Cliffhanger - Blog Posts

YOU WTF THEY TALKIN ABOUT, DO WHAT!? WTF IS GOING TO HAPPEN.

WHYS IT GOTTA BE A CLIFFHANGER!?!?

Happiness and Tears (Part Three)

In the lobby, it seemed as though time was killing you. You promised yourself you wouldn't worry, that since Clay trusted Jack, you could too. You were trying. Really trying. But something brought you an uneasy feeling about this transplant, but, in the end you knew, it had to be done. Clay was going to be fine.

As you sat there, side-by-side with his mother, she let out small sighs or quiet sobs at times. It was difficult for her as well. You imagined as much and leaned in to give her a reassuring hug, after all, you needed one as well. "I remember when Clay was a boy," Lilith spoke, her voice shaky, a reminder of her constant worry. "He would talk about how much he wanted to be loved, accepted. His father.... well, he didn't love him. Like he should've. He never knew or cared about how Clay was this amazing child.. with so much potential, with such great intelligence." You listened, remembering how Clay spoke of his father as an abusive and alcoholic man with no care toward his family, just his liquor.

Doctor's\ Clay's POV

"Hey, Puttnam, hand me a scalpel." Jack says, holding out his hand, Dr. Puttnam quickly hands Jack a scalpel at his side. "Have you put him under, yet?" Penny asks, her hands moving to squeeze on her gloves. Dr. Lupin looks at her and shakes his head, "Nope, not yet." He prepares the breathing tube, tape and anesthesia. Carefully, he injects the anesthesia into Clay. "Count back from ten for me okay, bud?" Dr. Lupin goes to put down the medicine and get changed to help with the operation.

Clay's eyes close, as he begins counting back, but he slowly realizes closer and closer to zero that it is not taking effect. Especially when he can hear Jack instructing the others to hand him tools and equipment to properly cut into Clay's body. Clay, startled, quickly starts thinking about you, his happy place. Thinking about what you both can do when he is finished with this transplant, this pain. The marriage, growing old together, getting you anniversary gifts....

he was shot out of his fantasizing by the feeling of sharp, cold metal cutting into his skin. Followed by joking by the doctors. Clay hastily thinks back to you, when he first met you, your first date, everything, trying to calm himself down, cope with the excruciating pain. "Okay, hand me the heart." Jack instructs to however is closest. "Here you go." Puttnam says.

"Hey, guys, I have to take this call." Dr. Lupin's voice rings out, as he sweeps closer to the exit. "Okay." Jack calls. "Sure you will be fine without me?" Dr. Lupin laughs before Penny replies. "Yeah. What do you think we are, fresh med-school graduates?" She smirks, followed by a slight chuckle from Puttnam. "Be back soon." Lupin promises before sweeping out. "Alright. Let's do it." Penny's voice grows series and grim. Jack immediately sweats. "Grab the syringe, Jack." Puttnam says, his voice hardened as well. "We need that debt paid." Penny reminds Jack, as he hesitates. "Is it really worth taking the risk of going to jail?" Jack tries to reason with them. "What the hell is going on?" Clay thinks to himself, his eyes flickering back from Penny, Puttnam to Jack.

"Jack! Get your head out of your ass." Puttnam urges him, his eyes annoyed. "He's right. We've discussed this already." Penny lets out a soft scoff, her expression borderline angry. Jack hesitates again, before picking up a silver syringe, injected with an odd colored serum that Clay does not recognize. Penny's expression becomes intense, as she watches Jack inject the heart. "Good, now, let's get this over with before that anesthesiologist comes back."

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Thank you, @haydenpookiebear for the encouraging ask! Part four out sometime tomorrow!

Tags:

@darthgloris

@sweetcheesecakesblog

Regained Throne AU

Pac-man and the Ghostly Adventures AU

Betrayus

It started out as a normal scheme to takeover the Temple of Slime, but it quickly escalated and changed into trying to find the Temple of Death. His ghosts managed to get some old tablets from different Temples, even the Temple of Mystery which was right under his castle the entire time, not like they would’ve figured out the floor was hollow since they don’t have any legs. During a recent attack, he stole the tablets that the Pac-Man got to first from the other Temples, Sir C had already translated them but it couldn’t hurt to steal things every now and then. When he was excavating the Temple of Mystery a little more, had to extend the basement somewhere, he and his minion came across a secret room where different tablets and jewels lied. There were even a few weapons believe it or not, or at least that’s what it looked like, the weapons were all rusted and looked like could crumble to dust on a moments touch. But the room went deeper, the rest of his minions, even the bumbling brothers were distracted by fighting and the jewels, he would have too if something else wasn’t calling him deeper. While his minions were fighting over the riches he wandered into a crown room, it was in the core of a hotter lava than the Netherworlds, even the Fire Ghosts and himself might’ve broken a sweat in here. Strangely, the lava was fading into different colors, bright yellows, dim oranges, crimson reds, and mystic purples. And on top there was a pedestal with a crown on it, it had a small grey, eye shaped gem in the middle of it, the crown itself was made out of mixed Netherworld metals. Betrayus couldn’t help himself but to float to it, he always liked having a crown on his head after all…

(Authors notes in tags)

WHO THIS BITCH THINK SHE IS

“Bless me bagpipes”

“*gasp*…boys?!”

The big Season 2 cliffhanger shown at the end of the Season 1 finale of DuckTales 2017.

That moment when you realise the book you’re reading will end on a cliffhanger:

crepúsculo

What Did You Do, Sans?

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

During yesterday's blackout at the resort, I decided to go through some of my old files on my phone, and I came across this unfinished story. It was written back on July 1st of 2020, and I wish I could give you a detailed explanation of what I planned for this one, but I genuinely do not remember. I know it technically has little to do with the current project, but I thought I’d share it with you. 

There will be no post tomorrow since I’m heading back home, and even though I absolutely loved it here on the beach, I’m definitely excited to get back to the grind of everyday life. Well, until the next adventure. 

I hope to show you my plans for scene three of chapter one on Monday—no later than Tuesday. 

While you wait, please enjoy the below. 

A call from an old friend was like a batch of lemonade from the neighborhood’s girl scout; it could be sweet, but it could also be a sour cup of water. There was a bit of surprise there, and with surprise came excitement. Sans liked to believe he was a skeleton seeking the latest thrill, but anyone who knew him knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Despite that, Sans stretched, wiped his sleepy sockets, and answered his phone.

 He bellied a deep, “Hello?” Still unsure of what to expect. 

The voice on the other end was quiet for a long, painstakingly lengthy, minute, before letting out a shaken breath. There was thought put into the upcoming words, like this unknown individual had been reciting this speech for a long time. They prepared for it, wrote it down, and revised it a trillion times until they got it right. But now, like a child in the school play just stricken with stage fright, they froze and forgot their lines.

 Sans wasn’t an intimidating guy, or at least that was his belief, so he’d figured he’d help break the ice. He’d cut the awkward tension rather than simply hang up—this was an old friend after all. “It’s been a while. I haven’t heard from ya since we all left the Underground.” That was a good conversation starter. He hoped they would take it.

 There was more silence.

 Sans pulled the phone from his ear cavity to look the number over one last time, to make sure he did, in fact, recognize it. This all could be a dumb prank call, and in that case, a waste of his precious nap time. The digits looked familiar enough. He had a knack for remembering little intricate details, but phone numbers had always been a hit or miss. “Well, if you’re not gonna say anything I better get going—“

 “I-it has been a while. How are you?” Finally, a voice, and a voice he could identify. It was soft, warm as mother’s milk, and it was also a whisper. Perhaps she was at a library, a public bathroom, the DMV—and Stars knows that place wasn’t the loudest location in a strip mall. She had to be somewhere discrete since Sans could see no other reason to talk so low at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. 

“Good. But..uh are you alright?” He asked as he sat up on the couch. 

 The voice suddenly became self aware, clearing her throat before continuing. “Yeah! I’m fine. I was just hit with nostalgia and thought that maybe we could talk like old times?”  Her tone got gradually louder the more she spoke. There was still this underlying oscillation, like she was putting up a joyous front, like she was wearing a mask. “You can share more puns, and we can swap stories, and maybe… maybe this is a bad idea. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

 Sans quickly intervened before she could hang up. “No, no. wait! That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Tell me your address and I’ll come over.” He was tripping over himself to worm out of the wool throw to find a piece of paper to write on. The noise was making quite the commotion on the other end of the phone, he was sure. It sounded like a battlefield with the constant banging, crashing, and muffled cursing. Finally Sans was victorious as he gripped a capless pen in his palms.

 “M-my address?” The voice stuttered after a moment of quiet debating.

“This is Toriel, right?” Sans wiped the sweat from his skull with his sleeve. 

 “It is.” She whispered again.

 “If you don’t want to meet up at your house we can meet up at mine.” It then dawned on him that she might be uncomfortable alone with him. That made him frown. Looking back in his memory bank he couldn’t see why she would ever feel that way. They were good friends Underground, he’d argue best friends. Maybe. Maybe not.

 But again, Sans wasn’t an intimidating guy. There was nothing to be afraid of.

 “Or we can meet somewhere public if you’re scared I might bite,” Sans snickered to himself, intending the comment to be a joke.

Toriel didn’t laugh. “I’ll send my address. How about we meet in an hour?”

 Before Sans had a moment to respond the phone clicked. She was gone. He looked at his device with wide sockets. A second later there was a ping and a message with an address. Nothing else. No, “sorry my phone turned off”, or “I didn’t mean to suddenly hang up on you.”

 The whole conversation was strange, but maybe because their friendship left off on a strange note? One day things were normal, and the next Toriel refused to come to the Ruin doors for his daily dose of shitty jokes. He often wondered what he did to screw things up.

 Now he could find out.

Sans knocked once, twice, thrice, then waited. He actually bothered to shower and change his dingy sweater for this special occasion. With a quick armpit sniff, and a swift adjusting of his T-shirt, he stood up straight. Often his spine would default to a slouch. It was almost a full C at this point. He swore he was developing quite the hunchback.

 It took three minutes—three minutes he deliberately counted since he told himself he would leave by the fifth—before someone came to the door. There were footsteps at first, loud, barefooted steps, that stopped just short of the dark oak.

 Silence again.

 The constant silence was beginning to become unnerving. Sans instinctively backed up. Suddenly this felt like an ambush, like someone was waiting to snatch him up, and he’d never be seen again. Maybe that wasn’t Toriel on the phone? It would explain the odd behavior almost too well. He clenched his fists and prepared to shortcut out of there if need be.

 The door unlocked and slowly creaked open.

 It was dark inside the house. Sans could barely make out the window shining sunlight in a back room. At first he saw no one until a tuft of white fur peeked behind the door like a socket puppet springing from a cardboard stage. The rest of a delicate goat head followed shortly afterwards until Toriel’s whole body was revealed. She wore a strained smile, not exactly pleased to see Sans, but still welcoming him regardless. “You actually came?” She said in disbelief as if she hadn’t just invited him an hour ago. “...please come in.”

 Her gaze fell, never quite making Sans sockets. The door was extended open, and she moved her body out of the way.

 With his bony hands shoved in his pockets, he climbed the porch steps, hesitantly marched past a hanging swing set, and entered the dimly lit house.

 The door shut behind him.

 Sans blinked to allow his eyesight to adjust. The two of them simply stood near the door for a while, looking everywhere but at each other. It was awkward to say the least. “So, uh. You have a nice home.” He pointed at her pleasantly decorated, but with a touch of grandma’s house,  furniture. 

“Thank you.” Toriel gripped the front of her mom jeans. Her head remained low as she avoided Sans gaze. This felt less like a meeting between old friends, and more like a hostage situation. Did she not want to see him? 

 She was deliberately making things uncomfortable now.

 The skeleton was inches away from confronting her. He swore he’d bug her to know what her deal was and why she suddenly cut off all contact with him. He held himself back, though. Maybe something else was happening in her life and she needed a temporary positive light. Maybe he’s meant to be said light.

 There were pictures on the wall. Sans approached them and got a great big look. In each frame were fond memories of Toriel and a human child. “How’s the kid doing? Still being a little nuisance I’d imagine?” He chuckled. Still no reaction from his host. God, what a tough crowd to please.

 “They are good. I made sure we were alone today, so you don’t have to worry.” Sans didn’t know why she felt the need to be alone with him, honestly he would’ve loved to see Frisk. He didn’t word his feelings. Of course he wouldn’t since he appeared to catch a bad case of the cottonmouth. 

Toriel led Sans to the living room. There was a tray of tea on the coffee table in front of a floral sofa. She waited for Sans to take a seat before sitting on an opposite couch. “Tea?” She offered.

 “Sure.” He leaned back in the lazy boy. It was pretty huge, a little too huge. He noticed more of the family photography, as well as a pair of large oxfords at the front door. The house looked far more lived in than his own, and definitely nothing about it screamed royalty. It wasn’t until he saw the golden ring on her finger did his suspicions get confirmed. “It’s nice to see you and Asgore are together again.”

 Toriel immediately stopped pouring the tea. Her hands shook a little, spilling the hot liquid all over her paws. Sans shot up to help her clean up, but the minute he touched her, she jumped back. “We aren’t together...I’m deeply sorry. Please drink your tea.” Her smile was more painful than the burns under her ivory fur.

 Sans took the mug and returned to his seat without another word just so he could avoid causing more conflict. He sipped his tea and watched as she very slowly wiped the mess. It was amazing how long it could take a person to complete such a basic task. Not that he had a leg to stand on, being extremely lazy and all.

 Silence followed once more.

 “I just came up with a fitting pun—“

 “How are you so unbothered about being around me? It’s almost like what happened never did.” When Toriel finished with the spill she neatly folded the rag and placed it down on the tray. Her hands were still shaking, her head still hung low, and she still avoided looking at Sans.

 Sans scratched the top of his head, totally confused. He had no idea what she was referencing. What happened? Is this hidden event the reason she dropped their friendship? Of course it was, but he had no idea what he did. Maybe he told too many bad jokes? Or missed too many of their talking sessions? He wanted to just flat out ask, but judging by her demeanor, he feared he would insult her for being unaware. So he tried to play along to fish out more information.

 “You’re right. I should take it more seriously. I can’t believe I let it happen.” He responded very vaguely. He expected her to go into more detail, but instead she broke down into tears.

 “Since then, all I wanted was an apology. Please, Sans. Can I have one?” She sobbed into her palms, her large chest jiggling with each shaken inhale, sniffle, eye rub. Sans was hypnotized by it. The goat woman’s breasts were nice and plump, squishy. The faint outline of her nipples poked out daring him to pinch them.

 Sans downed his tea.

 Staring at a woman’s tits as she cried her eyes out was so inappropriate. The fuck was he thinking? 

 “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again, you have my word,” Sans placed his mug down to see Toriel staring at him. She looked like a shellshock animal, a deer in the headlights, aimless eyes honing in on his sockets. They stayed like this for a long moment, engaging in an eerie blinking contest, neither one of them wanted to be the first to break contact.

 It took a loud thump from the ceiling to take Sans out of the trance.

 He looked towards the stairs. It was far too dark to see anything beyond the fifth step. The house grew quiet again, white noise drowning in his skull.

 “Sorry for what? You can’t be sincere if you don’t admit your faults,” Toriel pulled his attention back on her. Now the goat was a seat closer to him. Sans’ stomach started to gurgle, which was odd since he didn’t have a stomach. His head felt hazy.

 “I’m sorry for offending—“

 “No! Just say it! Why can’t you admit what you did to me?!? Did I mean that little to you?” Toriel started a new fit of tears. She cradled herself, rocking back and forth, weeping.

 “What did I do? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sans grew nervous, terrified. He could sense the oncoming danger like the stillness before a twister. Another thump came from the upper floor, and this got Sans on his feet quicker than the speed of light. His head, his poor dome, was spinning. He was seeing doubles, triples, five different Toriels. Maybe he got up too fast? He wanted to believe he got up too fast. 

 Suddenly he was in the chair again and his friend was one seat closer. 

 “You really don’t remember? I’m not going to put the words in your mouth. Please, all I want is a proper apology.” She was now begging Sans to confess his crimes, crimes he did not commit. Crimes he wasn’t even aware of. “I can’t.. I can’t move,” Sans attempted to stand up, get out of this situation as soon as possible, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t shortcut. He couldn’t move his limbs. He was a living statue. A skeleton halfway buried in sand. 

 His facial ‘muscles’ worked, he could move his jaws, his sockets, his brow ridge, but that was about it. 

 Toriel was still crying to herself, now on the floor, continuously wiping at her eyes. “It’s temporary—“

 “Why did you drug me? I didn’t do anything.” Sans would yell if he could, but now his voice came out low and flat. The thumping upstairs got louder. It got more frequent.

 “I’m sorry...I’m just—he was so mad...I had to lie.” Toriel barely got anything out between trembling wails. Her explanation did little to answer the many raising questions in Sans’ head. The main one being who she was referring to and why he would be upset with her to the point of holding Sans hostage? Perhaps he already knew the answer to those questions. Perhaps he liked to pretend he was nothing more than an innocent party in this equation. 

 The thumping upstairs finally stopped. “I thought we were alone?” Obviously they weren’t, yet he still felt the need to point out more of her lies.

 For the millionth time that day, the house grew silent.

 Then footsteps came crashing down the stairs. Unable to move his head, Sans had to rely on Toriel’s reaction to know what was happening beyond his vision. She looked terrified as she quickly got to her feet. “Please don’t do this. I swear it wasn’t his fault.” Her panicked pleas were followed by a quiet quarrel.

 A bead of sweat ran from his forehead as he tried to make out the other voice. They were whispering something. It was far too low to make out. Sans tried desperately to move, if not move, at least form some fraction of magic. There was nothing, like some unknown force was holding back his mojo.

 Toriel returned to his line of vision. He could hear footsteps behind him, someone stopped, and then a large hand graced his skull. Sans held his breath. He didn’t know what to expect, so he expected the worst.

 Would begging for his life be too pathetic? Would it even work? If he was going to die he’d rather not do it like a punk. “If you’re gonna kill me, kill—“ He was cut off by a hard blow to the back of his head. Sans was out cold in seconds.

 The last thing he saw before the world faded to black was the crying face of Toriel.

 Sans woke up to jiggling breasts. His head laid in a warm lap, the jugs rested on top of his forehead. It was like two pillows, two heavy clouds, and he wanted so badly to grope them. A perverted grin spread across his face as he tried to enjoy this wet dream of his.

 Now to remove that top.

 As Sans tried to reach up to cup a feel, the realization he wasn’t dreaming hit him harder than whatever blunt object whacked him unconscious. He was brought back into the moment, fear-ridden adrenaline pumping through him. He felt a draft brush his bones, and figured he was stripped naked. There was no telling for sure since he couldn’t move his head. There was a blanket over him. Whether it was to keep him warm, modest, or hidden mattered little when a foreign hand joined the picture. It rested above his rib cage, fuzzy and clawed.

 “Looks like our guest is awake. Welcome back, JUDGE.” A deep voice vibrated throughout his bones. He didn’t need to see its ace to know who it was.

 Toriel lied again. Shocker.

 “Y-your Majesty, I’m innocent..I didn’t do anything—“ The hand gripped one of his rib bones. It was far too tight, aggressive, painful. Sans let out a sharp yelp, effectively cutting himself off.

 “Enough of the lies. Why don’t you accept your punishment like a good little criminal!” Asgore poked his goat head out of the blankets. He didn’t look furious as much as amused. “Touching my Toriel is strictly forbidden.” Whether Asgore thought Sans helped Toriel “cheat”, or he assumed something heinous was done to her, it all became irrelevant. Sometimes hateful revenge didn’t need a logical reason. Sometimes an assumption was enough.

Or a lie.

 Had he ever touched her? That was hard to do through stone doors. 

“Your majesty, I—“ Sans was hauled into the air by the ribs. He was left suspended in Asgore’s grip, gasping, and trying not to dust under the goat’s strength. 

“Remove your top, dear.” Asgore cooed. “He desired to play with your breasts before, so I'm sure the sight of them will excite him.”

The need to explain he was blameless was tempting for Sans, but he physically couldn’t breathe, so instead he shook his head. This wasn’t what the king thought it was, but as Sans was hovered from the couch and given a chance to see beneath the blankets, it was confirmed that he was naked. 

And so was Asgore. 

Toriel was hesitant to undress.

i hate it when

I buy the first book of a series that isn't finished because I didn't do research before buying and now I have to wait years and years until the next book comes out

and also when this happens:

author: yeah the next one's probably the last one of the series

me, already broke as fuck: thank god

*the last book comes out*

me, reading it: no, NO NO NO NO!

me: there's a fucking cliffhanger

me: fuck no

me: *researching if there's gonna be a tenth book*

suddenly the author, laughing like a maniac: Hahaha, i'm gonna write at least five more idiots

me: Well shit

Recom Miles Quaritch x FemReader Pt. 4

Whoops...My bad guys I was in a bit of a block and then I kind of zoned out(for like three weeks?). I can't watch the movie again till they release it on disney+ so details on what happens will be up to me. :)

I will post the A03 later<3

!!!WARNINGS!!!:: Smut! Nothing crazy, consent on both ends, mentions of guns

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Everyone else, enjoy.

You may have needed new office shoes by the time you were done running around. After sending the message and hiding away the telegraph, you went on an egg hunt for the equipment you needed. Surprisingly all you needed was to gather clothing to wear and a backpack with medical supplies. Too bad most of it was in different areas of the base. It took 10 minutes to find clothes in your size, then protective gear, then the shoes which also took a few minutes. After acquiring the clothing needed, you were told the breathing masks and other items(like optional weapons) would be brought at the meeting tomorrow morning before leaving base. 

It didn’t take up your whole day so you returned back to your office. It was empty, no notes, no emails, no patients. At some point, you decided coming along this mission was a good idea. If something were to happen, which you doubted, you’d be there to respond faster. After thinking it over, you also decided this was wrong and you were being manipulated by your own thoughts into thinking this was a good idea. This was in fact, not a good idea. You sat at your desk, coloring some silly page that had rainbows and birds on it with some color pencils. You don’t remember how you got the pencils but they’re here. Might as well use them.

Somewhere around noon, you decided to lay your head down. You didn’t have much to do on slow days like this or any unfinished paperwork. After a 30 minute nap, you would go to the lunchroom and see about getting a sandwich, or maybe a loaded salad. You drifted off to sleep, not remembering to set an alarm or close your office door all the way. 

~

Miles was pretty pissed off at himself. Usually he’s more level-headed when it comes to women, so you shouldn’t have had such an affect on him for this long. He shouldn’t have let you get an advantage over him, he shouldn’t have been so dumbfounded. Now he was picking at the mush of meat and tortilla pieces that litter his plate. He wouldn’t admit that he was embarrassed. 

Lyle was speaking to Walker while Z-Dog, Brown and Ja also sat around the table, chatting and eating today’s mystery meat. Lyle had hummed and glanced around before mumbling. “I haven't seen the doctor yet. Is she skipping lunch?”

“Hm?” Walker also glanced around. She shrugged. “Did she have a big breakfast today? She doesn’t skip meals.” This caught Miles’ attention so he listened without peering up. 

“No she had some cereal I think,” He took a big bite of his food. “Maybe someone should check on her.” After speaking, he glanced at Miles. So did a few others, but Walker turned her head completely. 

He sighed and looked at all of them. “Yeah I’m on it.” He stood up with his tray. “So much for drawing sticks.” He turned and walked away. Then beside him, Lyle appeared and grinned. “Yes, Lyle?”

“Bring her a salad and a fruit cup. My guess is she’s either sleeping or forgot to eat again.” He grabs a juice pack before turning and walking back to the table. Miles kept wondering why none of them went to check on you but he also had a sneaking suspicion everyone knew already. He decided to listen, sneaking a salad bowl and a small fruit cup out the lunchroom and towards your office. 

What would have taken 5 minutes actually became 10, then 15. He purposely stopped in the hallways a few times every time he thought about what happened earlier. His tail flicked in annoyance and frustration but he hid it well on his face. He was hoping you wouldn't say anything about it. Miles had scoffed at himself. The man has faced creatures bigger than him before, and here he was hesitating about walking into your office. He rolled his eyes and finally got to your office door.

 He shifted the items in his hand to knock but saw the door was open. When he peers inside, he sees your form, slumped over the desk using a sweater as a pillow. Miles walks inside and gently closes the door with his foot, then he walks to the desk and sets the food down. You didn't move, didn't stir in your sleep or anything. He kneels down beside your chair while studying your face. When he glanced behind you, he could see the clothing items and shoes needed for tomorrow. 

He smiled for a minute. He could guess you were stressed about tomorrow, he couldn’t blame you. His hand reached up and gently laid on your shoulder. "Wake up princess. Time to eat." He shook your shoulder lightly but you were already opening your eyes. 

You sat up and looked at Miles, then around at your office. "Oh god what time is it?" You lean over your desk to stretch your arms out and you spot the two food items. 

"Lunch time. Your soldiers got worried when you didn't show up for lunch so they sent me to deliver that." He slipped his hand off your shoulder and stood up. You didn't ask any questions. You had grabbed the two items, opening the salad and fruit cup and using the fork to start eating. Miles hid his smile as he watched, your eyes were closed and it looked like you could still be sleeping. "Had a good nap there doctor?"

You shrug, opting to stuff your face rather than speak. Despite your current sleepy expression, you were happy to be eating something. You wondered if he had help deciding what to bring, and you could see one of the other soldiers telling Miles what to bring. You finally paused your eating to speak. "Thank you for bringing this." He sat in the chair in front of your desk and you watched him closely. "How are you feeling today Colonel?"

He perked up at this, raising an eyebrow but shrugging anyway. "Better I suppose." You nod and move onto the fruit cup, watching him with an almost bored expression. Miles wasn't too comfortable under this gaze. "Why do you ask?" 

"Because of earlier."

"So, is this an apology?"

"Why should I be apologizing?"

"No particular reason-"

"Because I gave you a boner and kicked you out of my office?" 

He smiled. "You're very blunt about things. I like that about you." His jaw moved, he was thinking before he spoke. "That was inappropriate of me."

You finished your fruit cup and set it down. "Yes, but I was also acting immaturely I suppose." You threw away the bowl and cup, making sure any food bits were thrown away. "I made rude comments and hurt your ear. Sorry."

Miles hummed, glancing at the clothes and boots that sat on a small cabinet behind you. "Are you feeling stressed, doctor?"

You were stretching your back and answering honestly instead of sarcastically. "Yes, very stressed. I thought I had discussed this earlier." You mumbled and sat back in your chair. 

"I guess so." He smiled at you. "I've been a bit stressed as well. I don't admit it, but nights before a mission are terrible. I probably won't sleep tonight."

He watched as you slipped to doctor mode. "I have sleep medicine if you need some." You had stood up and walked to the cabinet behind him. "I understand though, I'll probably take some sleep medications myself." You grabbed two bottles and closed the door. "They're capsules. You take two, 30 minutes before going to bed and they should put you right to sleep." 

You turn around while reading the bottles, only to feel a hand grab your hip and another slip behind your head. You felt lips pressing against yours and your stomach doing somersaults. You felt your body tense up then relaxed choosing between giving in or pushing him away. The bottles in your hands dropped and you closed your eyes. This was wrong, and you knew it.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he pushed you against the cabinet, never breaking the kiss. You were liking this a little too much. He tangled his hand in your hair and you opened your mouth to sigh, Miles took this opportunity to part your mouth with his tongue and you whined at the feeling. The things you threatened and promised earlier were breaking apart. He pulled away from you which gave you time to catch your breath. 

He looked down at you and chuckled, watching your face turn red. He was on his knees in front of you but his posture hinted a more dominant look. "If I may, doctor, I recommend you relax before tomorrow." 

You watched his eyes, glancing at his lips and seeing that stupid smirk of his. "Yeah? I could order medication but that takes a while to come in. So, you have any other alternatives?"

He leaned down and mumbled against your ear. "I have a few activities in mind, if you'll stop pretending to hate me." 

You scoff and glance at the door of your office and see shadows passing underneath. "Not here." He looks at you and you slip out of his grasp. "If you'd like, I can see you again later this evening." You spoke loud enough so anyone outside might hear. You were writing on a sticky note your living quarters number and a time. "Those pills should do the trick. Remember what I said about taking them." You look up at him as he takes the note from you. 

"Thank you, doctor." He grins and pockets the note and the pill bottle. "I'll be sure to remember." There were a few knocks as he was speaking. Miles opens the door. “Ah, I know your face but I can’t remember your name.”

You peered past him and smiled. “Hey Alex, did you need something?” You watched Miles duck through the doorframe and wave both of you off. Alex waved back and turned to you. 

“I have great news! So some of the research from the last expeditions years ago weren’t completed. And since the recom team and you are going into the jungles tomorrow, I get to come along to attempt to complete the missing files. Isn’t that great?” They grinned, like a kid who was excited to go on their first field trip. You were not grinning. You weren’t sure what expression you wore but Alex seemed to dim down. “Hey are you okay? This is good news because I get to tag along with you.”

“No, no, that is good news.” You smiled apprehensively. “It’s just, you and I have never set foot outside this station, is all. I’m worried for our safety out there.” You took a deep breath. “And the soldiers’ safety.” This was a lie. You were worried about the team finding out you were a traitor. And now, how Alex would react. You didn’t really have a plan or think about the consequences. Just get the supplies out there and let fate decide the rest. 

Now the thought of disappointed faces, looks of hatred from your friends, haunted your consciousness.

Alex smiled again. “That’s good though, it means you’re a good doctor.”

You play off your troubled look with an eye roll “Yeah but what am I supposed to do when a wild animal attacks me? Prescribe it with some tranquilizer? Shake a pill bottle and throw it? Here boy, go fetch!” At this, Alex chuckled, covering their mouth and shaking their head. You smiled as well. “If you want and if we have time, I can make us both a cup of coffee before we head out.”

“Ah that would be wonderful. Hopefully it’ll soothe my nerves a little.”

“If anything it would wake you up some more.” You lean against the doorframe and smile. “Personally I’m more worried about getting some sleep.” This was also a lie. 

~~~

You had checked your bag twice, and now, three times. You had the extra supplies that you promised the scientists out in the jungle. It was stored in a medium sized delivery bot you used to send items often. You also had some medications, extra batteries and some dried foods. Hopefully that was it. Then on the side you had medical equipment and some travel snacks. You knew this was a serious mission but if there’s a lot of walking then the soldiers are gonna get hungry. 

Now you sat on your floor, your bag was zipped, clothes and shoes were folded neatly and ready for tomorrow in your small storage closet. You stared into the closet, feeling like you were forgetting something. You gnawed on your bottom lip while in thought, glancing around the dimly lit room. Perhaps you should write an apology letter in case you do happen to get caught and die, in whichever order it may happen. You stood up and paused again. Was that what you were forgetting? You couldn’t put your finger on it. A few sharp knocks took you out of your trance and you looked at the door. 

“Uh, who is it?” You had creeped to the door, peeking out the peephole and let out a small gasp. 

Out in the hallway, a tall figure was bending down to look back into the peephole. “Room service.” You covered your mouth to hide a laugh. You opened the door and looked at him.

“I forgot you were coming over.” You bit back your smile. 

He stood up straight and made a look of shock. “Well, if you weren’t expecting company I guess I’ll see my way back to my room.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “So you’re going to be a pussy and leave?”

Now he looked offended. “I didn’t say anything about bein’ a pussy, just bein’ a gentleman but if that’s how you see it, then I guess I’m staying.” He leaned against your doorframe, towering over you. “So princess, you gonna let me inside or stand there and bitch at me?”

You roll your eyes. “I should just leave you out there like a stray, Colonel. Get inside before someone calls security on you.” You move aside and watch him duck into your room. You peek out into the hallway for a second then close the door. “Hope the ceiling is high enough for you.”

When you looked at him, he was practically foraging your desk. “Why do you have so many- is this embroidery?” You had run over and yanked it out of his hands. “Here I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting.” He smiled. 

“Yeah well I had to take up some kind of hobby or I would have gone absolutely batshit. Knitting was next.” You put down the unfinished embroidered hoop then glare up at him. He was still smiling, but looked at the ordered mess. 

“Now doctor, please tell me,” He picked up a copy of a Jurassic Park novel, “you read this after you decided to clone me and not before.” He turned it over to read the back. “A bit ironic don’t you think?”

“No, not at all.” You tried to take the book from him but he held it up high so you couldn’t reach. “If I'm working with animals then I might as well read about some- stop ransacking my shit Quaritch, I have everything in a specific order here.” He glanced down at you, shrugging and handing it to you. You take the book and set it down, looking over everything else. “Honestly I would have expected you to snoop through my panty drawer like an old pervert but you surprised me too.”

“Oh yeah?” He sat on your bed, seeming to make a face when he did. “Which drawer is that?” He turned and watched you as you sat beside him. You crossed your legs on the bed but didn’t look at him. 

Thoughts ran through your head, you had questions to ask. “I know this might be a bit early for pillow talk, but how does it feel to be in there?” You finally look up at him, craning your neck. He hums and looks at his knees, then his hands. He holds them up and flexes his fingers. 

“The same. But taller. And bluer.” He looks at you and you roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you want to run around in one of these bodies doctor.”

“No, no nothing like that.” You shrug. “Everyone has different reactions and feelings when waking up in their new bodies. I can’t remember who, but one of the soldiers said they felt like their self from before had changed somehow. Like their body and their consciousness collided and adapted to this body.” You were staring into nothing now. “I know you’ve been on this planet much longer than I have, you’ve seen what the Na’vi here worship and believe in. Now I’m no scientist or hippie tree hugger-”

“You’re starting to sound like one.”

You looked at him and he watched you with stern eyes. You sigh. “Yeah forget it, you might shoot me instead and fuck the bullet hole.”

He laughed. “No no, go ahead please. Continue.” He waved his hand. 

You watched him as you continued speaking. “You aren’t curious what secrets would be held inside this planet? You’re one of them now like it or not, and that grants you a better chance at  getting closer and exploring this crazy spiritual or religious-” You shrugged your shoulders trying to get the words out without revealing you actually knew the correct terms. “God I do sound like one of them don’t I?” You rub your face and hear Miles’ deep chuckle beside you. 

“I think I understand what you’re getting at.” He held out his hand to you. You stare at it, unclear what he was doing until you placed your hand in his. He pulls you into his lap and you shift so you straddle him comfortably. “I was never a spiritual person, or religious for that matter. I follow orders, I do what I am told and I don’t question it.”

“You died.” You pointed out. “Not saying that you shouldn’t have followed those orders.” You had begun to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know the specifics of this mission. They’re classified to me, but you know them. And I won’t seduce you to try and get information out of you.” You smirked up at him then looked at his chest. “Would you do it again if you knew you would die?”

He watched you, looking to the side for a few seconds, then sighing. “Yeah. Believe it or not, princess I would.” He looked down at you, his hands sliding up and to rest on your hips. “Maybe a little better coordinated.” 

“Hm, wow. Yeah.” You nodded, pretending to look surprised as you dusted his shoulder off. “Glad you have that figured out colonel. Hope you’re putting all this brain power into tomorrow’s mission.” 

“I better not get any of this shit tomorrow in front of my squad.” He tightens his grip on your hips. “Cause I will-” He paused when your hips rolled into his.

You smirk up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “Sorry? You’ll what?” You roll your hips again, feeling him grow hard beneath your ass. “Use your words colonel.” His ears flickered. 

"You little minx." He picks you up and flips you around so you're laying on the bed, his tail flicks behind him. He leans down and kisses you hungrily, his body pressing down on yours. You had smiled a little in the kiss but it disappeared when his hand slowly slid down the hem of your pants. You gasped as his long fingers reached your thighs, then tugged at your underwear. He broke the kiss with a groan, reaching up and taking off his shirt, muttering about it being too hot in here. 

You chuckle, admiring his bare torso. “Would you be a gentleman this time?” You reach and tug the hem of your pants while raising your leg towards him. He grabs the ends of your pant legs and slips them off. He traces his fingers down your legs, leaning down and kissing your knees. He watched you while he moved closer, trailing his lips down your inner thighs. You shudder as you watch, his fingers loop around the hems of your underwear. You roll your hips and sigh. “Miles please…”

“You can be patient, princess.” He pulls your underwear off and throws them to the side, then he stares down at you for a few seconds. You close your legs, even pulling your shirt down a little. 

“What? Don’t just stare like that.”

“Don’t do that.” He comes closer, removing your hand. “Just relax darlin.” He leans in between your legs, kissing right above your clit then moving down. You sigh, biting your lip as you watch. He sticks his tongue out and licks deeply between your lips. Miles groans into you, licking into your sweet spot quickly. He gripped your thighs with both hands almost wrapping around them completely and kept them open. 

You had covered your mouth at the unexpected feeling hitting you, not wanting your neighboring coworkers to hear you. You reach down with your free hand and run it through his hair, feeling the shaved head beneath your fingertips. He suddenly pushes his tongue deep within you and you gasp as both hands scratch the sides of his head. “Miles-” You reach up to cover your mouth again, groaning into your hand. “Fuck, Miles~”

He peers up at you, moving up to circle your clit with his tongue. He was practically getting drunk off of all the little sounds you kept making. And when you said his name in that breathy moan…He wanted to fuck the absolute hell out of you but he needed to help you get prepared. The colonel remembers when he was looking at himself after he had been transferred. At first he hadn’t thought of any difference other than the color schemes changing and maybe the size, that was a given. But in the office, when you had threatened him and gave him that hard on, he became aware of what he truly possessed between his legs. And now here, as he lapped your sweetness between your legs, he knew he could really hurt you if he wasn’t careful. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s hurt a woman because of his size. Even as a human, he was well sized and occasionally wasn’t careful. 

He kept at your clit as he reached up and teased your entrance with his fingers. Once they were slick enough, he pushed his middle finger in slowly. You groan at the feeling, closing your eyes. You roll your hips into him and he feels his own hips push into the side of your mattress. After a few pumps, he adds another finger, making you gasp at the stretch. 

“Fuck, is that three?” You whine out as you look down at him. He wanted to laugh but instead he pumped his fingers faster. Your head rolls back and your legs begin to shake. He felt it and decided to pull your legs over his shoulders. You had let out a moan or a gasp at each pump, mumbling incoherent sentences. Miles noticed as your voice became louder, he could understand you were muttering soft pleas and praises. Things like, “Please please please don’t stop, don't stop,” and “Oh yes yes god you’re so good.” He growls into your skin and adds a third finger. You didn’t have time to mutter anything as you felt your climax spread and shake your body. Miles felt you spasm and clench around his fingers and he curses. The pants he had on were a mess now. 

You were panting, covering your eyes and speaking low. “Please tell me…three fingers was enough?” You didn’t look up but you felt him moving now. First, your shirt was pulled off of your body, along with your bra. An instant coolness settled on your dampened skin and you sighed. Then you watched as Miles undid his belt, then his pants and zipper and- “No.” Your eyes widened. “That is-”

“It’s a bit more than three fingers.” He gets on the bed and strokes himself a few times. “Listen princess, it's gonna take some adjusting. But if you can’t take it, tell me to stop.” He held your chin so your eyes locked with his. “Understood?”

You nod your head a little. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Lie back for me.” You did as he asked and let him move between your legs. You watched as he lined himself with your entrance. “Fuck this is gonna be a tight fit.” He began to press into you, making you groan and bite your lip. The tip slips in and he lets out a deep moan, his hand slamming into the wall behind your bed. He was holding himself back from fucking you hard. He had to wait. You shift your hips and he takes it, bucking his hips into you and ripping a cry from your throat. 

"Fuck it's too much!" You muttered into your elbow. It was huge and you should have known with two different sized forms that it was going to be painful. You had actually dreaded it when you first had your daydreams. It oddly excites you in a scary way. "Oh god please go slower, please…" you looked up at him. 

Miles was looking down, one hand now gripping the edge of the mattress and the other was holding your thigh. He had a deep look of concentration as his ears flattened and perked. His eyes dart up to meet yours and his ears perk up again. "Alright darlin' I won't move till you tell me."  

Your eyes close and your head falls against the pillow. The pain was bearable, slowly it subdued and you nodded once you thought you were ready. He thrusts into you and a yelp leaves your lips. "Easy! No more than an inch!" You whined out, peeking up at him again. He laughs, dipping his head down to rest against your forehead. 

"Yes ma'am." He kisses you, letting his tongue tease at your lips then pulling away. He then presses his hips forward and you let out a loud groan. This time you grab a pillow and hug it to your face. It felt like he was all the way in with how much he filled in. You were sure to be sore tomorrow and you debated somehow calling in sick for tomorrow. The pillow you had on your face was ripped from your hands and thrown on the floor. "I wanna see that beautiful face of yours when I'm fucking you."

You felt your face go red. "What if I'm too lou-" his thumb finds your lips and he presses it into your mouth. 

"I can find a few ways to preoccupy your mouth." His thumb rubs up and down your tongue and you swallow around it. His eyes almost softened as he mumbled, "Fuck, that mouth of yours." He thrusts again and you moan around his thumb. He glances down and smiles. "Almost got me halfway darlin'."

You release his thumb and he moves his hand to grab your hip. "Go a little deeper, please." He obeys and pushes in, thrusting in and out little by little. Each time would drag a small whine from you. He reaches a certain point you can't explain that causes your back to arch slightly. You grab his hand resting on you and squeeze it. "Fuck wait, right there." You look at him. 

He nods, licking his lips quickly. "I don't think I can go in any further without reorganizing your insides sweetheart." He pulls out almost all the way before pushing back in slowly. You cover your mouth as a slow moan leaves you. You felt his lips at your neck, kissing then sucking. You hold onto his shoulder and feel as he begins to move in a steady motion. Your nails dig into his skin, feeling him suck harder before letting go and smiling against your shoulder. "Hope they don't see that tomorrow…" 

You didn't have time to ask how bad it was before he was picking up speed. He roughly grabbed your hips as he fucked you in a normal pace. He would hit that spot that made you arch once in a while and you did your best not to be too loud. His hips snap into you quick and you gasp. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth. He growled and pushed deeper, making you scream into his hand. It had you seeing stars, this new pain mixed with a questionable pleasure. 

"Fuck darling I'm gonna cum," he removes his hand and kisses you instead, his tongue wrapping and swirling around yours. You could feel yourself tighten and spasm around him. A few more thrusts, just a few more. You had to tell him to keep it out of you but he's so deep already. You whimper and he stares down at you. "C'mon doc, tell me where."

His thumb was at your clit now and you had forgotten all about that cheat code. He started to rub small circles against it and you lost it, digging your nails into his arm and shoulder. "Fuck! Miles- in me please, please just fill me, fuck go faster!" Your legs were shaking now, partially wrapped around the blue body above you. He listened, thrusting faster and circling your bud. With a short cry and an arched body, you felt yourself reach a stinging, stretched bliss. As you had cried out, Miles grunted and finally planted himself deep inside of you, twitching as he finished. He had panted and you thought he even whimpered as he slowly pulled himself out. 

Your eyes were still closed but you felt him shift off the bed. The bathroom light flicked on, water ran, then he came back and you jumped at feeling something wet and warm touch your thigh. You look down and see him frozen with a wet rag. "Don't shoot." He reaches down and gently wipes around your sore area. "You may need to bathe to get some of that out."

You nod but laid back down, eyes closed again. Your lower regions were already taking the effects, and you groan in thought. "I won't be able to work tomorrow."

"I guess we could have thought this one through a little better." Miles states as he stands up. You heard clothes rustling but didn't open your eyes. Was he leaving already? Then you heard your bathtub running. It went like that for a few minutes but you didn't want to move. Then he came back and picked you up off the bed. "I got you a bath ready." He sets you down inside and you let out a sigh at being submerged in the warm water. 

You both didn't say anything for a while. He stays outside the tub being that he couldn't fit in it. He helps you wash up, get out and get dressed. Once he saw you could walk properly, he put on the rest of his clothes. "Miles?" 

He looks down at you and smirks. "What princess, want me to stay the night?" 

You scoff. "No." You cross your arms but stay sitting on your bed. "Thank you, for the stress relief." 

He had walked over and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You had responded, even feeling his hand run up your back. He pulled away and his eyes were soft again. "Thank you, for having me over, doctor. Get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow." He lingered over you, then turned and walked to your door. Once he leaves and shuts the door, you fall back against your pillows and sigh. It wasn't hard to fall asleep that night. 

~~~

The helicopter ride wasn't as bad as you initially thought. Once you and the others landed on the ground, Alex was clinging to the grass and gasping for oxygen. "I hate flying." 

You grin. "Need something for that motion sickness?"

"Not motion sickness." They sigh, standing upright. "Just afraid of heights. But thank you." They pick up their bag that looks similar to yours and stand beside you. "It's a good thing I only had coffee." 

You nod and pick up your bag as well, watching everyone else gather around Lyle and the colonel. You follow suit with Alex close by Everyone was already debriefed, Miles looked at everyone, nodded and turned. "Alright, we know our objectives. Keep in mind the wildlife and the locals, everyone."  He starts walking forward and everyone spreads out. You and Alex stay behind Lyle. 

Z-Dog waves at Lyle, then signs the letters 'D-O-C' and rubs her neck. Lyle grinned and nodded, motioning to Miles who didn't see them, then at Alex. He nodes at her. She nods back. "Hey doc," she calls out, only being about 5 feet from you. "Mosquitos were bad last night?"

You blush, hoping the oxygen mask would have helped hide the obvious hickey. "Yeah yeah, that’s not childish at all Z."

"So you and Alex had fun then last night?" She questions. Lyle holds back his laughter when he sees Miles glance at them. 

Alex turns red. "What?" They look between you and her. "Wait, we- we're not um-"

Lyle turned his head. "Ohh, you and Alex, huh doctor?"

Miles turned his head and snapped. "Focus, we need all eyes ahead." He looked forward, ignoring his tail swishing in annoyance. You, as well as a few others noticed. You smiled slightly, looking at Alex who was confused.

You shake your head. "Don't worry, they're just kidding."

"Hold." Miles stopped the group. He made a gesture and two of the soldiers crept forward into an open area. They looked around then the group moved forward. You spotted the old research trailer that was brought here years ago. Two of the soldiers went in to investigate. "We've made it to base 1, over." He had spoken into a mic. You watched as the soldiers were gathering around the giant war bot that lay fallen in the grass. 

As they were all saying something, you kneel down and start digging in your bag. You slow in confusion, looking around. This wasn't your stuff. You look up to see Alex walking inside the trailer holding the same bag as yours. You curse and grab everything to follow them. Once inside, you see them with the bag opened and looking at the device inside. "Alex."

They looked at you confused. "Is this yours?"

"...yes, it's mine." You reached for it but they stopped you. “We switched by accident on the helicopter.”

"This isn't what I think it is, is it?" They examine it again and press some buttons on it. "Wait, Dr. Linear are you-" they look at you. Suddenly their eyes were filled with betrayal. "This is…for them isn't it? This is the same bot they kept telling us was being stolen and sent here."

"Alex." You stood there frozen. "Alex you don't understand, they needed help, I don't just ignore that kind of thing. They had kids here."

"Have they been tracking us too?" They looked at the robot again. "You know how they feel about us being here. They want us gone." Alex looked at you again. "I've seen what they did before."

"No that wasn't them, that was the Na'vi-"

"Doctors, you're needed outside." Miles called from outside the trailer. Alex stuffed the robot in the bag, giving you a look and exiting the trailer. You followed, leaving the other bag inside.  "Found anything inside?"

Alex looked at you, then shook their head. "No, I haven't gotten a good look yet." Then their bag began beeping and the delivery robot floated out. It began hovering and Alex jumped away from it. The others watched until Miles shot it with one bullet. Alex stared at it, then looked at you. You had gone pale. Everyone was quiet. 

"Ah, so I was right." Quaritch tilted his head. "It was one of the fellow scientists. You've been sending out plans and medical equipment to the people out here."

"What? No it is not it's-"

"I'm sorry." Alex butted in. "I…was trying to do the right thing." They had stared at you. You shook your head. They were quoting you now.

"No no no it was my bag, we switched bags!" Your throat felt like it was closing up and it made your voice shake. "Alex didn't do anything."

Miles was watching both of you with hard eyes. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Is this true, Alex?"

They shake their head. "No, she's just trying to take the blame. I know how much trouble I could get into and she found the robot in the trailer. It's mine."

You stare at Alex feeling your heart racing, they stare back at you. "Alex please…tell them-"

Then two gunshots rang out. 

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK JUST HAPPENED.

Before the Anger- episode 41, "Strange Tradition"

Papyrus is thinking of the other meaning of "holiday", which usually means "weekend".

Not to get too personal, but I modeled this episode after my own childhood, and while I was drawing this it actually made me emotional. Me and my siblings would search for trash and give it to each other for a makeshift "Christmas" (I'm not religious, so I wasn't celebrating anything.) I relate to these little skeleton boys more than I should lol

On a positive note, this is the first episode exclusively featuring Sans and Papyrus!

Anyway, now we can get back to that egregious cliffhanger (I'm still sorry, that's just how the schedule panned out)

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Table of Contents

The Solstitial Truce

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Angel!reader

Summary: You met him at the border between realms every solstice. Neither of you spoke of the war or how many souls were claimed. You simply watched the stars together, two entities out of place, bound by quiet conversation and the kind of silence that speaks more than words ever could.

Word Count: 2.5k+

A/N: This takes place in the winter solstice by the way! I had this idea earlier and hope you like it as much as I did. I tried to do more descriptive language/scenes. This has ANGST and is left on a cliffhanger by the way. References to a war too, but not explored. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

The sky was a tapestry of frozen silence.

Stars flickered like dying embers, scattered across the heavens above the boundary. The solstice wind stirred the trees into brittle whispers, and the snow under your feet crunched with every tentative step. You shouldn’t have been there. Angels weren’t meant to wander so close to the borderland, not without orders, not without reason.

But tonight, something had drawn you in. A pull like a thread around your ribs, subtle but unyielding. You followed it, quiet, unsure, your wings folded close to your back like a secret you weren't ready to share.

And then, you saw him.

At first, you thought it was a shadow. A patch of darkness that refused to yield to the moonlight. But no. He moved. Slowly, with the weariness of someone who had lived through too many endings.

He knelt in the snow near a half-dead tree, one hand buried in the frozen soil, fingers clenched like he could still hold onto something that had long since slipped through. Smoke curled faintly around him, not from fire, but from him. It coiled at his shoulders like a protective beast, breathing in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest.

You froze when you realized who he was. A demon.

Not just any demon, him. The Winter Demon. The one they spoke of in the higher halls. The one who fell long ago but never quite burned out. You recognized him from the whispers. A former soldier. A shattered soul. A blade that had once been wielded by hell itself.

Your hand moved instinctively toward the hilt of your blade, but you didn’t draw it. Something in you held back.

He didn’t move or flinch. Didn’t seem surprised by your presence either.

“I thought angels didn’t walk this far down,” He spoke in a voice low and rough, like it had been dragged through gravel and time. “Unless they’re looking for a fight.”

You hesitated. “I’m not here to fight.”

He chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. “That’s what the last one said.”

You stayed silent, watching him closely. He didn’t turn. Didn’t rise. Just kept his hand in the dirt, like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

The wind stirred again, ruffling the edges of your robes. Your wings shifted restlessly, feathers rustling with unease.

“I’m not here on Heaven’s orders,” You finally answered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “I came because… I felt something. A pull.”

“Funny,” He muttered. “So did I.”

That made you blink.

He finally looked up, just enough for you to see his face, half-shadowed, but unmistakable. There was no cruelty there. No hunger for sin or conquest. Just exhaustion. Blue eyes that had seen centuries of death, hands that had done terrible things, and yet, beneath it all, still remembered mercy.

“I should leave,” You said quietly, unsure whether it was directed to him or to yourself.

“Then why haven’t you?”

The question hung in the cold air between you like an open wound. You didn’t give him an answer because truthfully, you didn’t have one. So you stayed.

Not close and not far. Just within sight. The two of you sat there, separated by ruthlessness and faith, by war and fire, peace and light. You didn’t speak again that night. You just watched the stars together.

And for a brief moment, the world felt like it had paused. As if Heaven and Hell had looked the other way, just long enough for two things that should never coexist to breathe in the same silence.

When you finally rose to leave, he didn’t stop you. But he didn’t look away either. And somehow, you knew you’d see him again. And you did.

You never ask his name.

He never asks yours.

There’s no point, not here, not in this place where names don’t hold power, where they melt into the snow like forgotten prayers. You know what he is and he knows what you are. That remains enough for now.

Solstice after solstice, you come back to the edge of the world, to the boundary where no song from Heaven reaches and no scream from Hell echoes. The silence here is sacred in its own way. Unclaimed. Unwatched. It belongs only to you and to him.

This time, you arrive before he does. The frost has crept higher since last year, lacing the dead branches in silver threads that catch the moonlight like cobwebs made of glass. You sit on a stone half-buried in snow, your wings draped around your shoulders like a cloak.

You don't wait long before you feel him.

Not see. Feel.

The temperature shifts subtly. The wind thickens. The smell of ash and old iron fills the air.

He walks through the trees as though they part for him, his breath visible in the cold. The same worn coat, the same heavy boots. The metal of his left arm catches the moonlight like ice. And as always, the smoke follows him, not malicious, just… present. Like a memory he can't shake off.

He sits beside you without a word, the way he always does.

You don’t look at each other at first. There’s no need. You both understand the rules of this fragile ritual: no questions, no fights, and no judgment.

You sit in the cold, close enough to feel the soft heat of him. His unnatural warmth, something Hell must have carved into his bones to keep him burning in all the wrong ways. You stay far enough that the stars won’t take notice, won’t whisper of betrayal.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. The frost creeps slowly over the fallen branches, delicate and determined. You both watch it, as if it matters. As if the way it grows, inch by inch, might teach you something about stillness. About survival.

Like usual, sometimes you talk. Sometimes you don't.

Tonight, he breaks the silence first.

“I used to be human,” He confesses, almost absently. His eyes stay fixed on the sky, where clouds drift like smoke across the moon. “A long time ago.”

You glance at him, not surprised. You had suspected it. There was always something in the way he spoke, the way he moved, like he hadn’t quite forgotten what it meant to bleed in the ways that mattered.

He continues before you can answer. “Can’t remember much. Just flashes. Pain. Screaming. Cold water. And someone-“ He cuts himself off with a bitter breath. “I think I had a name before… Bucky. Maybe that was it or maybe not.”

You don't speak immediately. The words settle like snow, quiet and heavy.

Then, ever so softly, you speak: “You remember enough to mourn it.”

He turns his head a fraction, just enough to meet your eyes. He doesn’t refuse your comment, doesn’t try to argue. And that, somehow, feels more painful than anything else.

You both return to silence as he leans back against a frost-bitten tree, metal fingers twitching restlessly in his lap. You can feel something aching inside him, coiled too deep for words. Guilt? Regret? Or maybe just the echo of what once was.

You don’t try to fix it. You just stay. Because that’s the unspoken promise of the truce. Not salvation. Not forgiveness. Just presence.

And somehow, in a world that burned the both of you down into what you are now… maybe that’s enough.

-

During your next meeting, the snow falls heavier this time.

It comes in thick, whispering sheets, softening the world until even your footsteps are silenced. The sky is overcast, swallowing the stars, and yet you walk the old path by memory. Your wings are hidden this time beneath a dark cloak. Your halo, long dimmed near the boundary, pulses faintly, a reminder of the place you still belong to, even if you don't feel like you do.

He's already there when you arrive, perched on a broken stone wall, hood drawn low, and smoke curling lazily around his shoulders. He doesn’t look at you when you approach, but his metal fingers tap once against the stone, a quiet acknowledgment. A habit, maybe. Or a signal meant just for you.

You sit beside him, brushing snow off the ledge. Neither of you says anything for a long time. The snowfall thickens. It clings to your lashes, melts slowly against the heat of his shoulder when it drifts close. You almost lean toward him. Almost. But you don’t. Because this… this thing between you isn’t named or defined. It’s a careful, wordless balance, like walking a tightrope strung between Heaven and Hell. And you don’t know what happens if one of you leans too far.

So you speak instead.

“They’re starting to wonder where I go,” You murmur. “The others.”

He huffs a breath through his nose. “Same.”

You glance at him, startled. You didn’t think demons would care.

“I shouldn’t be here. They don’t trust me much,” He says. “Never did. I’m not… obedient enough. Still got too many memories, I think.”

You study the side of his face, how the flickering light catches the scar near his jaw, how snow gathers in the folds of his coat, how his eyes stay fixed on the horizon like he’s waiting for something that never arrives.

You whisper, “Why do you keep coming back here?”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares into the white blur of the trees.

Then: “Because this is the only place I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be anything.”

The words hit harder than they should as you can feel your throat tighten. Because you understand. Because that’s the reason you come too. Not for salvation. Not for curiosity. But because here, on this forgotten ledge at the edge of war, you get to just exist.

Not as a Weapon or a Symbol. Not a Messenger, Servant, or Slave either. Just… as yourself. And maybe that’s why it almost happens.

The shift.

It begins as silence, broken only by the snowfall and the distant cry of something too old for naming. Your knees are nearly touching. His arm is barely a breath from your shoulder. And then, he turns to you. Really turns to you. The snow on his lashes. The flicker in his eyes. The pain he doesn’t speak about and the comfort he doesn’t ask for.

You don’t breathe.

His hand lifts slightly, hesitating between you, as if asking without asking. As if unsure whether reaching out will ruin everything you’ve built from the silence and distance.

Your breath fogs between you and you don’t move as that moment hangs like crystal in the air. Fragile. Shimmering. Dangerous.

But then he blinks and withdraws, looking away. The space between you swells again with all the things you didn’t say. All the things you didn’t do.

He clears his throat. “Should go. They’ll notice.”

You nod, but don’t stand.

He hesitates, then turns, walking back through the trees. The smoke follows him. Softer now. Calmer.

You stay until the snowfall covers where he sat. You don’t cry. Angels don’t cry. But something in you bends. And maybe next solstice… maybe it will break.

-

The snow is late this year.

The sky is too clear, too wide, the moon too full, as if the heavens are watching, waiting. You sit on the same broken stone wall, cloak wrapped tight, wings folded beneath layers of quiet. You haven’t spoken aloud since your last meeting. No words seem right unless they’re for him.

He’s late this time. You don’t pace. Angels don’t pace. But your fingers twitch and your breath stutters. The frost gathers along your lashes, and still, he does not come.

Then… you hear movement. The trees stir. Smoke curls through the air, faint at first, then thick, clinging to the wind like a memory refusing to be forgotten. And then he’s there. Shoulders hunched. Jaw tight. There’s a limp in his step you’ve never seen before. Something about the way he moves, it’s quieter. Smaller. Like he’s folding in on himself.

You don’t speak yet. Not yet. You watch as he stops before reaching the wall. He doesn’t move to sit. He stands there, hood shadowing his face, and one hand clenched tight inside his coat pocket. The other twitches at his side, fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to hold onto something too fragile.

You wait, watching him in silence for a minute. Two. Ten.

Finally, he speaks.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Your voice is steady, even if your heart stumbles. “You say that every year.”

His eyes lift to yours. Something in them flickers resembling pain maybe, or guilt.

“No.” The word is thick. Real and raw. “I mean it this time.”

You don’t ask why. You could. You could demand the answer, peel it from his throat if you wanted. But some truths aren’t meant to be touched. Some are better left where they lie, between silence and suspicion.

Instead, you ask quietly, “Then why come?”

He looks down, taking a slow breath before moving closer to you. Slowly and Carefully, like it costs him something. From inside his coat, his gloved hand emerges, clenched around something small and heavy. When he opens it, the object catches the moonlight and your breath.

A coin. Worn. Misshapen. Half-melted, like it passed through fire and never forgot. Its edges are jagged, dangerous, like the lives it's touched. Like his life. You know what it truly is though.

A soul coin.

You’ve only seen one before, only once a long time ago. It served as proof of salvation. The kind no demon carries unless they’ve done the unthinkable, not damn a soul, but save it. It is a mark of rebellion, of change. Of loss.

He holds it for a moment more, then steps closer before holding it out to you. You hesitate, but only for a heartbeat. Your fingers close around it gently, reverently. It’s warm. Alive, almost. You can feel its weight and the cost of it.

And then, his voice, quieter now.

“Proof,” He states. “That I’m not all gone.”

Your eyes search his face, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way he’s trembling, but only slightly, like a man who’s fought too long and finally let himself feel it.

“Why give this to me?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

You watch as his gaze drops and hear the silence swell between you. Then, he says it. The thing that breaks you.

“Because next solstice…” He stops. His throat works around a word he doesn’t speak. His eyes close, “I might not be here.”

And that’s when it hurts. Because demons don’t lie. Not like this. Not with this kind of sorrow. You reach for him, but he steps back. Not in fear or nervousness this time. In resolution.

Like if you touched him now, he’d stay. And he’s already chosen to leave. When he vanishes, it isn’t with fire. It’s with smoke swirling softly and quietly. Like the ghost of a memory that never settled right.

He leaves behind nothing more than the coin in your hand, still warm, and a silence that feels too alive to be empty. A terrible ache in your chest builds, because angels don’t hope.

But tonight, you do. You hope to see him again.