste floods your mouth and you groan in pleasure.

Bucky laughs a little as you sit on the table top, “Guessing you like them.”

You nod, swallowing a large juicy bite. “Plums and peaches are my favorite. When I was a kid someone was always selling them on the roadside. You could get a ton, fresh from some old man in a pickup, for next to nothing.” Taking another bite you remember making yourself sick once eating fruit, getting sticky in the summer heat. “Probably the last good ones you’ll find until spring.”

He leans next to you, biting into his own deep purple fruit. “Cheers,” he holds it up and you touch them together giggling.

“I got anything that could keep without electricity,” he motions to the kitchen, indicating the lack of a refrigerator. “The stove works but it’s wood burning.”

“That’ll be a new adventure.”

It’s not one you take that night. Instead, you crack open a bottle of wine and leisurely eat bread, crackers, meat, cheese, and fruit in front of the fire. Bucky plugs the lights into their battery casting the space in soft warm light. Simple though it may be, it may be the best meal you’ve shared.

You open another bottle of wine, neither of you really feeling the effects of the first, and curl up on the couch your legs in his lap. As you pass the bottle between you he massages your calves.

“Mmm,” you hum handing him the bottle, “that feels amazing.” He casts you a warm smile making your blood sing far more than the wine.

“Did you spend a lot of nights like this?”

“What’d you mean?”

“Before… everything. Ya know firelight, peace and quiet, wine?”

He snorts, “You do know I grew up in Brooklyn right?”

“Well yeah but… I figured it was different then, I guess.”

His head falls onto the back of the couch as he looks at the ceiling, a smile on his face. “I’m sure it isn’t the same Brooklyn anymore… But, at least when I was there, peace and quiet weren’t two things that went along with most any part of the city.” You giggle a little. “What?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever noticed it before but you have a little bit of an accent.”

“Do I?” His eyes sparkle when they slide to catch your nod. A small laugh huffs out, “Good.”

He takes a long drink, gesturing to the fireplace with the bottle. “Light a fire like this in the tenements, likely to light the whole damn block up.” The bottle turns in his hand, “Wine though. That was a part of plenty of long nights. Though I always preferred whiskey.”

“Hmm,” you take the bottle and drink. “that doesn’t surprise me. If I get to chose I’m a gin girl myself.”

“Ooooh,” he croons. “classy.”

You laugh, “Hardly.”

A contented sigh curls from between his lips like smoke. “I always had to find peace and quiet though… three sisters and my parents then a cramped apartment with Steve.” He shakes his head, “Enough to drive a man crazy.”

“Where’d you go?” You reposition to lay your head in his lap. He sets the empty bottle to the side, fingers scratching your scalp. If you were a cat you’d be purring.

“The beach at night I’d-”

“Sit out and watch the water.” Your smile is huge.

“Yeah. How’d-”

“I’d do the same. All the time.”

With a feather-light touch, the fingers of his left hand trace the bow of your lips, the curve of your chin, down to your collarbones. “We’ll go back one day,” his voice is low, heavy with the weight of purpose, “I promise. We’ll go home,” his voice cracks a little, “together.”

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty@babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @piensa-bonito @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2 @hardygal69 @marvelousmeggi @jdoenson @gamorazenn

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky feels #i love them

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danisavin · 5 years

Photo

A CRITICAL CHARACTER UPDATE FOR FLORIN:

Greetings, berryfam! As you have likely seen in the past few days, having recovered from the first few weeks of second semester hell, I have returned with my smol creature so that they may continue their adventures with you all. Who has not returned, however, is our darling mun Pan who - for those of you who do not know - plays Dani’s dork of a husband, Sam. Pan and I have finally made contact and solidified a scenario to explain Sam’s absence in the game rather than having him continuously written in as a Soapberry NPC. Here, I have some bullet point highlights. The full story can be found under the read more. The details regarding Sam’s absence are thus:

Sam left approximately three months ago

He is staying in Ireland indefinitely with the McNiven Coven - a coven of earth witches they befriended during their honeymoon travels

His absence is no big secret ripe for scandal. Dani has been very open about the reason for his leaving (barring obvious deeply personal details)

He and Dani have agreed to an open marriage

Meadowsweet is still open, alive and well

Feel free to message me with any questions!

Ever since being cast out of his family coven and cut off from their ley lines, Sam has struggled with his magic. Not only has it become weaker without the Floros line to rely on, but that very disconnect from both family and magic brought upon a gradually worsening depression and further complicated his practice. Sam’s outward composure in his shop or on the street may have fooled you into thinking he was fine. He tried to focus his thoughts on the positives in his life -- his shop, his sister Freya, his marriage, and their darling pup that kept him company so frequently. In the privacy of his home, however, the reality was quite different.

Sam would give Dani plenty of charming smiles, tease them as he had been doing for a lifetime, yet there were also instances where he couldn’t seem to find light in anything. A dark cloud had collected around him, thick and heavy. In time, it began to take a toll not only on Sam, but on the entirety of the household. Sam, of course, was in utter and complete denial of his depression. Despite their every suggestion and attempt to aid him, Sam showed little improvement, and it suddenly became very clear that this was one battle outside of Dani’s reach.

It was Dani who finally sat Sam down on the couch and forced him to face reality. After ages of uncomfortable and emotional conversation, Sam finally admitted his condition. With that established, the pair decided it was best that Sam get away from Soapberry for awhile. While the pair were on their honeymoon, their travels through Eastern Ireland introduced them to the Mac Cnáimhín (McNiven) Coven. The McNivens are an old coven of Irish witches who specialize in Earth Magic - particularly that which draws energy from the natural life cycle as evidenced by their frequent use of animal bones during their spells. The newlyweds became friendly with the coven and have checked in with one another from time to time. Sam has gone to live with the McNivens in Ireland indefinitely to (hopefully) find some peace, recharge his magic, and find himself once more.

Dani would have gone with him, but with their career in Soapberry firmly grounded and the rest of their family drama seemingly settling at last, uprooting everything all of a sudden simply wasn’t an option. Besides, Sam desperately did need to face his demons for himself this time. Due to his indefinite absence, the pair have also agreed to an open marriage. So long as no romantic attachments develop, they are comfortable with one another seeing other people.

Meadowsweet is still open. It is being run by Sam’s sister Freya and several of his other loyal employees. Dani is handling the back door apothecary as needed.

Sam’s absence is not a secret. If asked, Dani will not hesitate to answer truthfully about the situation and a far less personal notice of his staying abroad his been posted inside of Meadowsweet to ease some of the regular customers’ concerns.

tags for all the folks (tried not to double up on muns unless i wasn’t sure which muses you were active on; if i forgot you, i apologize): @ephrampettaline / @lilo-el-lobo / @mayaparker / @bumblingbrujo / @fanesavin / @faye-andrews / @rydenbolt / @freddiewatts / @thisbrutalbelle / @milocoleman / @ianncardero / @xxtuaharjunaxx / @aedanthewitch / @scarlettxruby / @ashcaplan / @cassiegermaine / @thatwhichbindsus / @ottoleitner / @monsterbyamile / @talbotlegacy / @strangerein / @atronach-author

#( cd. )#important.#updates.#sam.#poison & ivy.#plot: midnight travelers.#depression tw #depression cw #mcniven coven.#meadowsweet.

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jsteneil · 6 years

Text

Dan is the closest of the Foxes to Palmetto, working in DC where the others have migrated North or East, with Kevin down in Texas as one sweaty exception. She visits more than the others, hopping in and out of her car on occasions, and always comes in the Foxhole court holding a large to-go cup from the campus’ coffee, looking radiant and focused.

Neil smiles more easily, these days, and he never fights the natural inclination of his mouth when he sees Dan and lets himself be hugged, maybe a bit tighter than someone who doesn’t answer to the name of Dan Wilds would.

“Rookie,” she calls, lobbing her paper cup in the garbage one day. Half of the freshmen turn their tired faces to her, dragging their feet after today’s hard practice.

Neil smiles. “Dan,” he greets, and waves his team away. Robin steals his car keys on her way out, clearly not eager to repeat the time she had to wait half an hour in the cold for Neil and Dan to finish talking.

Dan lifts an eyebrow. She knows Robin from last year, when Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky were still there to share a bedroom that now feels to big for two people, but she’s emboldened over the summer. Neil is quietly proud of her, like warming his hands to the residual heat of a slow-burning fire.

“I’ll run,” Neil says with a shrug. “I haven’t been jogging as I should lately.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, “maybe because there’s actual frost on the ground. Don’t be crazy, I’ll drive you back.”

“Okay,” Neil accepts, because he’s gotten better at acknowledging the casualness of the Foxes’ kindness. “Wanna get out of here?”

Dan’s hand flies to her chest.

“Who are you and what have you done with Neil Josten, local exy court vermin?”

“I don’t actually live here.”

“Then you can explain to me why I’ve found you sleeping on those damn couches more times than I can count,” a gruff voice says from behind them. “Get out of here.”

Wymack emerges from his office with his usual stack of papers and grumpy expression. Neil knows how much Dan means to him and how long they talked on the outer ring during the last half of practice, so he understands the way Dan laughs with her teeth and turns around to hold the door open.

“We’re having dinner at Abby’s tonight,” Dan says as they make their way to Dan’s rental car. “Wanna come?”

Tonight is the Foxes’ movie night. Neil quickly calculates pros and cons: Indian take-out in a room crowded with people he already spends too much time with everyday, or in Abby’s kitchen with some of the people who count the most in his life.

“Sure.”

He sends a message to Robin to tell her not to wait for him to start the movie, then closes the door of the car on the uncharacteristically cold winter.

“So how’s the team?” Neil asks at the same time Dan does, backing out of her parking space. They share a grin: Dan’s enthusiasm for the sport will never be on the same level as Kevin’s or Neil’s, but he likes more detached outlook she brings to the conversation nonetheless. Probably because exy means less to her than to him—although Neil’s had some difficulties wrapping his mind around this truth in the beginning—Dan is particularly soothing to talk to. Andrew suggested once that it may be because she refuses to make herself insane for something as inconsequential as exy, but Neil would rather bet that it was a thinly-veiled insult thrown to Kevin’s obsession.

“We’re getting into the season on a strong foot,” Dan says finally after Neil gestures for her to speak first. “The changes we’ve brought to the starting line are already showing results.”

“Drafting Perez was a risky move,” Neil says, because his interest in pro teams has considerably grown now that it’s a certainty of his future and not a dream sitting just out of his reach.

Dan’s smile grows sharper. To Neil, she’s still the young woman who led them all the way to finals in his freshman year.

“It was,” she agrees, “but it’s going to pay big time—we have a game with the Hawks next week, and I know where the odds are leaning.”

“I don’t bet,” Neil reminds her as they park in front of the Fox’s Paw, the campus coffee.

“Still? Neil, you have no respect for traditions.”

It’s true; mostly because he didn’t get to experience them before he met the Foxes. Dan keeps talking about the Eagles in the line to the counter, prompting questions in Neil’s mind that he never took into consideration before—it’s been three years, but it still feels weird that his captain ended on the other side of the plexiglass wall. Not wrong: Dan was made to mentor, but still.

Dan almost gets another coffee, then reconsiders and orders some kind of chocolate concoction that Andrew likes, provided they add cream and sugar in large quantity, because that’s Andrew’s favorite way to eat anything. A small stitch drills into his chest like he’s gulped too much air while running, like always when the realization comes that Andrew is miles away in a large city, and not smoking, up on the rooftop of their small world.

“So how’re you doing?” Dan asks, twirling the cream in her cup.

Neil hums in response. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. And without the bullshit?” She’s not fooled by his confused look. “Neil, I know how it is—”

He knows she does. In hindsight, he’s grateful for the reprieve she accorded him by talking so extensively about her team first.

“The first weeks are the worst,” Dan says, which Neil doesn’t believe because it’s already mid-November and Neil’s been feeling down since August, when Andrew moved to Boston for good.

Andrew flew down to Columbia two weekends ago, which means that Neil will fly north in ten days for Thanksgiving and spend the beginning of the week holed up in Andrew’s apartment with only each other, ice cream, alcohol, and cigarettes for company. The perspective brightens Neil’s immediate future, but it doesn’t relieve the constant ache of not having Andrew right next to him to exchange truths and stories with.

“Andrew came to our game against the Ravens two weeks ago,” Neil says instead of dwelling on the feeling.

“I saw on TV. The journalists had a field day.”

Neil nods slowly. He feels miserable, and he’s sure that Dan read it on every inch of his face. He longs briefly for the days when lying to the Foxes was as easy as breathing, when the reality of his feelings concerned him only.

“I find it easier to bear long distance if you talk about it,” Dan says finally, done with being subtle. “Nicky would agree.”

“You just want the gossip. How many bets?”

“There’s a consequential one on where you’ll spend Thanksgiving break. Renee says you’ll have a quiet week in Columbia, visit Bee. Nicky has quite a few bucks on you meeting in Boston and boning the entire time.” She winces. “Sorry, his words.”

Neil waves if it off. “I gathered.”

Dan huffs a laugh and drumrolls on the table, phone in hand. “Do I get to settle anything, or are you just going to send us a pic from Vietnam or something?”

“We wouldn’t fly anywhere this far,” Neil says, then relents: “Robin invited us to her parents’ for the day. I’m not sure Andrew will take her up on that offer, but we’ll see. We’ll spend the rest of the week in Boston, so I guess Nicky wins, for one.”

“Nicky only wins if you spend the whole time in bed,” Dan says delightfully as her fingers fly over her screen. “I don’t think I have to ask you how likely it is to happen.”

Neil snorts. “You’d think he’d have learned by now.”

“Renee’s happy you won’t be alone for the holidays,” Dan reads after her phone beeps a few times. “Allison is mad—she would’ve made three hundred bucks. Don’t look so pleased.”

“Don’t bet on my life.”

“Never gonna happen.”

They sip their drinks in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of the crowded coffee shop. Having Dan by his side in Palmetto is familiar, like the feeling of watching his shots land true. If Robin is his best friend, the quiet extension of himself, then Dan is his sister, warm, teasing, and proud.

“I miss him,” he admits, because he suddenly wants to. Andrew has always been a point of friction between them, but he can acknowledge the olive branch Dan has been offering him. He doesn’t mind taking it; the riverbanks are slippery enough as it is. “We talk a lot, but it’s not the same.”

They’re good at communication, because they can’t afford not to be, but most of their conversations are silent, exchanged through looks and actions. Neil knows Andrew enough by now to read his tone, what he leaves unsaid, but he misses the touches, the certainty of Andrew, there besides him.

Dan’s hand curls around her cup like she wants to grab for him but is restraining herself.

“Have you discussed the situation?”

“Of course. I thought long-distance was all about communication?”

“And Skype sex,” Dan adds with a grin curling her mouth.

Neil frowns. In a rare bout of sharing, he says: “Not likely.”

“Really.”

“I’m not discussing sex with you.” That’s a conversation for another day, possibly imaginary, definitely involving alcohol. Neil has managed to escape it so far by sticking close to Nicky, who, despite his own interest in the situation, is always prompt to deroute on his own sexual adventures and attract Aaron’s ire.

“Fine. Keep your gossip to yourself, ungrateful child.”

“I will.” He waits a beat then says: “He’s not happy there. He never says anything but I don’t think the team is right for him.”

“Problems with his teammates?”

Dan’s frown his sympathetic. Twice captain of her exy teams and now assistant coach, she knows exactly how much inside tensions can affect a player’s game—and their lives beyond.

“Whitney is outwardly homophobic and an asshole,” Neil says. Five years ago, he would never have thought he’d ever get so worked up about something not directly linked to his survival; five years ago, he also didn’t have Andrew Minyard in his life, to love and protect fiercely where Andrew himself doesn’t necessarily. “Andrew won’t stand for it forever.”

“You’re worried it’ll fall back on Andrew?”

Neil raises his hands in front of him, palms up. “Exy golden boy from an Ivy league college and three years of seniority. Andrew.” He tips his hands like scales. “You know what people are going to see, and you know that it won’t be the truth.”

“It might if someone can attest of Whitney’s slurs,” Dan says. “He doesn’t have a good reputation in the division. People talk. And I think Andrew knows better than pulling a knife under another coach than Wymack.”

“He doesn’t carry knives anymore. And that’s not the problem, is it?”

“No it’s not,” Dan sighs. “I’m sorry.”

She asks about the team to distract him after that, and it works—Neil will never miss a chance to talk exy, especially not when it’s his team, a responsibility he never thought he’d have. He remembers the sick feeling of fear and want when Wymack first told him about his future captaincy; some days, Neil can still feel it, curled tight in his stomach to make room for pride and affection, and all those other feelings that he’s learned along the way. He doesn’t need to ask Dan if it ever goes away. He’s not sure he wants it to.

They clear out their table a while later, when night has already fallen around the bright yellow streetlights, and head back to Dan’s car, jogging slightly to fight the cold. Neil leans his head on the window and staring outside past the fog of his breath on the glass, and only straightens when he sees the shape of Abby’s house, shadow pierced by large rectangles of light. Dan winds her arm over his shoulders when they get out the car and drags him to the door.

“We’re here!” she announces, opening the door left unlocked, as usual.

Neil sheds his coat and removes his shoes, padding in the kitchen to find Wymack and Abby prepping chicken around the table. A small pot is already simmering on the stove and filling the entire room with the smell of tomato and thyme. Abby gives them each a knife and different vegetables to peel; the celeri makes a cheerful crunching sound every time Neil lowers the blade.

“You’re a terrible cook,” Dan observes good-naturedly after Abby corrects him three times on how to best mince garlic. Neil doesn’t mind: he’s usually the first to admit that he doesn’t care all that much about cooking.

“I know,” he says, and thinks, Andrew prefers to do it anyway.

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #dan wilds #my writing #idk guys

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accio-ambition · 6 years

Text

Under Christmas’s Influence

Merry Christmas Sandy ( @tehgreeneyes )! I was fortunate enough to be your CS Secret Santa this year! I know we didn’t really talk much, but I really enjoyed what we did talk about. 12 Monkeys is now definitely on my to-watch list, with all the Googling I did to cameo it in here (I might have fallen into a vortex for a couple hours of distraction, but whatever). You said that one of your favorite tropes was fake!dating/engaged/married, so I wrote you a (not so) little fake!engaged Christmas story. I hope you don’t absolutely hate Hallmark Christmas movies, because that is where I drew a bit (aka a lot) of inspiration for this story. Merry Christmas!

(This is a long one, so you can read it on AO3 too in case it hurts your eyes.)

The call from his brother isn’t necessarily unexpected. It is Christmastime - the one time of year one starts reflecting on the past year and thinking about all the important people in one’s life. But since getting married last winter, shortly after Valentine’s Day, Killian’s barely heard from his brother or new sister-in-law. A postcard from the honeymoon, the occasional tag in a Facebook post, but otherwise, nothing.

It’s been difficult, he will admit, watching his brother go from bachelor to husband, but only in that selfish way where now Liam has to ask if he can accompany Killian on bar crawls or can’t make it to every football game during the season.

So when Liam does call as he walks in to his apartment after work one afternoon, Killian gladly answers it. It had been a long, trying day at work - depositions for most of the morning, then a conference call that lasted five hours with little time to eat or even use the restroom in between. Killian cannot wait to get out of his stuffy suit and tie, throw on his sweats, and watch T.V.

ESPN, he tells himself. There’s that important college game on tonight.

It’s a losing battle, though: it’s Christmastime, which means corny, completely unnecessary, totally unoriginal Christmas movies. The perfect remedy to the problems practicing the law could bring up.

Killian flips the light in his room on before immediately turning on the T.V. and muting it before answering his phone. He greets his brother just as some woman silently giggles at a man holding a dog.

Haven’t seen this one before.

“Little brother, my god, you are alive!” Liam says instead of hello.

“In the sense that I’m still alive and breathing, yes,” Killian quips back, putting his phone on speaker and proceeding to change out of his clothes. “Other than that, I’d hardly say I’m alive.”

Liam groans and Killian can just imagine his older brother slapping himself on the forehead. It’s his own fault, the sarcastic streak Killian has, though it does both of them wonders during certain situations, particularly during hard court cases.

While Killian chuckles, Liam’s groan transforms into a sigh. The change in mood is as unexpected as Liam’s phone call, but instead of asking about it, Killian lets the quiet ensue. If there’s one thing Killian’s learned about his big brother in his time on earth, it’s that, if something’s bothering Liam, he’ll say it.

So when Liam says, “I apologize for being an arse,” his younger brother can’t imagine what he’s managed to do wrong if they haven’t truly spoken in months.

“About what exactly, may I inquire?” Killian asks, changed and taking a seat at the edge of his bed. His eyes sort of glaze over as he stares at the screen. Another man’s face is contorted into some slimy smirk or grimace or something akin to that, looking after the woman with the puppy.

This plot would be so much simpler if I could hear what they were saying.

Killian fiddles with the remote, trying to find the button for subtitles or captions, while Liam continues. “I know I’ve been sort of…” he pauses just as the captions begin scrolling along the bottom of the screen, “neglecting you since I married.”

Shrugging, Killian reasons, “Your priorities have changed. You’ve got Belle now. All that marriage stuff. Honeymoons and thank you cards and on and on.”

“Yes, but you’ll always be my little brother.” This time, Killian groans, but it’s in the same way that he bemoans cheesy pickup lines and corny Christmas movie plots. It’s a sentiment he doesn’t exactly always feel this time of year, but when he does, it makes his heart grow like the Grinch’s.

“I’m still learning how to balance brotherhood with marriage, alright?” Liam says, his voice a bit gruffer. “So I’m sorry if I made you feel poorly. I never meant to.”

“Worry not, Liam. I’ve gotten used to it.”

His older brother scoffs. “Now don’t say that,” he says. “You really make me feel like a horrendous person.”

Killian barks out a laugh. “You said it, not me.” Dramatically, he flops back on his mattress, letting his muscles relax into the comfort. It really has been a long day.

“So what’s going on in your life?” Liam asks in a friendly manner. “What have I missed?”

Killian opens his mouth to answer - it’s been months, there really is too much to cover in a single phone call - but it shuts quickly when he hears a key in the lock of his front door. There’s only one person in the world who’s got his spare key to his place.

While losing Liam as his automatic plus-one to all social events was a bummer, Killian’s managed to find solace in his neighbor, one Emma Swan, who barged into his life quite suddenly and hasn’t really allowed him a moment to recover since.

Liam just doesn’t know that.

Not quite yet.

And with all the time he’s had to theoretically prepare for this moment, Killian hasn’t the slightest idea how to tell his brother that the most important thing he’s missed in the past months isn’t an event, but a person.

0000

He’d briefly seen her move in, just a couple days after returning to his apartment from Liam and Belle’s wedding festivities. The door next to his propped open with a box overflowing with shoes and the grunts and groans of furniture-moving from within were dead giveaways. Still tired and a bit hungover, Killian resolved to introduce himself later. Maybe after he’d had a thorough shower.

Very thorough. I’m pretty sure someone vomited on me during the morning-after brunch, he thinks. I can still feel the grime on me.

And that’s all the thought he spares this new neighbor of his. Killian goes about showering and returning to the land of post-Liam’s-wedding. It isn’t until two or three Sundays later that the new neighbor crosses his mind again.

Settling down on the couch, Killian takes a deep breath. 12 Monkeys is set to premiere in mere minutes - perhaps not the best attempt at unwinding before what’s promised to be another tough work week, but he can’t even ponder the idea of dodging spoilers. Too much stress.

His eyes slide shut and the next thing he knows, the opening notes of the theme music float through his ears. Killian opens his eyes, hoping they clear in time for him to catch all the intricacies this episode might offer.

And then the pounding starts.

Someone incessantly bangs at his front door. Everyone who’s anybody important enough to him knows not to interrupt him during this time of the week. So he tries to ignore it, just let the complexities of Dr. Railly and James Cole’s adventures take him away.

But the knocking won’t stop.

“They’ve just got the wrong apartment,” he mumbles to himself.

“Open the door, 312! It’s an emergency!” a woman’s voice shouts through the door.

Apparently not.

An emergency could mean a slew of things: broken bones, burning buildings, a mouse in the shower. But if it’s either of the first two, he doesn’t want the woman’s injury on his conscience for the rest of his life. And Liam did raise him to be a gentleman. It wouldn’t be chivalrous to let the mouse run all over this woman’s apartment if she really didn’t want it to.

Eyes still glued to the TV, Killian walks and opens the front door. The only way he can tell that the blonde hurricane that rushes by him is a person is the brush of hair against his arm and the aforementioned tone of voice.

“Excuse me,” he says, watching as she takes his seat on his couch to, what seems like, watch his T.V. “Can I help you?”

“My cable isn’t working and I heard the theme song through the walls.” Her words are direct, offering no other option except for the fact that she’s in his apartment during his show. Eyes on the screen, the woman pats the cushion next to her. “Close the door and sit the fuck down.”

And despite the fact that she’s the one that barged into his apartment, Killian does as she requests: a bit stunned, he shuts the door and ambles over to the couch, barely able to focus in on the show unfolding before them.

“Who are you?” he inquires, easing himself on to the cushion she’d indicated.

“311,” she replies.

“Lovely to meet you, 311. Is that the name - “

She shushes him, her hand waving next to him, gaze still intent on Cassie as she’s deep in conversation with some character Killian hadn’t even known existed. “Wait until commercials. Then talk.”

Again, Killian surprises himself by following her instructions. Between commercials, he manages to get a little more information out of her through hesitantly asked questions. Emma Swan, she says, apartment 311, moved in a month or so ago after escaping from bailbonds and getting something a little more efficient (and probably safer) in law enforcement.

But that’s all he gets that first night, aside from the few physical descriptors he gets from her profile. Otherwise, she’s silent, intent on trying to figure out the twists and turns the show keeps throwing at them. And, man, even as distracted as he is, even he can tell that this season is bound to be a gamechanger.

When the episode is finished, she quietly thanks him, a much different tone from earlier, and leaves his apartment with a completely changed demeanor. But just before his front door shuts between them, Killian sticks his foot in the jamb.

“Next week?” he asks. She - Emma - turns gently, eyebrow raised and eyes squinting at him with confusion. She’s wary, for some reason or another. Swallowing nervously, Killian repeats himself. “Would you like to come over for next week’s episode?”

Taking a step back, Emma’s tongue peeks out between her lips. “My cable should be fixed by then,” she says.

“Oh.” That’s a bit of a letdown. Then again, as he’s constantly had to remind himself tonight, she hadn’t really given him much to go on about her personal life except that her cable was out.

He’s always been up for a challenge, especially one as beguiling as the show that unintentionally brought them together. For now.

“Regardless, you’re more than welcome to come, Swan,” he tells her. Gesturing toward the door, Killian also suggests, “Perhaps knock a bit gentler next time.”

He watches Emma struggle to hold back a grin, her fingers wringing around each other. “Maybe,” is all she deigns for an answer. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones and that’s not something Killian usually notices with anybody. With a silent nod, she takes the five or so steps back to her front door and goes back home.

Killian lingers in the doorway far longer than appropriate.

The next Sunday, he’s settling into the couch, ten minutes to showtime, when a much more hesitant knock sounds at his door. Killian can’t help the smile that crosses his face as he approaches the door.

When he opens it, Emma stands on the other side, both hands holding a plastic bag between then. When he glances down at it, she struggles to hold it up on display.

“Apology Chinese?” she says by way of greeting, her lower lip getting stuck between her teeth. Bringing the bag back toward the ground, she adds, “I’m sorry I forced myself into your apartment last weekend.”

Killian’s already shaking his head before she’s completed her thought. “Completely understandable,” he remarks. “The cable was down.”

Chuckling, Emma shuffles her feet. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees that as an emergency.”

It takes an exorbitant amount of time for Killian to stop nodding like the village idiot. But when he does, he takes a step back and waves her into his apartment. “Please, do come in,” he offers. “You made it just in the nick of time.”

And the rest, he likes to say, is history.

0000

“Killian!” The shout is followed by slam of the front door. “Killian, where are you? I need to complain to you about my day and then drink all your booze.”

He’s up quicker than he thought possible at this time in the evening. Killian slides down the hardwood floors into the living room, silently and frantically slicing his hand across his throat and mouthing shut up!

Emma just stares at him with befuddlement in her eyes. She briefly mimics his motions.

“Are you having a fucking stroke?” she asks, coming up to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Bringing his phone down to his chest to cover the speaker, Killian whisper-shouts, “It’s my brother,” just as he can hear Liam on the other end of the line. His voice is muffled, of course, what with the shirt and all, but even from here, Killian can tell his brother’s tone is adamant and desirous of information.

Emma, on the other hand, is dumbstruck. Those green green eyes of hers are blown wide with surprise. She tiptoes away and sinks into the corner of the couch, pulling one of decorative pillows he threw on there when he first moved in a couple years ago into her lap and squishing it.

“Sorry,” she whispers, hiding the lower half of her face with the pillow, presumably trying to protect herself from the blush of embarrassment rising on her cheeks.

Killian sighs and shakes his head. He walks over behind the couch and rests his empty hand on the top of her head, running his fingers through the hair that catches there. When he finally puts his phone back to his ear, Killian just catches the tail end of Liam’s barrage of questions.

“Who was that, little brother?” Liam asks.

“No one,” Killian answers too swiftly. He feels pressure on his hand, Emma leaning into his hold, before she gets up and heads toward the kitchen.

Probably to start drinking that booze she mentioned, he thinks.

Liam catches his attention once more. “Killian, I can’t even see you and I know you’re lying through your teeth.”

Unconsciously, Killian’s hand raises and scratches at the skin behind his ear. “So?” he asks, his brother losing his focus as Emma finds whatever poison she was searching for and takes her seat back on the couch, cup in hand.

“So, I’m your older brother,” Liam explains. “You’ve got to tell me.”

“Have not.”

“Have so.” Liam doesn’t say anything for another moment before pleading, “C’mon, Killian.”

Sighing, Killian looks at Emma again. He’s not sure why he hasn’t told Liam about Emma yet, lack of communication in the past few months aside. It’s always been his little secret, almost - a secret friend who’s come to rely on him for alcohol and support and who knows what else.

Emma turns on the T.V. in the living room, already on the Hallmark channel from last night’s bad movie binge. She mutes it, but Killian doesn’t need the dialogue. It must be the end of the movie, the main characters standing at the end of a church aisle.

“It’s just…” he hesitates.

“Yes?”

He knows it’s going to be a mess before he even comprehends what he actually says. “My fiancée?” He winces, the ends of Emma’s hair making some sort of noise as they whip around on the back of the couch. Killian can feel her staring at him.

“Fiancée?” Liam repeats, sounding just as disbelieving as Killian is that he actually said it. Killian hums in agreement as Emma’s green eyes go impossibly wider. Liam, on the other hand, grumps. “Bring her...Him?” Killian rolls his eyes and replies her. “Her to Christmas Eve dinner. You guys can stay with Belle and I and we can have a real Christmas morning.”

Moaning, Killian walks around to the front of the couch and takes a seat beside Emma. His free hand comes to rest on her knee, a move she mimics in solidarity. “I don’t know, Liam,” he says. “I really wouldn’t want to intrude on Belle and yours first Christmas as husband and wife. You should have - “

“Nonsense!” his brother shouts. “Christmas is about family. We should spend it together.”

“I thought Thanksgiving was about family,” Killian scoffs.

“You and I both know we have no bloody clue about these American holidays. We like to - “

“Keep good form as we go.” Next to him, Emma chuckles. He’s been known to say the same phrase on occasion. “I know, brother.”

“I know you know. It’s my job to remind you sometimes.” On Liam’s end of the conversation, something arises in the background, a scuffling sort of noise. It’s probably Belle, Killian thinks, making dinner or coming in from work. Liam’s voice is muffled as he probably greets him.

“I’ve kept you too long, haven’t I?” Killian asks once the racket on the other side signals his brother’s back on the line.

“No, no, I called you, remember?” Liam says. “I’ll let you get back to your -” he pauses, making his voice more suggestive, “-.fiancée.”

“Thanks.” There’s something hard to swallow around in his throat. “I’ll see you for Christmas Eve dinner, I suppose.”

“Yes, both of you will,�� Liam bids, his last phrase a subtle reminder, before hanging up and spending the evening with his wife.

Killian, on the other hand, groans and throw his phone on the coffee table. He rubs his hands against his face.

“Fiancée?” Emma says calmly. “Really?”

Killian shrugs, his face warming with embarrassment. “I’m really bad at thinking on my feet.”

“How is that possible? You lie for a living!” Emma flops back on to her spot on the couch, really too semantic for her own good.

“No I don’t.” It's a point of discussion since the inception of their friendship: in her experience, Emma's seen attorneys lie and lie and Killian tries really hard not to.

But sometimes…

“I just sometimes have to spin the truth in a different.” Emma glares at him. “Ugh, I don’t know.” He throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I was watching one of those bad Hallmark Christmas movies and I guess their subliminal messaging worked.”

Scoffing, Emma turns back to the T.V., where one of said movies comes to its joyful conclusion. As always, there's unnecessary confetti that's definitely going to kill the birds, but no one cares about that because it's a low budget T.V. film. “I’ll be sure to write a letter to the TV executives congratulating them,” she says drolly, finally unmuting the T.V. She sighs as the new movie starts, one he's already seen this season. “Well, what happens now?” She asks on another sigh.

Killian should've known. His Swan is nothing if not curious, if not nosy. But she was there, as she is nearly every night in any given week, and he knows he really should've asked her before blurring out the word fiancée as he did.

But where else is he going to find a fake fiancée in such a time crunch?

“What plans do you have for Christmas?” he inquires, hoping for a subtle reaction.

That's not the case, of course. Turning toward him slowly, Killian watches as Emma's eyes go wide as saucers, her brows raise high, and her jaw drops.

“Killian, you can’t be serious.”

“Swan, darling, what else are you going to do?” he reasons. “You’ve got an invitation to dinner on Christmas Eve and the guarantee that you’ll wake up to presents and stereotypical family warmth on Christmas morning.”

“I-I mean,” she stutters, jaw still dangling dangerously close to her breastbone. “Weren’t we going to get drunk Christmas Eve and sleep off the hangover Christmas day?”

Recoiling a bit, Killian raises a brow and asks, “We were?”

Emma shrugs, somehow digging herself further into the couch. She takes to holding the decorative pillow from earlier, a sure sign of her nerves. “We didn’t decide anything, but I figure it was the sort of thing we would do.” Looking furtively between him and the T.V., Emma shrugs again. “I was gonna suggest it after dinner tonight.”

“Well, we can do that at Liam’s,” he offers, playfully nudging her with his elbow. “We’ll have some drinks with dinner, have a nice time, then steal whatever from the liquor cabinet and down it all in the guest room in our pajamas.”

She rolls her eyes. “That can’t be good form.”

He doesn’t deign her an answer - not because it’s technically not good form, but for other reasons - and begins poking her on the knee. “Come with me,” he requests of her quietly. “You can meet Liam and Belle. It’ll be great.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes on the male character as he ascends to a throne, before looking him dead in the eye.

“Promise?” she asks softly, her mouth partially hidden behind the pillow.

Killian nods solemnly. “Promise.”

0000

It’s been dark all day, clouds heavy with snow, but somehow, as Killian and Emma sit in her car in his brother’s driveway, Christmas Eve somehow seems to get darker.

“It’s kind of cold,” Emma mumbles, playing with the ring on her left hand. It’s fake, of course, but real enough to pass for an engagement ring. Or at least that’s what they’ve settled on. Killian dug it up from his pirate Halloween costume, and he spent a pretty penny on getting something real enough to fool adults more than children.

Works well for short notice, he thought.

“Yeah, it is.” They sit there for a moment longer, both lost in their respective thoughts, before Killian tsks. Reaching over the center console, he stills her nervous fiddling by taking her hand in his own. “You ready?”

Inhaling sharply and deeply, Emma nods slowly. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she says accusatorily.

“I can’t believe you agreed to it,” he quips back with a smirk. Killian doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. He unlocks his door and squeeze her hand once, hopefully transferring some courage from his palm to hers. “It’s going to be great.”

Emma scoffs, unlocking her door as well. “You better hope they’ve got some top shelf stuff in their cabinet.”

Killian chuckles as he steps foot outside the car, letting go of Emma’s hand to grab the bottles of wine they brought as gifts. “I should hope the same. Alcohol’s the only way to warm up after this cold,” he says over the roof of the car.

The wind blows up a terribly bitter breeze just as they walk up Liam and Belle’s front steps, leaving Killian and Emma to huddle up to each other.

“It’s fucking freezing!” Emma shouts over the wind.

“Try the door!” he replies. “It should be open.”

The next gust of wind ushers them into the starkly warm house. Both shaking off the breeze and the snow, they hang up their coats and rid themselves of their boots. Killian can smell some sort of meat roasting from the over, the scents wafting down the hallway with the Christmas music gently playing on the stereo.

“Hello?” Killian calls, draping his scarf over his jacket. “Liam?”

Liam’s head pop out from around an archway that must lead to the kitchen, for he’s decked out in a festive Santa apron. His smile is goofily wide, though Killian’s sure that there’s a grin as equally as absurd on his face.

Bloody hell, I did miss him.

“Little brother!” Liam shouts, much to Killian’s chagrin. He comes around the corner and embraces Killian in one of the tightest and, in his opinion, most unnecessary hugs in the history of the universe. “My god, it’s been eons.”

Killian can’t help but belt out a laugh as he slaps his older brother on the back. “I saw you at your wedding,” he reminds Liam.

“Really?” Pulling back, the look on Liam’s face makes him seem a lot duller than Killian knows he is. But then he lights back up, in the present instead of the past now, as Belle comes into the room. “Then it has been too long, Killian.”

Moving around his brother, Killian takes his sister-in-law into his arms. “Belle,” he pauses to buss her on the cheek, “radiant as always.”

“Why, thank you,” she says, color rising on her cheeks. She blinks a few times before her eyes focus behind Killian, on to Emma. He’s nearly forgotten she’s there, she’s unusually quiet.

But Belle, ever the people person and general lovely lady that she is, immediately takes to her, stepping forward and offering her a friendly smile. “You must be Killian’s fiancée.”

“Yeah,” Emma chokes out, her voice decidedly soft and watery. “I’m Emma.” Awkwardly, Emma sticks her hand out. Instead, Belle goes in for the hug, Emma’s hand getting caught between their chests. Killian hears her quietly go, “Oof, a hug.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle says automatically, taking a step back subconsciously into Liam’s hold. “Do you not do hugs? I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry, I’m just excited that we’re going to be family.”

And that’s something that neither Killian nor, he’d bet to say, Emma had thought about. Sure, they can pretend that they’re going to get married, say that they incredibly happy and in love, but the idea of being family…

It’s not one of the angles they thought of, he can safely say that. And, from what he know of Emma’s past and the skeletons in her closet, he’s afraid the mere fathom of it might trigger her into quitting the whole charade.

But Belle, bless her, isn’t privy to Killian’s inner monologue, and moves on to the next thought. Addressing Emma, she says with a chuckle, “I don’t know if Killian’s the same way, but I know Liam is a handful more often than not.”

Liam pulls her closer into his chest. “Now, darling, I resent that sentiment,” he chides her lovingly.

Their little exchange, apparently, gives Emma enough time to reboot and get over whatever turmoil she might be experiencing internally. “Hugs are fine,” she tells Belle, her voice a little stronger than when introducing herself. “I was just surprised. It’s been…” She licks her lips, and glances up at Killian for a tick. “Well, it’s been a while since someone greeted me that way.”

“To be honest, Emma, I’m not surprised,” Liam replies. Looking to his wife, he adds, “Did I tell you, Belle, when I called Killian, the only way I knew about Emma’s existence was because the front door slammed and she yelled at him?”

Killian’s arm goes around Emma’s shoulders, mimicking his brother because that’s what engaged couples do, right? “Frankly I deserved it.”

“He did,” Emma agrees, finally cracking a smile. And then, surprisingly Killian, she places a hand on his chest, looking up at him with a weird glimmer in her eyes, one he’s never really seen in her before. “But he’s still the best part about coming home, and he knows that and accepts that I am a very loud person.”

“I do.” Something about that look of hers keeps him from sarcastically remarking that she can be incredibly loud without even trying. It shakes him because, for some reason or another, her glance reminds him of the way his brother looks at his wife.

Shaking the thought from his brain, Killian turns back to Liam. “So dinner?” he asks. To Emma, he says, “I don’t know about you, love, but I am starved.”

“Seconded,” Emma agrees.

Liam and Belle usher them into the kitchen where the final timer goes off. Liam pulls a ham from the oven and Belle mixes them their first drinks of the evening. That easily leads into dinner, where Killian finds himself glancing at Emma, his excuse being that he wants to make sure she’s having a good time. By the way she laughs hysterically at Liam’s tales of their childhood and keeps whispering to Belle next to her, Killian believes that she is.

A couple times during the meal, he finds his hand wandering over to her knee, exerting slight pressure, silently asking her if she really is doing okay. She always responds with a complementary squeeze, and when her hand lingers there more often than not, Killian tries to focus on literally anything else occurring at that specific moment in time.

By the time the dishes are drying and the leftovers are packed away for lunch tomorrow, Emma’s happily tipsy and Killian’s well on his way to joining her. Liam tells them they’ll have to share the guest bed, but neither of them take issue with it. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fallen asleep together in close quarters.

Killian manages, though, to keep up his end of the bargain. After bidding Liam and Belle a goodnight and merry Christmas, he nabs two bottles of rum from the liquor cabinet and sneaks them into the guest room, where he finds Emma laying on the bed, flipping through the T.V. channels. She throws the remote to the end of the mattress when her search lands on the Hallmark Channel.

“For someone who enjoys complaining about the subject matter, you’re always quick to find them,” he says over the click of the door closing.

“I get it,” she states as he hands over a bottle. She pops the top and takes a healthy swig.

“Get what, love?” he inquires.

“The bad movie thing,” she says with a roll of her eyes, as if that’s been the topic of discussion for the past two hours and not the last two seconds. Pointing toward the screen, she explains. “Escape. Even though he sent her back home and banished her from Aldovia or wherever, you know he's going to go find and her and they're going to be happy.” On a sigh, Emma settles her head into the pillow. “It's nice.”

It’s so outside of Emma’s realm to be as serious as she is right now. Killian smiles softly at her, joining her on the bed. “I'm glad you finally see that.”

Just as it’s seemed she’s gotten comfortable, Emma swiftly stands, digs through her overnight bag, and goes off into the bathroom with her pajamas. Killian watches the movie as she changes, trying to pick up on the plot points he’s missed and occasionally taking a drink of rum.

When Emma comes back in the room, her daytime clothes balled up in her arms, she announces, “I don't have a family.”

It’s not necessarily out of left field, what with all the talk of Liam and Belle’s wedding and their fake impending nuptials over the dinner table, but Killian’s still a tad surprised by her statement. He doesn’t say anything, though: just allows her to continue at her own pace.

“I was bounced from foster home to group house until I aged out,” she explains, setting her clothes atop her bag. “There were so many kids that none of the adults particularly cared about the holidays.” Coming back to bed, Emma curls up beneath the covers, her voice growing quiet. “And when I grew up, I took to ordering Chinese food and watching these bad movies and the old stop motion ones all night.” She scoots closer to him, her eyes never leaving the T.V. screen. “This is the first Christmas I won't spend alone.”

Killian’s always known her life to be a little harsher than she deserved, but never quite that bad. There’s a hint of that emotion from earlier, the one that made him feel things, linger in her eyes, and he can’t help himself: gently, he brushes some stray strands of hair from her face, his hand staying on her cheek. “Then we're going to make this the best Christmas ever, Swan.”

“It already is,” she sighs happily, looking up at him. “I'm here with you.”

He leans down and kisses her forehead before crawling under the covers himself. Emma’s head ends up on his chest halfway through the movie, the rum forgotten on the nightstands, and they’re both asleep before the prince even proposes.

0000

Killian wakes up shortly after sunrise, head pounding with a headache. He stumbles to the bathroom for aspirin and water and brings back enough for both of them. Popping a few too many drugs, Killian takes a large swig of water to wash them down, and settles back in bed, hoping to get a few more hours. If there’s one Christmas present he’s not going to take for granted, it’s the chance to have a lie in.

Especially when an innocent Emma flips over and snuggles into him, sleep warm. And though her sigh airs on the side of dreamy, Killian can’t say the same for her morning breath. He’s casually choking on tainted air when she rouses.

“What time?” she asks, still half asleep.

“Too early,” Killian says, dragging his hand down her back to try and lull her back into unconsciousness. “Go back to sleep, Swan.”

“But Christmas,” she grumbles.

“It’ll still be Christmas when you wake up,” he assures her. But her breath’s already evening out, and she’s fast asleep less than a minute later.

0000

When they both wake to the sounds of pans clanging in the kitchen a few hours later, Killian feels a lot better. His head isn't killing him anymore, his mouth no longer tastes like cotton, and he's still got a Swan in his hold.

For now.

“You're so fucking hot, get off me,” she grumbles, pushing him wearily, her eyes still closed.

“It's so kind of you to say so,” Killian quips back, holding her even tighter. “I find you to be quite attractive as well.”

Emma groans and shoves his face away. She rolls over and scoots to the very edge of her side of the bed. “You know what I fucking mean.”

Killian sidles in behind her, careful when he threads his arm across her hip and waist. “I do,” he murmurs behind her ear, “but it's Christmas, so your words of malice mean nothing.”

She says something else that her pillow exclusively hears, but then she's sliding out of bed and toward the bathroom.

“If it's Christmas, then we better get started,” she says before closing the door. “The sooner it's over with, the sooner I can be mean to you again.”

Chuckling, Killian shouts through the door, “I like you even when you're yelling at me!”

Emma pokes her head and shoulders out the bathroom door.

“I'm not yelling,” she says matter of factly. “I'm simply expressing my opinion in an angry and slightly elevated tone.”

Once taken care of, Killian and Emma shuffle into the living room to find Belle curled up in a corner of the couch, sipping from a mug.

“Merry Christmas, You two,” she greets them quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Belle,” Emma says in return. “Where's your Jones?”

Belle giggles and tilts her behind back to the kitchen. “He wanted to put some cinnamon rolls in the oven to bake while we opens presents,” she explains.

“Always thinking ahead,” Killian remarks as his brother walks into the room.

“Ah, the lovebirds have awoken.”

“I could say the same for you.”

They exchange gifts - nothing to big or mind blowing. Liam gives Killian his annual pair of socks. Emma and Belle, it seems, thought along the same wavelength, exchanging candles and lotions meant for a relaxing home-spa day. Nobody changes out of their pajamas - too busy eating leftovers and watching classic Christmas movies - until Killian regretfully reminds Emma that they have to drive back home tonight.

“Some of us have to work early tomorrow morning,” he tells her jokingly.

“It’s not my fault your field likes to start their day at 8am,” she gests back.

By the time they say their final goodbyes and merry Christmases to Liam and Belle, it’s dark again, though thankfully not snowing. And when Killian drops Emma’s overnight bag at her doorstep, he can’t quite believe they made it through the holiday.

“Thanks for playing into my fantasy,” he says, surprising himself by how shy he sounds. They’ve spent the better part of the last 48 hours together pretending to be head over heels in love with one another, and now is the part where he begins to be scandalized by the matter? How curious indeed.

“Thanks for giving me the part.” Searching beneath her feet for the answers to life’s greatest questions - or at least that’s what he assumes she’s doing, she staring so intently - Emma scuffs at the floor. Unlike his apartment, she’s got a welcome mat, a little dinky, but still as welcoming as the word written across it. She kicks at it before she inhales deeply. “This might be a bit of a surprise, but that’s probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my life.”

“So you said,” Killian says with a chuckle, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. Then he admits quietly, “Me too.”

Her eyes light up, that same emotion bright behind her fluttering eyelashes. “Really?”

Killian shrugs. “The company was above average this year.”

“Aw shucks.” She kicks at the mat again. “Hey, um...” And then she stops herself from continuing.

“Yeah?”

Her right hand is cradling her left as Emma looks at the costume ring on her finger. His gaze falls to it as well. It’s just a silly fake pirate ring, and yet seeing it on her finger, knowing that it belonged to him only a day ago, does something that he suspects looks a lot like the little glimmer that keeps showing up in her eyes.

“I know I should probably give you this back,” she says, “but, um...”

“Keep it,” he says without hesitation. “It's part of your Christmas present.”

Emma shakes her head, already starting to pull the ring off her finger. “You've already given me so much and I just…”

“You've been perfect,” Killian interrupts her. He takes her hand in his and holds it tightly, effectively stopping her from removing the ring. And then, surprising himself, Killian adds, “Since the day you barged into my life and demanded to watch 12 Monkeys.” His tongue runs along his teeth, contemplating the idea formulating in his mind. “But...”

“But?” she repeats.

“If you feel so inclined to thank me...” His sentence drifts off, leading him to raise his finger and tap it to his lips.

Rolling her eyes so hard Killian fears they might get stuck that way, Emma says, “Oh my god, are you serious?”

Killian shrugs again, bringing his hand back into his pocket. “I said if you were inclined.”

“Please, you couldn't handle it,” she says quickly.

“Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it,” he quips back easily.

And before he knows it, Emma’s pressed against him, chest to chest, her hands pulling harshly on the lapels of his jacket. He’s jettisoned forward, his lips to hers, in what’s probably the least expected kiss in his life and possibly the lives of everyone else in their apartment building.

It’s also probably the single best thing to ever happen to him, romantically-inclined or otherwise.

Emma doesn’t step away once she’s done with him, merely comes down from her tiptoes with a heavy breath. “Only one way to find out, right?” Her voice sounds wrecked, her tongue coming out to lick what’s left of him on her lips. Then she lets him go and takes a step back. “Why don't you drop your stuff off and we can see how much we can actually handle together?” she suggests.

Raising a brow, Killian smirks. “Challenge accepted.” He grabs his bag from where it’s fallen to the floor and can’t help himself when he leans over and presses his lips to hers swiftly once more. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

He leaves her unlocking her front door to enter his own apartment, throwing his bag on the couch and beelining it toward his room. There’s dirty laundry to do and he should probably just go to bed because he does have to go to work in the morning, but the opportunity presented to him is just too good an offer to pass up and he can’t be sure that it’ll still be there come morning.

I hope it is, Killian thinks as he pulls on his sweatpants.

But then there’s banging on the other side of his bedroom wall, insistent and forceful and she’s never done that before. Something must be wrong. Throwing on another shirt and forgoing shoes altogether, Killian rushes over to her apartment, knocking equally as hard on her front door.

Emma’s smiling when she flings the door open.

“What's wrong?” he asks, confused by the conflicting information he’s receiving.

“Killian, the Hallmark movie with the dogs!” she shouts at him.

Shaking his head, Killian squints. “Yes, what about it?”

She points toward her living room. “It's on!” Taking his hand, Emma drags him into her apartment, her pleading eyes doing a number on his stomach. “Can we watch it and or have it on in the background?”

He sighs as the screen comes into view. It’s the beginning of the movie, so they can watch it in its entirety and laugh about it together. “I suppose we can wait,” he relents, allowing Emma to sit him down on the couch. He, in turn, wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her legs over his lap. “But I'm not taking my eyes or hands off you for a moment.”

“Good,” she says with a smirk of her own. “I'd despair if you did.”

She tucks her head in the space between his neck and shoulder and something settles, warm and happy, in Killian’s chest.

If Killian had to think of one word to encompass this Christmas, he'd have to settle on unexpected. From his brother’s phone call to his and Emma's fake engagement, the last thing he thought this holiday would end with was him and Emma cozied up on his couch, curled around each other while watching a cheesy Christmas movie.

(And if they don't make it to the triumphant end in order to create their own, then sue him. Sometimes Hallmark movies have to write themselves.)

#csss #captain swan secret santa #cs ff #cs au #fake!engaged #ALSO CHRISTMAS FLUFF #ouat #my words #storytime #this is easily the longest one shot ive written ever #its over 7k #i was worried it wasnt going to get done in time #BUT IT DID #MERRY CHRISTMAS SANDY #i feel like i neglected you as a secret santa #im sorry #i hope you enjoy this!

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c-e-d-dreamer · 7 years

Text

I know this is technically a day late, but let’s pretend I totally posted this yesterday...

Neil starts outlining a plan in his head as he ducks between students and buildings. Group projects are the bane of his existence, but he has to do them if he wants to pass, and he has to pass if he wants to be eligible to keep playing Exy. At least this time Joseph Peters isn’t in his group, but he still prefers individual assignments. The faster he gets his five slides done, the less he has to interact with the group.

Neil cuts across the Green because it’s faster, but he has to weave through a sea of bodies. The warmer weather of spring has drawn out many students from their hoards in the library. From sunbathers to studiers, the grass is now marred by waves and waves of bright colors and tanned skin. The combination of laughter and the singing of nearby birds tangle together in the air like a tangible cacophony, and the rays of the sun lick down along the ground, creating a blissful atmosphere.

Neil sidesteps around a group of sorority girls and ducks to avoid getting in the middle of an ultimate frisbee game. By the time he makes it Perimeter Road, the crowds have thinned out, and it’s easy to cross the road and head up towards Fox Tower.

His dorm is dark when Neil unlocks the door. For some reason all of the lights have been turned off, and it instantly strikes Neil as odd. He knows he can double check the schedule taped to the fridge, but he distinctly remembers Nicky’s class getting out earlier than his. Even stranger still is the fact that someone has blocked out the windows, so only a few straggling bands of light seep in. The stark darkness puts Neil on edge, settling deep in his chest and making waves of anxiety begin to churn. He knows it’s been three years, that there’s no need to run anymore, but that doesn’t stop the disquiet in his bones or ease the itch now sparking in his muscles. He’s considering heading up to the roof and texting Andrew when the lights flick on.

“Surprise!”

Neil jolts at the sudden change and shout, stumbling back and slamming his elbow into the door frame.

“Graceful.”

It takes Neil a moment to recognize that sarcastic tone, and another still for his eyes to register Allison’s unimpressed face across the room from him. He has to blink a few times to fully take in the room. Matt and Dan are standing just outside the kitchenette, arms still up, where they must’ve been hiding for the surprise. Allison and Renee are standing behind the couch. Even Kevin’s there, perched on the couch beside Andrew. Streamers have been hung all over from the ceiling, some twisted together in a pattern and others hanging down to create curtains in the doorways. Two bundles of balloons sit either side of the desks where a stack of brightly colored gifts awaits.

“That was priceless. You should’ve seen your face,” Nicky says, coming over to sling his arm around Neil’s shoulders and show the striker a video on his phone. “I am definitely posting this.”

Before Neil can respond, he’s being pulled into a bear hug.

“Oh, man, we got you good,” Matt says, ruffling Neil’s hair. “Happy birthday, Neil.”

Once Matt releases him, Dan steps up for a hug of her own, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Happy birthday,” she says. “So, did you want to do presents or cake first?”

“I can’t believe you all came back,” Neil says, looking around the room and addressing everyone. “You didn’t have to do that. Or get me anything.”

“Same old Neil,” Allison sighs.

“Let’s do presents first,” Dan says, pushing Neil to sit down on the couch before handing him a gift wrapped in bright blue paper. “That’s from Allison.”

All of the Foxes take seats around Neil as the striker slowly starts to tear open the gift. He opens the box to find new clothes, including a new hoodie.

“I know you prefer comfort over fashion,” Allison says. “So, at least that’s high-end.”

“Thanks,” Neil says, setting the opened box aside.

The next gift reveals a nice moleskin sketchbook and a set of pencils and pens.

“For your doodles,” Renee explains sweetly.

Dan’s gift is a collage photo frame, and Neil takes a minute to examine each photo. There’s one of all of them after championships, one of him and Andrew from the girls’ graduation party, one of him and Matt from a neon party they went to Matt’s last year. Neil touches each photo, and he can’t help the smile that pulls its way across his face. Seeing all these makes warmth pool in his gut, and for a moment, his chest feels tight with everything he feels for this family, his family. They’ve stood by him for years, and now they’ve all journeyed down just for his birthday. It leaves Neil feeling overwhelmed and yet so happy. He’s not sure how to even begin to put into words how grateful and thankful he is.

“Way to go, Dan,” Nicky says. “How is anyone supposed to follow up a gift like that?”

Despite his words, Nicky drops a card into Neil’s lap. Inside is a hand drawn coupon declaring one free ticket to Germany.

“So you can come visit me, obviously. Just pick a date, and I’ll buy the ticket.”

Another card reveals season tickets to the Charlotte Cardinals games from Matt and the last has a gift card to Exites in it from Kevin.

“I think that’s all of the gifts,” Renee says, checking the desk they were previously piled on for any stragglers.

“Wait. What about Andrew?” Nicky says. “Didn’t you get Neil anything?”

“I really didn’t need any of these gifts,” Neil pipes up.

“That’s no excuse!” Nicky continues before turning on Andrew. “Seriously, you didn’t get your own boyfriend a gift for his birthday?”

“Maybe his gift to Neil is the type he’d rather give when they’re alone later,” Allison says.

“I did not need to know that,” Matt mutters.

“Alright,” Dan says, pitching her voice above everyone and clapping her hands together in an attempt to diffuse the tension quickly accumulating in the room. “How about cake now?”

Everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while the cake is brought out, and they encourage Neil to make a wish and blow out the candles. Neil thinks for a moment, but he can’t think of anything he’d wish for. Everything he could ever want is right here. He has a group of people who love and support him, who will always have his back and are willing to drop everything for something as trivial as a birthday. He has someone who doesn’t flinch away from his scars or his past, who’s strong enough to hold him up. He has an Exy court down the road that’s his home, that has a team ready and willing to follow him. And he has a future to look forward to for once. A future full of more of this.

So Neil closes his eyes and thinks of nothing as he blows out his candles.

Once the cake is cut and divvied up and the booze is broken out, the room fills up with warm and comfortable chatter. It’s like half the people in this room haven’t graduated, like nothing has changed, and Neil is more than happy to sit and just bask in it. He sips at the drink that was mixed for him and watches everyone around him, hoards the sights and sounds for when everyone leaves. He talks a bit with Allison about her designing and with Renee about where her next adventure will be. He even briefly talks with Kevin and Matt about the differences of playing in the pro-league.

The hours tick by faster than Neil would like, but eventually the night has to come to a close. Matt and Dan are making the two-hour trip back to Charlotte, and Allison and Renee are heading back to a hotel for the night before flying out early tomorrow morning. Kevin leaves to head to Wymack’s for the night, and the living room feels too empty as the last of the Foxes file out to head to bed. Neil tries not to feel deflated by the change, but the catch in his lungs with each breath is hard to ignore. He looks down at Dan’s gift and tries to cling desperately to the feelings of just an hour before.

A nudge to the side brings Neil back and when he looks to his left, Andrew is standing from the couch and heading for the door. Neil is quick to follow and they head up to the roof. They’re quiet as Andrew lights up two cigarettes, eyes watching out over the campus. It’s a clear night for once but the lights from the freeway blur out most of the stars. It’s still nice. The warmth from the spring night and Andrew beside him settling Neil.

Andrew lights up his second cigarette and curls his fingers around Neil’s wrist. He raises Neil’s hand up between them and drops a key into the palm. Neil freezes in confusion for a moment before he brings the key closer to his face and examines the simple stainless steel of it. He flips it over once before running his finger along the ridges and dips.

“What’s this for?” Neil asks.

“Finally decided,” Andrew says. “Sent over my paperwork to the Monarchs a few days ago.”

“What does that have to do with a key?”

“I’m not going to commute to Boston from here. Got an apartment in Back Bay.”

Neil blinks a few times at Andrew’s profile as he continues to smoke. He watches the way the smoke curls around the goalkeeper’s features for just a moment before he glances back down at the key in his hand.

“Happy birthday I guess.”

Neil closes his fingers around the key and bites his lip around a smile. Happy birthday indeed.

#my fic #drabble #tfc #Andreil #aftg #I'm too lazy to tag all the Foxes #so let's pretend that happened too #yay for love and family!#and surprise parties!

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stripestheboar · 7 years

Text

Stagnant Decay Chapter 1

Well, here comes my first Undertale chapter series.

Synopsis: Sans and Papyrus live a happy life on the surface and everything seems to be going fairly well for them. However, Sans is having a bit of trouble keeping his name clean when something that looks, walks, and talks like him keeps getting him into trouble with frequent killings around town. Meanwhile, Papyrus begins to keep secrets when he finds something he really shouldn’t have. Something that could get the both of them killed at any moment. But you know Papyrus. He could never deliberately get rid of something that needs his help.

This chapter and later chapters may contain: Undertale, Dusttale, Sans, Papyrus, the main cast making some minor appearances, fight scenes, tears, a really creepy Murder!Sans, tender moments, crazy moments, and completely SFW brotherly love.

This is mostly just a chapter to getchya settled in.

Next ->

Every so often, Sans would forget something. It was occasional, but it still happened. It wasn't that he never want to remember anything; in fact, he would prefer to not to remember anything at all. But with that all too familiar cloudiness swarming his skull, he couldn't help the way he was.

Luckily for him, Papyrus was always there to help him remember. No matter what it was or the time of day, even when he thought he was alone, Paps seemed to be just a couple steps away to shake him back into reality. Sometimes he would forget where the house was. Papyrus always showed him the way. His brother was always so helpful. Sometimes he would forget what section of the Underground he was in. Papyrus would pointed out the noticeable features of the landscape, such as the snow or lava. His brother was always there for him. Sometimes he would forget to eat. Papyrus would make sure he didn't fall. How did deserve his brother? Sometimes he would forget what happened. Papyrus didn't let him forget. He never let Sans forget. But that was okay. He still loved his brother will all his soul.

And yet, sometimes, he just forgot. He blamed it on the stagnant state of the world around him. Papyrus never blamed anyone.

"Sans! Can you lend a hand to me?" Papyrus called from the kitchen, heaving a few bags of groceries onto the kitchen table, a few dastardly cans slipping out to hit the floor. A quick sigh rocked his frame as he surveyed the bagged foods before getting to picking up some of the fallen goods. On cue to his question, he heard something shift around in the living room on the couch his brother could usually be found at. "Sure thing, bro," came the deeper, slower drawl Sans was known for. "Just be sure you give it back." There was a faint pop sound as Papyrus began to process Sans' words, only to be interrupted when something flew from the other room and clattered onto the floor beside him. He blinked in surprise and gazed down at the detached hand that had landed; it was smaller than his own and slightly thicker in each individual bone. His sockets widened some in surprise and he was quickly developing that familiar flustered feeling whenever Sans did something asinine. "Sans!" he scolded. "That's not what I meant, you lazybones! Get in here and reattach your hand! That's not good for our joints!" Moments later, the lazy skeleton sauntered in, amusement clearly placed over his skull as he bent down and picked up his severed hand. "Sorry, bro," Sans chuckled, "I was just trying to be handy." Papyrus gave his smaller brother an impatient look, but a sigh was really his only response. While his jokes were painfully unfunny and immature, the self proclaimed 'mature one' of the two had learned to just live with them. After about a year of living on the surface, he sort of had to bear with it ever since such a wide array of jokes had been opened up. The very first week of being free, Sans went on a pun-filled rampage (don't talk to the human like that; it wouldn't be humane. Sans fit the hand back onto his ulna and radius, the carpals seeming to just snap back into place upon making contact with the two larger bones. With a flex of his metacarpals, he looked over at the bags of food. "Gee, Paps. Did ya bring all this in with one go?" he asked, looking up at Papyrus as the two began to put away the food. The taller skeleton immediately welled up in pride that needed to be boasted. "Why, of course! The Great Papyrus does not need to make two trips! I cannot split my efforts in half!" he boasted. He saw Sans give an amused roll of his eyelights, but he just ignored it. As Papyrus was putting away a few boxes of pasta, a phone rang from the living room. From the loud goat noise that emitted from the device; the phone was obviously Sans'. His older brother dropped the groceries he was holding and rushed off at an astounding speed of 2 mph (a new record for him), snatching the phone off the arm of the couch. After a quick glance at the caller ID, he went out the backdoor to have the conversation. Despite Papyrus' respect for his brother's privacy, personal calls were a rarity with him. Usually when it rang, it was just Miss Toriel with a few more awful jokes ready to be told, and Sans would always make sure Papyrus stayed within earshot to listen to just how painful they were. Calls had not been kept private since his brother started becoming the lazy slob he is now. That was years and years ago. When all the groceries had been put away and the bags were stored for later use, Sans was still outside, presumably having a talk with whoever had decided to call. It was longer than last time, Papyrus noted. While it wasn't a particularly bad thing, it still had his curiosity itching. 'Perhaps it is just Frisk needing some help with their homework or their royal duties,' he reasoned with himself. After all, with all the business the human had to go through with King Asgore, there were bound to be stories to tell or advice that was needed. 'But Sans of all monsters?' he thought for a second. 'That sure is a bit odd.' Sure, he was smart, but his brother hadn't the slightest inkling of how to be regal. It was around that time of being lost in his thoughts that Sans had finally come back in, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as usual. The urge to ask Sans who the caller was floated up to the forefront of his skull, but Papyrus quickly brushed it off in favor of respecting his brother's privacy as Sans had done so many times with him. Or, at least he hoped he did. Sans' little adventures in bending the laws of time and space always did make him a bit weary, especially after the treadmill prank a few years back. Yet, even still, he kept his mandible locked tight as he watched Sans walk up the stairs. Papyrus checked the time and took a quick look out the window as he usually did around this time of day. Just as predicted, the sun was beginning to set as it did every day. He dropped what he was doing to rest his arms on the windowsill and just watch the sun fall behind the horizon. Unsurprising to those who knew him, Papyrus always watched the sun rise at dawn and fall at dusk. How could he not? With it's bright orange and magenta colors and it's slow transitions of the times of day, he was truly fascinated by it. There was something about watching the sun come and go that was always so special to him. Having been born in the Underground, he knew that the sun wasn't just something to be taken for granted, unlike Sans, the lazybones. It had been an entire year since Frisk had freed them from the Underground, and everyday at dawn and dusk, Papyrus was always there to watch the sunrise. In fact, he had never missed any of them once, as hard as it may be for some to believe. He didn't plan on missing any in the future, either. That would surely be a tragedy. Once the tall skeleton was satisfied that enough light had left the sky, he immediately got out two boxes of noodles, the angel haired variety to be exact. Thinner noodles mean room for more pasta, after all. Sans tried to to reason once that two boxes was an awful lot for just two skeletons, maybe even a bit too much, but blasphemy wasn't tolerated in this household, so he dropped it. As he began to boil the water, he couldn't help but have his mind wander to Sans again. He had been so secretive over the past week. Hiding calls, going out during the later hours of the day, and being tight-teethed about his actions were just some of the things that hinted his brother was hiding something. He hadn't been this way since around the time he had first met Flowey. In fact, that particular secret still remained just that: a secret. Was something wrong?

After a quick shortcut to Alphys' lab, Sans took a minute to prepare himself. He took a few swigs of the ketchup he brought with him, he made sure his nerves were in check, and he reminisced over all the times Papyrus had scolded him. It was a strange ritual for sure, and he just hoped he wouldn't have to do it anymore after this session. However, no matter how much he had prepared himself, every time he walked through those doors to greet his favorite cold-blooded couple, he always found himself needing some alone time afterwards. A lot of alone time.

After a another quick drink, he took in a ribcageful of air and casually opened the door to the lab. Alphys and Undyne immediately looked up at him from the island counter they had been talking over. "Sans! D-do come in," Alphys said, quickly shuffling over to her bag to grab, and fumble with, a blue folder. He watched her and her nervous scamper to the table and sat down on a stool, scooting closer to the island. It seemed that it had been cleared off for this occasion. His eyelights flicked up to Undyne to evaluate how bad this situation was. Upon seeing the gears turning within the fish's head and hard at work, he knew this one was particularly bad.

"So, lay it on me," he sighed, folding his arms onto the table. "Another one?" Undyne shook her head. "Three this time. Two monsters. One human." That was surprising. After a week of murders happening around town and at the most random of places, never once had a human been attacked and killed. "A human? Geeze, that takes some guts," he murmured, before looking at folder Alphys had brought with her as she sat down. "I'm going to guess that's whatever's in that won't clear me off the list." Alphys gave a sort of apologetic nod as she opened up the folder, revealing a few non-confidential reports and photos inside. "We were never sure, at first," she said, fingers diligently moving the photos around so they would be spread out. "But that's only because monsters dust when they die. With this, it's absolute." Steeling himself, Sans brought his gaze over the numerous photos. They weren't pretty.

He was immediately sickened to see the different positions of a dead human body, this one being a male. While none of them were of the crime scene (that would get Undyne in deep trouble), they seemed to be from a coroner's table. It appeared that Alphys put in a request to get them specifically for him, which was surprising seeing how she couldn't take death very well. The most noticeable feature of the body was the giant hole in the middle on the abdomen. Geez, it's like this guy was impaled on a tree. Upon further inspection, he eventually saw the various broken bones and caved in parts of his body. It looked like someone took a baseball bat to this guy. Whoever did this clearly did not like humans one bit.

"The fatal wound as well as the other bruises and breaks were caused by something large and blunt," Alphys explained, turned away from the folder so she wouldn't have to see it. "It took a while, but it was eventually figured out that the marks and indentations within the body directly match a large bone. A femur to be exact. The residue left over confirms the bone was made of magic, and the only monsters that can conjure bones are skeletons. As far as we know, there are only two."

'Three,' Sans corrected in his mind, though his thoughts should be elsewhere right now.

"That's four times now," Undyne sighed, laying the side of her hand against her brow as she sighed. "Three sightings near the crime scenes and one body of physical proof. All in one week. Sans, the station's been urging me to bring something in. If this keeps up, I may have to actually do something." Sans grimaced the best he could through that permanent grin of his. Who could have been doing this? And why? There were no other skeletons (the feasible of them anyways) that would do something like this. Just the thought of another possible skeleton reeking havoc on the town shivered his bones. His LOVE remained at the basic one, so unless Papyrus was secretly a stealthy serial killer that was able to make himself look short and round, he was completely stumped on this one.

The three were completely silent for a minute or two. Finally, Undyne spoke up. "I think you should tell Pap-"

"No."

And so that topic was settled.

"Okay, listen. I'll put out team to find out whoever this guy is," the fish said finally. "But, we're running out of options here. If we don't find this asshole, the entire kingdom's going to be raging for my to bring you and Paps in." Sans felt his soul drop like a sack of rocks. This whole situation was bad enough since it was happening to only him, but it would be a cold day in hell when he'd drag Papyrus into it. "Over my dead body," he nearly snapped, his sockets void of light for the moment. It would take a lot more than that to intimidate Undyne, though. She just seemed to brush his sudden change in behavior off. "Well it just might be," she responded in a similar snappy fashion. "There's nothing you can really do, Sans." Her lone visible eye softened some in sympathy when she saw Sans look down at the ground, seemingly at a loss for what to do. She gave a sigh. "If I were you, I'd go home and spend some time with Pap. The way this is headin', it ain't lookin' good for you."

Sans thought the situation over. While it was easy to prove that he was innocent, he didn't think it would be so easy with the rest of the monsters. Eventually, even the humans would climb into the bandwagon, and knowing how prominent they were around here, he wouldn't stand a chance. There were still tensions between monsters and humans, after all, and there have already been a few unsavory acts committed by the groups onto the other.

Sans finally let out a small huff of frustration, though on the inside he felt like screaming at the stars. It's not every day he was being accused of murder. He's have to do a bit of investigating on his own, wouldn't he? He just hoped it wouldn't get him into more trouble. He grumbled, but begrudgingly stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Hey Undyne," he snapped, looking over at Papyrus' best friend. "Make sure you catch this bastard, okay?" Undyne smirked some and gave a nod. "Can do, ya bag of bones. Say hi to Paps for me. We still have that cooking lesson tomorrow, alright? And make sure he's pumped up! I won't tolerate rookie level cooking, got that?" Sans looked back at Undyne, unable to help but chuckle. "You got it, fish lips."

And with that, he left the lab.

Undyne watched the door for a bit, as if expecting him to come back in. She then gathered the photos up in the folder, gave Alphys a quick kiss, and left as well.

She had a killer to catch.

#Undertale #Sans #Papyrus #Undyne #Alphys #Murder!Sans #Dust!Sans #Stagnant Decay #Dusttale #Everybody haaaaates Saaaaans #Fanfiction #Coonfics

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cluelessnamelessao3 · 3 years

Text

But It’s Not Funny

15. I’m Not Laughing Anymore

You would be lying if you said that you were doing well.

Despite the zoo adventure and other various simple hangouts, you were still preoccupied over the conversation with Frisk and Flowey. There was worry embedded in your heart over the condition of those kids and their fate. There was a sense of fear that hadn’t left you since that day.

Though, you had stopped trying to research. There was just nothing to research—at least nothing with even an ounce of validity. You had toyed with the idea of talking to one of the monsters, like, perhaps, Toriel, but you were hesitant. Frisk seemed very keen on secrecy, did Toriel even know about their purported powers?

You could talk to Alphys, maybe. She seemed the most qualified of any, what with her background, to explain monster and human magic. Yet, still, how could you frame your line of questioning in a way that didn’t expose Frisk? How would you explain your sudden interest in magic, souls, and the history of the monsters? Prior, you had been relatively accepting—preferring not to question your friends about their past but allowing them to share what they wished to when they wished to do so.

Then, there was Sans. He was the first person you had considered talking to, however, you had a sickly gut-feeling upon the notion. Additionally, you remembered Frisks words—after all, how could you not? They had played in your mind on repeat, occupied your night-time musings, and haunted your daydreams.

“No one knows…?” you had asked.

“Well, I think someone does… but I can’t exactly talk to him about it. He hates it. He made me promise that I wouldn’t reset.”

He. He hates it. He. He made them promise. He.

There were few “he’s” that Frisk could be referring to. Though, what were the odds? Surely, Frisk knew far more of the monsters than you did. What were the chances that they were referring to Sans? Perhaps, Papyrus?

You tried to picture Papyrus in the situation, but it just didn’t fit. Someone that sweet and that hopeful could not be privy to such devastating information.

Which, inevitably, led you back to Sans. You could certainly see the effects of trauma in his tired bones—hah, making puns even without your skeleton friend. Considering these things brought you also to a memory of Sans’ late nights. He often seemed like an insomniac, unable to sleep for the thoughts in his head. He’d confided in you about his nightmares; you had thought at the time that they were just fears and worries manifesting in his dreams. You remembered him talking about violence, about things that had happened, yet had never truly happened. Most poignantly, you remembered him admitting that sometimes it was hard to know what was real and what was not.

All evidence pointed towards the mysterious “he” that Frisk mentioned being none other than Sans.

Still, though, you were reluctant to ask him. The feeling resided deep within you; from a place you couldn’t identify. You just knew, it was not a conversation you wanted to have—or perhaps, you just weren’t ready for it yet.

So, it brought you back to Alphys. Perhaps, it would not be so hard to talk to her about magic without revealing anything—you questions could be disguised as curiosity that you had not entertained out of respect for them.

You needed to talk to Alphys, though it struck you that it would be difficult to question her with Undyne around. You needed to talk to Alphys alone.

Would she even want to talk about magic? Or, for that matter, what happened in the Underground?

Your phone buzzed, bringing you back into the present moment.

You looked around you, taking in the colourful shop around you and the quiet of a slow afternoon. Although Frisk had been allowed to resume working again—a fact you had been excited (and apprehensive) about, Frisk hadn’t come in today, apparently having too much work to catch up on in school. You hadn’t minded, knowing that the middle of the week was always slow for you in any case. Though, you did miss their company.

Gingerly, you grabbed your phone off of the counter and checked it. Just one message flashed on the screen, from Sans.

Sansational [12:50 pm]

knock knock.

You rolled your eyes, though a soft smile did grace your lips.

XXX–XXX–XXXX [12:51 pm]

who’s there?

Instantly, a response appeared.

Sansational [12:51 pm]

wendy

You played along, texting back “wendy who?”

Sansational [12:52 pm]

wendy you think we can go on a date?

For a moment it felt like your heart had stopped; for all too long you simply stared at the text message. Date? You thought, feeling not entirely unhappy with the notion.

However, before you could formulate a response, your phone dinged again and then again. As you opened the thread again, two more responses popped up.

Sansational [12:52 pm]

uh * coffee date

like we did before

lol

oops

You could feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, though you couldn’t identify why. You shook yourself and typed out a response.

XXX-XXX-XXXX [12:53 pm]

cant leave now, at the shop alone

after work?

Sansational [12:53 pm]

how about dinner?

The rest of the day went without much incident, although Greater Dog did come in for a quick groom—apparently their family was taking photos today and he wanted to look his best. You smiled at the image of their huge family getting together for pictures—how cute.

As you were cleaning up the backroom and locking up, there was the sound of the door chiming.

Without looking, you called out, “Hey, we’re closed!”

“That’s the hope,” came a familiar gravelly voice.

You smiled, emerging from the backroom with a dirty, hair-covered rag in hand, “Oh, hey Sans! I didn’t know you were coming here.”

He looked you over, you with your apron and washcloth, with dog fur littering your clothes, and your hair tied back—though now strands of it were sticking out at odd angles.

Sans appeared as cool as ever, hands in the pockets of his deep blue jacket, wearing his typical gym shorts and converse. It fit him, despite the fact that you had never seen him partake in anything remotely sports-related, or for that matter, active.

“Thought you might be bonely without the lil’ squirt.”

You nodded, “Yeah, actually, I used to love working alone, but now? I’m so used to having someone with me.”

Luna, at that point, trotted up to Sans with her tail lowly wagging. She sniffed at him curiously, ears at attention, though they relaxed once he placed a skeletal hand on her head.

As he pat Luna, you finished cleaning and closing up the store.

The two of you chatted idly as you worked, and he continued to give Luna the attention she deserved.

With him here, you couldn’t stop thinking about Frisk and their words. It would be so simple just to ask—“hey, do humans have magic?” Or anything about the conversation without giving too much away, yet, when you looked at him, something stopped you.

Perhaps, it was the clear exhaustion rimming his eye sockets, or the subtle way his shoulders were hunched. Perhaps, it was something in you that was making you hesitate.

“Almost done?” His voice broke into your thoughts, drawing you back from your musings.

“Just finished!” You said with glee, before adding, “Can we stop at my place first? I definitely need to wash-up.”

You gestured at your fur-covered self.

“Fur real,” Sans laughed, “S’no paw-blem.”

You snickered at his joke, then got ready to leave.

It was a short walk to your apartment building; however, you had the uncomfortable sense of being watched. Every time you looked around, though, the streets were empty. Sans had noticed your nervousness, even trying to question you about what was wrong, but you couldn’t quite articulate what was bothering you.

Still, you arrived uneventfully.

“Okay, just give me like fifteen minutes to shower and dress, then we can go.”

He just nodded from his place on the couch, Luna already having clambered into his lap.

Fifteen minutes later, you were fresh and ready to go.

“So, where to?”

You arrived at Grillby’s as afternoon rolled into the evening, it was still brisk outside—winter still in full-swing, though it hadn’t snowed yet. The sky was clouded and dark, the air cool and still, but you felt warm as you spent time with Sans.

After securing a booth, Sans ordered a bottle of ketchup, a burger for himself, and one for you. He also ordered two drinks, though you weren’t sure what they were.

Grillby was serving, today—you were always in awe of how much he could do. He cooked, he cleaned, he worked the front, all while keeping rowdy customers from causing a scene.

Soon enough, there was food in front of your face and drinks were served.

Sans, as per his usual, absolutely drowned his burger and fries in ketchup—also taking a sip from the bottle for good measure.

You shivered, watching, before digging into your own plate.

The drink was as colourful as the previous you’d had on other occasions and though you had the temptation to drink it quickly, since it tasted so good, you had also learned your lesson from the last time.

It settled your nerves, making you more at ease. You hadn’t even realised how tense you had been beforehand.

“How’re you feeling?”

He always seemed to sense your mood.

“Better,” you answered truthfully.

“What was wrong?”

You paused, trying to figure out what to say, “I had a lot on my mind—what with the attack on Frisk and everything.”

“Did Frisk talk about it to you?”

You shrugged, lying, “Not really…”

Sans quirked a brow, then sipped his own drink, “I see.”

Suddenly, you saw an opening.

“Why?” You asked, “Did they talk to you about it?”

The expression on his face was unreadable before an easy grin took over once more.

“The kid and I get along, but we’re not exactly—I’m not exactly the person they go to with their problems.”

That surprised you, after all, you had seen the easy way that they joked with each other. They seemed like good friends, though with the context of your conversation with Frisk, it almost made sense that there would be some underlying problems between them.

He finished his drink, prompting you to drink yours a little faster. As you took the last dregs of it, he ordered another round.

“You trying to get me drunk?” You asked cheekily.

“Just trying to,” he paused, holding his drink up, “raise your spirits.”

The pun took a second to hit you, but you laughed wholeheartedly.

“Do you know why they call alcohol spirits?”

“No?” He responded quizzically.

“It’s because when they make alcohol, they distil it, and when they do that it is like they’re taking the essence, or the spirit, of whatever they use to make the alcohol.”

“Why do you know this?”

“I know a lot of things.”

He raised a browbone, “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to find out!”

“Oh, I will,” he said with a smirk.

The tone of his voice gave you thrills, though you weren’t sure why. You were feeling pleasant—pleasantly full of good food, pleasantly warm with the drinks, and pleasantly at peace with your company.

“I don’t know a lot about monsters, though,” you admitted.

“Well, I don’t think the humans knew about us.”

You nodded, sipping on your drink thoughtfully. Maybe, it would be alright to press a little bit.

“How did you guys get underground?”

Wrong question. The lights of his eyes disappeared for a moment and reappeared just slightly dimmer than before.

“It… is complex. I guess, the short of it, is that humans forced us into the Underground.”

You hummed in agreement, having already knew that much.

“Do you know much about magic?”

“Not a lot,” you said, thinking about the conversation with Frisk. Despite all that you had learned, you, in truth, still did not know a lot.

“Well, monsters are made of magic and can use it, but humans used to have magic too.” He stopped to take a drink, almost as though gathering his courage, “Several mages—human magic users—got together and used their powers to trap the monsters below Mount Ebott.”

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged.

“Humans don’t have magic anymore, do they?”

Something in his grin twitched, but he kept his easy smiling façade.

“As far as we know, most don’t.”

You noticed his word choice—not “they don’t,” but “most don’t.” It confirmed Frisk’s proclaimed powers. He knew something, but you weren’t sure what or how much.

“What’s with the sudden curiosity?”

You felt sheepish, not wanting to reveal anything that Frisk and you had talked about.

“I just wanted to know more about you guys, you know? That’s what friends do, they’re interested in each other’s history.”

The words felt like a lie, although they weren’t technically untrue. You were curious, you had been curious, but you certainly had other motives for asking these questions now.

He seemed to accept your answer, though.

“To patella you the truth, I don’t like thinking about it that much.”

Guilt washed over you like a sickly pestilence, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“S’okay, natural to be curious. I’d tell you anything you want to know.”

“You’re not ribbing me?”

He chuckled, “No bones about it. I appreciate that you wanted to be sensitive. I’d rather you know the truth from an actual monster than those crazy theories you humans post online.”

At that you laughed, your face flushing with some embarrassment, “Yeah, it didn’t take me long to figure out those were a skeleton of crap.”

He laughed, too, the sound rich and deep. It made you feel warm; it made your stomach squirm. You liked his laugh. Well, you liked his voice, too, with its almost sultry cadence.

“Would you show me your magic sometime?”

His skeletal face became tinged with blue, though you weren’t sure why.

“Sure, I can show you a trick or two.”

“Cool.”

A couple of hours later, the two of you were certainly feeling the effects of those drinks, but it was entirely pleasant. Conversation came easily and naturally between you; the dinner—you hesitated to call it a date—had been a much-needed reprieve from everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

“You ready? It’s getting late…”

You nodded, checking your phone, and feeling a sense of surprise at how quickly the hours had passed.

“Geez, didn’t realise the time!”

Sans made to get up, reaching out a hand for you to take, “Need a hand?”

“Is that a clock pun?”

He snickered, you grabbed his hand gently, and he pulled you out of the booth and the restaurant. You liked the feeling of his bony hand as it engulfed your own. He was soft, but still firm.

You didn’t let go, even outside, and he didn’t protest.

The two of you walked down the street, hand in hand, in easy silence. All too soon, you reached the doors of your apartment building, but you didn’t want this night to end just yet.

“Want to come upstairs?”

He wiggled his browbone at you, to which you sputtered and blushed.

“Not like that!”

“I didn’t say a word.”

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