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Chapter Text

The cutest library she had ever been in, and some lady felt the need to disrupt the peace. Yelling and uttering curses on the librarians and all that they did tore Alice from the little world of her book. 

Alice closed her book and brushed the lint off of her jeans. She leaned her head back against the cushioned back of the chair and stared at the ceiling. There was a theme in the library/cafe. The cafe was all sunshines and bright colors, while the library was moonlight, gentle light and cozy nooks. Stars littered the ceiling, gold cut outs clearly done by hand, and the shelves were painted in swirling blues. The children’s section, with toys and picturebooks, was tended to by one of three animatronics. They switched roles every other day, as far as Alice could tell. The fourth never strayed from his computers and grumbled at the check out desk while his companion dealt with actually checking out the books. 

Alice stood, in part grumpy that she had been interrupted, and partly because she was nosy. Curious, she followed the screaming to the front desk. Sun or Sunshine, she really couldn’t remember, smiled brightly at the lady expressing her displeasure. Her dry brown hair fluttered above her shoulders, cropped short, and her narrow shoulders were stiff in her striped sleeveless button-up. At her side was her child, whose bawling had since silenced and had been replaced with a mischievous smirk. 

After a little spying, it seemed that the lady was disgruntled because of a late book her child had lost. Oh joy. 

Alice left the safety of hiding behind the bookshelf and mosied up the cramped aisles. She approached the lady with the child and stood at a diagonal angle behind them. She leaned her weight on one foot and propped her hand on her hip. 

“Are you quite done?” 

“Excuse me?” The woman whirled around, hazel eyes blazing.

Alice flipped her hair, drawing on a character’s mannerisms she had done to amuse her siblings. Her tone turned nasally. “I need, to like, check out a book? Mr. Cabb assigned this essay, like, last week and I can’t fail my class. Like, can you imagine? A ‘B’ is bad enough, but my dad will, like, um, ground me? And I can’t even with that today.”

The woman stared at her. “Fine, fine, check out your book.” She turned and pointed aggressively at Sunny or Sunlight. “But we’re not done here.”

“Oh my gosh,” Alice hopped up to the front desk and grinned at the sun-themed robot. She turned back to the woman. “Like, thank you so much? My essay’s due tomorrow, and I couldn’t imagine having to, like, turn it in late because I waited too long to look for a book. Oh my gosh, it would be just as bad as yelling at a librarian because your kid, like, lost a book. Could you imagine?” She turned to give the librarian her card and book. He took both gingerly, eyeing the two of them with interest.
“Excuse me?” The woman demanded. 

Alice shrugged. “I mean, it was like, just an example. You would never do that, right, ‘cause, like, you’re sensible, I’m sure. You look sensible. Like, where did you even get that shirt? It. Is. So cute. Like, oh my word. You have to tell me.”

She accepted her things  from the librarian when he slid them back onto the counter. She leaned her elbow on the edge of the counter, and her cheek on her palm as she grinned at the parent. 

“Oh, um,” The woman faltered before sharing the website she had bought it off of.

“Oh, my. That is my favorite shopping platform. What are the odds?”

The lady stared at her, self-consciously smoothing down her shirt. “Yes… What did you say your name was?”

“Bianca!” She offered cheerfully. “Anyways, I hope you have a great day, hon.” She turned to face the librarian. “Thanks so much for checking out my book for me. I’d like, hate to suffer the consequences of my actions. You have, like, the prettiest blue eyes.” She grinned as the woman at her side floundered and shuffled away, tugging at her whining daughter’s hand. 

The sun balked. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

Alice glanced over her shoulder and relaxed. “Oh my word, I didn’t think that would work.” She giggled into her hand. “Seriously, though, thanks for this.” She held up the book and started to back away. 

“Do you actually have an essay to work on?” His eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, one hundred percent, but it doesn’t need an analysis on fantasy romance for it to be completed.” Her wrist swiveled the book from side to side as she strolled away.

Eclipse stepped out from the office, balancing a stack of books. “Oh, did that horrible woman finally leave?”

Sun tore his eyes from the glass doors. Both Alice and that irritable woman had long since walked out of sight. “Oh, yeah.” He snickered. “‘Bianca’ scared her away before Moon could.”

“Which is a great disappointment.” Moon grumbled from underneath the desk. He was scrunched in on himself, moping with his chin on his knees. He didn’t bother to flick his hat tail out of his eye. 

“Did you leave Star to handle the cafe by herself?”

Moon’s eyes widened. “...No?”

Eclipse kicked Moon’s foot. “There’s a line. Go and help her.”

Chapter Text

“My New Year's resolution is to kiss you more often.” Sun mumbled, chin digging into her shoulder. 

She snickered as she continued to cut into the pumpkin pie. She was absolutely desecrating the crust, separating the lovely edge from the rest of the pie and causing the crust to crumble onto the counter or over the pie filling. Their New Year’s celebration consisted of just the two of them so there was no one to impress.

“I don’t get enough kisses?” She turned to kiss the tip of his long nose. 

His brow furrowed. “Of course not.” He chased after her parting lips, but she had long since turned back to her task. His silicone lips pressed against her jaw, then the apple of her cheek and finally her chin, arms tightly wound around her waist, ever so slightly tighter in his concentration to bestow upon her a display of his affection. She fell back into him as she laughed, utterly delighted. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him to kiss her in such a manner, so she wasn’t entirely certain how he intended to kiss her more often unless he intended to be utterly ridiculous about it.

“You’re ridiculous.” She told him, turning in his arms to return the hug. His warm sweater engulfed the both of them as she pressed her nose deep into the knitting, finding the old loose hole that gave her access to the metal underneath. 

He hummed. “Mm, true. You love it.” 

She tilted her head back to look up at him, feeling all soft and warm inside as she gazed at him. Her eyes traced over his features slowly. There was something special about this man, she knew. He made her feel grounded and whole, warm and cosy. She felt the safest in his noodle arms, the ticking of the mechanisms in his torso pressed to her so close that she felt like it was echoing inside her own ribcage. 

“I love it.” She agreed. She released one of her arms from around him to caress one of his sunrays. They spun around his head with giddy energy. She loved that he never hid his response to her touch as he did in the beginning of their relationship. His bashfulness had been swept away with time and reassurances. “Love you.”

He bowed his head, nose brushing against hers. His electric blue eyes pondered her own for an intense moment. His grin quirked wider. “Love you. Love you, love you, love you~”

Their kiss was sweet, and the ones following even more so. 

She darted away before they spent the entire night getting lost in each other, face flushed and smile wide as she grabbed a plate. Sun watched her, leaning on the counter with folded arms. He didn’t bother to fix the rumpled state of his sweater, drinking in her figure as she dropped two slices of pie on her plate and doused them in whipped cream. 

“Dessert before dinner? My, my, what a rule breaker.”

“A common theme in this household.” She shot him a look before turning away to deposit slices of ham onto her plate. The oven radiated heat, only having been shut off for so long. 

“Aren’t we so alike?” He rested the bottom of his faceplate in the palm of his hand. “Say, what was your resolution for the new year?”

She re-settled the tinfoil over the ham before shrugging. “Don’t have one. Never cared to bother before.”

Sun pouted. “You’ve no holiday spirit.”

She snickered, stabbing her fork into the ham. “Fine, my new year resolution will be to indulge your silly new year resolution until you inevitably forget about it. How about that?”

He considered her. Various expressions crossed his face until he decided on one. “What makes you think I’ll forget?”

“Everyone eventually does.”

“My love. My darling star. Light of my life. The beating heart to my electric core. I can’t forget.”

Her brows furrowed. The confusion cleared. “Ah. Ah ha. Yes, I see where I might have gone wrong with my assumption.”

His mouth curled mischievously. “You’ll indulge my very serious consideration to kiss you as often as possible?” He started to move toward her, cutting the distance between them in half. She slid down the counter, stomach aflutter. He followed after her, arms outstretched and speed increasing. 

Giggles erupted from her mouth. “Let me eat dinner first! Let me finish eating!”

He slumped against the island counter. “Mmfph. Fine.” He side-eyed her with a playful smile to let her know he was teasing.

She grabbed his hand with her non-dominant one, mouth full of bread and gravy. She squeezed his hand twice. He squeezed back. 

She loved this man so much.

Chapter Text

Shake splattered up her arms. The whir of the machine filled her ears, and the thumping of electronic music filled her head. Luckily for her, she and her soulmate had similar taste, or else she would have lost her mind much sooner. 

It certainly didn’t help studying, though. Silence or calm music was her go-to. She’d learned to work around her soulmate’s schedule, though. Whoever they were, they seemed to be up in the middle of the night consistently, leaving her day open to fill with homework. She’d quickly gotten used to falling asleep with the music filling her thoughts. She hadn’t done it since she was a kid, so it was only the smallest of adjustments.

She set the shake down and fumbled for the pink straw. It was packed tightly with its comrades, and had no desire to be freed. 

She turned twenty-three when it was apparent that she had a soulmate. It’d been four years of knowing. 

How in the world was one meant to find their soulmate through music in their head? 

She set the shake on the counter, quickly moving to find another drink to make. It’d been a particularly slow day, so only herself and one other girl were on shift. They’d been slow enough that everything had been cleaned to perfection, and they’d been dead for ten minutes earlier in the day. Unusual for their establishment. During that time, her coworker had chosen to doodle on the underside of her left arm. 

She spotted a new drawing with a glance. “I like the duck.” She told her coworker. 

Her coworker grinned. “Thanks.” 

Time passed amicably. Enough so, that she was able to ignore the customer that’d been sitting in the booth closest to them for hours. He typed too aggressively for it being ten at night. 

She focused on cleaning the machines. She resisted the urge to thump her forehead against the shake base machine. They still had another hour to go…

As if sensing that this was the most opportune moment to mess with her, the music playing in her head was abruptly interrupted. She groaned. 

“What?” Her coworker asked as she passed, tossing a rag from hand to hand. 

She grumbled incoherently, turning around and pausing in surprise. The mutant from the corner had stopped at the counter. “Oh, what can we get for you?” A friendly lilt covered the irritation in her voice. 

He nodded toward her coworker, hands stuck deep in his hoodie. “I’d like to ask a question of your coworker.”

She shrugged. “Alright.” She stepped back to continue cleaning close by. 

“What was your question?” Amelia set her rag on the counter, a friendly smile on her face. 

“I wanted to ask if perhaps there is what appears to be an unseemly triceratops on your bicep.”

Amelia blinked before rolling up her sleeve. “Nope.”

“The other, if you please.”

Amelia checked the other. Camilla watched too. 

They stared at the unseemly triceratops. “Name him Greg.” Camilla suggested. 

The purple masked mutant grinned. “I was correct. You are the soulmate of my brother. Whether that is lucky is for you to determine.” He shrugged. 

Amelia’s expression soured. “Soulmate crap again?” She sighed. “You’re just as bad as Camille.”

The mutant hummed. “My brother is eager to meet you. Am I permitted to share your workplace with him?”

Amelia turned around and walked away. “You’re all insane. Whatever! Go crazy! So long as he buys something.” She disappeared into the back.

The mutant squinted after her. “A 70% success, I think.”

“What determines that?” Camilla asked. 

He looked proud. “I was correct and gained the opportunity to lord it over my brothers.”

She snorted. “Nice.” She considered him. “I am curious though. How come you thought it was her?”

“Well, it was purely by happenstance, you see. I came for my normal beverage—a peanut butter caramel shake sprinkled with a touch of oreo—when I noticed the garish image of what my brother proclaimed to be Lou Jitsuu across her elbow. Leo had drawn it on Mikey’s arm earlier that day, when Mikey was sleeping, and of course I was present for the blackmail,” he emphasized evilly, “in the form of various pictures and video evidence.”

At some point in his explanation, she had rested her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow on the counter. “Uh-huh.” She stood straight, slapping her hands against the cold of the counter. “Well, that’s a lot better than I assumed.”

“And what did you assume?” His eyebrow raised. 

She had to stare for a moment. Was she insane, or was that black marker? Or did he have weird mutant eyebrows that somehow go through fabric…?

“Um.” She cleared her throat. “I assumed stalking. Her social media, etc.”

“I mean, I did scan through that, yes, but not for the intent of stalking her.” He looked at the doorway over Camille’s shoulder. “Not my type…” He murmured. 

“Oh, amazing.” She wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or shock that colored her words. 

“In what way?” confusion crossed his face before quickly clearing. “Ah, in the way that your friend is perfectly safe from any malign intent?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Well,” he declared. He patted his thighs, as if he wasn’t sure what to do. “I’ll be off. Then.”

“Have a good night.” She said automatically.

“Thank you. I will.” He turned around and left. For a moment, the shop was empty and silent. He poked his head in through the door. “You too. Ah—have a good night as well.” He hurriedly ducked out of the shop again, speedwalking out of sight of the large bay windows. 

She watched after him. “Thanks.” She said to the empty room. She looked at the clock. Thirty minutes to closing. She made her way to the bottom of the stairs. “AM I GOOD TO SWEEP THE BACK?”

“Yeah!” the manager called down. 

Camilla had to admit, she thoroughly enjoyed whenever Mikey visited. He didn’t always end up dropping in on Amelia’s shift, but that was alright for him, it seemed. He was pleasant to chat with and always tipped well. He quickly became one of her favorite customers. (She was easily swayed by money, so sue her). 

Sometimes that first turtle mutant visited, too. He wasn’t a big conversationalist, and often stood behind his brother, typing away on an armband or his phone. 

Amelia still wasn’t impressed by the soulmate talk, but she did seem to slowly warm up to the literal sun that was Michelangelo. 

Camilla stirred her melting ice cream float. She leaned against the empty doorframe that led to the back, amused as she watched the orange turtle continue to do his best to woo her coworker. 

The music playing in her head came to an abrupt end. Her head thumped against the door frame in disappointment. She subtly swiped through her phone, clicking on a song before fishing her earbuds out of her pocket. With one in her left ear, she zeroed in on the scene before her. The bass of a rock song filled her skull. 

Today, Mikey had brought Amelia cookies. Camilla’s mouth watered. They looked scrumptious. Amelia was doing her best to restrain her outward enjoyment of the cookies, but she was failing horribly. Judging by the smile that was borderline smirk, Mikey could tell. 

Camilla loudly slurped up the elusive soda in the bottom of her cup. 

“Camille!” Amelia spun around. “Come try one of these cookies!”

Camilla carefully considered the turtle behind Amelia. Feeling oddly threatened by his cheery expression, she said, “Hm. No, I think I’m good. Thank you.”

Mikey beamed. 

Amelia’s shoulder slumped. “Well. Alright. You’re missing out.”

Camilla eyed the cookies on the paper plate. Oh, she could tell. “I’ve got a float.” She reminded herself whilst informing her coworker. 

Camilla glanced around the shop. “Your brother didn’t come today?”

“Hm, nope! He had something to work on.”

“Hm. Shame. He’ll miss out on my complaints of the day.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Amelia continued to ignore her turtle suitor. 

“The norm for today. My ever elusive soulmate listened to the same song for two hours. Their and my song obsessions do not align.” She sighed as she settled against the counter. “Additionally, my cat tried to eat my pom-pom earrings.”

Amelia patted her back sympathetically. “Did he survive?”

“It was close. My earrings, however, certainly did not. He’s grounded for three days.”

“Three?”

“Mm-hm. I would’ve grounded him for four, but I’m a little impressed that he didn’t destroy my entire earring rack.”

“What’s your cat’s name?” Mikey asked, seemingly less out of politeness and more out of eager interest. 

“Goblin King, but usually just Gobbin.” She considered her chipped nail polish. The yellow and white were nearly entirely gone. 

“Goblin King?” He questioned. “How’d you come up with that?”

Amelia gasped. “Have you never seen The Labyrinth?"

“...No?”

Her hand settled over her heart. “Thank goodness. I couldn’t stand another one.”

“Rude.” Camilla swatted Amelia’s elbow. 

Amelia knocked said elbow into her side. 

The conversation morphed three more times from there before Mikey hummed. “Oh, hey, you said something about your soulmate’s music?”

“Hm? When?”

“It was like the first thing you said.” Amelia rolled her eyes. She pointed her thumb in Camilla’s direction as she spoke to the orange-wearing mutant. “She’s the only one I tolerate soulmate crap from, ‘cause usually she’s complaining.”

“Why’s that?” He asked Camilla with a grin. “Not a fan of your soulmate’s music taste?”

“Our music tastes overlap pretty well for the most part, actually. I’m just a complainer.” She shrugged. 

“Huh.” He considered her. “Oh, hey! What do they usually listen to?”

“Ugh.” Amelia left to clean their flurry machine. 

Camilla snorted at her coworker’s antics. She turned back to Mikey. “Electronic stuff, I guess. Despite listening to it for several years, I’m not too good with naming the genres, hah.”

“Interesting! Well, I suddenly have to leave for unrelated reasons, you girls have a good shift!” He darted out of the store. 

She watched him leave. When a moment passed, she turned to find Amelia. “Can I please, please, please have a cookie?”

“I knew it!” Amelia yelled back. “I knew you’d want one!”

The cookie was glorious. 

It was a while before either of the mutants showed up again. She wasn’t there when they visited, but according to her coworker, they brought the rest of their brothers with them. It had made for an eventful shift, evidently. She was sorry she missed it, but she valued her days off more than she valued seeing the turtle brothers. Even if one of them was sort of cute…

Not that she’d ever admit that. Not only did she not think she had a chance, she also was of the opinion that she really didn’t have a chance. The man was intelligent in ways she couldn’t even comprehend, whereas she struggled differentiating her left from her right when she was turning the knob on the tap outside her house. 

The evidence was not in her favor, she feared. 

In the meantime, she was going to lose her mind if her soulmate skipped another good song. She grumbled under her breath as she opened up her playlist. If they couldn’t decide, she would. 

As she scrolled through her songs, she turned to enter her workplace. At the same time, a customer did their best to leave. She slammed into them, phone falling from her grasp as she stumbled and attempted to right herself, left hand gripping the pushbar of the glass door in a death grip. The customer caught her forearm, and she finally comprehended who she was staring at. Donnie stared at her, fingers flexing absentmindedly around her forearm. He came to his senses before she did, and released her as if she had burned him. He swiped her phone off of the ground, and then stared at the screen. She stared at him staring at her play list. She was just surprised that it hadn’t closed out in the five seconds she hadn’t touched the screen. 

He skipped the song. 

Her brows furrowed. “Hey–!”

He skipped another, then the next and the one after that. He mumbled something that she failed to catch over the electronic bass and then the vocals of a rock song. 

She snatched her phone back, and he seemed to regain awareness of where he was. He stared at her, unblinking, and then darted around her. 

“What in the…?” She attempted to watch after his disappearing figure, but he was already long gone in the time it took for her to turn around. Which seemed a little contradictory to her preconceived mental image of turtle-speed. 

Donnie groaned as he dragged his hands down his face. Did he just run away from his soulmate? He? Donatello?

He stared at the wall before him as a plan formed. First: Tactical retreat. Second… pending.

The tactical retreat, however, was an incredibly important aspect of the Plan, however, and it must not be rushed. Each stage must develop to its full potential, after all. 

He nodded to himself and made his way into the sewers. It was time to let the first stage marinate in its full glory. 

After all, one could not rush neither perfection nor romance, and Donatello was well-versed in both areas.

Chapter Text

Yes we fly round the sun, feel the heat of the flame. Yes we kiss round the sun cooling lips again, again.

It wasn’t unusual for her headphones to be on and blocking the world from her attention. Music blasting and audible for anyone next to her, she steadfastly made her way through the closing shift’s cleaning chores. 

Her music paused. 

She straightened, confused, and pulled out her phone to look at the device. A little sun figure hovered over the song’s title, fanning its face with three-fingered hands. The chibi character had been something she’d downloaded to her phone a week or two before. 

Amused, she pressed play and slipped her phone back into her pocket. She didn’t think the character had the ability to react to songs featuring the sun. It was a cute aspect. 

It would quickly lose its appeal if it kept pausing her music, though. She quickly typed in her password, a little irked, to see the program pressing its palms against the screen, white eyes wide. Its little tail wagged, the star on the tip bobbing. 

“You’re cute, but lemme listen to my music, lil booger.”

The program reared back, hand on its chest in an offended manner. It folded its arms and pouted as she pressed play and put her phone back in her pocket. 

She had no idea the massive crush this tiny critter harbored for her, and the extent it would go to delude itself into seeing that she could possibly return the feeling.

Chapter Text

Grim ducked under a branch. The trees of this forest had low branches and were known for their plentiful fruit. The lowest branches were bare of fruit, but in the highest top of the tree she could see the glow of the little stars. They had learned to remain clear of the lower branches.

When it was first discovered that there were plants that bore living creatures instead of the usual fruit and vegetables, devoid of life, people hesitated to eat them. They were cute and such animated little creatures that most’s heartstrings were tugged on. 

And then people discovered they were more delicious than normal plants, and money came into play. It’s been a constant battle with trespassers wanting to steal her forest’s seeds and starlings. Before that, it had been various corporations trying to bully her into selling her island. 

Cackling filled the air. Grim hummed. It seemed the more magical protector of the forest had caught another trespasser. Grim did her best to ward people away from the lovely forest, but if they were stupid enough to ignore her warnings, there was nothing she could do if Moon got his claws on them. 

She ducked into her little cottage and wiped her muddy boots on the door mat. She toed the shoes off and made her way into the living room. The house was as cold as the world outside. She shivered with a grin. Perfect for layering a million blankets over her body as she played videogames late into the night. 

Well. Until Moon returned home, that is. 

She settled into her bed, burrowed into fluffy thick blankets. Her videogames had been discarded in favor of finishing her book. 

The front door creaked open. She stalled in the middle of flipping the page, straining her ears to hear Moon’s arrival. Footsteps, ever so quiet, gave him away. 

She rolled over to greet him as he entered her room. They had separate rooms, but more often than not, they ended up joining the other (unless it was explicitly stated that they needed time alone). 

He crawled into her bed, cuddling up to her side, metal freezing against her skin. She smacked his shoulder with her book and tried to roll away. Arms wrapped around her and tugged her into his chassis. His legs wrapped loosely around her as his faceplate pressed against her cheek. 

“Hi lovely~” He crooned. “Wide awake?”

She grumbled as she tried to fix her blankets to capture her quickly escaping warmth. He was leeching all her heat. He was lucky he was fastidious on washing off all the blood, or he wouldn’t ever be allowed in her bed. 

“I’m reading that book you got me.” She showed him the cover, finger strategically placed between the pages so as to not lose her spot. His own claws were making gentle paths up and down her arm. 

“Read to me?” 

Grim captured his wandering hand and kissed the back of it. His fingers curled around her hand, trapping it in place. 

She opened the book and started on the left page instead of the one she had finished off on to prolong having to release her lovely Moon’s hand. 

She cushioned her head back on his shoulder and read aloud, content even if she was a little cold. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

Chapter Text

The woman exhaled palms pressed together and the tips of her fingers brushing her chin and lips. She squinted at the person before her. 

“So what you’re telling me…” she squinted a little more. “Is that the new love potion everyone’s in a craze over is not only real and very effective, but also that someone laced your brother’s drink and he’s now inconsolably love sick?”

Edge, angry appearing as always but with a tinge of concern now, nodded.

“Mmkay… so why can’t I come inside? If he’s gonna mope in his room all day, how does that impact our—”

A window slammed open.

Gabby looked up just in time to see Red stare at her, mouth agape. An old trail of mustard had yet to be wiped off his chin, and he looked like he had slept in his coat and the same white shirt for the last three nights. Again. 

When an uncomfortably long silence had passed, Gabby turned back to Edge. “Is he alright? Should I…” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Just go?”

Edge nodded firmly, but she didn’t have very long to focus on his response. A choked, “no!” from above had her head whipping up in time to see the short skeleton crawl through the window. 

She and Edge cried out, “Red!” in tandem, though Edge bellowed the name in stern reprimand rather than concern.

Red bounced off the bush to the right of the front step and flopped on the ground like a deflated pancake. Gabby winced. 

“WE’LL RESCHEDULE FOR ANOTHER TIME.” Edge informed her as he stalked toward his brother.

“Yep, sounds good.” She turned on her heel, the chains on her ankle boots clinking as she walked back to her car. “My place?” She called over her shoulder.

“AFFIR—” There was a grunt and a thump. She warily glanced over her shoulder. 

Edge was flat on the ground and Red had finished freeing himself from his brother’s arms like a feral cat. Without another glance toward his brother, he hurried after her in a most un-Red-like fashion. 

“BROTHER!” Edge screamed, pushing himself off of the ground. 

Gabby sprinted to her car, having no desire to be involved in this weird situation for longer than she had to be. It seemed at this moment Red remembered that he could teleport, because in a split second arms were wrapping around her waist and she was lifted into the air. She kicked her legs, hands digging into the arms encircling her, but there was no escaping the mind-addled skeleton.

Red nuzzled the back of her head as he carried her back up the driveway. She’s limp in his arms, defeated. She feels much like a disgruntled cat in a toddler’s steel grip. 

Edge looks disappointed, arms crossed as he glared over her head at his brother. Red doesn’t acknowledge him, moving to walk around him. 

The second Edge moves closer, arms outstretched, Red steps into a shortcut, one of his hands shielding her eyes. Cold washes over her and slides away sickeningly with a pop. His hand falls back around her waist. 

She examines his bedroom. She hadn’t stepped foot inside before. It looked just about how she imagined it might. 

Her feet touch the ground, and she realizes she’s being set down and spun around to face Red. Before she could say anything, let alone form a thought, he’s nuzzling her face and hair. 

“Red!” She sputtered, pushing on his shoulders. He gently grabs her wrists and lets her pull away, repositioning to hold her hands. The look on his face is dopey. Her heart does a little flip. She dismissed the thought with fervor. “Red, what are you doing?”

“sayin’ hi.” He grinned. “missed you.”

“Well, hi. Can I go now?”

His smile falls. “oh. um.” He doesn’t seem to know what to say. His brow furrows. “did i do something?”

Well, yeah, dude, you sort of kidnapped her?? But then she stares at his face, and she considers the fact that he’s not of his mind. And that does nothing to dissuade her from telling him point-blank, “We do not know each other well enough for me to be comfortable with your affections. Excuse me.” She disentangles herself from his suddenly loose grip and makes her way to the door. She swings it open just as Edge turns the corner, righteous fury on his face. It washes away with confusion taking its place. 

“HE LET YOU GO?”

She shrugs. “Just had to tell him the truth. He respected it.” She makes her way down the hall. “Did you still want to reschedule our cooking lesson?”

Edge looks down the hall at Red’s open door, feeling quietly unsettled. Gabby hadn’t seen Red for the last week. Despondent and pining for a person he had never glanced twice at in the past. To give up so easily on her now while she’s within reach…

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

Perhaps her rejection would return him to normal?

Outwardly, Red appeared fine. He punned and lazed about like normal. At first Edge had been deceived. Relieved that his brother was back to normal, he had accepted it. Then Gabby returned for their cooking lesson, and immediately the change in Red was visible. He disappeared, but not without leaving a longing glance for the woman climbing out of her vehicle.

Edge pushed it out of his mind for the duration of his visit with his friend. Once she left, however, he threw himself into researching this new drug. He read through numerous articles and various humans’ and monsters’ experiences with it. Finally, he found the website that sold the potion in the first place. It wasn’t so much a love potion as it was an unfiltered gathering of magic sourced from a Truth mage. A powerful one at that. She explained that she wanted humans and monsters alike to overcome their fears and to express their true feelings. A risk, considering the prejudices and racism both races exhibited towards the other. 

Edge sat back in his chair, pointer finger tapping against his desk. The magic was far more effective against monsters for obvious reasons, and the long-lasting hurt his brother was exhibiting wasn’t a false one. The pining and sorrow was all very real. 

He was going to throttle the monster that had laced his brother’s drink. In the meantime, he would be exacting a plan. The ‘Forget Your Depression Plan’. The ‘It Is Time to Work Through The Stages of Grief’ plan. The ‘You Are Heartbroken and Your Feelings Are Very Real, How Much Icecream Do You Want?’ Plan.

It was a struggle convincing Red out of the house, but once they were on their mission for an unlawful amount of ice cream and Grillby’s food, it was a struggle to get Red back to the house. Edge sighed as Red dragged out which ice cream he should get. 

“or… what about mint pecan double cheesecake strawberry?” he mumbled as he stared past the glass doors. Edge knew he was doing this to tease him. He’d much prefer Red teasing him over Red wallowing in an unrequited love. 

Red glanced up at him, a considering look on his face. Edge stared back, side-eyeing him. A stack of ice cream tubs rested in the crook of Red’s arm. “‘re we goin’ or not?”

Edge sighed and turned to head down the aisle. How and why his brother managed to do such things in the blink of an eye, he would never know. Well, now he knew, but… this was Red. 

Red kept pace with Edge through the lazy method of shortcuts, always holding something in his hand as if he was contemplating whether or not he truly needed to buy it. A tower of five watermelons made Edge sigh. 

Red smirked. He loved getting reactions out of his baby bro. 

Gabby was super glad Red was back to normal. Pumped, even. She definitely didn’t stay awake at night, remembering his lovestruck face or the cute nuzzling. No, she wouldn’t do that, she’s a grown woman with things to do. 

She is, however, irritated that she left her favorite hoodie at their house. On one hand, she could easily wait three more days to grab it. On the other, she secretly wanted an excuse to visit. 

She didn’t know if Red was back to normal, however. She tore at the skin on her bottom lip as she considered her phone. She could just text and ask. Should she? 

With a huff, she hurriedly typed out the question and sent it before she could linger on it any longer. Before the regret set in, she got to her feet to do something around the house. Her eyes spotted her laundry basket. Might as well. 

Red laughed uproariously as Edge stormed off to the kitchen, angered by the nonsense on the t.v. screen. Red’s eyes alighted on the phone he had foolishly left behind. The screen lit up. 

What’s an older brother to do? Obviously he swiped the thing and quickly typed in the password. He looked through the notifications, but his gaze snagged on Gabby and couldn’t move away. 

He pressed on her contact, soul squeezing painfully. He knew he should set it down. He shouldn’t torture himself in such a way. 

She didn’t return his affection. He shouldn’t torture himself. 

Is now a good time to come and get my hoodie? I left it at your place whoops

Red’s phalanges hesitated only once. 

OF COURSE, MISCREANT. BE TIMELY ABOUT IT. YOU MAY YET AVOID BEING INFECTED BY MY BROTHER’S APPALLING SLOTHFUL NATURE.

He tossed the phone onto the other end of the couch in time for Edge to return, grumbling, his own food in hand. Red eyed his plate. 

Edge caught his gaze and screamed in frustration, “GET YOUR OWN FOOD, YOU GLUTTON!”

Red snickered and short-cutted into the kitchen, enticed by whatever Edge had made. He made a large plate and added another side from the to-go bags from Grillb’s. 

Neither acknowledged that he was eating his feelings, and only one was truly happy about that. 

Were there supposed to be better coping methods found in the underground?

Gabby clambers out of the vehicle and walks up to the front door. Having planned on grabbing her hoodie, she forwent wearing a different one. She shivered from the cold as she waited for someone to answer the front door. Her logical preference would be Edge. Her heart wanted to see Red. 

She stares at the dark windows. Perhaps Edge had forgotten and went to bed? She could return another day. In three days, even. She glanced at her phone at the time. Well, it was late. He probably just went to bed. 

She made to turn around. Her feet shuffled to an awkward stop as the door creaked open. Her eyes drifted lower when Edge failed to appear. 

Red stared at her. For a moment, he looked to be in pain. Then, he smirked, and she knew that the love potion was truly out of his system. Which was a relief. 

(Part of her had no desire to deal with the potion. The lack of consent and whatnot. The other part wanted to indulge in the fantasy that he could want to be hers, and this part she shamefully hid deep inside her)

“‘sup.”

“Hi. Red.” She said awkwardly. She tugged at the bottom of her undercut. It was a little grown out. “Um. I came to get my hoodie. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is?”

He shrugged. “nah.” He opened the door wider. “feel free to glance ‘round.”

“Thanks.” She stepped past him, instinctively slipping her beaten up crocs off at the door and made her way deeper into the house. She could only assume it was still in the kitchen. 

(Edge had lovingly and carefully hung it up on the back of his bedroom door to give to her when she appeared for her cooking lesson, but neither of them knew that.)

She looked in the kitchen first, awkward as Red loomed in the doorway, just… watching. She looked in the living room, next, feeling the need to say something, anything, so badly that her throat itched as if the words had gained physical presence and pressed against the walls of its prison. 

“I don’t blame you, you know.” She suddenly said. She nervously wiped her hands on her jeans. 

“...for what?” Red asked suspiciously. 

“Well. Um.” She regretted saying anything at all. “That love potion business. I know you weren’t in your right head. So, I don’t hold it against you or anything.”

Red is silent for what feels like forever. It’s a barbed silence that pressed against her skin and wrapped around her neck, whispering, “Why did you say anything at all? You never had to acknowledge the awkwardness permeating the air. Then you could have both gone your ways, forgetting the whole thing entirely.”

“what if i had been in my right head?” he had to ask. He needed to know. His tone was sharp. A flimsy sword to defend the vulnerability he had revealed in asking. He would regret never asking. 

He always did. 

She paused in searching between the couch cushions helplessly. She didn’t dare look back at him. 

Did she dare answer honestly? 

Her nails dug into the cushion. Well. It could be infinitely embarrassing after this, but it wasn’t like it would be used against her as blackmail for eternity, right? Eventually the lazy skeleton would forget?

“You likely wouldn’t have kidnapped me in the first place.” She deflected with a weak chuckle. 

Red considered her back. She had yet to turn around, hand clenching on the poor couch cushion. Hope sparked. He shuffled closer, trying to absorb all the little details of her body language. That wasn’t disgust or an immediate ‘no, never, not interested’.

“say i had. say, of my own free will, and maybe even with yer consent, i stole ya away and hid ya in my room. kissed you a lil. held ya in my arms.” 

Gabby spun around to face him, eyes wide. He was significantly closer than he had been before. Somehow, though he was shorter than her, he loomed over her, hand falling to rest on the couch arm as he invaded her space. Even though he had to crane his head back to look her in the eye, he seemed bigger than life. 

Nervous giggles erupted from her mouth. “W-well—” she hid her mouth with a fist as she backed up. She would beat herself up later, when she wasn’t flustered and overwhelmed, for reacting like a teenager. In her defense! Red! Was looking at her with those eyes, and she couldn’t look away, and shoot she had to answer him, didn’t she? 

Her back hit the bookshelf, which was only slightly distracting, as it knocked a horribly ugly glass figure off the shelf. She ducked away from the shelf to get out of the danger zone, bumping into Red. The figure fell to the floor, shattering, but her eyes were on Red. His arms had immediately wrapped around her. Once he deemed the glass far enough away from her socked feet and no longer a danger, he smirked up at her. 

“if i held ya like this,” he squeezed her close. She squeaked, hands falling on his shoulders. “of my own free will, would you tell me again you didn’t want my affection?”

Her thumb brushed against the fur of his hood. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t look him in the eye. “I might… rather like it if you held me longer. Of your own free will.” 

He smiled at her, suddenly, with such heart-aching softness. 

He moved, as if to kiss her, and for a moment she was going to let him. She leaned back, “How do I know you’re not still influenced by the—?”

His brow furrowed. “woman, if ya don’t kiss me right now—”

She laughed. There was that grumbly irritation she had been missing. 

It was odd kissing sharp teeth, but she found she could quickly get used to it. 

Chapter Text

The appeal with vacations, so she’s told, is that it’s a break from the daily stressors. A fun and adventurous way to unwind. In theory, a vacation far from home in a house that didn’t belong to her should be nice.

Morgan didn’t think tending to her uncle’s house while he was away on his own vacation really counted. He was away on a mysterious business trip again, and the rest of the family were either unavailable or tired of house-sitting. His odd trips had racketed up in amount over the last two years.

If he wasn’t so particular about tending to his home, garden and didn’t have so many peculiar animals, she didn’t think the family would care as much. She wouldn’t have accepted it if he wasn’t paying so much for the job to be done well. 

While Morgan knew he was a man of his word and anticipated the money with some deal of excitement, this eagerness had been dampened by how odd the creatures were here. The things she saw out of the corner of her eye…

Let’s just say she’s never visiting her uncle’s land again. Once she’s out, she’s never looking back. 

She sighed again. It was nearly eight. She’d wasted an hour staring at the guest room’s leaky ceiling. In only a handful minutes, she had to be outside, cleaning the muck off of the old well, whispering words of gratitude. Somehow, her uncle would know if she didn’t follow his demands to the ‘T’. She could understand wanting to be grateful for good water, but… it did feel a little silly. 

Morgan sat up with a huff. The faster she got it over with, the faster she could enjoy the fruits of her labor from the day before. In other words, she had impulsively made pie, and now she had two tins of pie. She’d save one for her uncle. It could last a week. Probably. 

As Morgan scrubbed the outside of the well, she tried to ignore the quiet sound of shuffling feet behind her. It was a creature she couldn’t see dead-on, but if she waited for it to think she hadn’t noticed its presence, she could see its vague outline in her peripheral vision. Mainly bright colors and a nervous energy as it shifted its weight on its two feet. 

She finished with the well quickly, uttering her gratitude with her hand over her heart. She brought her bucket and scrub brush back to the shed, stepping over loose hoses and askew brooms she could have sworn were in different spots the day before. The hose had been a little more to the left, and the brooms had been hung on rusty nails, threaded through with orange rope. 

She made her way out of the shed, mindful of where she stepped on the path. Her uncle had laid out a path to various locations on his land. The path was made up of large smooth stones, some transparent blue and green and others foggy grey. It was important to avoid stepping on the green or grey stones (for reasons her uncle did not explain). It was only possible with how wide and flat the blue ones were. Oftentimes she ignored the path altogether, walking alongside it. This meant she had to hop over the dandelions, of course, but that was alright. Otherwise, she had to proclaim loudly of how clumsy or daft she had been to have stepped on the odd stones. 

She refused to do that. 

At lunch time, she had to feed the animals and then herself, or the animals would be agitated, knowing that her stomach was full while they starved. Morgan couldn’t help but think that perhaps all of his animals were secretly cats in disguise. 

She always hurried away from the pigs, though, after feeding them. One of them eyed her as if she had forgotten to hand over her arm to gnaw on as an appetizer to whet the appetite. 

She couldn’t say she was very fond of the pigs, and wondered if they had taken offense to this. It wasn’t like she had ever indicated her lack of fondness in how she spoke or treated them, so they couldn’t be too offended. 

After lunch, however, she had a brief respite from chores. She took this time to sit on the porch in the cushy rocking chair far too large for either herself or her uncle and usually completed her online assignments or continued drawing whatever caught her fancy. Sometimes it was characters from pieces of media nestled in the depths of her heart, planted as seeds in her youth and never uprooted since then, and sometimes it was the view from the porch. She wasn’t good at realism, but she did enjoy trying her hand at it. Ink, graphite, and marker spilled over her pages in her best and worst attempts to capture something too stubborn to stay still. It actually made for a more entertaining subject to draw. 

(It was also a little horrifying realizing a tree had moved some paces to the right, but if she didn’t acknowledge it and stayed within locked doors once the sun set, she was pretty certain she was fine. It was also the reason she made sure to be obedient to her uncle’s list of demands. She had no desire to upset things beyond the scope of her mortal understanding. She… was pretty sure she had read too many fantasy novels as a child, and it showed even in her adulthood.)

That afternoon, it seemed her little curious follower had followed her up onto the porch and sat himself underneath her chair. She shifted and crossed her legs underneath herself, slightly uncomfortable. She hadn’t realized strange little creatures could step onto the porch. For some reason she sort of thought of it like ‘home base’ and imagined a little wall would keep it out. Was this misconception born of a movie she had seen as a child…? Spider Wicke maybe? 

…Morgan didn’t want that to mean that her locked doors held nothing against magical creatures. Which was likely true. She would continue, in ignorant bliss, to pretend that her locked doors were powerful barricades to creatures she couldn’t understand or fully see. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, otherwise. 

She continues to draw. 

From there on out, the little colorful bird blob would join her as she sketched or did her homework. At some point he’d come to sit on the back of her chair. 

Today the creature had nestled against her neck, clawed feet digging into her shoulder. 

Stiffly, Morgan completed her homework. This took an unfortunate forty minutes. Then she pulled out her phone and delved deep into the text messages between herself and her uncle. Was there anything on what to do if a creature she could not fully see tried to use her as a perch? Anything at all?

She really hoped this creature could not read. Or, if it did, it would not be offended by the context of the messages she was scanning. 

She texted her uncle about her dilemma. She hoped he wouldn’t try to deflect or worse, have no idea what she was talking about. How long would it be before her entire family knew she had lost it whilst house-sitting for her uncle? How embarrassing. 

Thirty minutes passed while she waited for a response. Only five minutes in and she had returned to drawing to divert her thoughts. She wondered if she played rave music if the odd creature would scramble away to save its poor ears, leaving her to enjoy her solitude and music taste. Or if it would find it rather liked the enticing beats and stay even longer than it had originally intended. 

Her phone pinged. 

The feathered creatures closest to the house are rather docile, so you need not fret. It’s the ones in the forest you ought to keep away from. They like to snap at fingers and eyes. 

Oh. So. She was stressing out for no reason. Feeling a little silly for overreacting, she turned her embarrassment into grumpiness, and turned the fat cat on her page into an irritable fat cat, with harshly drawn eyebrows to indicate his nature. 

Huh. Who knew grumpy eyebrows were therapeutic?

When she was ready to stand, she turned her head to look at the creature straight on. It squeaked, immediately woken from its little doze, and hopped off her shoulder and disappeared into the overgrown lawn. The only sign of its departure were the trembling grass blades. 

She headed inside to tidy the inside of the house. The flowers all needed constant care, much to her growing annoyance. Once she was watering them, however, she was able to lose herself in the repetitive movement, finding it oddly peaceful. 

It became routine for the creature to sit on her shoulder. Lately, though, it had chosen the top of her head as its resting spot. She always had to painstakingly undo any tangles the creature left in its wake. 

Three days before her uncle was meant to return. That’s when it all went to disaster. 

She and her little bird friend were sitting on the porch, as they tended to do. She was indulging in drawing memes and silly doodles, pen covering the whole page in shades of pink and orange. The creature was patting her forehead happily, claws gentle against her skin. One, two, two, one. One, two, two, two, one. One, one, one, one, one. It brought the creature joy, so she didn’t really mind, outside of the one time it was muddy and he had left marks all over her face and hair. The only difference this particular afternoon seemed to be that she was humming, and the little creature was singing with her. Trilling little tunes that were far more entertaining than her own tune. She’d lost the original song she’d originally been recreating, finding the more upbeat song the creature sang was more appealing. 

The overgrown grass rustled. The creature on her head chirped instead of sang, and then a hot breath wafted over her face. 

She leaned back, heart galloping though she could not see what had breathed on her. Disturbed and disgusted, she covered her mouth and nose with her notebook. She hadn’t brought her sketchbook in fear of misplacing it, and so the thin, flimsy book was her lackluster defense instead.

There was a coo, and something cold washed over her eyes. She blinked repeatedly, a little panicked. Her sight was blurry. She tried to rub at her eyes, to clear the film away, but her hand was caught by a more delicate one. She halted immediately. 

She blinked a little more, and suddenly she could see in bright clarity. She was staring at a round, and somewhat flat face. Taking up sixty percent of this creature’s face were round, white eyes with feathery white eyelashes. There was a little white beak in a sea of soft, pastel-yellow fur. The fur was close to its face, short and trim. On the outermost edge of its face, however, it exploded at the base of fragile, transparent… well, she supposed sun-rays were the best word for the triangles surrounding this creature’s face. She stares at the sun rays in fascination. They looked like stained glass, and were captivatingly beautiful. 

The creature noticed her stare, and bashfully stepped back, trying to smooth down its rays with four hands. This gave her the ability to notice the little antennae the creature sported. Fluffy, feathery antennae, the same orange of its glass-like rays. Perhaps the reason she had struggled to see them the first time. 

The fluff on the creature’s chest and neck reminded her of the ruff on a ruff bird. A ruff sandpiper bird? Suddenly she couldn’t remember. It was orange like the sunrays and antennae, with white speckles and tips the further it went down his chest. His arms and the rest of him was pale yellow, while there were floofs of orange on his wrists. He stood on digitigrade legs, with impossibly small paws. Behind his little paws was a tail that moved swiftly from side to side, almost anxiously. The feathered fluff there was orange and white, fading into the pale yellow once the speckles lessened in amount. Behind the tip of the tail were the tail ends of a cape or a pair of wings in red and white. 

She looked back up, meeting the crinkled gaze of the creature. It seemed rather embarrassed that she had stared so intently. She almost apologized, but held her tongue. Instead, she said, “You’re lovely.”

The creature squeaked and placed its hands over its cheeks, as if to hide a warming blush. The fur on its neck raised, a little, but not nearly as much as the fur and straightening rays on its head. 

The creature still sat on her own head giggled and slid down her head to sit on her shoulder before sliding once more to stand on her lap. She stared at the tiny creature that she’d spent so much time with. 

This creature was a little more colorful than the adult. Yellows, pinks, greens and purple covered the child. It had no sunrays to boast, but ridiculously large antennae and oversized purple and pink wings. It was rounder, too, than the adult. More of a ball than a humanoid creature. Its paws stuck out of its round fluff, and it did not have arms to speak of, until one stuck out of its fur to wave at her. 

“Hi!” Chirped the little creature. 

She could only stare. It looked like a more colorful mothman. Moth creature. What was the plural of mothman? Moth people? Simply moths?

The creature giggled. 

“Oh, er, hi.” She said. 

The child was scooped up into the adult’s four hands. It was actually quite adorable. “Well. We have to be going. Melissa will surely have a great laugh at this…” He muttered to himself as he strode away, wings fluttering behind him as he moved. From this side, she could see that there was more than just red and white. Orange four pointed stars and exploding suns danced across his folded wings. It was a magnificent sight when the wings opened and he flew away. 

She held her knees to her chest as she watched him go. He was rather pretty.

Chapter Text

The flames of the fire flicker, reaching for the sky, scouring hungrily for the next thing to burn. The librarian’s eyelids are heavy, leaving for a tired gaze indicating how close to passing out she truly was. Otherwise, her posture was straight and rigid. 

Next to her, legs neatly folded underneath him to one side, sits Amiri. He’s braided his hair, leaving his overgrown bangs to sit tucked behind his elvish ears. Any of the clips or charms he usually decorated his hair with were out of sight. 

The librarian’s gaze sticks to him more obviously than usual. It’s due to her state of tiredness, but he’d like to think it’s more than that. Bashfully, he scrapes his thumb nail against the paint coating another fingernail, chipping away at old and fading colors. His attention is whisked away when another member of their party asks him a question. He answers it to the best of his ability, but he adjusts minutely on the blanket he had sat out to protect his clothing, distracted. Having the librarian stare at him so intensely for so long is a test in and of itself. If he did anything to acknowledge her stare, she would immediately divert it to someone else, and that is exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He was giddy, even knowing that this had only happened because she wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing. He couldn’t dare show that.

On the opposite side of the fire, Sunshine is intently focused on making arrows. Otherwise, Sunshine would have sent his brother a warning look, or perhaps asked the librarian a question to dissuade her from her thoughtless staring. Sunshine worried like that. Amiri was satisfied in knowing that he would be distracted for at least another ten minutes (so long as neither of the girls said something that piqued his brother’s interest, thus drawing his eyes away from the weapon in his hands).

Said girls, Cassie and Berna, are still eating, scouring the books they had acquired from their most recent trip and exchanging ideas. Their bowls sit untouched in front of them. Amiri distantly wondered if he would ever learn their full names, or if their wariness of the fae at his side would keep their lips sealed in that regard. 

“Librarian, did you have a chance to look at this book yet?” The purple-haired woman held up the book. 

Amiri deflated ever so slightly as the librarian looked at the speaker. “You got to them before I did, so no, I can’t say I have.” She said dryly.

The book is passed over. The librarian considers the books in her hands, carefully, methodically. Her full attention is on the state of the book; her fingers caress the damaged spine and the fading letters. 

Amiri fiddles with the end of his braid. He’d never considered the life of an inanimate object before. This changed at that moment. His eyes flicked up to glare, ever so subtly, at the book in his librarian’s hands. He would really, very much like to trade positions with the book. This thought he would never utter aloud, as it made him feel very silly. 

The librarian cracks open the book. The pages are yellow, and there is ink on the front page. Using this as an excuse to inch closer to his librarian, Amiri shifts closer to peer at the name. The librarian moves the book to better show him the page. 

There is a carefully written dedication to what seems to be a child. Amiri’s heart feels soft and fuzzy as he sees into a snippet of someone’s life. He wonders what happened since the child received this gift. Had they grown up and felt no need for the book? Had they misplaced it? He’s torn from his thoughts as the librarian flips the page. 

The librarian stares at the page. She reads the next couple of pages aloud. A sweet story of dragon siblings and locating a missing ball of yarn. She starts the next, and pauses. 

The purple haired woman yawns. “Well? Go on.” She and her friend had laid down in their sleeping bags, lulled close to dream-land through the power of a calm reader. In fact, Cassie is already conked out. Amiri couldn’t be more wide-awake. 

(He can feel his brother’s glare on the side of his face, but it would take something a little more direct than that to urge him away from this precipice. He didn’t want to move away from the librarian, nor did he want to stop listening to her read.)

The librarian did not, however, ‘go on’. Her lips press together as she hurriedly flips through the pages, an air of panic to her movements. 

She closes the book, and leaves the circle of the camp fire, stumbling to her caravan. She slams the door shut behind her. 

Amiri watches the colorfully painted door for too long. 

“You need to stop.”

Amiri glances back at Sunshine. A navy blue eyebrow arches. “Do I?”

“I know what you’re doing, and it’s stupid.”

Amiri debates following after her, gaze turning back to the caravan as if he were a magnet drawn to his other half, but decides that if she wanted his support or company, she would have dragged him with her. They weren’t close enough (yet) for him to dare trespass on her more vulnerable moments. He couldn’t possibly fathom why the children’s collection of stories could have bothered her, unless she had a similar book growing up and it brought up bittersweet memories?

“Amiri,” Sunshine hisses angrily. 

Amiri turned back around, sitting primly, and focused on preparing himself for bed to ignore the anger rising in his chest. 

Sunshine didn’t understand, and would never understand, knowing how he felt about fae. 

It truly was a shame they weren’t brothers by blood. Perhaps Amiri would have been able to knock some sense into the blond early in their childhood. Alas, they met in their young adulthood, and then everything went downhill from there. He’s sure their separation did not help Sunshine in the slightest. 

Maybe there was still some hope for the man yet?

Amiri knew he could not change him, though. If Sunshine truly was set in his ways, there was nothing Amiri could do about that. He could, however, make clear that he, too, would not budge about this. 

He was meant to belong to that Librarian, and both the Librarian and Sunshine would see it soon enough.

Chapter Text

Rachel was fairly certain there was something wrong with the pet she was watching for her friend. Her brow quirked as she peered into the room. The dog, a skeletal beast with a gaping hole stretching from the top of its left eye and across its cranium, had yet to notice her. His head was stuck in the depths of her pot of macaroni, his little tail wagging and his big paws set on the counter and the cool burner. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I already ate my share.” 

The dog startled and dropped to the floor, red iris glued to her form, canine body tense. 

“No, you’re good. Paps warned me you had a big appetite. Shoulda known.” She strolled into the kitchen at a casual and slow pace. “It’s a shame, though, I was gonna have leftovers for days.” She peered into the pot. He must have just started eating if it wasn’t licked clean yet. She lifted it off the stove and set it on the ground. “Here you go, Mr. Sprinkles. I don’t suppose you want an extra hotdog or two? I’m feeling peckish.”

The dog considered her before dropping its head into the pot. She hummed as she looked into the fridge. “I hope Paps can find Sans soon. Seemed really worried about it, poor boy.” She grabbed the pack of hotdogs and closed the fridge. It seemed Mr. Sprinkles had perked up at the mention of familiar names. 

She still couldn’t get over Pap’s introduction of the dog. “HIS NAME IS… CUPCAKE. SPRINKLES. MR. CUPCAKE SPRINKLES, FOR MY FAVORITE THINGS. OBVIOUSLY, SANS HAD NO INVOLVEMENT IN THE NAMING OF THIS CANINE. UM. ANY QUESTIONS?”

So many, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Oh, I bet you miss ‘em too, huh, being stuck with me for the weekend? Here, hotdog for your troubles.” She dropped a cold dog into the nearly empty pot. It was quickly slurped up. She kept talking as she prepared her own hot dogs. “I mean, I would be too, except for, like, it’s Sans though. I’m more worried for the people he meets while he’s in his wandering funk. What do you think, Cupcake?” She glanced at the dog. He was as still as a statue now that he wasn’t eating. “Mm, good point. I’m sensing that another hot dog is exactly the answer to this problem.” She grabbed for the nearly empty pack of hotdogs. “Here, honey. Have the last two.” The dog carefully took the hotdogs from her hands, careful to not nip at her fingers. “Aww, aren’t you the most behaved boy? Bestest boy.” She cooed. 

Rachel generally wasn’t a fan of dogs. From a distance, sure, the things were cute. She’d happily give the creatures pets and compliments, but she had no desire to have her own or tend to them. It was a testament of how much she loved Paps and Sans to be petsitting for them. She didn’t petsit for just anyone. She told Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles as much. He didn’t say much of anything, but his head did tilt ever so slightly. 

“Mmhm, I love them soo much, but you can’t tell them I told you, ‘kay? I think Paps would be embarrassed, and I don’t think Sans would be all that impressed.” She set her face in a scowl in her best impression of Sans. “He’d look like that, I think, ‘cause he’s a grumpy gus.” She side-eyed the dog. She did not point out in that moment that Sans and Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles looked very similar. Her best guess was that another set of AU brothers had come through, and this was the result of that. Not that she was supposed to know about the AU dilemma, but they weren’t exactly discrete about it, either. It was why she had made such a large pot of macaroni that night, and made an impressive casserole the night before. Not only had Papyrus suggested large portions of food, but she had a feeling it was in her best interest to make sure the dog wasn’t hungry. 

If this dog was pulled from his au, where was his brother? Another dog hadn’t been mentioned, and she couldn’t imagine that they could separate such traumatized brothers with ease. It only left the worst, and she didn’t want to linger on that. 

“Do I want tater tots…?” She peered into the depths of her fridge. Her eyes alighted on a small tub of ice cream. “I forgot that that was in here. I’m pretty sure it’s still good?” She glanced at the dog. “Nah, you’re right, tater tots sound awful.” She pulled out the ice cream and searched for a clean spoon. “Paps was on a homemade ice cream stint for a while there, I’m sure you know. I think this one is peach?” She eyed the chunks of fruit. “I think it’s peach…” She sat on the floor and stabbed her spoon in the rock-solid ice cream. She stabbed it again with little to no results for her efforts. She popped the lid back on and set the ice cream on the floor and the spoon on the lid. 

She leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I wonder where Sans wandered off to this time? He’s always going interesting places when his head’s in a funk. One time it was a fountain, last time it was my back yard. Always interesting places.” She sighed, tired eyes drifting close. 

Mr. Sprinkles huffed and laid down. The tip of his nose brushed against her calf. 

“Do you want to know something funny?” She waited for a bit of silence as if an answer would ever come. “I think he hates me.”

It wasn’t very funny.

“But Paps keeps trying to convince me he doesn’t, and I should believe him, ‘cause that’s his brother and Paps would know. Right? But like, that dude’s always glaring at me when Pap’s isn’t looking, which, ugh, unfair.” It suddenly occurred to her that if Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles was an AU version of Sans, she should probably stop spilling her guts. Either he wouldn’t care and her free therapy session would be forgotten, or he would share with the class and then the repercussions would never go away. Paps would care too much in that loving way of his and try to fix things. His way of fixing things would cause Sans to hate her even more, in that stubborn, infuriating way of his. 

She peeked at the dog. He was staring at her intently. “It occurs to me, Mr. Sprinkles, that you probably don’t care.”

The dog huffed and settled his head further on her knee. The weight was reassuring. Was this why people got dogs? For that feeling that they weren’t alone?

“You’re such a good boy.” She said fondly. “The goodest boy.”

The peace didn’t last long. The pot started overflowing, and so she had to jump up to stop that. The dog didn’t appreciate her sudden movements, and kept the distance of the room between them again. 

She sighed. This thing was as skittish as Sans.

When Monday rolled around, she expected Paps to show up with good news. 

“Keep him longer?” She asked, bewildered. 

Paps wringed his hands. “I’M AFRAID WE’RE NOT MAKING GOOD PROGRESS AS I HAD PREDICTED WE WOULD. WOULD YOU… MIND? OBVIOUSLY I WILL TAKE HIM IF YOU CANNOT KEEP HIM LONGER OR WILL NOT, I’D HATE TO IMPOSE.”

Rachel stared at Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles. “How much longer?”

“JUST THREE MORE DAYS.”

She frowned. “I have to go to work…”

“HE COULD COME WITH YOU. OR WAIT PATIENTLY HERE. HE WOULD BE GOOD, RIGHT MR. CUPCAKE SPRINKLES?”

Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles huffed as he stared at Paps. 

“HE SAID YES.” Paps nodded firmly, satisfied. 

“My boss won’t—” Rachel saw his pleading eyes and deflated. “I will ask.”

“THANK YOU, MY FRIEND.”

She watched Paps depart for a moment. She closed the door behind him and glanced at Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles. “How problematic are you being, honey, for them to want you here instead of there?”

The dog said nothing. Its tail wagged ever so slightly. “You don’t care at all, do you, hon? You just want my food.” She stepped around the large canine and flopped on the couch. “In two hours I will start on lunch. During that time, we shall nap. Tell no one.”

The dog settled on her other couch and instantly fell asleep. She wasn’t nearly as lucky, but soon fell into the realm of dreams. 

(He woke her up exactly two hours later. She didn’t question his timeliness.)

It wasn’t a surprise to her at all that her boss said no, absolutely not, no dogs at work. The next two days passed without event, and Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles was well behaved. She left him plenty of food to survive nine hours without her, and had the house to roam if he felt restless. He didn’t care much for the backyard, though he sat at her side if she sat on the bench on the porch, her sewing project in her lap. 

“Gyftmas present for Paps.” She waggled the project enticingly. The dog stared, unimpressed. “You must be wondering if you or Sans get anything for Gyftmas. You, my friend, get a bone to chew on. I know. Brilliant thinking on my part.” She tilted her head as she thought. “For Sans, though… Still haven’t decided. I want to get him something useful that he’ll enjoy. He seems to like practical things. I dunno yet. What do you think, Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles? You know of any Gyftmas presents that don’t scream desperate for ideas? Ooh, what about Gyftmas presents that scream, ‘I adore you, which is terrifying because there’s no way you feel the same towards me, nevertheless, please don’t acknowledge it if you’d rather continue hating my guts.’”

She stared at Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles. Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles stared at her. They were at a stalemate. A loss of ideas. 

“Well, shoot, I think we’re plumb out of ideas.” Her head fell back. “Lame.”

The evening passed without much fanfare. She continued to talk to her audience and sew. Once the sun set behind the trees, leaving the lake and the yard before her dark, she and Mr. Sprinkles headed inside. 

The last night Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles was scheduled to stay with her (and it was the last night whether or not Paps had made further progress on his project. She loved him, and she had grown to be rather fond of Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles, but! She! Must! Work on her boundaries!) he had made a racket that woke her from her sleep. She, groggy and confused, grabbed the bat by her bedroom door and stumbled down the hall. She peered into the living room. A large red eye stared at her. 

“Oh, hey honey. What’re you doin’ up?” She scrubbed at her eye. Her eyelids fluttered open again when she felt bone brush against her wrist. She stared at her wrist. There was a hand on her wrist. She looked up and up, craning her head back to see a more humanoid face close to hers. A breath fanned over her face, smelling faintly of the dinner she and Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles shared. 

“Um.” Her hand flexed on the bat in her grip. “Did… you want more to eat?”

The skeleton monster remained silent for a moment. “no.”

A little unusual, but not overly concerning. He and Papyrus had come a long way from feeling the need to eat whenever they had the ability in fear that they wouldn’t get another chance. She was so happy for them and their progress. 

“Sans?”

“mm?”

“Why are you in my house?”

He chuckled. “‘m mr. cupcake sprinkles.”

She laughed nervously for too long. It trailed off awkwardly. He simply watched her, face unchanging and unreadable, especially in the unlit house. “I was afraid of that.” She finally admitted.

“why’s that?”

She stared at him, unable to put into words the amount of embarrassment she unwittingly put upon herself. 

She distinctly remembers the one-sided conversation she had with him about Gyftmas presents. Every other embarrassing moment flits through her head. The torture doesn’t seem to want to end. 

Instead of answering, “Why did Paps bring you here instead of figuring out how to turn you back to normal at his house? Why did you turn into a dog? How is that even possible?”

His head tilted as he considered her. “was only a matter of time. an’ ‘m less grumpy with ya. been something i did since i was a stripes.” He paused, for what she assumed was dramatic effect, “maaagic~”

She stared at him. “Oh my word.”

He grins at her. She chortles at his clear amusement.

There is a peaceful silence. She shifts tiredly after it has gone on long enough. “Sa—”

Remembrance lights up on his face. “rachel.”

“Yes?”

“gyftmas is in a week.”

A laugh started and died in her throat. “Um. Is it?”

His hand flexed on her wrist. He hummed in affirmation. 

“Oh. W-why do you bring it up?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “i know what i want.”

“Oh, in general, and definitely not inspired by anything I may have said over the last week?” She chuckled nervously. She always laughed when she didn’t know what to say. And she didn’t know what to say to cover up the idiotic drivel that just spilled out of her mouth. “What is it that you want? I may not be able to get it to you, what with it being so late, and I don’t get paid until after Christmas and—”

“no payment. ‘s free. well,” he cocked his head in thought, eye drifting away from her to peruse the ceiling. “need yer time.”

“Okay… what can I do for you?”

He slowly shuffled backwards, guiding her to the living room. Baffled, she followed without hesitance. 

“t’ preface, i don’t hate yer guts.”

Immediately she tried to deny ever thinking that. A glare swiftly stopped that sentence from ever fully forming. She deflated. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. Sorry.”

“not mad. ‘preciate it though. ‘nyway…” He stopped halfway into the living room. She peered around him as he stepped aside to show off what he had done. 

Well. It was something. 

He’d smushed the fronts of the couches together to assemble a make-shift bed. On top of it, though, he had carefully assembled what looked like the contents of her hall-closet. Innumerous blankets and her guest pillows lined the couches. 

She patted his forearm awkwardly, trying to be supportive. “I don’t really understand what you’re showing me, but it looks comfortable. I hope you sleep well.” She tried to tug her other hand free, but her wrist was still firmly clasped in his warm bony hand. 

When she saw the frustration on his face, she realized that he was trying to tell her something important. Putting her embarrassment and tiredness aside, she put her free hand on the bony hand locked around her wrist, determined to be patient for her friend. 

She was expecting words. 

He lifted her into his arms, meeting her nose to nose. He falls backwards into the couch/bed, holding her carefully so she didn’t bounce painfully against him. 

He shifts so he’s propped up on the pillows, and starts to slowly arrange the blankets around them and on her. 

His eyes round and fuzzy in a most endearing way. 

“Sans?” 

He paused. “hm?” 

“Did you just want to cuddle for your present?”

He nods. He pauses, then shakes his head. “i’d like… to cuddle with ya all the time. not for holidays or with strings attached. only cos ya adore me, and i you.” 

She stares at him. “For clarity’s sake. Is this a platonic thing, or is this a blurred-lines type relationship, or a ‘we go on dates and see if we actually like each other’ thing? Because I’d really like to know that before my heart does anything stupid.”

He plays with the tips of her fingers. “do ya have plans tomorrow night?”

She thinks about it. “I’d have to check my calendar, I don’t really remember.”

His brows furrow. “...so do i. well, that’s… less romantic then i was goin’ for.”

Her heart seems to be doin’ stupid things already. Fast in her chest with assumptions and ideas. 

“when we figure out… our schedule, i’d like to go on a date with ya. tonight… let’s just sleep. is that… something you’d be interested in?”

She nods, biting her lip to hide the silly grin trying to encompass her face. 

She settles. She doesn’t think either of them sleep for a while. He’s busy playing with her hair and rubbing her back, and she’s busy getting lost in her thoughts. 

“can i still… get that bone?”

“Wha-?” her mind buffers. When she remembers what she told Mr. Cupcake Sprinkles, she laughs. “No-o-o!” She giggles. 

He pouts, not at all serious with that wide grin on his face, “fine…”

Chapter Text

There is a library in the midst of the forest. She’d never stepped inside, but she liked to notice its light as she flew overhead. 

Tonight, she’s being followed. She lands gently on the roof to the library, little claws digging into the wood and eyes peering out into the darkness. She has no desire to lead them to her nest, and she’d heard stories of the librarian being kind to those in need. 

She dropped down onto the front steps, cold under her paws, and made her way to the front door. A dramatic double door entry for such a small little library. She tugs the door open, and immediately steps back, eyes wide. There is a man in the doorway. He looks down at her with a small frown. 

“Sorcerer?” She asks. 

“One of many.” He answers shortly. “Excuse me.” He steps around her, sleeve brushing against her hand, and down the steps. He pauses and glances behind him. “What is a moth such as yourself visiting the Librarian for?”

The fur on her body stands up. She glances into the darkness, antenna twitching. The creatures prowl on the edge of the border separating the library from the rest of the forest. 

The sorcerer frowns. “Are you being followed? Whatever for?”

“No idea.” She disappears into the depths of the library, fingers curling around a phantom object. Its presence was sorely missed, but she couldn’t risk the hounds hunting her down for the remainder of her life. 

The door shuts behind her. The sorcerer scoffs, wrapping his capelet around him as he traipses into the forest. He hears the thundering paws of the hounds, and distantly wonders if that moth had foolishly darted back into the night. 

He quickly realizes that the sound is getting closer. He spares the hounds behind him a curse and takes off running, muttering as he wills the winds to carry him away. They’re a tad stubborn at first, but lift him into the sky just as a daring claw scrapes the heel of his nice shoes. One couldn’t wear anything but their best when visiting a fae.