#reader is trans

Simon Ghost Riley didn't care one bit. Looked at you in the changing room for a fleeting moment. Made direct eye contact with the scars, and looked away. Topic never brought up again. You're a lad, and a little chromosome ain't gonna change that. Not to him anyway, he's fucking tired of everything.

John Soap MacTavish was getting handsy with you, like one does. He expresses love from touches, really. So whenever he'd slap a hand on your shoulder or fist bump your chest, it was affectionate. This time though, he got a little antsy and started pulling at your shirt, and it was gone quicker then it was on. "Oi, mate, you have nice scars." He gruffs. Eyes wandering over the occasional wound from battle, or childhood fun alike. It took him longer then two moments to realise that the scars beneath your pecs aren't from torture, but from an operation. They look too clean for them to be an accident. "Wow, whot the fock (I'm sorry guys this was stronger then me). Did you have bigger pecs before?" He'd question, before slowly, slowly the idea of you not having a biological dick starts creeping into his mind. And there was no longer moment waster before his hands were fumbling at your belt.

Kyle Gaz Garrick was awfully fine with finding out you have had a top surgery. "Sure love, I'm not going to judge you." He said, sitting down on the bed as you told him, trying to share the secret. "What is it that you want to show me?" He asked, leaning back on his hands, waiting for some miracle to happen. Perhaps you've gotten a tattoo? Or you're disfigured? Maybe burned skin. It's all kind of things that can happen. And- "Oh, you have no... No boobs. I... Can't even imagine you having a bigger chest..." He murmurs, acknowledging that the man he had grown to know never would have looked right with female anatomy.

Johnathan Price would not care too much either. You've shown yourself off in battle, no matter what's hidding in your pants. Chest or no chest, you uphold the standard. "Hm. And you want me to change your sex on the files or...?" Do you feel as a woman again? You're written down as male in every report, so why would it be a crazy discovery that you weren't a man before? And when you quickly told him that you still feel and are a man he gruffed out loud, nodding. "Good for you, lad. Good for you."

Alejandro Vargas would know pretty quickly that you were born in the wrong body. Some mimicks and reactions give it out. He pulls you aside one evening, telling in a hushed voice, "We are family, ha? You can tell me anything." Before nodding lightly and patting your back. More then several months passed before you've got the courage to tell him you finally got the top surgery. He stared at the fresh scars for a moment, a smile spreading over his lips before standing up and grabbing you in a hug. "I'm proud of you, eh. No more of the binder thing."

Rudolfo Parra, I fear, would be overly romantic with it, kissing over the scars and repeating how much he loves you, no matter in what body you reside in. "Te amo, corazón." Between kisses as he holds you for the night. "Eres perfecto. Oh sí, te amo mucho, hm."

Phillip Graves would look up from his phone to take in your face. "A top surgery." He nods slowly, not sure why you are telling him that. "I don't recall you getting injured to the chest recently? Was it for aesthetics? Did you get your skin replaced because of the scars, or..." He trails off, glancing back to his phone, other hand loosely holding a glass bottle of what you only can assume is a beer. "No... I got my... Tits... removed..." You tell him unsurely how to phrase it. And he stills for a moment, taking a sip of his drink before looking back at you. "You were a woman?" He didn't even notice. "Well, good for you, lad." And another beat of silence. "you going to get bottom surgery too?" He questions, slowly raking his eyes down your body. "Yeah." A huff and nod. "Need references? I have a very impressive one if you want to see."

Farrah Karim is surprised. Excited perhaps. "You had a top surgery?? How is it healing?" She'd question, more concerned with the scars. "I've heard online that there's lot of side effects." She'd tell you, taking out her phone to show studies she once read just because. "Are you regretting the surgery? I've heard it's a side effect too." She seems awfully interested in the procedure, more in the surgery. "No Farrah- I'm not taking antidepressants- Why would I take... Yes it does hurt when I sleep on my stomach."

Alex Keller reacts... only after several seconds. "Oh I had it done too several years ago." Which surprised you. "Your transition went well..." You tell him, looking him up and down. "Oh! No- no. I just had really big pecs in the past." He says, touching his chest absentmindedly. And silence spreads for longer then intended. Needless to say you compared which scars looked better.

Vladimir Makarov knew from the beginning on. You didn't tell him nothin', but the reason he knows is because his research is extensive. Always was. He never asked and even when he got a good look at the scars, hadn't bother saying a singular word. No affirmations, no soft words, no curses. Deadpan. Perhaps he's judging you in his mind. You wouldn't know, he's not going to voice it either way.

Extra for the non-lore guys (because I miss my husband's yeah)

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin is freaked out. Not like you might belief, he's not out screaming about it. He caught a peek in the changing room, glancing at your physique to see the scars under your pecs. After a moment of confusion he looks away, wondering now if those came from some badass interrogation or if you were once a lady. The same day later on he came over to you and confidently offered to spar and workout together. "If you want to look manly you have to put on more muscle." he said, encouring you to become "more manly", to his standards at least.

[Outside The College - Third Person POV]

It was the end of the week, a sunny day, gleaming streaks of clouds streaming across the sky. The best kind of day to sit in the shade of a tree in front of college campus. The final bell rang out, signalling the end of this week’s classes as the students flooded out of the hallways, amongst them was a small, long black-haired figure swiftly shuffling through the open dam of students. Their feet clicking, stomping and scraping across the pavement leading from the front doors. 

Down the pathway walked the figure, as the rest loomed over them, until they met a wooden table that sat a group of familiar faces. Chad, his twin sister Mindy, her girlfriend and new girl Anika, and other new guy Ethan, who sat opposite their close friend with freckles littering her face, a deep scar that decorated her hand in a crescent, Tara. 

“Hi, Saileach!” A soft voice piped up from beside Mindy. The bright appearance and demeanour of the girl matched the voice. 

“Hi, Anika!” They responded with a grin. They sat down on the opposite end of the bench to Tara, leaving a space for the one who had yet to show up. “That final exam was a motherfucker, wasn’t it? What a load of shite question 7 was, too.” They sat their bag down beside them on the concrete square amongst the grass that their table was bolted to, “What kind of torturer came up with that paper?” 

“Jokes on you losers, I didn’t take a film studies course,” Chad teased, a hint of a smug smile creeping on his lips, while Saileach pulled out their phone to text someone, responding without glancing up from their screen.

“Ah, yes, because physical education and the study of frat parties is completely stressless,” the group turns their attention back to them, “fuckin eejit…” they tease, a playful grin growing on their own lips. “When are you gonna be here?” Saileach sends a text to their closest friend, jumping when they hear a matured voice coming from behind them.

“I am here,” Tara and Saileach immediately turn their attention behind them, seeing Tara’s older sister standing tall over the both of them, “You just weren’t paying attention,” The taller, and older, woman sends a knowing glance at the dwarf, raising an eyebrow with a subtle smirk that only her sister and closest friend would be able to notice. Sam didn’t go to their college, after all she was a fair number of years older than all of them, being 5 years older than her sister. However, since she couldn’t keep them safe inside the school, she opted to meet them outside of it every day instead, something that Saileach looked forward to every time. 

“If by paying attention you mean having eyes on the back of my head, then uh, no. No I wasn’t,” They retort, patting the space between themselves and the younger Carpenter, allowing Sam to slip in and settle down herself. She had a habit of using her body to guard the two people she held closest. She refused to let anyone cause Saileach to make that pained, terrified expression they made when they saw Richie pining her to the floor of Stu Macher’s old house, or to let anyone’s knife carve her sister’s flesh while she wasn’t there again. The fear in their eyes reminding her too much of a child that was being stared down by their angry, drunken parent, and the sight of her sister vulnerable in a hospital bed causing her to lose sleep over the nights she wished she never left. But if she didn’t, she might not have met them. She gave a sneaking glance to the distracted person tucking their knees into themselves beside her, mentally smiling to herself.

“Wow, the snark is just radiating from the table today! I’m proud of you all, as the resident master in attitude, you make me glad to have you as students,” Mindy couldn’t help but stick herself into the conversation, even more so to give herself props, as she wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s waist. Not that surprising, and no one could really deny her title either. 

“Well, its the end of the week, and we have one more day before we have two weeks off and have to come back to this hell hole,” Chad takes no time in changing the conversation, “I’m going to be partying and living off beer the whole time, what about you guys?” changing it so he can turn it into something alcohol related, of course. The rest of the group enters a collective sound of questioning hums. Ethan is the first to answer with a tut of dismissal.

“Not really anything-…” He tries to answer but is cut off by Chad.

“Wrong!” He says, patting Ethan’s back with a firm hand, “I am gonna get you laid, man. I swear to you, these next two weeks you and I will be drowning in women, got it?” The younger man can only stutter over his response, before caving and agreeing to join Chad on his two-week party plan. Mindy and Anika both agree to join them. 

“You two gonna hop on the train as well?” Anika raises an eyebrow, gesturing a nod towards the two sandwiching Sam between them. 

“Well…” Tara starts.

“No. Not a chance. Neither of you are going to some frat group’s house party, let alone multiple over two weeks!” Everyone turns to Sam, who answered for Tara before she could finish. 

“What? You can’t stop me from having fun for two weeks, Sam!” Tara gestures angrily to Sam, then to her friends. Unlike Saileach, she wanted her sister to back off and stop being so protective. 

“Sam, hey, I promise we’ll look after her, right guys?” The jock makes a promise to the older sister, after all, she knew how much he cared for Tara. But could she really let her beloved little sister off to some frat party with drunk idiots who would probably just forget their job two beers in? Her nerves are settled just a little bit when Saileach gently holds her sleeve, and suggests they have a smaller “practice party” tonight at her and Tara’s apartment. 

“Look, I’m against anyone, especially Tara, going to any big drunken parties as you are, Sam,” They gently rest their palm on top of hers, “But we can’t stop her from going through life like everyone else, maybe this will prove Chad and Mindy can make sure she’s safe, yeah?” After a long pause and taking a deep breath, noticing the mild offence on Anika and Ethan’s face at Saileach not including them, eventually agreeing on the practice party. 

The group eventually settles down, each heading back to their respective apartment complexes. Chad headed back with Ethan, Mindy and Anika stuck together as usual to go back to their apartment, Sam and Tara went back to join Quinn, who they predictably would probably end up walking in on yet another of her sex positive afternoons. Saileach meanwhile was the only one who didn’t live with a member of the group, because all the apartments were filled. Instead, they took the apartment just across from Sam and Tara’s, and stayed with a guy called Danny. Luckily, their apartment view had a clear sight into Sam and Tara’s kitchen, so they could rest easy knowing they weren’t too far away.

[In Sam And Tara’s Apartment]

As expected, when the sisters came home, Quinn was indeed having sex. Again. Everyone had been assigned a task for the night. Mindy was to choose the movie line up, Chad was to go out and buy the drinks, and Saileach & Tara were to team up and goo buy the snacks. 

While Tara was getting ready to head out with Saileach to get the snacks, which everyone had personally made requests for, Sam decided to clean up the place a little bit and get comfortable before everyone got there. Quinn had said goodbye to that evening’s fun, and bumped into the taller brunette in the kitchen, washing some dishes. 

“I am never bringing that one over again,” She groaned, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island. She had noticed Sam peeking out the window in intermittent glances, and when she got up to check for herself what the fuss was about, a hint of red had creeped its way across Sam’s cheeks. “Ooo,” She cooed, “Is someone staring at mister cute abs again?” Quinn had caught a peek at a set of arm muscles moving just barely out of view, trying in vain to get another peek for herself. 

“Drop it, Quinn…” Sam countered, cutting off her roomie’s teasing before it could go further. She placed another clean dish in the drying rack.

“Aw, come on! He’s hot as all get out, and you clearly has a thing for you, too,” The red-head sauntered over to Sam, despite her glare she kept pressing the issue, “I’ve seen him peeking through the window as well~” She drew out that last part in a sing song. 

“I said no, and you know why,” Sam’s tone was getting harsher, more blood rushing to her face and ears, “I’m not ready for something like that,” She pushed herself off the edge of the kitchen sink, “Now, if you’ll excuse me?” She turned to Quinn before walking off to get dressed, leaving her to take a few more cheeky looks out the window alone. 

“Sam, I’m heading out!” Tara called out, in response to a frail knock on their apartment door. She opened it, peering down ahead of time, knowing who was waiting, “Hi, Sail,” She greeted the dwarf with a bright grin, “You ready to go?” She asked.

“I should be asking you,” They gestured to the apartment, brushing a strand of their pitch dark hair behind their ear, “I did come to your door after all.” They teased with a raised brow.

“Alright, smart ass, lets go,” She walks out, shouting in, “See you in a bit, Sam!” And shutting the door behind her.

“Be careful!” Her sister shouted back, but the door had shut on her before she could even finish her sentence, and the two were gone. 

[At The Corner Store]

A bell dings above the glass door, which was framed by windows that granted a completely clear view to the shelves stocked with chocolate, crisps, nuts, and the fridges in the back that glowed with a dull, white light, illuminating the bubbly beers, sweet soft drinks and fizzy sodas that lined the shelves behind the glass. 

“Good evening, Mr Hackett!” A soft voice called out, the small frame that belonged to it following suit with another fairly taller one as second one repeated what the first said, their dark hair melding together in the bodega owner’s peripheral, creating a blob of moving colours mixing in black, peach and white. 

“Good evening, Saileach, good evening, Tara,” The older man didn’t look up from his news paper which he was staring at hard enough to damn near burn a hole through, his reading glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose, “What brings you both here this late?” He asked, a hint of the tone of an old friend on the tip of his tongue.

“An absolute bender!” The smaller customer excitedly answered the familiar clerk, spinning on the heel of their thick, black boots to walk backwards, their hands casually in the pockets of their black zip up. Tara granted a smiling glance towards the banter the two were having, grabbing a bag from the rack to keep their bounty of food in.

“Do you mean a quote-unquote “bender” of a single night?” The middle-aged man teased, sending a sly smirk and a glance towards the exaggerated feign of shock on Saileach’s face, the creases on their skin bending and warping their dark lipstick and eyeliner.

“Aye, sure, sure,” They give a light-hearted response from their curled lips, before turning back to their shopping buddy to get ready for the night’s drink-filled activities. They followed the taller girl around, nabbing some snacks and tossing them into the bag. The two peacefully exchanged some small talk, until Tara asks a question that pulls the fun energy out of the conversation, for Saileach anyway.

“Has Sam seemed a bit…off to you?” She asked absentmindedly, glancing at the shelves.

“In what way?” They briefly pause in their tracks so as to not go too far ahead of Tara.

“As in, she seems kinda distant these days,” She turns her eye contact back down beside her, “I’ve seen her taking looks out the window with a smile on her face, I think she has a thing for that cute boy you live with, eh?” She giggles, “She always did have a thing for muscles.” She teased her sister behind her back about the pack of muscles she saw Sam staring at from the kitchen on numerous occasions.

“Does she?” Suddenly the tension in their muscles rose. The colour draining from their face, turning it more pale than their makeup was able to cover up, but just enough that Tara couldn’t notice between her half-second glances from them and the shelves. 

“I think so, though I don’t blame her, if I was her I’d wanna get with that too.” She chuckled.

“Hm, interesting…” That was the last conscious sentence they made for the rest of the shopping trip. The only thing they could hear was the heated blood rushing in their ears, a cacophony of a nearby waterfall of blood in both their mind and under their skin, the bell ringing with each customer that went in and out of the glass which fragilely housed their mind, the shuffling of feet with the moving bags and the muffled sounds of Tara talking to them in the background, blissfully unaware of the grip Saileach had on their own palm, their knuckles turning a dead white, and their nails leaving crescent grooves into their own flesh under the safe disguise of their zip-up’s pockets. All they could do was run on auto-pilot, keep it to themselves by dissociating, and keeping up the mask of normalcy over the darkening of their eyes in hopes Tara wouldn’t notice their dead, ghostly appearance matching their droning, lifeless behaviour. They felt like all but a worming mound of disgust and anger wrapped in a poorly stitched together suit of human flesh. They swore they could feel the frame of their bones that kept them from collapsing into a gelatinous glob of immovable tissue and blood. The smell of everything reeked, making their stomach churn in a desperate effort to not chuck up them lunch they had earlier. They could feel the cold air of the nearby fridges ticking the hairs in their nose. They couldn’t take it anymore, they needed out. It was a death trap being in this small glass and brick cage, an asylum cell that could comfortably keep you alive for weeks or months on end but smelled, sounded and felt so terribly claustrophobic and rotten. Was that musk of decaying meat real, or just their heavy, manual breathing making them lightheaded? They couldn’t know for sure. Get me out. Out. Home. I want to go home. That was all they could think. It plagued their mind like the incessant buzzing of a blue-bottle or a song they just couldn’t escape no matter how many radio channels they cycled between. It was torture. It was suffocating. It was-

“That’ll be 24.95.” It was peaceful. The sound of a gentle bodega clerk, the repetitive pinging of the till as he swiped the snacks across the barcode scanner that gleamed with a red stain reflecting on his glasses. Tara making brief small talk with him was music on their sensitive ears.

“Thanks, Mr Hackett,” She said, taking the last of the snacks and returning them to the bag, slinging it over her curled fingers, “See you later, bye!”

“Cya, old man.” Saileach gave a light-hearted farewell to the man over the counter, giving him a fist bump which they could barely manage over the height of the damn thing. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble, ya pair of gremlins!” He jokingly called out with a chuckle, as the two carried their bounty of food out into the darkening streets of the warmer than average winter evening.

“Ah,” Saileach gave a masked content sigh, taking in the flickering heat of the setting winter sun, “January embers, eh? Gotta love em!” They expressed their love for warm winter nights, despite the warning they gave of the degrading climate. The heat of summer being their worst nightmare, and the cold of winter turning their sensitive skin into a mass of exposed nerves that couldn’t bare to be touched by even the most delicate of hands, lest said hands wished to be departed from their length appendages. 

“Stop quoting IT and lets go,” Damn it, Tara knew her horror, “the others are probably waiting for us at the apartment.” Tara gently grabbed at the Dwarf’s sleeve, and began dragging them down the road to their shared apartment complex.

“Correction, they’re probably waiting for the snacks at the apartment,” They followed the taller girl’s pull, “We’re just the delivery people that drop your pizza off before you tell em to eat shite and keep the change.” They joke with a chuckle, knowing their friends would never treat them that way, nor would they. They had all become something of a family over the past year or so. Their trauma fusing them all together like a fire that welded the metal of a shield piece to piece. They mentally gagged at that thought, knowing damn well if they said it to the group out loud they’d be ragged to hell and back. With love of course.

“Well this delivery girl lives in the apartment their using, and bought the food she’s delivering,” she boasted, gesturing to herself with the bag in her hand.

“What does that make me, then?” Saileach questioned trailing slightly behind the youngest Carpenter. If she was the delivery girl who were you in this metaphorical joke of a scenario that you yourself made up?

“The um…” The girl gave a tsk between her pondering pause, “other delivery person?”

“Slick, love,” You retort, “very slick.” The rest of the walk home was mostly silent, only broken up by mutterings of “go” when the lights signalled that it was okay to cross the busy New York streets. Saileach couldn’t help but think back to the store. Again. Their sickness took over again. This was the third time this month, and they’d only been getting worse. What was the common factor between the incidents? They knew it was jealousy. They were autistic, not stupid. Why, though? And over who? Each incident involved different people. First over their friends, in which Tara herself had to calm them down after Anika and Ethan had gotten involved with everyone. Ironically, after that it was Tara, that incident had been the worst. Until this evening. They mentally tossed it aside, letting it flow away for now like water off a duck’s back. Best not to dwell when tonight was going to be so fun! Right? Little did they know, Tara had been sneaking concerned glances the entire walk over since they had paid for the food. Whether they noticed it or not, she wasn’t sure, but them pausing for a full 5 seconds after she mentioned Sam’s feelings for Danny was kind of hard to miss. She decided to leave it for now, and let the fun of the night roll on.

[At Sam And Tara’s Apartment]

“We’re back!” Saileach chimed, taking the bag off of Tara’s hands and setting it on the coffee table in front of the couches and TV. 

“Ayo! Welcome back, party animals!” Chad shouted across the room, quickly jogging over and wrapping an arm around the each of them, a beer in one of his hands. A big cheesy grin on his tipsy face. 

“I assume you got the drinks then, big guy.” Saileach planted a supportive hand on the much taller guy’s chest, earning a mildly confused glare from a relaxed Sam, resting an arm over the couch and a beer in her hand too. 

“That I did!” He cheered, “Let me get you one!”

“Cheers, that’d be grand,” They agreed, “No beer, though!”

“Welcome back,” she greeted them softly, “How’s Mr Hackett?” She asks, before turning her eyes back to Mindy who had gave a cheer when they came through the door, and had now left Anika’s side and gotten up to go choose the movie they’d start with. 

“Uh, he’s good,” Saileach nods in response awkwardly sitting on the same couch she was, but giving her a few feet of space.

“Is that it..?” She turns her gaze to them, her fingers toying with the thread coming loose on the top of the couch. 

“Mhm, why?” They got comfortable against the soft cushions resting against their back, Tara doing the same on the floor between the two. Chad came back in with a drink for Saileach and a beer for Tara. “Thanks, Chad.” They muttered, before turning their attention back to Sam.

“You’re not very chatty, you okay?” She asks, trying to hide the genuine worry on her face. The dwarf was usually much more upbeat, but when they came through the door it was like something was plaguing their mind. Did something happen between them leaving the apartment and coming back? It had only been about an hour, but a lot can happen in a few minutes, let alone a full hour, she supposed. Come to think of it, they didn’t see each other when Tara left. Were they this way before that? Did their roommate upset them? God help him if he did.

“I’m fine, just tired from the walk sure,” They just brushed off her concerns. Normally they’d share all their worries with Sam, so why not this? It made her feel as if she had done something wrong, but she wanted Tara’s first time drinking to be fun and not depressing, she owed her sister that much for always being on her back the past year, “I’ll feel better with a few drinks in me!” They chuckled with a soft grin. Fake. So so fake. She could tell. 

“Okay!” Mindy shouted out, “Movie time!” She had got the perfect movie for the group to start the night with: A Nightmare On Elm Street. She put the movie on and everyone settled down with their drinks and preferred bowls of snacks.

“Aye, sure, a great movie franchise to watch through before you go to bed. Thanks, Mindy!” Saileach’s sarcasm was like a venom dripping from their accent, their playful smile holding the same effect as the tone of their voice, before they take another swig from their bottle. 

“You’re just a coward who can’t handle classic horror, actually, little miss Elevated Horror.” The expert on spooky movies teased. In response, both Tara and Saileach spoke up with the same claim.

“It’s better!”

“Bullshit! Nothing beats the classics!” The night basically continues like this for a while, Tara and Saileach making jabs with Mindy and Ethan defending the classics. Playfully of course. 

“Hey, uh, Sail could you quickly grab my phone from my bedroom?” Sam spoke up when the dwarf stood up to grab another bottle from the kitchen, “I think I left it on my bedside table.”

“Yeah, of course!” Their words mildly slurred, being decently far through the drinks and movies by this point. They were onto the third one now.

“Thanks.” Sam turns her attention back to the movie. They walk off down the hallway, reaching the older Carpenter’s door. Sam was usually strict on who could enter, Saileach was just an exception to her rule of “No one in my room unless you’re bleeding or dying.” She of course wasn’t entirely serious, but she liked her privacy. The two had a number of nights where they had slept in her room, usually because the smaller person had nightmares that gave them terrible insomnia, so she allowed it. They walked in, immediately seeing her phone on the beside table where she said it was. They crawled over the bed, reaching across to the wooden table to grab it. The sender down wood of the table was smooth, a turned off lamp resting on its corner. Saileach noticed the small drop pattern of blood that had decorated the wood from a bad cut Sam had gotten making dinner a number of weeks back. At that memory, their lips curl into a small smile, before they walk back in and toss her mobile device into her lap.

“Thanks, again.” She gave a quick smiling glance in appreciation.

“Yeah, no problem…” The last part of their sentence trailed off as they watched Sam open their messages, and the name Danny popped up. The poisonous reminder of the earlier events that night came back into their mind. That nagging feeling of something they cared so deeply about being taken away by another thing they cared about. A glance Sam had sent in the direction of you and Danny’s apartment with a smile on her face made Saileach feel sick. All they could think of was what he was saying to make her smile, while they sat opposite with a drink in their hand, stuck in their own head, and unable to process their own jealousy. Eventually they had enough, and swore to keep it out of their head, and just have fun. At that, they started downing their new bottle of alcohol, getting the attention of the whole room.

“Woah! Take it easy there, dude!” Mindy called out with a laugh. The energy in the room rose more and more over the next hour, the dwarf starting to get into off balanced territory. However, slowly the group started getting concerned. Tara, Sam and Anika most of all because the other three were either too distracted to notice the mess of a person growing in front of them, or they were too drunk. That last one mostly applying to Ethan. Though, eventually even they catch on. It’s clear that Saileach is a bit too drunk, and they start to communicate an agreement to take them to bed. 

“Hey, slow down there, champ!” Chad speaks up with a laugh of his own, gently resting his large, warm hand on his friend’s shoulder. They weren’t the closest, but they still cared for each other. Knowing the headache they were gonna have to deal with in the morning, he finally asked them if they wanted to go to bed.

“Nnnnno…I’m fiineee *hic*,” Their soft voice slurred, “I promish!” Which was all they could get out before Tara dragged her small frame from the floor she had previously been resting on, wobbling slightly on her own feet, having taken two beers of her own.

“I’ll take them to bed,” She gently reached her arms out to take Saileach’s hands in her own, “C’mon, Sail, lets head to bed.” They yanked their hands away, going to take a triumphant swig.

“I. Am. Fineeee-,” they whined before they got cut off by Sam swiftly removing the glass from their weak grip, placing it on the table and wrapping her strong arms around their waist. Before anyone could react, least of all Saileach, they were tossed over her shoulder, embraced in her muscles and scent, her firm palms resting under their thighs, leaving them muttering into the crook of her neck in protest. The feeble attempts they made to wriggle free falling on deaf ears and a strong grip. 

“Night, Saileach!” They all drew out in a sweet bid goodnight to the mumbling ball in Sam’s arms. 

“Nooo!” They whined. A pained look of apology grew across Tara’s face with a somber smile. 

“Stop wriggling!” Sam didn’t feel like carrying this tenacious drunken mess all the way to their own apartment, so she feigned reluctance in bringing them to her own bed. She dropped them onto the soft river of bed sheets messily, nearly falling over herself and landing on them, leaving their warm, flushed faces inches away from each other. A pout pursing on Saileach’s lips, their eyes finding it hard to not dart around the firm features of Sam’s face. Eyes, lips, skin creases, eyelashes, back again. 

“You *hic*…” The two leaned slightly closer, warm breath ticking each other’s lips, “you shtole…my alcohol!” They pouted with a soft and empty glare. Sam immediately stood herself back up, rolling her eyes at the small frame barely taking up half the length of her bed. 

“Why are you being so difficult tonight?” She reached into her drawers and pulled out a loose top, a tank top, and two pairs of shorts. Tossing the blankets over Saileach’s eyes, she very quickly changed into her night clothes, then started to help them changed into the loose top and pair of shorts she had grabbed. They eventually flopped back onto the bed when Sam had grabbed some water and practically forced it down their throat. After saying goodnight to the others, she turned her attention back to the bed in front of her, and climbed in.

“Fu- *hic* Danny…” They mutter under their breath, fading in and out of consciousness. Sam felt a familiar anger rising in her core. The heat in her stomach making her feel sick. Really? Now she had to compete with that? At this hour of all things? She was too tired to be angry at anyone. She could only gently reach over to the sleeping mess in their drunken stupor, brushing the soft, fluffy curls of their raven black hair from their flushed face. With a sigh, she sheltered the dwarf in her firm embrace.

Note:

This was requested anonymously. Honestly, I was a little worried about how this would turn out since I'm not trans myself and was afraid I might mess this up somehow. The request specified ftm, but I decided to make it generic so that any trans person can relate to this. I did consider not writing this request but decided that I would try because it would be worth it if at least one person found comfort in it.

Note: This Jack is based on the version by La-Mishi-Mish since I prefer it to the original, which is by Azelf5000. Still, there isn't anything solid on what his personality/behaviour is supposed to be, and I don't know if that's a good thing or not lol. But what is fanfic if not the same scenario/lines, just with different characters?

Happy Reading! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Today was rough. What you had to deal with at work was, quite frankly, bullshit. People are always initially put off when they learn you’re a mortician. As if working with the dead makes you some sort of weirdo. Preparing bodies for families to receive closure, breathing a little bit of life into them… you honestly think the work you do is beautiful. You like the fact that you’re helping people. At least your boyfriend remains indifferent to your profession. Scratch that. He enjoys it.

You look for your house key and unlock the front door. “Jack? I’m home!” you call out, your echo the only response you receive. It’s not unusual for him to be absent. You often come home late on the days you work, so Jack will do his own thing for a while. He doesn’t kill as frequently as when you started dating. A perk of dating a mortician is easy access to human organs. The dead don’t complain when you harvest their kidneys.

You hang up your belongings and make a beeline to the bathroom, wanting to relax in a bath. While the bathtub fills up, you grab a change of clothes from your room. You undress as the water continues to run. The large mirror you placed in your bathroom suddenly makes you uncomfortable. The individual you prepared today was trans. It’s not the first time you’ve prepared a body belonging to a trans person, but the parents were insistent you prepare their child the ‘right’ way. Despite clearly identifying as another gender, the parents refused to accept anything other than the assigned gender at birth. It upset you greatly, probably more than usual, since it felt so personal. You knew that you would be screaming in the afterlife if you learned that people’s last memory of you was incorrect.

The dead can’t exactly speak up for themselves, and ultimately it’s up to the family how the body is prepared. Your boss made it very clear that you were to follow the parents’ instructions. The next few hours were awful and felt wrong. You had to avoid staring at the face for too long because you were scared you would see yourself lying there. 

You’ve had your fair share of struggles. Family members and friends have left you after you came out to them. Some people will say they accept you and then will completely change how they behave around you. It hurts. You learn to acknowledge that those people aren’t worth your time. But it always hurts to be rejected by those you love. Maybe that’s why you haven’t told Jack yet. 

You’re not sure about Jack’s sexuality, but he doesn’t seem to have any gender preferences. Plus, you’ve only been dating for a few months. He hasn’t asked, and you never talk about it. You worry about how he will react. Will he leave you? Will there be disappointment and disgust when you finally tell him? You tear your gaze away from the mirror and step into the bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest. The water is shut off, and you stare blankly into the water, watching the waves ripple as the last droplets drip from the faucet. Jack doesn’t seem to be the judgy type, but then again, neither were the people who abandoned you. The reaction you most fear is that he’ll be disgusted because it’s you that’s trans. Some people are fine with the different gender and sexual identities, but it only becomes a problem if it pertains to someone they know. You dislike those kinds of people the most; hypocrites, the whole lot of them.

You splash some water onto your face. Worrying isn’t going to help you. Your fingers are starting to prune, and you decide it’s time to get out of the bath. Unplugging the drain, you exit the bathtub and dry yourself with a towel. You hear the sound of your bedroom window sliding open. Jack has his own key, but he never uses the door like a normal person.

“Are you in the bathroom, dear?” Jack asks. His footsteps shuffle around your room. A funny observation you’ve made is that he purposely makes noise when he walks around the house to let you know where he is. The first couple of times he visited, he nearly gave you a heart attack when he unintentionally snuck up on you.

“I was taking a bath. I’m getting changed now,” you reply, slipping on your pyjamas. When you open the door, you see Jack standing there with his arms open in an invitation for a hug. You smile and walk into his embrace, inhaling the smell of antiseptic and iron that lingers on his clothes after a kill. “You need a shower.” You wrinkle your nose, and he squeezes you tighter.

“I will if there’s any hot water left,” Jack teases. His hands trail down your body and cup your bottom.

“Maybe you need a cold shower instead,” you say, flicking his forehead. Your fingers twang against the plastic. He grunts and slides his mask off, tossing it onto the ground haphazardly. His dark eye sockets stare at you. Being blind is also a major factor in why Jack remains oblivious about your gender identity. He never once questioned your gender identity or your appearance. Instead, Jack comments how he likes the clean, lemon scent that follows you around or likes how nice and cuddly you are. He finds the sound of your voice pleasant, and you make him feel loved. You smile, the right side of your mouth slanting crookedly. “I love you,” you confess,

Jack beams, and the rows of his sharp teeth glimmer in the light. “I love you too, dear. Is everything ok?” His hands go up to your face, and he frowns when he feels you practically frowning beneath his fingers. You grip his hands and place tender kisses on his fingertips.

“Work was awful,” you say. He can’t see your expression, but he can hear how ragged you sound. He kisses the crown of your head, trailing down the side of your face and along your jawline. He doesn’t stop until he feels you squirming and giggling beneath him. He plants a final kiss on your lips and strokes your cheek.

“I’ll clean myself up, and then we can cuddle while watching tv. Let me hold you for the rest of the night,” Jack offers. 

You hum and accept his offer. “That sounds nice.” You honestly feel drained and can’t be bothered to do much for the rest of the night.

Jack kisses the side of your head. “Be back soon,” he promises and heads into the bathroom with a change of clothes. You set up Netflicks and settle into bed, fluffing the pillows and tucking in the blankets around you. Jack emerges from the bathroom, drying his damp hair. “So what happened at work?” he asks, combing his fingers through his hair.

“I was preparing a body like usual.” You pause, and Jack notices your hesitation.

“But?” he asks, returning to the bathroom to hang his towel. You pinch the blanket between your fingers and fidget with the fabric.

“But the parents were a nightmare, frankly. Their child is transgender, but they refuse to accept it. I had to prepare the body according to the parents' wishes,” you answer. 

Jack comes up to you and kisses your forehead, saying, “You were only doing your job, baby.” He strokes your hair, and you breathe a content sigh. Your shoulders tense when you think back to your shift today.

“But it felt so wrong. Like I was part of some scheme to cover up who this person was,” you confess. As a mortician, you believe it’s your job to speak for the dead and to help them look how they would want to be remembered by their loved ones. Yes, your clients are technically the family members, but there’s something immoral about changing someone’s gender because their parents think their child was ‘mistaken’ about their identity. You clench the blanket and try to even your breathing.

“What about it bothered you?” Jack asks, climbing into bed beside you. He takes your hands into his lap and plays with your fingers.

You smile bitterly, the lump in your throat growing bigger. “That this poor person will never be remembered for who they are but what their parents wanted them to be,” you say. You might be projecting your own experiences a little bit here.

“I can tell this is bugging you more than usual.” Jack’s words make you scoff. He pinches your fingertips, and you squeak. “I’m blind, not stupid.” The grin on his face makes the corners of your lips twitch up.

“It… it made me reflect on my life,” you say.

Jack tilts his head to the side. “Oh?”

You continue talking. “And I remembered how terrible people can be. Then I…. Then I got scared thinking about you.” You lean your body against his. The weight on your shoulders feels so heavy. You don’t think you can keep carrying it any longer.

“I do look frightening, don’t I?” Jack is joking, but you feel outraged nonetheless.

You sit up and bump his shoulder with yours. “Shut up. You know you’re handsome because I remind you almost every day how attractive you are,” you say, 

Jack chuckles and kisses your cheek. “Then what’s scary about me? In case you haven’t noticed, dear, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger,” he says.

“That you won’t love me for who I am,” you confess, and you hate how small your voice sounds.

“I don’t understand? I already love you as you are.” Jack sounds so concerned, and you try to stop your tears from falling. You think one of the reasons you felt so scared earlier is because you knew that you would come out to Jack when you got home. Today was a reminder that you can’t continue this relationship until he knows—that is if he doesn’t leave you after.

“No. I-I’m…. I’m transgender. I haven’t exactly been hiding it from you, but I was too much of a coward to tell you outright,” you say. You did it. He knows now. Laughter chokes your throat as the tears finally fall down your face. “Jack, I can’t take another rejection, especially from you. I’ve had people who promised they love me and then pretended I never existed after I came out to them, and I can’t go through that again with you because you mean so much to me. And I know we’ve only dated for a few months, but I am ridiculously in love with you—“ Your rambling is cut off by Jack’s lips. His kiss is gentle, but you can feel the intense affection he’s trying to convey.

“Take a deep breath, baby. Look at me,” Jack says. His hand cups your cheek, brushing away your tears. You turn away, too afraid to look at his face. “Look at me, please?” he begs. Hesitantly, you face him and suck in a breath. He doesn’t have eyes, but the expression on his face…. The dimples from his smile and the soft arch of his eyebrows—it’s different from what you expected. “I still love you. In case it wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t your looks that attracted me.” You stare at him in awe but can’t help poking some fun at him.

“No, it was the fact that I’m a walking free meal ticket for you.” There’s a lilt to your voice, but Jack can’t see the grin on your face.

Jack winces. “I’m not going to lie. I did approach you with selfish intentions,” he admits. His cheeks flush darker, and he clears his throat. “But then I learned how much I like hearing you laugh, feeling you next to me in bed at night, and how content you make me feel. So I stayed. Not because you give me free human organs, and most definitely not because of how you look. You make me so undeniably happy that it scares me. I’m also afraid you’ll reject me. I mean, what sane person would date a serial killer?” His voice cracks near the end, and you’re left speechless. 

Vulnerability is not Jack’s strong suit. Hell, he didn’t even tell you much about him until a month ago. Until then, you were under the impression that he was a college student with peculiar interests and eating habits, but who isn’t quirky these days?

“But that doesn’t change how I feel about you,” you say, furrowing your brows.

Jack strokes your cheek absentmindedly and says, “I’m not human either; does that make you love me any less?”

You chuckle in disbelief. “Of course not. I love Jack. Not the serial killer or botched cult summoning,” you say. The confidence in your tone brings a smile to his lips.

“Then, baby, what makes you think I love you any less?” Jack asks, and suddenly, it feels like someone has tipped the world on its axis.

“You promise?” Your voice wobbles, and you choke back a sob. 

Jack rests his forehead against yours, and both his hands are on your face now. “How you choose to present yourself to the world has no effect on the love I feel for you. I love you no matter what you are or what you do.” He speaks with such conviction, but you still struggle to believe his words. He understands your silence and continues. “I’ll repeat myself because I know it sounds too good to be true. Transgender or not, I will love you no matter what.” 

The weight on your shoulders is gone, and your body sags with relief. The sob that’s been building up in your throat bursts out, and Jack rubs your back as you release all your pent-up feelings. You cry, and Jack stays by your side, whispering words of affirmation to you. When your tears are reduced to sniffles,  he hands you a bottle of water from the bedside table. You gratefully take a sip to soothe your raw throat. 

Jack leans back into the pillows and opens his arms. “Now come cuddle me,” he says.

You laugh and snuggle into him, resting your head on his chest. The steady, low beat of his heart against your ear brings a sense of comfort. You look up at him and say, “I love you.” Your voice is tooth-achingly sweet, and Jack can’t stop the smile that splits his face.  He looks at you fondly and kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too, dear,” Jack says.

“Oh, by the way, I left the kidneys in the fridge for you,” you say with a yawn. Your eyelids feel heavy, especially after all the crying you did.

Jack laughs and says, “Now I love you even more.” You hum and tangle your legs with his. The last thing you remember is Jack turning down the volume of the tv as he adjusts the blankets to cover you better, wishing you sweet dreams.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

I surprised myself with how well this turned out. Like, this is so sweet and only keyboard smashing can explain my feelings.

I knew I was done for when I wrote the line: “Then, baby, what makes you think I love you any less?” Officially my favourite line in this entire fic.

I don't have anything else to say, so I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

You two just always being on the same wavelength, same thought process, eerily so.

“I was thinking we should-”

“Go bother Economos?”

“How did you know I was going to say that?!”

You’re just as, if not slightly more, unhinged than Adrian and at this point everyone is too afraid to ask where he found you.

Leota finally does ask and when Adrian answers, “Oh! We met by the dumpster’s behind Fennel Fields.” is anybody really surprised? No. You do have trash panda energy.

You don’t tell Adrian your Trans until a few weeks after you start talking, before you really start dating and he’s a little confused at first. Like I said before, I’m sure you’d have to explain the concept to him, as well as dysphoria, but he’d be very supportive.

“You were born in the wrong body so you made it the right body? Dude, that’s so cool.”

Very supportive boyfriend.

Your included dialogue made me snort but let me raise you: “Dude, how did you get those scars?”

“I fought gender and won.”

“Wait, really? That’s so fucking cool.”

Then he takes you on a date to Fennel Fields and you eat breadsticks together.

I feel like Chris would try to vet you, see if you’re worthy of Adrian’s attention... Cause even if Adrian isn’t his BFF, he still needs to make sure you’re not a threat to the team, ya know?

Is in your presence five minutes and just, “Dude, you’re even fucking crazier than Adrian.”

“Thanks, Chris, but you don’t have to hit on me.”

More than anything, this is a shit post, but let it be known that Adrian fucking loves you. He loves how much you understand him, how you just... get why he feels the way he does.

Not many people do.

Chapter 1: Then 

It would have been fitting if the dirt beneath your short fingernails was oozing mud. It would have been fitting if the dust caked in the seams of your clothing dripped off the fabric into puddles. Anything would have suited this moment better than the cherry pink rays that mingled with fantastic gold, last vestiges of the beautiful day that had taken place, showering into a brilliant sunset. Anything dark or dreary or gross would have been better than what was.

It would have matched Sans' expression if it was as disgusting outside as you felt inside. Your teeth chattered lightly, and despite knowing that you should have maintained a calm face as you looked up at the storm that was Sans, you couldn't help it. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were tightly twisted in a vicious scowl, your fists were grabbing at the ground and tearing up clumps, and you were poised to spring at the skeleton.

Your belongings lay littered against the dead grass. At least that was fitting, you thought angrily. And maybe you were, too. You were an angry lightning bolt, threatening to pierce back up to the heavens and charge at the storm that had thrust your anger into you. The front of your shoes dug into the ground slightly, grass parting at your force as your toes fought to find a better hold.

He said nothing. For once, that lazy stupid grin you had stupidly fallen for because you were stupid--! You breathed heavily, calm, you told yourself, stay calm. For once, that stupid smile was wiped clean off of his visage, finally. Your heart twanged as you thought that it had taken much too long, you knew it wasn't true. You loved his smile, you loved him.

You couldn't convince yourself otherwise even if you tried. And oh, were you trying.

Scarlet paint smeared on the sky from invisible brush bristles, and your calves began to burn from the position you still held. You lifted your hands from the defensive hold they had taken by your sides, undoing the fists your fists quickly, not stopping to cringe as warmed earth fell from your fingers. Your teeth flashed briefly as a snarl a dog would be proud of curled onto your lips, and you sucked chilly air through the small gap in between the top and bottom sets of teeth. A shiver worked its way to your spine as the cold froze your teeth, but you bit it back.

He stared at you from his place in the doorway, right hand just itching to slam the door it held. You could see his fingers twitching from the desire to shut you out one final time. You wondered how Papyrus, who was away at Napstablook's, would react to see the two of you this way. You, in your near beastly pose, and Sans who stood with his left eye whipping through green, yellow, and blue rapidly. Had he ever seen such a sight, the one that was currently your, now, ex boyfriend? You sure hadn't.

Sans leaned forward suddenly, daring you to so much as move, and you did. You rose to a standing position, towering over the various bags and boxes easily. An army of stuff that you could use at your disposal, should you feel like getting violent. You did, but you held both your tongue and your fury. Your key chain sat heavily in your left pocket, and you dug them out when you remembered they were there.

Sans did not watch curiously, instead his arm, the left, reaching towards you. He presented his hand, palm skywards, and you continued to shuffle through the variety of keys until you slid your home key out of the loop. You didn't even look at him as you tossed it, hearing it clang against his bones as he caught it, and then against the wall after he threw it. You shoved your keys back in your pocket, fingers lingering for a second too long before you threw your hand back down to your side.

You lowered yourself and began to pile box onto box, a makeshift wall to block him from your sights that doubled as a means of carrying your items. You tested the weight, it was light enough that you could carry it to your car with ease, and so you began to do just that. The height of the boxes stopped so that the top one could rest against your forehead, and you maneuvered the familiar grasses like the expert you were. This was your home, you'd be damned if you didn't know it well.

A slur of curses sullied your mouth, waiting eagerly to pour out. You had denied them for so long, but you figured it wouldn't hurt now. You cursed the skies that would not mirror neither your anger nor your sorrow, you cursed fate for having teased you with a happy eternity only to cut it short, you cursed everything from ocean to ocean, and finally, you cursed Sans. "Fucking skeleton," You exhaled, face growing haggard as you refused to let his name slip from your lips again. Never again. "Stupid fucking skeleton. Dumb shit." You'd like to think you were better than this, but if the weather would not cooperate, your growls would have to make do with creating the thunderous atmosphere he had created.

Balancing the stack on one of your arms, you plucked out your keys again and shuffled through them, jamming the correct one into the slot without missing a beat. You swung the door open, narrowly missing the metal as it scraped by, and your fingers thunked harshly against the button that unlocked all of the doors but the trunk. You sidestepped to the right until you were directly in front of the door to the back seats. You swung that open, too, pressure screeching against the door as it shook from your power. You felt the glower of that damned skeleton on your back.

You began to pile the boxes into the car, cursing again when you saw that not all of your belongings would fit. Like hell you were coming back here again. You shoved them in haphazardly, fitting boxes in where boxes would fit before turning on your heels and marching back to the front yard. You had at least two more trips worth of stuff to grab, it would have been one if someone would help, he wanted to see you out as fast as he could anyway, but that damned lazy skeleton--! False malice that masked a deep hurt shadowed over your gaze, not that you trained it on Sans.

You were shaking now, but not with cold, exhaustion, or anger. Though it didn't show in anything but the slight tremors, the cutting sadness was searing through you like a wicked flame that you so heartily wished to douse. You picked up the latest stack, this one heavier than the first by a great deal, but not enough to cause you to falter in your movements as you guided back to your car. You threw the boxes in once more. It took a few tries, but you finally pushed the car door shut, and it stayed that way when you moved away from it. You pressed the still open driver's side door, fingers fumbling for the button that would unlock the trunk. You still had a few boxes from this last trip that would not fit in the back seats, no matter how hard you tried.

You walked quickly back over, picking the objects left by the side of your car up swiftly and traveled to the back of your car, eyes scanning over it as it went. It was a dusty old van you had snagged from the side of the road for a few hundred dollars, a good deal for a decent car, a few years back. You sneered at the color, an enthralling cobalt that mirrored the magic currently flowing from Sans' eye. You'd wanted to get it repainted, anyway.

You shoved the remaining boxes in the trunk and went back for the last of your belongings. As you padded across the grass, you couldn't help but ask yourself why Sans was still waiting on the front porch, his figure present in your peripherals. It would be easier for the both of you if he would just shut that door, you didn't care if it was closed to you forever. Your heart twinged, alright, maybe you did care.

You forced anger into your heart like air into your lungs, gulping it down in slow steady breaths. It simmered in your stomach, boiling enough to threaten the contents of your dinner, but would go no further than that. The tendrils of what you wanted to be hatred snaked up and around towards your heart, but stopped well before they could reach their destination. You cursed your inability to dislike Sans, too.

You slid the few bags over your shoulders and gathered up the last few boxes, a monumentally lighter load than your last, even lighter than the first, and stood. You made no hesitation to meet eyes with your former lover, willing there to be some flicker of doubt, some hesitation that you pretended to lack. Not even the slightest flicker crossed into his burning eye. With that, you turned away from him, exiting the yard for what would likely be the last time for a long time.

You crossed the distance to your car with ease, your shaking having stopped when you looked into his heated gaze that final time. A chilling breeze brushed against your cheek, stinging your skin harshly. That was fitting, you thought almost merrily. The wind only continued to pick up, swirling around you and tickling your fuzz-covered scalp. You dropped the boxes in and slid the bags beside them, huffing slightly as you reached up, grabbed onto cold metal, and slammed your arms down. You ran cold fingers through what little hair you had, promising yourself a hair cut as soon as you could get one, and began to walk towards the only open door.

Your cracked lips began to leak crimson fluids as your teeth tore at the skin carelessly. The inside of your cheeks had been snagged raw, suffering a similar treatment that your bottom lip was currently facing, and you inhaled deeply. The door shut firmly after you had seated yourself, your seat belt going ignored for now. You would get to it later, the very next stoplight or stop sign, you promised, but for right now, you were getting out of here.

The hood of your car was towards the street, so you didn't need to adjust the rear view mirror or look behind you. You started the ignition, turning the heat on once the car was started, and began to drive. You peeled out of the driveway quick enough to rattle your bones, but not so much so that you appeared desperate in your want to leave. You blinked away a sudden wetness as you swerved onto the streets, the distance between your former home and you increasing with every second. You noticed that Sans still had not backed away from the door, its openness likely inviting the harrowing winds that had previously tugged at your clothes.

The sun dipped further beneath the horizon, wisps of dark blue graying the edges furthest away from its fleeting light. You didn't know where to go now. You hadn't woken up and expected to have all of your stuff packed and placed on your lawn, solely their lawn now, you hadn't been expecting anything like what had happened! Your shoulders slumped as you rounded the corner, the bone brothers' home disappearing from view with a sense of finality. When you came home from work earlier, that was what was waiting for you. Brown boxes and soured moods.

The angry flame that had coursed through your veins, bubbled your stomach, and stopped before reaching your heart died out as you continued driving. You wondered if it would ever return again, likely when you saw Sans next, which at the moment, you hoped would be never. The road jostled your car slightly with every odd bump, and after a few minutes, you arrived to a stoplight. You turned your body quickly, buckling yourself in before dwelling on your current situation.

You wouldn't be able to turn to Papyrus, who had quickly become one of your best friends, aside from maybe Toriel. Sans had surpassed the 'Best Friend' status that so little people had just been able to make it to. He had become the wall you would lean against when you needed it, the clock that would offer as much time as you needed, the source of childish joy and wild laughter, the cause of playfully disappointed groans whenever he would utter those awful jokes, the most comfortable person you had ever been with, the being that presented more light than the sun, of which had drooped beyond the horizon and left an inky blue tone in the sky, for the two and a half years you two had been together. The..

You stopped yourself, wounds already clawing deeper within you. The soft trembles had returned, but they were no longer quiet. You shook violently, now, pitiful sniffles you could not push back any longer pairing alongside those awful shakes. You glared into the road, willing holes to burn through the asphalt. That didn't happen, but the light did turn green, giving you something else to focus on.

You juggled your thoughts, staying focused on the road the whole while, before settling. If you could turn to neither Papyrus, for he was busy and would likely side with his brother anyway regardless of what you could say or do, nor Toriel, who had likely heard of Sans' temper and would favor with the friend she had made long before you ever stepped into her life, you would turn to the next person. You idly wondered if Toriel knew what you did not, the source of Sans' immense rage. You pushed the thought back.

You pulled over near an empty street vendor cart, digging in your right pocket for your phone. Like most of your belongings, it was old and outdated, but again similar to your items, it worked, and it worked well. You dialed the familiar number without a thought, pressing the phone to your ear as the fingers of your left hand tapped on the steering wheel lightly. A few seconds later, and a dull click sounded through your speakers. Your voice, rough with disuse and grief, surprised you with the confidence warped within the sound, "Hey, Mettaton,"