#wanna draw more but I gotta finish the got dam thing like!!! get me my fucking boy back!!!!!!!!!

[elizabysmal]

I’m about a third of the way though the third book in the scholomance series and I’ve been rotating these two at 350 degrees in my brain for two weeks

#el higgins #orion lake #the scholomance #hARTcore #wanna draw more but I gotta finish the got dam thing like!!! get me my fucking boy back!!!!!!!!! #scholomance

[alderoo]

Veteran’s Lament

Okay, I’m back and this time posting a fic in a little bit of a different format. It’s been up on A03 for awhile now so I’ll link it below in a little bit.

Hyrule Warriors brainrot Hyrule Warriors brainrot-

Lol this was for the October Exchange on the LU Discord!

Description: Legend has a nightmare. Warriors talks to him. As it turns out, Warriors knows exactly who Legend’s ‘dream girl’ is.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329764

Legend woke up crying, from another dream about the world that he had left behind. There was yet another fleeting moment of hope that this time he’d be able to stay there for good, no matter how much he told himself that it wouldn’t be possible. Because they were all dead. 

He hid himself under the covers of his bedroll, praying that whoever was on watch would just ignore him and his plights. But, of course he started to hear footsteps coming towards him. He had the hero’s spirit himself, he knew that he’d do the same thing to any of the other heroes if they were having an issue. Except the main problem was the pattern of steps that approached. Warriors. 

As the footsteps grew closer, Legend could feel himself getting more and more tense. He didn’t want to talk with anybody. Especially not the pretty boy. So when Warriors sat near him, all Legend did in response was turn over and try to fall back asleep. 

“Go away, pretty boy,” Legend growled from underneath the blankets. Warriors didn’t seem bothered by this, at least from what Legend could tell. But, of course, Legend was blocking anything from his vision at the moment. 

“Nightmare?” The captain asked, voice gentler than Legend had ever heard. It seemed like a tone of voice he’d use for the sailor. Legend cringed at it. 

“What’s it to you?” He answered, annoyance practically dripping from his voice. Warriors only sighed. 

“I just want to help,” The captain insisted, shifting slightly. “Contrary to popular belief I don’t hate you, vet,”

Legend hummed in response, not bothering to move. After a few more minutes of lying there, Legend finally accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep for a while. So, he sat up, shivering at the night air, then silently walked over to the fire, Warriors following with uncertainty. 

The veteran hummed at the warmth of the fire, but flinched when the captain returned to his spot. Legend prayed to whatever goddess was watching that Warriors wouldn’t press the issue. The veteran had a reputation to uphold, after all. If they found out that he was hurting, they’d try to help, and he knew that he would get attached. Then they’d learn who he really was. A weakling. 

“I’m not going to let you suffer in silence, Legend,” Warriors stated bluntly, distracting Legend from his thoughts. Legend curled in on himself further, unable to look the captain in the eyes. “If there’s anything at all I can do, please tell me. I don’t like seeing anyone get lost in their head like that,”

“It was nothing, War. Just a dream,” Legend said, trying to put an end to further questioning, but that statement seemed to pique the captain’s curiosity even further.

“So not a nightmare. What was the problem then?” 

“I didn’t wanna wake up,” 

Warriors shut his mouth with an audible click, processing Legend’s precious words carefully. It reminded him of something, no, it reminded him of someone. Then it all made sense. He had seen the nights that Marin woke up crying in another tent, the way that she rubbed her eyes and insisted that it was nothing more than a dream. Until it wasn’t.

During the war, Warriors and Marin had become acquainted, and it was the captain’s job to make sure that his fighters were in their best shape, especially the powerful ones that had been brought from their worlds. Warriors remembered how one night he held the Skull Kid in his arms, sobbing about a nightmare of Majora taking his body again. And another night, but that time he had accidentally caught Midna staring at the sunset, hearing her mutter about the glowing skies of Twilight.

And most importantly, he remembered when he asked Marin about her dreams after a particularly rough battle. The songstress had been injured, a product of her own distractions. So she told him what had happened. How a boy in green came to her island. How he was perfectly imperfect, how he was her dream. 

Warriors snapped back to reality when he realized that Legend was staring at him. The captain sighed, and sat down near the veteran, ignoring the wide-eyed glance sent his way. 

“I met a girl during the war, you know,” Warriors started, drawing in a shaky breath. “She was beautiful, and she was dropped right off through a portal from her home. She had no experience fighting, but insisted that we let her help with the efforts, having heard tales of a beast named Ganon,” 

Legend listened intently, an inkling of feeling dripping through his cracked mask as a tear slid down his face. Warriors took off his scarf, and wrapped it around him.

“She was powerful. She knew songs that brought someone hope and joy, and she fought with a bell at her side, calling on a deity to help her in battle. We became friends, just like I had with everyone else from different eras. There was one night, though, I woke to crying from a nearby tent, and it was her. She didn’t elaborate past saying that it was just a dream,” Warriors paused, collecting himself before continuing. “The next day, she got hurt in battle. Got distracted, and didn’t dodge quick enough from a moblin’s swing. Broke her arm pretty badly,”

“I went to see how she was, and I asked her what was wrong, and she told me. She told me where she came from, a place called Koholint. Then she told me of a boy in green, with a hat like mine that washed up on her shores. How she found him and rescued him, and how they fell in love,” Legend was a few words away from the dam behind his eyes would break, so Warriors continued, keeping a comforting arm around Legend. “She said if I ever met him, to tell him something important,”

“Marin doesn’t blame you for what happened, Legend. She loved you. She still does. Please stop beating yourself up over it. You’re allowed to feel sad, to feel regret and to grieve for her. But that shouldn’t stop you from remembering a few happy times,”

After Warriors finished relaying the message, Legend let his face fall into his hands, and he leaned into Warriors’ stomach, clutching his tunic like a lifeline. The captain let it happen, wrapping his arms around Legend in response.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” Warriors whispered, still holding his brother close to his chest. “Let yourself be loved for a moment, no matter how little it is. You’ll break yourself far quicker doing that than you ever could getting attached,”

“How- how much did she tell you?” Legend croaked, raising his head to look Warriors in the eyes. The captain smiled.

“Once she told me about you, she’d mention things. She told me that you liked embroidery while she was fixing up her clothes. She nearly cried when we made your favorite food,” Warriors took a breath, exhaling slowly as if to calm himself. “One time, it had been a bad few weeks, for all of us. She told me, and I quote, ‘As much as you like to separate yourself, you know the story of my island. I loved that boy with all my heart and he was as skittish as a rabbit at first, you’re not getting out of friendship just because you feel bad,’”

“She didn’t tell me everything, but I know enough to know that you must be hurting. And that’s why you’ve gotta let us help you, vet,” Legend’s tears didn’t stop coming, but he cracked a mischievous smile.

“Who are you and what have you done with our idiot captain?” He joked, getting a small laugh from Warriors, who had since faced the fire again. “Captain?”

‘What is it?”

“Thanks,” Legend spat out, finding it hard to say those words, his old attitude bubbling back up as his tears dried. Warriors raised an eyebrow. “No- really. Thank you,”

“Don’t mention it,” Warriors nodded, letting Legend lean into his side once more. The veteran still clung to his tunic like a child, but if he was feeling better, Warriors didn’t mind. “Do you think that you’ll fall asleep anytime soon?”

Legend shrugged. Warriors grinned, looking at the curled up veteran, who was suspicious of the devilish expression.

“Then do you wanna hear the time that Marin brought Ganondorf to his knees?” 

#linked universe #lu legend #lu warriors #my writing

[jooniyah]

Fool’s Diamonds

Pairing: Park Jimin x Fem Reader

AU: Thief!Au

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Illness, angsty mentions of poverty, diamond mines, drunk character, character death, vague mentions of non con, suggested human trade, robbery, implied smut, general theme of mistrust and deception.

Word count: 6.39 K

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

Author’s note:  This fiction is set in a time when cell phones and social media didn’t exist. Nationalities are purely for fictional purposes, I bear no ill-will towards any nationality, nor am I xenophobic.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The air was dry and felt like parched paper. You fancied you could break it into pieces just by extending your hand out. A bead of sweat rolled inside your shirt, running down your midriff. Gosh, it was so very hot. Why was it that July felt like Earth was having a fun time roasting all the terrestrial life on a barbecue? A strong cigar smell curled around you, worsening the situation, making you want to retch.

“I’m outta here, Billie,” you shouted, leaving the money on the table. The wet circles left by the beer mugs hadn’t even dried. “Money’s on the table.”

The tattooed girl nodded at you, hollering a hearty “Sure, darlin’. See ya around.”

The heat was reflecting off the road in waves. It wasn’t like you had chosen to stay there. With a drunkard for a father and a ruined mother, you had to stay back and make sure your father didn’t set the house on fire in one of his rages. You spat down, wiping the corner of your mouth. Father. You didn’t even know what real fathers did.

Wait, of course, you did. Real fathers worked to bring bread to the table. They raised their children and tried to get their babies to live better lives. They didn’t collapse by the sewer and roll around in their own puke. It was a challenge every night to find which gutter he had passed out in.

Your mother had worked her ass off to get clothes on your back. Forget college. You had starved on days when your father stole your mom’s daily wages to go and get his brains saturated with alcohol. Did you ever think of killing him? No. Well, maybe. Okay, a lot of times.

But the old woman was strangely attached to him. She went out and dragged him home if you said you couldn’t be bothered to go find him.

“Tis your dad, girl,” she would pant, dragging the wasted scoundrel by his shoulders. “You got only him to call dad, like it or not.”

You would huff and storm out of the room, not interested in getting lectured at. Well, there wasn’t a lot of rooms in your house. There was just a living room, a kitchen, and a bedroom. Your drunk dad would usually snore in the living room. Your mother would join you in the bedroom, where she would lie on an old ratty mattress. It grossed you out to lie on it, just imagine the times it would have seen your parents’ body fluids. Ew. You would lie on a pallet, trying to suppress the anger brewing in your heart.

Every other girl in the town had left, either to college or in search of better jobs. Some had married, just to escape the clutches of the banal town, which was tainted with general unease and distrust. No one was ever able to breathe freely. It was like the whole town was constantly on edge, waiting for something bad to happen.

And when you reached home, the bitter aftertaste of the beer still on your tongue, the cruel hand of fate had struck already.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Momma?”

You raced over to her side, trying to get her to breathe. Her lips were a deep blue, the eyes were rolling back into her head.

“Y/N.”

Her breathing was strained as if every draw of her breath peeled a little piece of life away from her.

“Momma?” You repeated dumbly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Don’t go, please,” the saliva pooling in your mouth made you slur.

“Y/N,” she rasped, struggling to look at you. “Get—”

A spasm made her wince, and you watched helplessly, waiting for her to resume.

“Get outta this…” she swallowed, willing herself to finish her sentence. “… this town. Get out.”

Her eyes scoured the place, trying to see her husband’s form in the bright afternoon light. There he was, fast asleep, not minding in the least about his family or the fact that his wife was looking for him before her last breath.

“I’ll wake him up,” you said, trying to get up.

“No,” her voice was soft. “I been done waiting for him to wake up.”

“Momma,” you whined, voice laden with sorrow.

She shook her head, flashing a watery smile at you. “My baby,” her cold fingers clasped yours. “Get outta this place. Live your life, girl.”

You turned to stare in disgust at the man stretched in the doorway. “But him…”

She cut your words, whispering hoarsely. “No use, girl. He’s good as dead. You gotta go.”

Her beady eyes searched your face, relaxing when you nodded and sobbed.

“I love you, baby.”

Her chest stopped heaving.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

You were wiping hot angry tears off your cheeks, thinking what a waste your father was. He hadn’t even stirred when you shook him awake, screaming at him.

“Momma’s dead!” you had cried, hitting his chest as if it would get his brain hum-started. “You weren’t even sober, you fucking loser!”

When your mother had been around, you had kept a lid on swearing. But the dam broke, unleashing a torrent of suppressed anger spilling out of your heart in waves.

He had grinned dumbly, saying in a slurred voice:

“One less mouth to feed, then.”

You hadn’t meant to, but your fist came into contact with his nose, followed by a sickening crunch.

“You loser,” you shouted, going crazy at the thought of a world without your mother.

He shrugged, lying down on his side, supporting his head with his hand.

“My girl be takin’ care of me, I ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

You jumped to your feet, fingers trembling in rage. Your mother had lived and died, trying to support the scoundrel lying before you. But it wasn’t your cross to bear anymore. Your mother had been right, he was of no fucking use. He would simply leech off you and get drunk till his last breath. No, that wasn’t what your mother had wanted. You had to get out of the damned place.

But how? No money. No jewels. Nothing you could pawn off. Your father had already done that and drunk away all the little precious things your mother had ever owned. There was nothing to support you out in the wild, wild world.

You had a job at the local convenience store, but it didn’t pay much. It was your first job since finishing school. You had taken it instead of leaving the town, just to support your poor mother. There wasn’t much respite, but it did provide you bread when your father ran away with your mom’s wages.

You hadn’t saved a lot. But you needed leave the cursed town before it trapped you for life. Your mother had lived and gone to dust, working solely to keep you from dying of starvation. It was time to leave. To begin a new chapter elsewhere, where drunkards didn’t puke all over your foyer.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Billie,” you called, moving closer to her. “You got any jobs here?”

The girl pursed her mouth, shaking her head.

“Sorry, girlie. Ain’t got no jobs right now.”

You nodded in understanding. Fair enough. It was a rotten place, with not a lot of opportunities. It was a wonder that Billie kept running the pub after her old man died. It was evident that she wanted to leave the place. But like you, she had been tied to the town because of her sick father.

You were curious why she still hadn’t closed shop and left town for good.

“Billie, didn’t you ever think of leaving this place?”

She lifted a finger to be excused for a moment. She moved to pour out beer for a tall man who was standing at the counter. She pocketed the change, shouting “Enjoy your beer” at his retreating back.

When she returned, she wiped her hand on her apron, thrusting her tongue out carelessly.

“Well, I sure did, but this place ain’t got no other pub. And the money’s good the last couple o’weeks.”

You leaned in, interested.

“Anyone struck diamonds? Give me the juice, girl.”

She laughed, wiping the beer spills on the counter, nodding as she did so.

“Aye, there’s a couple guys who struck it rich. They’re comin’ and leavin’ big fat tips.”

She patted her pocket to emphasize her point. Billie was obviously in need of the money to keep the place running. You grinned, interested to hear more.

“Tell me about them.”

She handed out another mug of beer and pulled a stool to sit near you.

“There’s this guy from Russia, he been scouring for stones since last August. He bought a trench from old Mr. Hadley and started diggin’ two weeks ago. Big diamonds, you see,” she opened her thumb and index winger to show you the size, “Big ones. He been buyin’ drinks for everyone in the mine to celebrate it.”

You whistled. The only thriving business in the town was mining. People came from all parts of the world to try their luck at finding the crystallized carbon rocks. Most of them returned broke, some fell sick from the dusty haze and polluted air. Some even died in vain, succumbing to the hot burning sun.

“And the other one?”

She giggled, letting you in on her little secret. “He asked if I wanna go to Ireland.”

“He’s asking you to marry him?” It wasn’t a surprise. A lot of girls in your town had gone and married potential miners just to escape.

She shook her head, grinning. “We were foolin’ around and he thought I was serious.”

Well, poor man. Billie wasn’t the type to settle down without roaming the Earth to her heart’s content. She was simply chiseled from another rock. She didn’t like being caged.

“Talk of the devil,” she whispered, wiping the counter furiously. “There’s Mr. Russia.”

You turned and eyed the big guy entering the pub, his eyes lighting up when he saw Billie. The people in the pub cheered when he entered, and he raised a big palm to accept the claps, smiling widely.

He strode towards the counter, catching sight of you.

“And who’s this lovely lady?” he asked, smirking in your direction.

“Y/N,” Billie replied, handing him his lager. “She works in the convenience store by the old railroad.”

“Pleasure,” he said, extending his big hand to you. When you shook it, the callousness reminded you of sandpaper.

“You haven’t left town yet?” he asked, sipping his lager casually. “I mean, I thought Billie was the only lass in town.”

You smiled. The curiosity was well-earned. “I’ll leave soon enough,” you replied, keeping the obvious eagerness from spilling into your tone.

“Y/N’s momma died, so she got nothing to stay back for anymore,” Billie said, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. She had been in the same position, and she understood.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his thick accent bubbling out of his chest.

“It’s okay.” You looked at the time. “Ah, I gotta run, Billie. See ya.” Turning to the man, you dipped your head with a soft “Nice to meet you.”

He nodded chastely, watching your back as you scurried back to work.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Y/N!” the man hollered, “customer for you!”

You were at the back, checking the expiration dates and noting which ones to take back home. It was common in your town for salespeople to take items that were a day or two beyond the expiration dates. You stopped what you were doing and rose up to look over the aisle.

It was the Russian man. His face registered recognition, and he raised his hand to wave a small Hi to you.

“Yes,” you said, walking up to him. “How can I help you?”

He told you he was looking for some souvenirs to buy for his daughter back home. You led him to the small section that had girls’ trinkets and stuff like hair slides.

“These are all we have. You could try Miasie’s too. She might have some more accessories.”

He nodded, carding through the fake jewelry items. He whistled in a low voice.

“They look like real diamonds,” he said, pointing to a bracelet studded with stones.

“Zirconia,” you replied, taking the bracelet out of the plastic cover. You had to admit, it really looked authentic. It was a running joke in your town that the fake jewelry outshone the diamonds mined there.

“Maisie has a lot of Zirconia jewels, these are made by locals,” you said, running your finger through the stones. “

People who fared badly at the diamond mining expeditions returned home with Zirconia jewels to save face, to try and convince their people that they had in fact dug a few diamonds out. Hence the market for fake diamonds boomed, and a lot of locals thrived on it.

“I’d rather buy this, at the hands of the beautiful maiden holding it,” he said.

Was he hitting on you?

You nodded crisply, asking if he wanted anything else. He hesitated, looking around. “Is it- is it fine if I ask you out?”

There it was. Gosh. It was an endless game of cat and mouse in that town. For hundreds of young miners, there were only a handful of young girls, so the competition was crazy.

“I guess,” you said, hoping he would just get you a beer and call it a day.

“So, I’ll come and get you at…” he licked his lips. “…where do you live?”

You thought about it, thinking if you should just tell him to come to the store after all. But you got off work at 4, and you didn’t want him to see you carrying expired food back home. You wrote him the address, telling him to reach your home at 6.

He smiled and left, promising to call on you later that evening.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“You gotta be kidding me,” you hissed when you returned home to see your father conversing with the Russian like old buddies.

The men snapped their heads to follow the sound of your voice, and there you were, holding an armful of stuff from the store.

“Y/N,” the Russian said, getting up to help you carry the items inside.

“Alexei! What are you doing here?” The time certainly wasn’t 6 pm. What the hell was he doing, cozying up to your father?

Your father grinned his sickly fishy smile. “Y/N, don’t raise your voice…”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, cutting him off. You hated when the loser lectured you. “I wasn’t talking to you.” All the foodstuff in your arms dropped down with loud thuds.

Alexei stooped to pick up the small cartons. “Y/N, let’s not shout,” he was saying, when you swatted his arm away.

“You don’t tell me what I should do, not at my own house.”

He raised his palm in a gesture of peace.

“Why are you here? I told you to come at 6. It’s only 4.30.”

He looked over at your father, catching his lip between his teeth.

“Well, I was free and thought I’d pay you a visit…”

“When I was away at work?” you questioned.

Your father cut in harshly. “I sold you to him.”

His voice was blank, devoid of any emotion. The shocked silence prevailed undisturbed for a good five minutes before you found your voice.

“You what?”

Charging forward, you went flying towards the old man, when Alexei caught hold of your hips, holding you in place.

“It’s not what you think, Y/N,” the big man said, heaving in exertion as you squirmed and cursed out loud.

“Get your hands off me! Get your hands off me!”

He let go, but clasped your wrist instead.

“I just asked if I could take you with me to Russia. He said he didn’t have anyone to support him if you left, so…”

“So? So, you offered money to take me away? Who do you think you are?” Your voice was rising to dangerous limits. “Am I an object you can just buy? Fuck you.”

Your father was sober for like the first time in months, and then he went and sold you off to make money to drink even more?

“And you!” Pointing your finger at the old man, you screeched in anger. “You fucking sold your daughter to get drunk even more? Why didn’t you die instead of mom?”

“Enough, Y/N,” he shouted, getting up and smacking his dry lips. “You be goin’ with the Russian. It’s the least you can do for yer’ old man.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” You screamed, voice breaking and throat going dry from all the screeching.

“Now, now, Y/N, take a breath.” Alexei came nearer, whispering in your ear. “You want to escape this place; I offer you a pass. Why do you resist?”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Billie widened her eyes in shock.

“Y/N! Are ya fuckin’ outta your mind?”

You shook your head, aware of Alexei watching you from across the pub.

“Far from it.”

She leaned down and lowered her voice.

“Girl, ya know what ya gettin’ yerself into?”

“Yeah, I know. Billie, he’s gonna take me outta this wretched town!”

“At the cost of what, Y/N? He’s married, he’ll probably sell you to another guy or worse he’d put you in a brothel.”

“I know.” You sipped the beer and swallowed the liquid before adding:

“I will be careful, Billie. He got strength, but I got brains.”

She scoffed. “Seems more like them brains evaporated in the heat, based on what nonsense yer talkin’, girl.”

You were touched by her concern. Being the only two girls in the neighborhood, it went without saying that she was like a sister to you. And if the most spirited daredevil of the town was worried about you, there really was a grim storm brewing for you.

“Listen, Billie. I’ll be sharp. I won’t get kicked into a brothel. You know me, girl.”

She considered your determined face, before giving up. “Well, if ya say that ya’ll be alright, it gon’ be alright I guess.” She looked over at Alexei. “When ya leavin’?”

“This afternoon. There’s a train to the capital. A ship’s leaving for his country on Thursday.”

“So, the three days until that…”

“He says we’ll stay and look around the capital until the ship sails.”

She curled her lips at you. “You got balls, girl.”

You grinned, smiling at her as you downed the rest of the beer. Both of you knew that you were never going to see each other again.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Want to go to bed?” the man asked, pulling you snug against his side profile.

“Alexei.” Your tone was curt. “Don’t touch me unless I say it’s okay to.”

Bitch. Well, he would break you in soon. He’d have you begging on all fours. Just wait till he got on that ship with you. There was no way he was going to wait longer than that.

“Apologies, I will see you tomorrow then.”

He withdrew to his own hotel room. You had arrived at the capital at 11 am. It was Tuesday. Three more days to go before you sailed to Russia with him. You had demanded a separate room. He had tried to reason with you, but you just wouldn’t hear of it.

Alexei saw you slam the door shut, standing on the verandah. He lit his cigar. Soon, he said to himself. Soon he’d have his dick inside that uptight ass of yours.

Your father had been surprisingly easy to bend. He had just said that he had struck diamonds when the old man folded like a napkin. He had honestly meant to gossip until you returned, but he quickly saw a delicious opportunity right before his eyes.

He had innocently talked about how it would be difficult for the old man if you left town, and soon enough, he had wrapped him around his little finger. He just gave him one of the smallest diamonds, the most unclear of them all, but the man danced like it was Christmas already.

“Take her, yes, by all means,” he had said, rolling the stone around in his palm. “The lass don’t have much savings, it would be damn difficult for me to get ‘er a man. Better you take ‘er. I’m happy.”

Alexei had been quite taken aback. The man really was willing to give up his daughter for a low-quality diamond. But hey, he had no qualms. He was getting the best looking girl he had laid eyes on, and soon enough he would trade you for money, or better yet, another girl.

He blew out the smoke, slowly imagining how your naked body would feel under him. Those pert tits, he could almost see them in his mind. He would make you take back every sharp word you had said to him since the day he bought you. He looked down, exhaling the smoke again. He would have to take care of the tent in his pants by himself. Until Thursday.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Jimin-ah,” the girl drawled, draping herself against his warm, shirtless torso. “Stay a bit longer.”

He raked his slim fingers through his mussed hair, clicking his tongue.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I have to go.”

She pouted at him, sticking out her lower lip. “When will you be back?”

He scooped her up, kissing the top of her head.

“Soon. Really soon, baby.”

He slipped his shirt on, shaking his hair free and arranging it again.

“Don’t stay up too long, I’ll be back tomorrow.” He kissed her knuckles, reluctantly letting her hand go.

“I love you, Jimin-ah,” she whined, gazing forlornly at his back.

He grimaced unbeknownst to her. He didn’t love her. And he most certainly wasn’t going to see her again. He rapidly exited the dingy hotel, not caring in the least that the poor woman would wait for him to return. Gosh, the extents a guy had to go to, to get a nice fuck these days.

Jimin didn’t really go to sex workers. It wasn’t his style. No, he was the playboy. He liked the thrill of seducing a woman, making her a gooey mess, making her tremble in anticipation of his touch. He was skilled at those games. But once the initial thrill was over, he didn’t have much to do with the girl. The longest he had been with a girl after sex was 3 days. He shuddered. What a whiny bitch she had been. Ugh.

He was strolling through the streets, scoping out potential targets. He was already hungry. He had to pick a few pockets soon if he wanted to sleep with a full tummy. The street was bustling with people. He eyed each person as he slowly danced through the crowd.

Park Jimin was a slippery thief. He had the agility of a panther stalking its prey. For anyone who looked at him, he would seem like an innocent baby-faced man in his early twenties. The air of childish charm made it very easy for him to fool people. He had to do nothing but stare wistfully at the street from the window of the coffee shop, and boom! He would have a kind-hearted unwitting girl wanting to buy him coffee. So easy.

His hand slipped into the loop of your handbag, and before he knew, you had clasped his wrist tight. Alexei went on walking before you, apparently not seeing the man digging his hand into your handbag. You didn’t say anything, walking on sedately behind Alexei, not budging an inch as Jimin whispered cuss words and tried to wiggle his wrist free.

When Alexei was beyond earshot, you hissed at Jimin angrily.

“What the fuck were you doing?”

He tagged along, unable to believe that he had been caught so easily. The cat burglar, caught in plain daylight by a woman? Was he losing his touch?

Alexei was still walking ahead, inhaling the aroma of fresh roasted coffee beans wafting throughout the pavement. You came to a halt, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous man who was squirming under your grip.

“I- I was hungry,” He had decided to turn his charm tap on. Maybe you were one of those gullible women who would melt. “I’m sorry, I had no choice.” He hung his head in shame. “I lost my job, there’s no money for food…” His tears flowed easily. A corner of his mind wondered if he should take up acting. He could give those Broadway actors a run for their money.

You let his hand go, watching Alexei’s back warily. Digging into your purse, you pulled out an old currency note. It wasn’t much, but it was all that you had.

“Take this. Get something to eat.”

He accepted it silently. “Thank you, ma’am.” His hunger made him fold. Jimin knew that you could have called the big man to box his ears, and he admired your nerve.

His eyes scanned your persona, and his inner thief sang when he saw the chain and bracelet you were wearing. You were wearing what was worth his entire month’s fun.

“I’d like to repay you. I will return the money as soon as I can.” He watched you, simultaneously keeping an eye on the big man who had stopped to examine something in a roadside shop.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, touched by the man’s sincerity.

“No, I insist. I’d have become a thief if it weren’t for you.” He smiled inside at the soft expression blooming on your face. Damn, girls were so naïve.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Alexei was knocking on your door impatiently.

‘Y/N? Let me in!”

You feigned a yawn and opened the door just a little bit.

“What is it?”

He tried to pry the door open, but your resistance was surprisingly strong. “It’s Wednesday, remember the carnival I told you about? Come on now.”

You put on the best sick face you could, rasping slowly, “I feel so tired, Alexei. My head hurts. You go on. I’ll come with you in the afternoon.”

He tsked, annoyed at having to leave you behind. But he wasn’t foolish enough to leave you unguarded. He had slipped two enormous wads of cash into the bellboy’s hand as soon as you had arrived at the hotel. The bellboy and the man guarding the door would never let you set foot outside the door. You were as good as trapped.

“Well, okay then. I’ll come to fetch you for lunch.”

When you closed the door behind you, an audible sigh emanated from under the bed. Jimin climbed back into the bed, his naked upper body shining in the morning light. He was only wearing his boxers, and his toned thighs were deliciously on display as he wiggled his toes at you.

“Come on, Y/N,” he purred, voice heavy with lust. “I can’t have enough of you.”

You smiled at him, climbing into his lap like a kitten. His fingers carded through your hair as you watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He drew soft patterns on your skin, murmuring affectionate words and sighing happily.

His eyes were on the chain and bracelet you had carelessly left on the bedside table. It was making his palms itch. He had listened to you all night, patting your back gently as you told him all about the dilemma your father had put you in. Part of his brain had been focused on you, but the other had been drooling at the chain glinting on your chest.

“It’s okay baby,” he had cooed, “We’ll get you out of the guy’s clutches.”

You had made passionate love; it had been your first time ever. But that hadn’t stopped you from enjoying it. Billie the encyclopedia had given you lots of inside information, so much that you knew a lot more than playboy Jimin even did. Jimin had no idea he was fucking a virgin, so good was your theoretical knowledge.

“Jiminie,” you said, grazing your nail against his chest.

“Yeah, baby?”

“The ship leaves tomorrow. How can we escape before that?”

“I wish I had money to get you tickets for another ship, baby. But you know I’m penniless.” He held his breath, waiting to see if you would say the words he longed to hear.

“I don’t either, Jiminie.” Well, obviously. Think harder, airhead. “But maybe you can sell the diamonds and get enough money.” There you go, pea brain.

He licked his lips, waiting for you to reach for the jewels on the table. Wow, he was going to live a goddamn rich life. But his face scrunched up when you reached inside your bag instead.

“Baby, whatcha doing?”

You looked up at him innocently, extracting a little tied-up handkerchief from your bag. “Getting you the diamonds.”

His confusion dissolved when he saw you untie the kerchief, revealing a big pebble-sized diamond and a handful of smaller button-sized diamonds. Oh, he’d be damned.

You picked the big one, handing it to him. “Can you try and sell it? It’s of the best quality.”

He licked his dry mouth to life. “So many- so many diamonds?”

You laughed. “Alexei has a lot more. He gave me these to make me agree to go with him to Russia.” Alexei had no idea that you had stolen from his bag, but Jimin didn’t need to know that.

Jimin turned the diamond over in his palm. Fuck, it was the biggest he had ever seen. His mind was working on overdrive.

“Why not give all of them to me, baby? I’ll sell them all and bring the money.”

Like hell you would. You shook your head.

“No, it’s easier to sell one and get going. We can sell the rest as the need arises.”

Tight bitch.

He had to think of a way to purloin the rest of the lot later. For now, he would go with your plans.

“Sounds like a good plan, baby. I’ll get going then.”

You watched him dress himself up in a rush. He was so beautiful, naked or otherwise. So damn beautiful.

Jimin saw your eyes drift to the table. He cursed under his breath. The chain and bracelet would have to wait.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Naturally, Jimin knew the best places to go to. He was a thief, and he was buddies with a lot of pawnbrokers.

“Heya there, Jimin!” the man called, smiling his crooked smile at his favorite customer. Jimin brought a lot of stuff to his shop, and he was glad to do business with the innocent cherub.

“Brought a diamond today, Han,” Jimin said, looking around the cold, dark room. No other person was around. Jimin loved the cold ambiance of pawnshops. The metallic smell of old silver and brass made him feel at peace. There were so many interesting things on display. He felt like a child taken to Disney Land.

“Let’s take a look,” Han said, extending his palm.

Jimin looked around at the stuff Han had recently acquired, whistling softly while the man appraised the diamond.

Han looked up from his loupe, eyes wide. “How ever did you get such a good stone, Jimin? This one is easily worth thousands!”

Jimin’s heart lifted. He had been worried that you might have sent him on a wild goose chase. He had doubted if it really was a diamond at first, because you were ready to part with it freely. He smiled at Han.

“A chick I know had it.”

Han winked. “Got rid of her yet?”

Flashing him a conspiratorial smile, Jimin drawled, “Will do soon.”

He turned to Han on his way out. “I’ll bring you some more, hold on to your breath.”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Jimin was on his way back to your hotel. He had stopped to buy a ticket to Bermuda. He was going to sail away happily. The only thing was, he needed to rob the rest of your diamonds before the end of the day. He would stay up after you slept, and sneak off with them.

He had so much money in his hands, and his robber instinct told him to flee already. But then, those button sized diamonds beckoned, appealing to his greedy heart. Some more money wouldn’t hurt. There had been at least 10 diamonds in there. Not to mention your jewelry. Greed made his feet walk automatically back to you.

When you opened the door, you were dressed up. It was evening already, nightfall was approaching. Maybe you had gone to the carnival after lunch with that Alexei guy. Jimin didn’t really care where you went as long as the diamonds were safe.

“Hey,” you whispered, letting him slip into your room. “Did you sell it?”

He grinned and dangled the thick wads of cash before your eyes. “Uh-huh. See? We’re gonna run away together, baby.”

You clapped your hands in delight, taking the wads from his hands. You counted carefully, looking up at him with a startled “15 thousand?”

Jimin had taken five thousand for himself, but he wasn’t going to tell you. He simply nodded.

You were surprised. Wow. You had thought that the diamond required more polishing. You had only expected a few thousands. But this was so good.

“Jiminie, you were right, will you hold on to these diamonds too?”

You thrust the diamonds bundled in the kerchief into his hand. “I don’t want Alexei to find out at the last minute.”

He had to put so much effort to stop himself from laughing out loud. This was going so deliciously well.

“Sure, give it, I’ll keep it safe.”

He tucked the bundle neatly into his pocket, innocence painted all over his face.

“Hmm…” you embraced him, sighing in contentment. You were going to escape Alexei. The thought made you giddy with happiness. You tied the wads of cash into a scarf, securing it under your pillow.

Jimin watched you, fascinated. Ooh. He could run away with the diamonds and the cash. Midnight would be the best time. It wouldn’t hurt to fuck you a couple times to while the time away.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Y/N?”

Jimin had watched you go into the bathroom. But you hadn’t come back yet. Maybe it was the right time to run.

He dug his hand under the pillow, groping blindly to feel the cash. It wasn’t there. Fuck.

He turned to see the light still streaming from under the bathroom door. He had to decide if it was worth the risk to try again. His hand roamed on the bedside table. Thank goodness, the jewels were there. He grinned to himself. Awesome. He had to make a run for it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

When Alexei opened the door in the morning, there was no sign of you. He stormed into the bathroom, calling out your name. No answer.

He ran down furiously, looking for the bellboy.

“Where is Y/N?” he shouted, bunching up the boy’s collar in rage.

“I don’t know, sir,” the boy said, surprised and caught unawares.

“You little cocksucker,” Alexei screamed, shaking the boy until his joints rattled. “You just cost me my bitch!”

The bellboy remembered the crisp notes you had slipped him at midnight. It was more than Alexei had paid him to keep you inside. You had been the highest bidder, so it was only fair that he let you go.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said, allowing Alexei to box his ears. “I never saw her come down.”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

You were on a cruise ship to Bermuda. It left at 9 am, and you had found the ticket luckily in Jimin’s pocket at midnight. The guy had to learn how to safeguard his stuff. You stifled a giggle. Poor bastard. He was probably shocked when you never returned from the bathroom. You snorted, and an elderly man looked at you in surprise.

At last, you were free. Life was so exciting; you had a whole new chapter waiting to be written. It was going to be a ride, and you were determined to enjoy it thoroughly. You remembered Billie. She would have loved to go with you.

Retiring to your cabin, you picked out a paper and started writing a letter. Detailing your adventures, you finished with the lines:

‘You were right, Billie. I would never have survived out here if it weren’t for brains. I fled and made sure Jimin would be responsible for the stolen diamond and not me. My hands are clean.’

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Alexei found out that a big diamond was missing from his rucksack, and he stormed off to get in touch with the police. They assured him that they would look into all the diamonds pawned over the last couple of days.

He thought you were too naïve to embark on a journey alone. You were probably hiding out in a motel, waiting till the hue and cry died down. He was sure that the investigations into the pawnshops would lead him to you.

Han was sweating profusely when Jimin returned.

“Whatever’s the matter, man?” Jimin asked, raising his eyebrows at the guy.

“Police are sweeping all the pawnshops in the district for that diamond of yours. My cousin runs a shop too, and he just dropped by to share the news.”

Jimin tensed. It would be a tight stretch to pawn the rest of the diamonds to Han. The man was in enough trouble already.

“Okay, I’ll come back after a while then.” He shook the tied-up bundle before Han’s eyes.

“Yeah, you do that. It’s for the better.”

Jimin paused to think. Han might give him away if the police pressed too much. He untied the bundle and extracted a couple diamonds, passing them over to Han.

“Here’s a gift, you keep quiet and you can have them for free.”

Han looked at the stones in his hand wide-eyed, unable to stammer out his thanks. He nodded silently, bending down to examine the stones.

Police sirens were sounding in the distance, growing closer by the second. Jimin’s foot was almost out the door when Han called:

“These ain’t diamonds, they’re Zirconia! They’re worthless!”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

#bts fanfic #bts jimin #bts #bangtan fanfic #bangtan #parkner #park jimin x reader #park jimin x oc #park jimin x y/n #Fool's Diamonds #jimin #bangtan boys #bts fanfction #bts park jimin #chimchim #thief au

[your-ace-cousin-clover]

hey, this one's gonna be long, so grab a chair and a snack.

first of all i wanna say thanks for the poetry recommendations! (I'll keep the anti-love poems and postcard from the heartbreak hotel in my back pocket, just in case...) always glad to expand my to-read list! :))

moving on: to be honest, no, i haven't read a lot of eastern poetry - mostly due to my past conviction of "reading translations sucks". but i've read translations of some arabic poems recently and there's sort of a melancholy that sneaks up with it? see, my grandfather on my dad's side is iraqi, but my dad never taught me arabic, so i'm always partly grieving a hypothetical what-could've-been.

anyway, i've checked out some stuff by tagore (& darwish)!

on tagore: i read "gitanjali 35" & loved the line "Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake." feels like a dam bursting open. i rly enjoyed "crossing 16" and "on the seashore" too! idk, but it feels like the last line in tagore's poems is the first breath you take after you finish running a mile? does that make sense?

on darwish: i especially liked passport & he is quiet and so am i! darwish seems like a very storyteller-ish kinda poet? and i like the rhythm of his writing; it's very.... alive? like if i stare at it too long it'll blink.

also, i gotta agree with you on ginsberg! i love, love, love vivid poetry and i used to really want to study film - because writing seemed (to me at least) like it lacked the visual aspect?

to answer your question about siken: you are jeff definitely hits hard, but i think planet of love might be my favorite. it's hard to pick just one, but something about the director/actor dynamic really speaks to me. the certainty of "you know your lines" & "you've memorized it" juxtaposed with the general sense of uncertainty throughout the poem feels very real? its choppy, the sentences are short, "there's a gun in your hand. it feels hot. it feels oily." there's a gun in your hand and each sentence is a bullet wound. and the way it ends! it builds and builds and builds suspense but there's no resolution, it's just tense. it asks whats next? and never answers the question. it just hits the brakes - suddenly you're rigid and frozen in time. it's being trapped in a fraction of a second and "everyone's watching, everyone's curious, everyone's holding their breath." and i didn't always like it, but somewhere along the line i started having panic attacks and it REALLY grew on me lmao

this ask is getting long, so i'm gonna end it here, but thanks again!

P.S.: would you maybe be up for giving me a poetry prompt? i could send you the poem in another ask. (might be fun)

-cat

Cat! :)

First of all, I want to complement your style of describing things. It's so poetic. Tagore like "the first breath you take after you finish running a mile" and Darwish like "very storyteller-ish kinda poet and rhythm of his writing; it's very.... alive". AGHHH, I squealed reading those lines, like what???? That is so fucking raw (Sorry for cursing, but ahhhh). You are poet in the way you just like talk about things.

Also, quick side note, I'm glad that the poems are in your back pocket. Hope you never have to turn to them, due to their nature, but if you ever do, I hope they help.

I'm glad you like Darwish and Tagore. "My father led my country awake" always punches me in the gut. It's so strong and emotive. I sympathise with you about the language barrier. I suck at speaking languages other than English, but I'm not a native english speaker. So even I want to enjoy poetry in languages than English, I have to read the translations which puts a damper on it. But, God bless translations, I love the way you described it in your last post that makes them seem so pure and the fact that someone weighted all these words to convey a human emotion across a pages and across ages is just.. mwah.

Ginsberg is my shit. (Again sorry!) The openings lines of Howl hit my Christian Iconography Yearning, like the vivid imagery..? "angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night," I vibe with that feeling of wanting to reach divinity and holiness with your writing. The raw, exposed nerve of that writing.

And before like I got heavy into poetry, I also felt the same way about how 2d writing can be. But, then you have things that help transcend the page like : slam poetry or hybrid forms which combine writing with more dynamism like choreopoetry. But even within itself, poetry transcends the page, by drawing out emotion and just speaking to you. This was a piece I read a while ago that has performances online and is very acclaimed : "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf." (Although it deals with very heavy topics though so heavy tw)

And I read Planet of Love! The abrupt way it ends just hits you so strongly and absolutely leaves you frozen. Have you read "Wishbone" or "A Primer for Small Weird Loves"? Both hit very strongly as well.

And I'd absolutely love to give you a prompt: "Saint Valentines". Does that work?

[And don't worry about long asks, they are funny to read through and answer :)))) ]

Look forward to hearing from you and reading the poem! Prompt poetry is pretty fun!

#Cat anon #Clover speaks #tw suicide reference #poetry

[hotoffthepressfics]

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

Part II

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,250

Summary: CiCi Continues to help you get set up for the night. The two of you seek a place to stay from a roguish gentleman. ;)

Warnings: Angst

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“Used” - Wyvern Lingo

“Strip Me” - Gavin Mikhail

A/N: There’s only a tiny bit of Bucky in this chapter, but he’s gonna be making lots of appearances after this so buckle in! Enjoy!

Once you had left the small thrift store CiCi took you three blocks over to a little mom and pop place that was still open. Once you were seated in a booth towards the back of the diner and CiCi had ordered for you both the two of you sat in mutual silence. The plump, middle - aged woman waiting on you smiles sweetly as she places your drinks on the table. You watch her go, then reach for the steaming mug, and bring it to your lips. You sip your tea slowly, fingers laced around the ceramic mug allowing the heat to seep through your skin.

You glance up to notice CiCi is once again studying you for about the third time tonight. She leans forward setting her elbows on the Formica tabletop. Fingers steepled she rests her chin against them. You lean farther into the booth fidgeting uncomfortably under the new scrutiny. You bow your head and stare into the dark amber liquid in your mug. CiCi inhales a long breath bringing her hands away from her face.

"Alright baby, now I could sit here all night makin' up all sorts of stories for you, but I'd much rather know the truth. Now tell me, what's your story?"

Your cheeks heat and you try to sink even farther into the booth, but it doesn't give. Your eyes flick back to CiCi's face. She looks at you expectantly. You breathe in slowly, trying to stall as long as you can.

"T - " your voice is croaky. The air exerted to speak itches your throat and you cough. You take a long draw from your mug. Clearing your throat, you attempt again.

"T – there's... nothing to tell..." You give a noncommittal shrug of your shoulders. You hope the gesture is enough to hide the dread that was surging back through your veins. You press your hands harder against the smooth sides of the mug to keep them from shaking.

CiCi had given you nothing but patience and kindness since you had met. However, that didn't mean you were ready to lay bare all your personal details to her. Not yet. It had been nice to forget for a moment. To pretend that your life was just starting from the moment you stepped off that bus. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, afraid to meet CiCi's eyes again. In your experience refusing to respond could get you very hurt.

CiCi snorts, "Well now that is just a bold –faced lie. Honey, no one gets this twitchy and nervous from nothin’... but," she leans back, and splays her hands out in surrender. "I know we just met. You don't wanna tell me what's what that's your business."

You can feel the guilt weaving around your heart; she has been so nice.

The less anyone knows about me, the safer I will be. He can't find me if I don't exist anywhere.

"Can I at least get your name?” CiCi played with the handle on her own mug, seeming to appear uninterested.

You weigh your options for a moment. You could lie. Come up with a false name. The idea made you unhappy. Out of everything that had been stripped away from you, your name was the only thing you had left that was yours. It was your identity. The last link to who you used to be.

"Y/N. Just Y/N." You barely speak above a whisper, still uncertain if you should reveal this small bit of truth about yourself.

The widest smile breaks out across CiCi's face and you feel the guilt subside. Your waitress comes to your table then, the plates of food balanced in both of her hands.

"There you are, is there anything else I can get you ladies?" Her kind eyes dart between you and CiCi.

"We’re mighty fine now hun, thank you." CiCi dismisses the waitress. She gives you both one last smile as she walks away.

"Okay Miss Y/N. Let's dig in to our meal here and start to fatten you up. It hurts me just looking at you. Lord knows if a good, stiff wind blew down the street I'd have to hold onto your or else you'd blow away." CiCi gave you another toothy grin and winked. You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

"After we finish here let's get you set up in a place to stay." You quickly swallow the bite you were working on chewing.

"I-I- I don't have much, just a - "

CiCi raised her hand up to silence you. "Hush, don't you worry. I know someone who's got some room to spare for the time being."

You stare at her, watching as she brings the slice of grilled cheese to her mouth. She realizes you are watching her and drops the food back onto the plate. She grabs her napkin from her lap.

"What? Did I smear some lipstick on my face or something?" She pulls the chrome napkin dispenser towards her to inspect her face.

"Why?" You swallow thickly, inhaling slowly to prevent the sobs that were bubbling to the surface. "Why are you being so nice to me? You don't even know me."

She straightens and pushes the dispenser back into place, "Lord almighty, she can say more than five syllables!"

You continue to stare waiting for an answer. CiCi chuckles.

"Why? I don't know." She shrugs "I guess because I recognized the look in your eyes in that alley. I've felt it in my own before. I didn't have any help from no one then, but I fought my way back from it. I guess I just wanted to offer you the help I wished I had had back then." She levels her gaze to you.

"I don't know your story. I don't need to know it. You ain't never gonna have to tell me if you don't want to. But life is messed up enough as it is. Turning a blind eye to another's hurts makes ya mean, and honey, I am too fabulous to be mean." CiCi preens and fluffs her hair.

You let out an involuntary laugh that breaks the dam of your control. Tears pour down your cheeks. Cici's face softens and she reaches an outstretched hand to you. You tentatively place your hand in hers and she firmly wraps her fingers around it. You pull a napkin from the dispenser and wipe at your nose.

"Hey," she shakes your hand gently. You glance to her and take in the somber expression on her face.

"This moment is only temporary. We are gonna get you a place to stay and then we are gonna get you back on your feet. Okay?" You nod and draw in a ragged breath. CiCi releases your hand with one last squeeze.

"Good, now eat up.”

•••

A thirty-minute ride on the C train across town and about a mile walk from the station exit brought the two of you in front of a brownstone apartment building. It looks sturdy and well built, albeit a little aged. You keep close to Cici as she climbs the steps. She turns to the list of residents by the call buttons. When she came to one with the name “Barnes” she repeatedly punches in the button. A series of short, obnoxious buzzes burst from the intercom. A minute passes before a longer buzz and click sound from the entry. CiCi pulls open the door and holds it for you. You scurry in.

Inside you can see rows of mailboxes followed by a small hallway ending at an elevator. You wait as CiCi walks back towards it and presses the button to call it down. You take the elevator to the fifth level. CiCi takes you down the hall of doorways stopping when she reaches the third on the right. She rhythmically wraps against the wood. A crash sounds on the other side followed by a slew of expletives.

You cringe and step closer to CiCi. A lock scrapes against its metal holding and the door is yanked open. A tall man with dark brown, saggy hair and scruff to match leans on the door frame and squints out at the pair of you. It takes a moment for him to register who he's seeing.

"Jesus, Cees! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" The man swipes his hand across his face.

CiCi stands with arms akimbo, one eyebrow cocked in derision.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby. Were you sleeping? I just assumed you’d be busy with company tonight.”

The man chuckles and adjusts his position so his back is against the frame.

“Naw, no dames breaking down this door tonight but you sugar.”

As he turns out towards the hall you notice the glint of metal come from his left arm. You pull back from CiCi to take closer look. You thought you were imagining it, but no. This man’s entire left arm was made from metal. You duck back, afraid to be caught gawking.

“Oh Bucky, you charmer. We both know I’m too woman for you and my man keeps me plenty happy.”

The man, Bucky, places his right hand over his heart as though he's been wounded. "Ouch, not pulling any punches tonight are we CiCi?"

By now Bucky notices you timidly standing behind CiCi. He gives you a wicked grin.

"How about your friend then? She looks like she could use some fun and I'm always game to make new friends."

You glare at him. CiCi's tenacity was apparently enough to make you bold, but not enough to help you stand your ground. You shuffle closer to her. He laughs.

"Down you dog. We didn't come here so you could practice your wooing skills. We need an apartment. Your apartment." CiCi explains.

Bucky blinks. "I thought you said you weren't here for me to practice "wooing". I've only the one bed in here, but I am very good at sharing."

CiCi smacks his metal shoulder. Bucky feigns injury, rubbing the spot she hit.

"Cut that out! You know exactly which apartment I'm talkin' about!"

"Ah," Bucky blows out a breath, settling his hands on his hips. "See that's gonna be a no Cees. Gotta keep that open for when... you know, B – Day hits."

You furrow your brows in confusion. B – Day? What was that supposed to be? You move slightly out from behind CiCi to look at her face. She rolls her eyes. Reaching back, she pulls you out from behind to stand between her and Bucky. You squeak and stumble a bit. CiCi places her hands on your shoulders.

"See this sweet young thing here? She's in need of a place to stay. Seeing as you're not entertaining for the time being means that... B – Day has been avoided for another day," her emphasis on the phrase drips with sarcasm.

Bucky glances down at you, fully taking you in for the first time. You droop into CiCi's hands, all the bravado you had gained evaporating under his inspection. You focus on the space between his feet and yours, willing your legs to stay put and not flee. The silence seems to stretch forever. Finally, Bucky sighs.

"Hang on."

You glance up slightly to see he has left the doorway. A moment later he comes back with a set of keys.

"Here. Apartment 406. You gotta be a little rough with it, the handle likes to stick a bit." You see his hand stretch out to you, key dangling from his fingers. You take the keys from him, briefly meeting his eyes for a moment. He winks and quirks the left side of his mouth. You flush and quickly drop your gaze.

Unable to stand the attention any longer you feint to your left and slip out from CiCi’s grasp. A couple more steps down the hall back towards the elevator you stop and prop yourself up against the wall to wait for CiCi. You hear Bucky whistle.

“I knew my flirting skills were subpar, but am I really that bad?”

CiCi reaches over and pats Bucky’s cheek.

“She’s just a little skittish, that’s all. Don’t take it too personally. Thank you for your help baby. Now go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

Bucky chuckles. “Goodnight Cees,” he leans farther out of his doorway to call out, “goodnight doll!”

You flinch. CiCi shakes her head and walks over to you as you hear the sound of Bucky’s door click back into place.

“C’mon little miss wallflower,” CiCi croons as she slips her arm around you. “Let’s get you set up for the night. I am beat!”

•••

A trip down to the third floor to CiCi’s apartment, who apparently lived in this building as well, and back up to the fourth brought you in front of the door to 406. Bucky hadn’t been kidding when he said you needed to be rough with the handle. It took you and CiCi twisting and butting up against the door to get the thing to pop open. As soon as it gave in you struggle to keep yourself from sprawling out across the apartment floor. CiCi straightens and wipes her brow.

“I’m gonna have a talk with Bucky about that door. Can’t have you throw in’ out your shoulder every time you wanna get in!” She chortles to herself as she leans back out the door and grabs the items she brought up with you.

“He’s the super for the apartment. He’s pretty good about the upkeep ‘round here. Though it seems he’s kind of let this one go…” CiCi runs her hand along the door jam. She shakes her head.

“I suppose it’s in preparation for B – Day.” She waggles her eyebrows at you. You stand in the middle of the apartments living area. The space is sparse. A battered recliner sits in a corner closest to the window looking out onto the street below. You see the fire escape ladder cross the window frame. Turning slowly on your heel you observe an ajar door to the left of the window and chair. That must be the bedroom. Another turn and you see the kitchen. Once again pretty bare but for the appliances you assume come with the apartment.

Completing your inspection of the place you turn back to CiCi and incline your head to the side. You give her a puzzled look.

“What… is “B – Day”?” CiCi gives a nod as though she knew this question was coming.

“It stands for Bitch – Day. Bucky is a good soul, but he has very poor taste in women and even poorer decision – making skills. I won’t get into his business but there has been many a time he’s brought a crazy bitch home only to find its much harder to get them to leave. So, he keeps this apartment below his to sneak away until they’ve decide it’s not worth sticking around.” She waves her hand around to take in the whole space.

You tense a little when she mentions his apartment is right above what would now be yours for the time being. You glance back at the window and out to the fire escape. The one that connected the upper level to yours.

CiCi perceives your discomfort as though she’s reading your thoughts. “Don’t you worry none sweetheart. He may seem like a scoundrel, but he’s a good one. He won’t try to come here now that you’re here.”

That seemed true enough. Bucky appeared to be a good man.

I had thought the same of Colton, and look how that had turned out…

You try to relax your shoulders. Silently, you walk towards the bedroom door and push it open with your hip. Feeling blindly against the wall you find the light switch and flip it on. Inside this room a full bed was pushed against the far wall to the corner. This allowed it to be hidden from the window. Your tension lessens more. At least you’d be able to see all the entry points from the safety of the corner.

Breezing by you CiCi began laying out the blanket and pillow she’d taken from her apartment and set up the bed. You place your bag of newly purchased clothing next to it and proceed to help smooth out the bedding. Once it was complete CiCi stands back and admires her handiwork.

“Alright! Well I think that will set you up for the night Y/N. Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you set up with groceries and hunt you down a job. You gonna be alright up here alone hun?” She swivels to you. You nod tiredly.

“Good. Get some sleep baby. It’ll be a bright new day for you.” Cici softly rubs your cheek before turning to go out the door.

“Thank you, CiCi.”

“You’re welcome, hun.” And with that she heads out.

You face back towards the bed taking in the meager belongings you’d accumulated that night. Some bought; even more borrowed. You feel the weight of it all pull at your shoulders. It had been a long, emotional day.

But you’re free. You’re alone and safe. Free.

You sift through the other items CiCi had left behind finding a camisole and light, silky night shorts. You assume she meant for you to sleep in these, but they felt too much like what you’d been forced to wear day and night before. Even if they were a little less… provocative.

He isn’t here. He didn’t choose these.

Exasperated with yourself you strip out of the night’s outfit and pull on your sleep attire. After you finish you go into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Switching on the lights you push yours limits farther and peer into the mirror. You tug the hair tie of your braid out and begin to hand comb through your hair, wincing as it strains the hair on the sore spot of your scalp. That guy earlier tonight had yanked a lot harder than you supposed.

You mentally tally all the essentials you’ll need to purchase, like a tooth and hairbrush, while avoiding looking at the bruises peaking through the camisole. Some were almost healed. Others rather fresh from only being dealt a few days before.

You push aside the memories threatening to drag you under. You didn’t want to relive those moments. No here where a new life was so close to beginning. You turn abruptly and cut the lights off. You walk into the center of the bedroom. The bright lights above you and the thin clothing cause you to feel exposed and raw. You inhale through your nose and blow it out of your mouth fighting the hysteria, but you’re too exhausted. You kneel and sift through your clothes once more pulling out the gray sweater you got. Hugging it close, you pull it over your head. The heavy material seems to pull you back to your senses. Steadying you.

Taking a walkthrough of the apartment once more you double and triple check the locks to the windows and door, making certain it’s all secure.

Going back into the bedroom you shut the door and bolt the handle lock. Deciding to leave the light on you crawl onto the bed, curling into the blankets provided by CiCi. You wiggle your way into the corner of the bed, away from the window and facing the door, and fall slowly into a fitful rest.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @littlemarvelfics @averyrogers83 @chuuulip @thatfanficstuff

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh

#bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #modern au #the winter soldier

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 7: In Which Skeletons are Explained

...From a scientific and magical point of view, of course.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 6: In Which Everybody Threatens Sans

Next: Chapter 8: In Which The Internet is Invoked

Click here for the story overview.

By the time Sans tracked down Attie (who had somehow crawled into the dryer and was rocking herself back and forth) it was after 1:00.

This was a problem, he realized as he consulted the schedule Undyne had pinned to a cupboard with a paring knife.  Lunch was supposed to end at 1:00, and he had no idea what to even start cooking.

“Can I have a hot dog?”  Attie asked.  “You make hot dogs, right?”

“Uh...sure, but…”

“Okay!  Where are they?”

“I don’t think I…” He checked the fridge, just in case.  The shelves, to his surprise, had actual groceries on them.  Huh.  Someone must’ve stocked up.  Half of this stuff he didn’t even recognize.  Weird.

To his everlasting shock, one drawer held a six-pack of ‘dogs.  On the package was a pink sticky note covered with Boss’s handwriting:

YOU CAN HAVE HOT DOGS FOR NO MORE THAN ONE MEAL PER DAY, SANS. BUNS ARE IN THE CUPBOARD. ~THE G&T PAPYRUS

Ooooookay.

Sure enough, a quick survey of the cupboards (also stocked with more food than Sans was used to seeing) turned up a package of buns - the good kind, not the cheap tasteless things he threw on the ‘dogs at his stand.

Cooking them properly was...more work than he really wanted.  He didn’t have a rolling warmer in the apartment, and he didn’t want to wait for the ‘dogs to slow cook anyways.  He slipped both ‘dogs into their buns and stuck them in the microwave for half a minute.

Amazingly, the ‘dogs didn’t explode (unlike most things he microwaved).  He sent out a tentative thread of magic to feel for temperature, not trusting his bones to give him an accurate read.  It felt...less than boiling hot, but beyond that he wasn’t sure.

“Uh, here, kid.  Bone appetite, heh.  Careful; not sure if it’s hot.”

“Okay!”  Attie grabbed the ‘dog with both hands, took a big bite, and winced.  “Iff a liffle hoff,” she said, mouth full.  She swallowed anyways, so he wasn’t too worried.

“Hey, kid; if that’s too hot for ya, wanna see somethin’ cool?”

“Sure,” she said, before taking another huge bite.

Sans opened his mouth, tilted his head back, and shoved the entire hot dog, bun and all, into his mouth.  He felt his magic protesting - he wasn’t really made to do this - but he ignored the discomfort and resisted the urge to cough.

Attie was staring at him with huge eyes, a half-chewed bite of hot dog visible in her mouth.  He waited a moment for his magic to dissolve the ‘dog enough to talk, then laughed at her.  “What, you can’t do that?”

“No,” she said around her masticated food.  She closed her mouth, realizing her error, then chewed and swallowed with a thoughtful look on her face.

Sans knew that look.

The girl held the remaining half of her ‘dog out to him.  “Teach me,” she demanded.

“Yeah, no, kid.”

“Why not?”

“Humans aren’t built like us.  You’ll choke yourself, then Undyne’ll kill me, then Boss’ll kill me, then your mom and her mom’ll kill me.  I’ll be super dead.”

“You’re silly, Mr. Sans.”

“Yep.  That’s me, regular comedian.”

“Teach me!”

"No, kid!”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”  She blinked rapidly, her lower lip extended.

“What, is that supposed to make me more willing to teach you how to suffocate on ‘dogs?   Hell no, kid!  And stop making that face; the lip shit is super creepy!”

“Awww,” Attie muttered, dejected, to her ‘dog.

“Tell ya what.  You finish your ‘dog, and when it’s science time I’ll tell you all about how a skeleton can eat a whole ‘dog at once.  Okay?”

“Okaaaaay.”  She finished her meal in the largest bites possible, sending herself into more than one coughing fit.

Science wasn’t next on the list, though.  Next was something called Grammar, which Attie tried her best to wiggle out of.  She wouldn’t capitulate until Sans reminded her that she couldn’t see her mom until her schoolwork was done.

Schoolwork went by very quickly after that.

He wasn’t sure how much of it was actually correct - according to the note Undyne had left, the worksheets would be delivered to Tori for grading - but he was impressed by her speed.

True to his word, he spent the entire 45-minute “Science” time slot sitting at the dining room table explaining what he knew about a skeleton’s magical digestive system.  He even let Attie drop things into his mouth - jelly beans, mostly, after they found some in the cupboard and he accidentally revealed that he’d never eaten them before - so she could see that they vanished instead of dropping out the bottom of his skull.

“You don’t look like a real skeleton,” Attie said, peering intently at the juncture where his skull met his spine.  “You’re shaped really different.”

“I promise you, I am 100% a real skeleton.  I just don’t look like a human skeleton.”  And if he had a buck for every time he’d had to explain that to a human he’d have a whole herd.

“That’s what I meant, sorry.”  She narrowed her eyes, then leaned over and slapped both hands to Sans’s cheeks.

He flinched, hard, but the impact - despite its force - did no actual damage.  He stifled the urge to slap her hands away.  “What’chu up to, huh?”

“Your face feels funny.”  She tapped her fingertips against his cheekbones.  “You feel kinda soft.”

He growled.  He wasn’t used to being touched, and having someone - even someone so small - put her hands on his face was really uncomfortable.  “You can stop that now, kid.  Don’t make me remove you.”

She paused, then looked him in the eye sockets.  She must have been able to read some part of his expression because she snatched her hands away and sat back into her chair.  “Sorry, Mr. Sans.”

“‘Tsokay.  Just...don’t do that again, yeah?  You wouldn’t want me to put my hands all over your face, would’ja?  No?  Then don’t do it to other people.”

“But you’re so cool!"

He coughed.  “That’s no excuse, kid.  You gotta ask before you do that to someone.”

“Why?”

“It’s...polite?”

She tilted her head to the side.  “But you don’t care about being polite.  You’re a asshole.”

“Just...it’s...yer mom’d kill me if I taught you bad habits, okay?  And it makes people uncomfortable, and I know you’re too young to really understand yourself in relation to others but you don’t do things like that, okay?  You’ll learn as you get older.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s kinda rude to call people assholes.  Just...while we’re on the topic.”

She giggled.  “Okay.  But you still are one.”

“You got that right.”

Silence.

He rubbed the back of his vertebrae.  “Ooookay, then.  Uh, what’s left on the list?”

Attie ran into the kitchen and consulted the note.  “Art!” she called back.

“Huh?  Art?  What kind of pansy school bullshit is that?”

The girl stomped back into the dining room.  “My favorite."

“...Oh.”  He pondered this.  “So...what do you do for ‘art?’  I don’t know a damn thing, but isn’t art pictures and stuff?”  Hadn’t Boss called his spaghetti ‘art’ at some point?  Did that count?

“I mean...I guess I can color,” she said.  “I have my coloring pencils in my bag!”

“Okay, but...aaaand she’s gone.”  Sans pondered chasing after the kid, but decided it would be too much effort.  He was tired.  Between keeping up with Attie and texting Frisk periodically throughout the day, he really just wanted a nap.

She returned a few minutes later with a box of pencils and a pad of paper.  She didn’t say anything or ask questions - a miracle, given how the rest of her schoolwork had gone - but instead hummed to herself as she emptied the box of pencils across the table and began to draw.

The scratching of the paper and the off-key humming was...strangely calming, actually…

“Mr. Sans!”

“Hrk-wha?”  He sat up quickly and looked around.  When had he put his head on the table?

Attie was leaning towards him.  Her pencils were packed up and sitting neatly atop a small pile of loose papers.  “You were asleep,” she said.

“Oh.  Uh, sorry, kid.”

“‘Tsokay.  Mommy takes naps sometimes too.  I don’t usually take naps anymore ‘cause I’m a big girl now, but Mommy says that sometimes grown-ups work too hard and have to take naps.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”  He was feeling pretty groggy.

“Also, your phone was ringing.”

“Shit!”  He dug around in his pocket until he found the offending hunk of metal.

“Bad word!”  Attie howled.

Frisky Dreamer 3:25 PM Sans, you’re late for your check-in.  Just because I’m drugged into unconsciousness does not excuse you not sending an update and stuff. I am so high right now Ignore that last one

Frisky Dreamer 4:03 PM Sans, I haven’t heard from you in two horse. Hours.

Frisky Dreamer 4:22 PM SNAS, ANSER UR DAM PHONE!

“Uh, kid?  Don’t you have a phone too?”

“No...oh!  Wait!”  She pushed herself back from the table and tottered off down the hallway.  Sans sighed and tapped out a message.

You 4:26 PM Were doing art Kid really drew me into it

The response was immediate.

Frisky Dreamer 4:26 PM You fell asleep again, didn’t you.

You 4:27 PM Hey do u wanna have us come visit u or not

Frisky Dreamer 4:27 PM Whatever.

He grinned.  Apparently, that worked on both mother and daughter.  Speaking of which… “Kid?  You find that phone?  We need to head out if we’re gonna go see your mom.”

“I found it!”  She returned with the phone in all its pink and blue glory.  “I have a message from Mommy, see?”

There was, indeed, a message from Frisk asking (in a much nicer tone) how her day was going.

“Hey, what’s that less-than-three thing mean?”

“Oh.  It’s a soul!  See?”  She held the phone on its side.

“That’s...weird.  And isn’t that upside down?”  Sans flipped the phone on its other side.

“But I’m a human!  Our souls go the other way.”

“Oh.  Right.  Anyways, are you ready to go see yer mom?  I’d better let her see for herself that you’re in one piece.  I don’t think she believes that I haven’t eaten you yet.”

Attie giggled, but awkwardly bundled into her coat and shoes anyways.  She seemed to be struggling with her shoelaces.  It was funny to watch.

“You, uh, got that, kid?”

“Maybe.  These aren’t my favorite shoes.  My favorite shoes are pink and they have flowers on them and they light up when I walk, which is why they’re my favorite.  Those ones have velcro on them so I don’t have to tie them, but these ones just have shoelaces.”

Sans nodded noncommittally.  He briefly considered helping her but…

...Nah.

She eventually knotted them into submission and tucked the ends of the laces inside the top of her shoes.  Shrugging, she grabbed the stack of papers and tucked them under her arm.  “Okay!  I’m ready!”

“Uh...what’s with that stuff, kid?  I thought that was your art.”

“It is!  I drew pictures for Mommy.  I’m gonna show her and see if she can hang them up in her hospital room.  She usually hangs them up on the ‘frigerator, but there isn’t a ‘frigerator in her room I don’t think.”

“Fair enough.  Okay, you ready?”

“Yep!”

He put both hands on her shoulders.  “One, two,” and... teleport.

Attie grabbed onto his arms for support when they reappeared in a protected nook across the street from Ebott Medical Pavilion.  “Oh!  That time it wasn’t so bad!”

“Yeah.  You should get used to it soon enough.”

“That’s pretty cool!  Can you teach me how to do that...that…”

“‘Ts called ‘teleporting,’ kid.  Disappearing and reappearing in a different place, kinda like the world’s best shortcut.  It’s a bit more complicated than that, but...it can get pretty sciencey.  And no, I’m pretty sure I can’t teach you how to do that, either.”

She pouted all the way up to her mom’s room.

He opened the door first, not wanting to interrupt anything, but Frisk was awake.  And waiting, of course.  “Sans,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Why don’t you come on in.”

He came right the heck on in, one hand guiding Attie in front of him.  “Say ‘hi’ to yer mom, kid.”

The girl paused for a moment, staring at her mother.  Frisk did look pretty bad still.  Sans hoped Attie wasn’t going to scream or cry or cause a fit; he knew he’d be blamed if she did.

“Hi,” she said in a very quiet voice.

Frisk smiled.  It was the same smile she’d worn earlier when he sent her the picture of Attie and Undyne, and he fought the urge to look away.  “Hey, baby girl.  Won’t you come up and give me a hug?”

“I-I don’t wanna hurt you when you’re sick.”

“I’ll be okay.  Just make it a gentle hug.  No jumping.”

The little girl tiptoed up to the bed, leaned up, and gently put her arms around her mother.  They both sighed at the same time.

“Now what did you bring me?  Oh-Sans, chair.”  She gestured towards the aforementioned furniture, which had been moved against a wall.

Sans sat.

“I brought you pictures!”  Attie said.  She laid out each page individually on the bed, covering the blanket almost entirely.  “This is the room where I slept last night.  See?  It’s full of skeleton stuff!  It belongs to a guy called Mr. Boss, but Undie said that wasn’t his real name.”

“It isn’t,” Frisk said.  “His real name is Papyrus.  But go ahead.”

“Oh, right.  This is Mr. Pa-py-rus’s room.  He let me sleep on his bed, ‘cause he said Mr. Sans’s room was pretty messy.  It is, y’know.”

“Oh?  When were you in Sans’s room?”

“I hid in there before lunch.  Mr. Boss - I mean, Mr. Pa-py-rus - came in and was beating up Mr. Sans because of paperwork.  Then Mr. Pa-pyrus tried to fight me until Mr. Sans finished the paperwork.”  She held up another picture.  From his vantage point, Sans could barely see three blobby figures: two black and red, one blue and pink and black.  “See?  Mr. Pa-pyrus is trying to fight me ‘cause I told him not to beat up Mr. Sans.  Mr. Sans finished the paperwork before he stopped talking.  He talked a whole lot, more than Granny Ree does sometimes.”

“Papyrus...tried to fight you.”

“Yeah.  I was kinda mad that Mr. Sans did paperwork instead of saving me, but it’s all better now.”

“What?”

“He said ‘I’m sorry, kid’ and I said ‘I forgive you.’  And he said that he would’ve stopped Mr. Papyrus if he’d really started fighting, so it’s okay.”

Frisk pulled her daughter in for another hug.  Over the child’s head, she gave Sans a long, intense look.  He squirmed in his chair a little.

“Fine.  I guess...it’s okay, if you aren’t hurt.  I’ll have to have a long talk with Undyne about this, though; I don’t want you in a house where someone’s going to attack you at random.”

“It wasn’t an ‘at random!’  He tried to fight me because I told him not to beat up Mr. Sans.  Remember?  I told you.”

“That’s right.  Hey, Attie, could you do something for me?”

“Yyyep!”

“Can you get me a drink of water?  There’s a water fountain at the end of the hallway, out and to your left.  Here’s my cup.  Go out, fill the cup with water, and come right back so you can show me the rest of the pictures.  Don’t spill.”

“Okay, Mommy!”  She wiggled off the bed, careful not to wrinkle any of her drawings, and left the two adults alone.

Sans glanced at the side table.  “You already have a cup of water,” he muttered.

“That’s not the point.  You know that.”

He did.  “Look.  You know that the best way to get Boss to stand down is to give him what he wants.  He wanted paperwork; I finished the damn paperwork.  It’s not my fault Undyne changed her schedule without telling me.”

“If you hadn’t fallen asleep in here earlier, you wouldn’t have had to rush.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly running on a whole lotta sleep.  You know, after carting you and Attie all over town last night.”

Frisk’s hand clenched the blanket over her knee, then relaxed.  “I...that isn’t what I wanted to talk with you about.  Sans...does that happen on a regular basis?”

“The naps?  Well sure.  I’m-”

“Not the naps.  Don’t play dumb.  You know what I’m asking about.”

The look on her face said that she was not in the mood to be messed with; she wanted answers, and she knew he could give them.  Strange, that this human was the only one to realize that his stupidity was an act.  “...Yeah, I know.  And…”

What could he say?

“Sans?”

“Yeah.  Just...I don’t know how to answer that.  Boss...he gets aggressive when he’s angry, you know?  And I’m one of the things that makes him angry the most.  It’s my fault, really.  You get it, right?”  He winked.

Frisk’s expression didn’t change.

“A-anyways, I’ll watch the kid closer.  She can...I dunno, hide out in my room when he’s around.  I’ll clean up and everything.  That way she won’t have to see it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.  I didn’t ask why it happened, or whose fault it was, or how you plan to cover it up.  I asked how often it happens."

“...Not as much as you’re thinking, but more than you’d like.”

“How typically vague.  Are we talking once a day?  A week?  A month?”

“Couple times a week?  I dunno.  I’ve never charted it out.”

“Alright.  Alright."  Frisk took a deep breath.  “That stops now.  Whatever you and your brother do when there aren’t kids in the house, that’s your...ah...business-”

“Hey!”

“-but I won’t have the pair of you scarring my daughter.  Both of you will be on your best behavior, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Mommy!”  Attie shuffled in with a glass full of water, her tongue peeking out from between her lips and a look of concentration on her face.  “I...almost...have...the...water...OOPS!”

She tripped over her own feet and the water spilled.

“Attie!”  Frisk was halfway out of bed before she was stopped short by the plastic tubes the doctors had stabbed into her arms.

It didn’t matter much; Attie was floating gently in mid-air, faintly glowing.  “Blue!” she cooed.

“Sans,” her mother said, “Put her down.  Gently.”

He did.

No one spoke for a long moment.

“I’ll excuse it just this once, because it looked like you were keeping Attie from getting hurt.  But if you ever - ever - use blue magic on my daughter again, I will hunt you down.  Is that clear?”

“Yeah, Boss.”

Frisk slammed her hand onto the bedside table, causing both Attie and Sans to jump.  “I am NOT your BOSS, Sans!”

“Yeah, uh, sure.”

A nurse popped her head into the doorway.  “Everything alright in here, sweetie?”

“Yes,” Frisk said.  “We’re fine.  Sorry to disturb you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.  Anytime a loved one is sick tempers run high, y’know?  Y’all just take a deep breath; no worries.  Oh, and visiting time is almost up, unless your honey there wants to stay the night.”  The nurse wiggled her eyebrows.

It took Sans a beat to realize that the nurse meant him, not Attie, and he wanted to crawl into his own hood in embarrassment.  “Nah, gotta get this kid into bed.  Early mornin’ and all that.”

“Alright, then, sweet thang.  Y’all take it easy and let me know if you need anything.”  She closed the door gently behind her.

Sans carefully avoided looking at the humans.

“Alright, Attie; time for you to go now.  Come give Mommy a kiss and head home with Sans, alright?”

There was a shuffle as Attie did as requested.  “Can I come see you tomorrow?  I didn’t get to show you the rest of the pictures.”

“Maybe.  Mommy’s pretty tired.  If everything goes well, then yeah.”

“Okay.  G’night!  Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

“You too, Attie.”

“I won’t.  I bet the bedbugs are scared of Mr. Papyrus.”

“I’m sure they are.”

A small hand in his interrupted Sans’s studied ignorance of the proceedings.  He glanced down to find Attie grinning up at him.  “Ready to go, kid?”

“Yup!”

“‘Kay, then.”  He gently started to tug her out of the room.

She resisted.  “Wait!  You didn’t say goodbye to Mommy!”

“Uh...bye, kiddo.”

“Her name isn’t kiddo, Mr. Sans.”

“Bye...Frisk?”

The woman on the bed breathed deeply, but didn’t look at him.  “Text me when you get home.  You owe me a few check-ins.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They left.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Attie #Frisk #Homeschooling #Frisk is on pain meds #Vague discussions of abuse #Fixing problems fills Frisk with DETERMINATION #Even when they're Sans's problems #Those bed bugs are terrified of Papyrus by the way #The skeleton brothers have 0 problems with bedbugs #The lack of anything that would attract bedbugs has nothing to do with it