#Cait writes
Text
When Imagination Takes Over (redone)
A/N: As the title suggests, this is a revamp of a fic I did a couple years ago. I normally don't post redos as I'm literally always revisiting and revising fics but I really like this one and I'll never pass up the opportunity to write these two interacting.
Description: the imagination is a very powerful thing that can create something out of nothing but thin air and a simple thought. But what happens when those thoughts are unwanted and a bit too persistent? In other words, it’s time for Roman angst once again, kiddos. Is anyone really surprised?
Pairings: brotherly Creativitwins
Genre: hurt/comfort
Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, paranoia, crying, panic attack, food mention, violence and injury mentioned but it doesn't actually happen just in Roman's head (let me know if I missed anything or if you want anything tagged!)
Word count: 2,955
It had been quite a tiring day in the imagination. Roman had been busy all day trying to stop the dragon witch from terrorizing one of the smaller villages in his kingdom. After a long battle which he, of course, inevitably won the people insisted on having a feast in his honor; and well, how could Roman refuse such a kind offer. It would be rude of him to refuse, really. And sure, maybe the food in the imagination was…well, imaginary; and maybe it would just end up leaving him feeling emptier rather than fuller, but it certainly did taste as good as the real thing and Roman was famished. Besides, it would be distasteful to just leave and deprive the townspeople of his presence, not to mention their joyous celebration would have to be put on hold. What kind of prince would he be if he did that? A bad one, obviously; and he was anything but a bad prince. He wouldn’t stay long anyway, he reasoned. Just long enough to greet everyone and take a few bites of the meal. Surely it wouldn’t take that long....
In hindsight, he really should have known better. He never could seem to get away from conversing with all of his people. Who could blame him? They were quite good company, and they always had a way of convincing him to stay with them for “just a little longer.” By the time he finished celebrating with everyone and insisted that he really should be on his way, the sky had grown dark and was tinged with the fiery reds and pinks of the setting sun. So much for not staying long.
As he bid goodbye to the last of his citizens, Roman sighed dreading the thought of the long walk he had to get back to the mind palace. Silently, he cursed himself for staying as long as he did when he knew he’d be too tired and hungry to properly create a steed or anything to get him back home. The door to the imagination was still quite far off on foot. To be fair, he really had intended to only stay for a short while this time. He sighed again before shrugging off his regrets. What’s done is done he supposed.
Roman started to whistle as he walked, a merry tune to cut through the silence that draped itself over the landscape as he entered the forest. It certainly was much more…creepy than he remembered it being out here. Taking a deep breath, Roman shook off his discomfort, looking around to admire his creation instead. His whistling slowly faded as he looked around and tried to keep his mind away from the less than pleasant thoughts that kept floating around his mind. However, as the sky became steadily darker and the trees shaded the moon, Roman’s uneasiness only grew.
Walking a bit faster, he tried to block out the soft whisper of the wind through the trees that sounded like voices filling the air. It was just his imagination, He told himself, aware of the fact of how ironic that was. The hairs on the back of Roman’s neck tingled with the sense that he was being watched by something just out of sight. It—It was nothing, just his overactive mind. Those were certainly not footsteps behind him, no matter how much he thought he could hear a second step just a beat behind his. It was just his own boots stomping against the ground and kicking up the leaves. A momentary gasp escaped Roman’s lips as he thought he saw eyes glinting out from behind a tree, but no, wait. It was just the barely visible moonlight catching on the dewdrops of the leaves.
Get it together, Roman. He chastised himself, shaking his head. Creepy and horrifying things were Remus’s territory, and Roman knew his kingdom well enough to know he was nowhere near Remus’s part of the imagination. So, there was nothing to worry about, and that was that. He was just too on edge after a long day and a fierce battle. That’s all there was to it. There wasn’t really anything lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump him, it was just his own thoughts running around and making him jumpy. Roman took another deep breath as he tried to push away the thoughts that were plaguing him.
This was ridiculous. He wasn’t scared of the dark or the trees. He was a prince for crying out loud. He—Roman stopped in his tracks. He could have sworn—those weren’t footsteps behind him…were they? Drawing his sword, Roman carefully started back up, his mind racing, his body tense. Again, he heard a definite second pair of steps behind him, but when he whirled around, sword at the ready, no one could be seen. Gulping, he walked faster, just trying to get through the woods. The rational part of his brain screamed that he controlled this place—that he could make it stop, that it wasn’t real, but that part of his brain was starting to drown in his fear. He just needed to get home.
Roman picked up his pace, trying to keep his breaths even and his eyes ahead of him. It was darker now, the leaves above completely blocking out the moon. The breeze had disappeared, but the whispers of the trees had not. They were whispering words that Roman had to strain to hear, and even when he caught a few snippets, he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. But they were whispering.
Roman was running now, desperate to get out. Desperate to get home. He’d dropped his sword somewhere along the way and couldn’t clear his mind enough to summon it again. His thoughts whirled around his head, any semblance of rationale getting caught up in his panic. A flash of yellow eyes behind the trees caught his attention—a flash all too wary and constant to be dewdrops this time. The eyes followed him, moving alongside him and keeping pace with ease. Yet the creature behind the eyes remained completely silent even as Roman’s feet pounded loudly on the earth, cracking twigs and rustling leaves.
The footsteps behind him increased their pace as he increased his own. Roman could feel them gaining on him. He could feel it. He could hear it. Twigs snapping right behind him, leaves rustling against the ground just a second after his own stirred them up. He chanced a glance behind him, but there was still nothing there. There was nothing there, yet he could hear the steps getting closer. They were getting faster, even though he was going the same pace as before. He wasn’t going to be fast enough. The trees, the eyes, the footsteps. They were gaining on him. They were—they were going to get to him. He was too slow. They were too fast. Everything was too much. With a pained cry, Roman stumbled to his knees and curled into himself, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.
Logically, he knew he was in the imagination. Logically, he knew that he could stop this. It was just thoughts come to life. That was what the imagination did. And the imagination was his domain after all. He was the one that was causing all of these things to become real. But those thoughts were drowned out by his fear as quickly as they surfaced, and since when had imagination followed the rules of logic anyway. He was too disoriented to think rationally. Too tired to defend himself. Too scared to do anything other than curl up and desperately cover his ears.
Then there were arms around him, and he was shaking. It had caught up. Whatever was making the footsteps had caught him. Or maybe it was whatever had lurked in the trees, watching his every move. It had finally made its move and pounced. Or maybe the trees had finally had enough of him disturbing their home and had reached out to trap him forever in their embrace.
Roman gasped, trying not to cry as thoughts flew across his mind faster than he had time to fully process them. Thoughts of him decaying here forever alone. Thoughts of being torn limb from limb by the mysterious monsters in the woods. Thoughts of things he couldn’t see twisting their hands around his neck. Thoughts that he couldn’t manage to escape. Thoughts that swirled around him sweeping him deeper into his panic. But then he felt a gentle hand on his back. He felt himself being pulled into someone’s chest and felt the person begin rocking back and forth gently. This was…this was nice?
When nothing immediately tore him apart or wrapped suffocatingly around his body, he risked taking a shuddering breath. The hands around him tensed slightly before one of the hands came up to gently cup his head and press it to the scratchy fabric beneath his face. It took a while, but slowly, Roman relaxed and uncurled himself a bit. It took even longer for him to remove his hands from his ears, choosing instead to grip the figure in front of him and bury his face in the costume. Taking another shaky breath, he started to hear soft words of encouragement being muttered.
“It’s ok, Ro bro. I’ve got you. You’re ok. It wasn’t real.”
Remus. Roman tried to call for his brother, to assure him that he was ok now, but he only managed a whimper. Alright so maybe he wasn’t ok quite yet.
“Hey, it’s ok. I’ll get you out of here, k?” Remus promised, standing and hauling Roman up with him. Once they were standing, Remus draped Roman’s arms over his shoulder and pulled him onto his back before Roman could even protest. He was too tired to argue anyway, and still too shaken to care much as he buried his face in Remus’s scratchy costume, not daring to look up at the surrounding darkness.
A few minutes later, they finally reached the door out of the imagination. Remus bust open the door and shook away Roman’s tight grip before tossing him onto something soft. The familiar glow of the fairy lights in his room immediately calmed him as he finally let himself breathe in full.
“You ok, Ro bro?” Remus asked, voice unusually quiet. “Those were—that was unusual for your side, huh?”
Roman shuddered at the thought of the dark forest and of the creatures lurking there.
“I’m—I’m ok,” He sighed. “Um, thank you, Re.”
“Ew, don’t thank me, you’ve never said thank you in your life,” Remus scoffed, tone shifting immediately as he plopped down next to Roman on the bed. Roman huffed indignantly, trying to shake off any lingering panic.
“Well, excuse me, for being grateful,” he tsked, rolling his eyes.
“You’re not excused,” Remus grinned, reaching over to flick Roman who quickly ducked away.
“You ruined the moment. We were having a bonding moment,” Roman complained swatting at Remus as he continued trying to flick him.
“Gross,” Remus gagged. Roman tsked again, pouting as he turned away. Remus just snickered, falling backwards onto the bed and not getting up. A short silence followed their bickering until Remus sat up and stared at Roman, studying his face uncomfortably closely.
“You know that it’s dangerous to be in the imagination after dark when you’re this exhausted Ro Ro,” He remarked, poking at Roman’s cheek. “I thought doing stupid things was my specialty.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Roman defended, pushing his brother’s hand away with another eyeroll. “I mean, I was busy fighting the dragon witch and then the people wanted to celebrate, and I couldn’t just refuse them, and—and…I guess I ended up staying a bit too long.”
“Please, ‘a bit too long’ my ass. If I hadn’t sensed something was up, you’d be caught in your own head until morning,” Remus pointed out, looking pleased with himself.
“You’re not helping,” Roman grumbled, glaring at his brother. Remus grinned and shrugged.
“Well, brother dear, if you’re ok, I have an appointment with a certain snake and a bag of rats.”
“A bag of—ok, I don’t want to know. It’s—yeah, I’m fine.” Roman replied, waving him off as Remus stood up. To be honest, he wasn’t keen on being left alone again, but he wasn’t about to admit to his brother of all people that despite his efforts, the thoughts still lurked in the corners of his mind. The dark corners of his room had never seemed to intimidating before, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Sometimes, things from the imagination could leak out into the Mindscape. It had happened before, granted only when one of them had left the door open, but what if the thing in the woods was still here? What if Remus hadn’t shut the door all the way when they came back? What if whatever had been making the footsteps had followed him? He'd never know until it was too late. The thought of roots writhing up from the dirt and trapping him to the ground as they suffocated him flashed through his mind and he quickly tried to push it away. But what if it happened this time? What if whatever was in the woods would drag him back before he could reach his sword? What if the monster with the yellow eyes was waiting in the shadows for him to let down his guard? What then?
Remus tilted his head, studying him for a moment before throwing himself back onto the bed, snapping into softer clothes and beginning to burrow into Roman’s nest of blankets.
“What the—" Roman muttered, pulled out of his thoughts at the motion.
“On second thought. It’s too comfortable here. Guess good ole Jan will have to wait,” Remus grinned, wiggling around to make himself comfortable.
“You don’t have to stay, Remus. I told you I’m all good,” Roman insisted, not really sure why he was arguing but feeling the need to anyway.
“Too late. You’re stuck with me for tonight,” Remus shrugged, conjuring up a deodorant stick and popping off the lid. Roman cringed slightly as he watched his brother take a huge bite of the deodorant.
“You—I’m really fine, though,” Roman tried again weakly. Remus gave him a weird look before rolling his eyes and sitting up slightly.
“Did you forget already? I can hear what’s going on up there Robro. I know that you don’t wanna be alone right now,” he said, poking at Roman’s forehead as he spoke. Roman paled, looking away. How could he forget that Remus could hear intrusive thoughts. He winced when he thought of what else he might have heard since they’d started getting along again.
“We can have a movie marathon like we used to. As long as I get to pick a few,” Remus suggested when Roman didn’t say anything, lighting up at his idea. Before Roman had the chance to answer, Remus had already grabbed the prince’s laptop and was pulling up movies to watch
“As long as you don’t pick anything with gore,” Roman gave in quickly, sighing softly. At this point, he knew Remus probably wouldn’t leave no matter how much he argued anyway.
“Boo, no fun,” Remus pouted, backspacing whatever he’d been typing in the search bar.
Roman only snorted before quickly running to the bathroom and getting changed out of his dirty prince costume. Instead, he put on some silky pajamas and settled himself beside Remus as his brother started the movie he’d picked, Frankenweenie. Roman glanced at Remus with a raised eyebrow receiving an unhinged grin in return. He knew Remus only picked such a tame movie for his sake; and he felt a wave of appreciation wash over him, almost drowning out the lingering fear that floated in his head. He settled deeper into the blankets and grinned softly.
“Hey, Remus.” he whispered, as the beginning scene began to play.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
Remus glanced over at him and made a face.
“I thought I told you to stop that.”
Roman shrugged, pulling the blankets closer around him. Now that he was finally warm and the fear and adrenaline were fading, he felt the weight of his exhaustion hit him.
“Thought you should know,” he mumbled with a yawn, “You’re—You’re a good brother. I’m glad you’re back.”
Remus was quiet for a while—a feat in itself. Roman would have been worried about the abnormally long silence had he not been on the verge of falling asleep already. Instead, he simply let his head bump against Remus’ shoulder and let his eyes slip closed with another yawn. In fact, he had almost completely drifted off when Remus finally spoke up.
“You’re—You really think I’m a good brother?” he asked, voice unusually shaky.
“’Course,” Roman answered automatically sitting up a little, “but if you ever repeat that, I’ll murder you with my bare hands...and my sword.”
Remus snorted.
“You can try. Sounds like a good time,” he snickered reaching over to flick Roman’s head successfully this time.
“Rude,” Roman mumbled in response rubbing the sore spot on his forehead.
“You’re so sappy when you’re tired,” Remus cackled, noting the fact that Roman didn’t even try to get back at him for the flick. Instead, his brother just huffed, letting his head fall back against Remus’s shoulder. Remus rolled his eyes but let him get comfy again. At least he could no longer hear the swirling thoughts that had plagued Roman since he’d reached him in the imagination. As everything settled down again, Roman drifted off quickly. So quickly that he almost didn’t hear Remus’s next words.
“You’re a good brother too, Robro,” he whispered. “I missed you.”
Roman smiled. The thoughts didn’t come back that night.
#I am a sucker for soft creativitwins#but also writing Remus will never cease to confuse me#roman sanders#remus sanders#sanders sides#my fics#cait writes#fanfic#fanfiction#sanders sides fics#ts creativity#brotherly creativitwins#creativitwins#tw violence#tw injuries mention#tw panic attack#tw intrusive thoughts#tw crying#cw food mention#hurt/comfort
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good morning, one and all! It might be rainy and gloomy outside, but I'm in high spirits, because it's time to debut a new fanseries!
A forest-clearing operation accidentally unseals the evil Empress Amias and her fellow demons, putting Earth in jeopardy. It's now up to four high school girls empowered by fairy magic to protect their beautiful planet as the legendary warriors called Pretty Cure.
I've had this one waiting in the wings for a while now, and I hope that it also proves to be an enjoyable read. Sparkle on, everyone! ✨
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
ill maybe make a more elaborate post about this later when I have more energy but...
inspired by the incredible @tommybowefuneralattendee (who was also an amazing human who helped create this list), i now have a prompt sheet!!
so... throw a smosh ship and a number between 1 - 550 into my ask box and i'll write for it <33
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
As per my last post, if yall arent aware — Cait Corrain, the author of the upcoming Crown of Starlight made a bunch of fake accounts on Goodreads to review-bomb other debut authors, almost entirely BIPOC, with 1 star while 5-starring her own book. She also added traditionally published debut authors to a list derogatorily labeling them as "self-published" hacks. She went after random books that are Greek mythology retellings, like her own is, and again targeted BIPOC authors. She even targeted my good friend RM Virtues, who is an indie author who writes queer Black Greek myth reimaginings.
Many of those she attacked were people who considered her a colleague and friend. She's tried to spin a lie about how she's being framed by someone from her Reylo fandom days, but Reylos have disproven that already.
Cait allegedly liked to brag about how her publisher treated her like royalty, and she had a massive Illumicrate deal. Her book was also getting favorable advanced reviews and had a beautiful cover, so she had nothing to be jealous of. She's potentially destroyed her career due to racism alone. Do not buy her book and do not support her.
Here is a thread if you want specifics and here is the 31-page doc of evidence.
#havent seen this on tumblr really so#in case you all weren't aware#this is gravely serious#mine#publishing#writing#author#books#cait corrain#crown of starlight
8K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you CatVi x Reader where Reader touched VI’s jacket and it got into a mess of paint that the Reader was painting and Vi and Cait came home and saw the painting but saw VI’s jacket. But Vi was shocked and didn’t say anything but was angry.
Comin' right up!
Don't Cry Over Spilled Paint | CaitVi x Reader
╰┈➤ PLOT: Messy. That was the word to describe you and your relationship with paint. After fair warnings to wash your hands after you paint, you get yourself into some trouble that might bite you in the butt later on.
╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, 3000+ words, No Use of Y/n, Angry Vi, Fluff Towards The End, Caitlyn Giggles (shh)
⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ
(A/N): UMMM totally didn't see where Anon said Vi doesn't say anything ab being upset. She totally did and IM SO SORRY ANON 😭😭
You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were painting a beautiful piece that showed Zaun in its light and then the next you were frantically scrubbing paint off of Vi's red jacket.
Maybe this could've been avoided if you just listened to Caitlyn.
"Make sure you wash your hands after you paint," she would always say to you. "You touch everything after you paint and you get paint everywhere."
You should've listened to her, you really should've, but she wasn’t here to warn you. So, technically, this was on her!
"Come on, come on," you muttered as you scrubbed a white rag on the jacket. Luckily, the paint spot was small. The color of the paint a navy blue and it was right next to some forever dirt patches in the jacket so the spot wasn't noticeable.
With the jacket and rag underneath running water, you declared the jacket done. The paint had already dried and there was no going back now. Besides, would Vi really notice that minuscule spot? You didn't think so.
A relieved sigh escaped your mouth as you shut off the tap. Wringing the rag out, you noticed two palm-sized white spots on the jacket. You set the rag down, going to inspect the jacket but before the jacket even touched your hands, your heart dropped to your feet.
The palms of your hands were white from priming your next canvas. The same white on the jacket matched the white on your hands.
Maybe it's just a coincidence.
You leaned your head further into the sink, too terrified to even touch the jacket. Through the white primer on the jacket, some lines and cracks matched the pattern of a human's palms. Okay, if your heart hadn't sunk before, it was now. Oh, and now you were trembling with fear.
You turned the tap on again. The water splashed and sprouted upwards from hitting Vi's jacket. You watched as the soaked jacket continued to take more water but the white spots not diminishing.
You turned the tap to hot.
Still the same reaction. Jacket soaks up water, paint remains untouched.
You should've noticed that the paint on your hands wasn't transferring to the faucet handles; a sign of dried hand paint.
"We're home!" Caitlyn's voice rang throughout the home.
Shit.
You thought you had more time. You thought you could take her jacket to the dry cleaners and get someone to professionally get the paint out yet leave all the dirt and grime so Vi wouldn't notice the difference.
You thought you had time to research how to get primer out of fabric and search up which primer you used to see if it was water-soluble. Was there even such a thing as a water-soluble primer? What's the point of a primer if it disappears with water?? FUCK.
Wooden creaks and deep steps rattled the floor above you. Caitlyn and Vi were settling themselves in the kitchen. This meant you had some time to hide the jacket in your studio before Vi noticed her missing jacket.
Quickly, you grabbed a plastic bag and shoved her jacket inside. You needed to keep the jacket wet. The wetter the jacket, the easier the paint comes out. Well, that was your theory at least. Tying the bag into knots you'll have to cut out later, you shoved the bag into a box of battered art supplies.
Don't ask why you have a large cardboard box filled with dead/empty art supplies. You don't know yourself.
"Muffin!" Vi shouted from the studio's entrance. "You comin' up or what?"
"Yeah!" your voice trembled. "Just trying to wash some paint off my hands."
Hearing the slight tremble in your voice, Vi took it upon herself to travel down into the basement-- oh, sorry, into your art studio -- to see what was the matter.
However, once she reached the halfway point of the staircase, you came running up.
"Whoa," Vi laughed. She placed her hands on your shoulders to prevent the two of you from colliding. "Where's the fire?"
You chuckled, sheepish and breathless. "Oh, uh. I thought you guys needed me and I didn't want you to wait much longer."
"Oh, well, that's cute of you, Muffin, but we're alright." Vi ruffled your hair. "I just wanted to make sure you ate your food before it gets cold."
"Aw, you got me food?" You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her up the stairs. There was some resistance, naturally, but Vi let you push her up anyway.
"Well, yeah we know you've been--"
"Caitlyn!" you greeted, locking eyes with her. The girl was mid-bite in a pancake, the circle good dangling from her mouth and eyes wide. Vi laughed at her and the girl quickly took the pancake from her mouth with red cheeks.
"H-Hi!" she returned the greeting. She stood up from the counter and cleaned her hands off with a napkin. "Um, we got you food. Your favorite breakfast meal."
"Oh, great!" You removed your hands from Vi's body and made a beeline into the kitchen. The food was already plated for you with your favorite beverage on the side. You ate contently, trying not to let your worry show through facial expressions.
What was your plan now? Do you tell her? Do you let that jacket mildew and mold and hope she forgets about it? No, there's not way she could forget about it. She wears that jacket every damn day.
"Muffin," Vi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Caitlyn and Vi were sitting at the counter across from you. When did they get there? You had no clue. "Why are your palms white? Like, whiter than Caitlyn white?"
You stifled a laugh while Caitlyn swatted her arm. "I was painting. That's why I was in the studio."
"Yeah, I know," Vi said through laughter. Caitlyn's swat had no effect on her. "But I thought you were washing your hands? Your hands were wet when you were pushing me up the-- wait," Violet deadpanned. "I don't have paint on me, do I?"
Frantic, the woman searched her arms for paint. The woman was wearing nothing but a plain white tank and some random pants. You would totally be distracted by her buff arms if your heart wasn't slowly finding its place in your chest.
Caitlyn hummed, eating a piece of pancake while she searched Vi's body. "No, you look fine which tells me someone forgot to wash their hands after they were done painting again." You received a scolding look from the English lady.
You shrugged with a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. I didn't get paint on anything."
Safe to say, your girlfriends did not believe you. Immediately springing up from their chairs, they raced to your studio despite your pleas.
They couldn't find any new marks of paint on the walls or support pillars. In fact, when they were done searching, they stumbled upon your Zaun painting and praised you for how well you captured the city.
"Wow, Muffin, you did really good with this," Vi complimented. Her fingers reached out towards the canvas, but you quickly slapped her hand away.
"Don't touch! It's still wet."
Vi snickered but obeyed. She stepped back but continued to admire your recent artwork.
Caitlyn, on the other hand, wasn't fully convinced you didn't touch anything with your painted hands. She strode towards the sink to see if there were any new paint marks. Instead of finding new paint, she found that the sink was still shiny from recent usage.
She hummed to herself. Vi said your hands were wet, though no paint transferred to her arms. So, your hands weren't wet with paint but with water. Caitlyn's gaze flickered over to your damp washcloth. Recently wrung up with a new paint mark.
The mark was a faded blue. The blue matched the blues you used in your painting, but the mark wasn't big enough for Caitlyn to assume you were cleaning up your lines with a towel.
You spilled paint on something, but on what?
To the left of her, Caitlyn spotted the box of art supplies. A hoarder, her partner was, keeping empty paint tubes, dead brushes, and other things you use for your craft.
What Caitlyn spotted was a new lump in the box. Instead of your dead supplies lying relatively flat, there was something disturbing the colorful sea, something hiding.
"Darling," Caitlyn called out for you with a finger on her chin and her other arm supporting the elbow. "Did you run out of a lot of paint while making that piece? Your graveyard of art supplies seemed to have grown."
Both yours and Vi's gaze snapped from the painting and to Caitlyn.
The three of you sat in silence, yet the tension in the air rose.
Your gaze flickered from the box, to Vi, to the box, to Caitlyn, and then back to the box.
Before anyone could say anything, you dashed. You didn't get far, matter of fact, you got nowhere before Vi wrapped her arms around your middle to hold you back.
Caitlyn went digging through the box, detirmined. Nothing could get past her. Not even her partner who loves to paint but is too messy for their own good.
"Aha!" Caitlyn triumphed as she held up the tied plastic bag. She poked the bag, a smile growing on her face. "Interesting. It's still wet and slimy inside. A recent hiding, must I say."
"Cait, don't!" you plead, squirming and wiggling under Vi's grip. The pinkette tightened her grasp around you.
"You're not going anywhere," her voice rasped through gritted teeth. You were being a challenge with all your squirms, but Vi had no problem throwing you over her shoulder if you became too much. Besides, she was having too much fun watching you beg and plead for Caitlyn not to open the bag.
"I'm sorry, but I have to." Caitlyn's long and slender fingers toyed with the knot. She used her fingernails to pull up a piece of the thin plastic before slipping her finger inside to loosen the knot completely.
"Caitlyn, I'm telling you, do not open that bag."
Opened, she did.
The girl barely took a gander before she gasped at the bag's containment. "You're right," she said through a trembling and quiet voice. "I do not need to open this bag. This bag must remain closed."
"What?" Vi exclaimed, letting go of you. "Oh, come on! Show me what's in the bag! It isn't fair you two know what it is and I don't."
Vi marched over to Caitlyn, but the blue-haired girl held the bag over her head. "No, Violet, I mean it. We need to respect our partner's boundaries and not open this bag."
You were frozen in fear. Vi was too close to the bag for your own good. You were thankful for Caitlyn's understanding of keeping the bag away from Vi, but that didn't mean you wont be hearing a lesson in your near future.
"Bull. Shit." Vi then brought her fingers to Caitlyn's armpit and tickled her. The bluenette immediately caved with giggles. Her crinkled eyes and cute smile would usually be an adorable sight to see, but right now, the sight made you seethe with anger.
Really, Cait? Couldn't hold on for just a bit longer?
Caitlyn brought her arm down, folding it like a chicken wing to stop Vi from tickling her. "Stop!" she giggled.
Vi grinned, snatching the back from her hand. "Anything for you, princess." The pinkette opened the bag and stared at its contents.
Caitlyn slid her way over to you, a small frown on her face as she played with her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep it away from her for long," she whispered.
You sighed, watching Vi's face crinkle and express many, yet unreadable, emotions. "It's fine," you whispered back. "Just promise you'll attend my funeral."
Finally, after what seemed like 30 agonizing minutes, Vi spoke. "Is this my jacket?"
You gulped. "What do you want it to be?"
Vi called you by your name, her gaze lasering on you. Her eyes were darkened with anger, her lips upturned into a scowl. "Don't play cute with me," she called you by your name again. "Is this my jacket?"
Your heart was back in your chest again, but this time, it felt like it wanted to escape. A deep lump lodged and settled itself in your throat, making it difficult to say the words your brain was telling you to say.
Your chalky palms now wet from sweat and your body buzzing with anxiety. You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but you couldn't.
You only watched the ticking time bomb on Vi's face as her expression went from upset to vexed. Her face was red with anger, the hands gripping the bag turned into fists, and her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath.
Vi took her jacket out of the bag. She scoffed at its drenched state and brought it over to the sick. She wrung it out like you did once before with a rag. Her hands were covering where the spots were.
Much like yourself, Caitlyn couldn't say a word. The two of you watched her like deers stuck in headlights. What could one say to de-escalate the situation? Caitlyn felt that if she tried to calm Vi down, she would be brushed off and told not to speak.
Vi studied the jacket from each angle. She studied the front, she studied the back. She studied the inside and then studied the pockets. It wasn't until she draped the jacket over a forearm she saw the two obnoxious spots of primer.
"I can't believe this," Vi said quietly, only a true sign of her deep anger. "Time and time again, we tell you to wash your hands and not touch anything. It was cute the first couple of times, annoying the next, and now I'm pissed off."
This had to be worse than any lecture Caitlyn would've given you.
"This is my jacket. My favorite jacket." Vi's back was turned to you, but now she's facing you dead on. Honest, you preferred her back to you. Then you wouldn't have to see the hurt in her eyes and she wouldn't have to see the sadness in yours.
A voice in Vi's head told her to stop talking but the anger she was feeling mimicked the anger she felt when Vander died. She had no control over what she was going to say, she could feel it. She wanted to stop talking to prevent further damage, but her emotions took her whole.
"I stole this from some rando after I beat his ass. I've had this for around 2 years now and until you came along, it was unscathed."
"Vi..." Caitlyn warned.,
"Sure, there were some dirt and sweat stains here and there, but that's what gave this jacket character. It's what made this jacket more like me because even though it was dirty, grimy, and stinky, it preserved through all the shit it went through," Vi continued.
You weren't sure if you were crying. Your eyes stung like you were, but the rest of your body shut down. Vi's words were like piercing sharp arrows flying through the wind and your body was the target. You've mastered the heart of tuning out lengthy and emotional lectures thanks to your parents, but all that skill was no match for Vi's words.
"All it took. All it took was your careless thinking and some fucking paint to ruin the one thing that felt like me. Thanks for that." Vi threw the jacket into the sink and went upstairs.
She didn't bother to look you or Caitlyn in the eye.
-
It's been a few days and you and Vi haven't talked. The first few days you didn't talk because the wounds were still fresh but as the silence grew and the wounds began to heal, the problem was finding the right words to say.
You've tried to apologize for the jacket multiple times, but she wouldn't hear it. Caitlyn even took the jacket to the cleaners to get the stains out, but Vi didn't want to see it.
Every time Vi got a glimpse of you or the jacket hanging in the closet, she knew she had to apologize to you. She wanted to apologize to you, but she didn't know how. Caitlyn tried to help countless of times, but no avail.
Sleeping arrangements were worse.
Vi slept on the couch the first few nights and then after some coaxing by Caitlyn, Vi slept on the furtherest side of the bed. Typically she liked to be in the middle or you would be in the middle, but as of late, she slept on the left and you slept on the right.
Poor Caitlyn had to sleep in the middle. She hated the middle. She didn't like how warm the two of you were in the night, making her burn up. She didn't like how if she wanted to read or work in bed, she couldn't turn the nightstand lamp on. The middle was awful. She wanted her right side back.
The night of the week anniversary of the argument, you and Vi stumbled into the bedroom to find Caitlyn sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at the two of you.
"I am not sleeping in the middle any longer," she declared. "You two are too warm, I don't have enough arm or leg room, and I can't read which means I'm restless every time I sleep!" Caitlyn stood from the bed, arms crossed over her body. "And to be fair, I've grown tired of your childish argument. You two are grown adults. Talk your shit out so we can sleep in our rightful places."
You and Vi glanced at each other.
You already said your apology. What else could you say? It wasn't like you could offer her a meal, it was too late to eat and you definitely weren't saying another apology,
Vi sighed, looking away first. She shrugged, going to the left side of the bed. Caitlyn stopped her by pushing a hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh," Caitlyn eyed her. She pointed towards your direction with her brows furrowed. Vi groaned and walked back over to you.
"Oh, well that's one way to make a person feel warm and fuzzy inside," you scoffed. Vi rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please, you mean like ruining someone's jacket?"
"It wasn't on purpose!" you exclaimed. "You know it wasn't on purpose. I understand your being upset for my clumsiness and lack of awareness when it comes to wet paint, but you can't still be mad at me for something I got fixed."'
"You didn't even fix it," Vi rolled her eyes again. "One of Caitlyn's fancy buddies did."
"And who do you think paid for that?" you scoffed at her. "It might've been a buddy of hers but I still had to pay full price for a Piltover dry cleaning service. I don't believe in waving money and prices over people's faces, but since you want to go there, that cost me two months' worth of payments and as a starving artist, that's a lot of money to recover."
Vi only shrugged as her mouth converted into some sort of frown. She didn't know you had to pay 1,200 dollars to get her jacket fixed. She could've been more grateful and showed you some gratitude for getting her jacket cleaned, but you were the one who ruined it anyway. It was your job to get the jacket cleaned.
Caitlyn sighed. "Vi, stop being stubborn and say 'thank you' and an apology."
"Why should I have to say an apology?" Vi knew why, though she didn't want to admit it aloud.
"Why?" Caitlyn scoffed. "Vi, I knew you were thick-headed but I never thought it to be this extreme." Shaking her head, Caitlyn climbed into bed. "Fine then. Don't apologize and don't patch things up. I'm tired of being the referee."
Something stirred inside Vi. It wasn't anger or contentment, but instead a sadness. Not only is she unable to patch things up with you, but now she's dragged Caitlyn into this mess. Caitlyn was the peacemaker because Vi, herself, was unable to make peace with anything.
Caitlyn didn't deserve this. You didn't either.
If Vi didn't nip this in the bud, she was going to lose the both of you. She was going to lose the only people who saw her for her and loved her regardless of her faults.
"I'm sorry," the words stumbled out of Vi like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, "to the both of you."
Caitlyn peered up at her with a book in her hand. You, who hasn't said or done anything since the last time you spoke, met her gaze.
"Muffin, I'm sorry for lashing out on you and not being mature enough to handle this situation properly. You trying to hide the bag is on me because I should've created a space where you can come to me about anything. Even if you think it may upset me."
"It's okay--"
"It's not okay. You don't have to forgive me or say some line like, 'Oh, everyone gets angry sometimes'. No. It's not okay and I apologize for my behavior. I'm working on it." Vi put a hesitant hand on your shoulder. When you allowed her to, she smiled and pressed a kiss ot your temple.
"And, Cupcake," Vi addressed Caitlyn. Caitlyn hummed in response. "I'm sorry for roping you into this and not realizing how miserable you were while Muffin and I fought."
"Yeah," you chimed. "I'm sorry about that too. You didn't deserve any of this."
A soft smile rested upon Caitlyn's lips. She motioned the two of you over, willingly wanting to be in the middle so she could hug you both. You and Vi gathered by her side, wrapping an arm around her. "I love you too, lugs," Caitlyn said behind a laugh. "I hope we can all learn from this."
"Yeah," you said behind a grin. "I learned that Caitlyn is severely ticklish and will cave immediately after a few seconds of tickling."
"What?" Caitlyn blushed. "No, that was not the lesson here," she nervously chuckled, her blush already spreading to her ears.
Vi laughed along with you. "Yeah, actually. I accidentally found that out like a month or two ago and only used it the day of the fiasco."
You gasped. "You found out and you didn't tell me?"
"Well, I didn't know how!" Vi laughed.
"Now, hang on a minute," Caitlyn said trying to catch your attention.
"Well, now I feel left out." "Who's to say you can't tickle her now?"
"Hold on!" Caitlyn pleaded but it was too late. Your hands and fingers found the soft skin on her stomach and laughs roared out of her. Vi joined the activity, tickling some of her neck.
Even after a week of drama, the love between the three of you remained. Plus, you guys even got some giggles out of it.
WC: 3,877
#pastel-peach-writes#gender-neutral terms#pastel peach writes#gender neutral terms#lesbian#arcane fanfiction#caitlyn x reader#vi fanfic#vi x reader#vi x caitlyn#caitvi x reader#caitvi x you#caitlyn fanfic#cait x vi#caitvi#caitlyn x vi#violyn#vi#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn kiramman#vi x you#vi arcane
406 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under | Nico Hischier
no thoughts, just vibes and fuck boy nico
I'm considering this my honorary entry into demi @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange because I didn't trust myself to finish an actual entry in time but managed anyway (technically, this took me 10 months to finish)
enjoy!
length: 5.6k words
It’s dark in the club where Nico Hischier presses himself along Hailey’s back for the first time. She lets it happen, barely one drink in and looking for a good time. It’s dark, lit up by the glow of neon, when the man leans close and asks if he can buy Hailey a drink, hands on her hips as they continue to dance. She doesn’t realize who he is then, but he’s a decent dancer. It doesn’t seem important at the moment.
It’s dark as they stumble outside a few drinks and a few kisses later, a car already called and waiting for them at the curb. Hailey doesn’t remember when she caught his name, in between kisses pressed to her bare shoulders, her neck, but she knows he’s Nico now, soft-spoken with an accent Hailey can’t place.
“I don’t usually do this,” Hailey admits as she slides into the backseat. Nico doesn’t say anything as he slides in next to her, but he keeps his hand on Hailey’s thigh the whole drive back to his place.
It’s dark in Nico’s apartment, too, only a few lights left on before he went out for the night. It doesn’t matter much, anyway. They don’t stop in the kitchen, or the living room. It’s only the middle of October, and there are no outer layers to shed as they stumble down the hallway, though Hailey shivers every time Nico’s hands brush her bare skin.
“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” he says, breaking the kiss.
“Hailey,” she gasps. She shivers again as his stubble scratches against her skin.
“Hailey, I like that,” he says. Hailey refrains from rolling her eyes. Barely. Her name does sound nice in his accent, she admits to herself.
Neither of them are drunk, not really, but the room seems blurry around the edges as Nico presses her into his sheets.
An alarm is blaring, too loud, too early. Hailey groans and shoves her face into her pillow before reaching to slap at her phone to snooze that awful alarm. Her phone isn’t on the nightstand beside her where it should be, and Hailey starts to sit up, confused. It’s not until she hears someone swear softly, in a language she doesn’t recognize, that she remembers she’s not in her own bed. She bolts upright.
Nico’s sitting up beside her, shirtless and his hair a disaster. Hailey doesn’t fully remember how she ended up sleeping in one of Nico’s T-shirts, but she’s thankful for it now, though she still pulls the sheet up across her chest as she sits up next to Nico. For his part, he looks apologetic for the rude awakening.
Nico swears again. “I’m sorry, I forgot I have—work this morning.”
“What kind of job do you have that makes you work at—” Hailey squints at the digital clock on Nico’s side of the bed. “9 on a Saturday morning?”
Nico doesn’t answer, but he shoots Hailey a rueful smile as he rolls out of bed.
Hailey vaguely remembers being offered a washcloth to wipe off her makeup and generally clean up with, but she still feels crusty. Her eyes itch from sleeping with her contacts in. She heaves a sigh and throws back the sheets to get out of bed. She finds her clothes strewn about the room and reluctantly pulls them back on. Her phone landed somewhere on the floor, too, and she picks it up. Almost dead.
Hailey manages to call an Uber and scrape her hair into a ponytail before Nico re-emerges from his bathroom. She’s already lingered too long. This isn’t the type of hookup where they sit and have coffee over breakfast. Hailey shouldn’t have even stayed the night.
“I should—” Hailey starts, as Nico says, “I can walk you out.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” she says.
Now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t quite remember all the steps and turns they took last night to get to Nico’s apartment. So she follows Nico back through his apartment, out the front door, down the hallway to the elevators. They stand in awkward silence.
“My Uber should be here soon,” Hailey offers. She shifts nervously.
“Good, that’s great,” Nico says.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. There’s already someone on, a boy probably around their age. Hailey starts to step forward, but Nico grabs her by the elbow.
“We can wait for the next one,” he says firmly. Hailey looks back at the boy on the elevator as the doors begin to shut. He raises his eyebrows at them, and Hailey thinks she hears him laugh as the elevator starts to descend again. Nico jams the down button again.
“Did you know him?” Hailey asks.
“He’s, uh, a friend.” Nico says. Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t need to meet him, I promise.”
Hailey isn’t about to argue. This walk of shame is already bad enough.
Nico walks Hailey all the way out the front door of his apartment building. Hailey’s Uber is idling at the curb, and they go their separate ways. Hailey doesn’t look back as she slides into the backseat of her car; she’s not expecting to ever see Nico again.
There’s a phone charger plugged in the backseat of the car, and Hailey plugs her phone in gratefully. She swipes through her missed notifications quickly until one catches her eye from ESPN: Nico Hischier scores goal, assist in Devils win.
Oh, fuck.
Hailey puts it out of her mind. Or tries to, at least. She doesn’t actually follow the Devils that closely—she only has the ESPN app on her phone at all to keep up in conversation with the boys in her family about the Giants. Besides, she doesn’t exactly frequent any of the bars in Jersey. She should forget about Nico—his accent when he whispered her name, the way his bracelets brushed her skin when he touched her. He’d probably forgotten about her, by now, anyway.
It’s a few months before Hailey runs into Nico again, at another bar. He spots her first, at a table with her friends. Hailey doesn’t notice him at first, not until one of her friends nudges her with her beer bottle.
“Who’s the guy over there that can’t stop staring at you?” Beth asks.
Hailey follows her gaze across the bar, to a rowdy group of guys she’d been trying to ignore all night. She doesn’t spot who Beth is asking about at first, but then she catches the eye of one of them. She wishes she could hide, but she knows Nico’s already seen her. Has been watching her.
“Shit,” Hailey says. “I hooked up with him once, like in October.”
It’s December now. There was another time, a few weeks after that first hookup—and only hookup, if Hailey has anything to say about it—that she’d run into Nico again in another dark bar, where he’d bought her another few drinks. They didn’t even make it out of the bar that time, though; Nico had dragged Hailey into a corner and pinned her against the wall, behind an empty booth to make out.
Nico had torn away from the kiss to press a line of kisses down Hailey’s neck. His stubble burned Hailey’s skin as he went.
“Hannah,” Nico had murmured, so quiet Hailey wasn’t even sure she’d heard him at first, but then he said it again. “Hannah, you wanna get out of here?” Hailey had shoved at Nico’s shoulders so hard he’d stumbled backwards, looking confused. There had been a moment before Nico’s face had cleared in realization. “Shit, Hailey, I—”
“Get your own fucking ride home,” she had spit, storming through the crowded bar and out the front door without looking back.
She’s been trying to forget that night since then. She wonders if Nico’s forgotten it, too.
Hailey knows Nico spent a lot of the time in between October and now out with an injury. She refuses to examine exactly why she knows that as someone who “really doesn’t watch hockey” too closely right now.
Several of her friends raise their eyebrows at her.
“What, he was hot, sue me,” Hailey says. It doesn’t quell the looks she’s getting. She drains the last of her drink. She glances back at Nico. He’s gotten roped back into whatever conversation is happening with his friends—his teammates, probably, Hailey realizes belatedly—so it might be safe to venture over to the bar and get another.
Hailey is leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender, when she feels someone come up behind her. The bartender looks their way.
“Her next one is on me,” a familiar voice says. Hailey glances over her shoulder for the first time. Nico is there, close enough that Hailey can feel his body heat. "Hailey," he says. He leans even closer. “Haven’t seen you around.”
Hailey ignores him for a moment to turn back to the bartender with her order. Tries to collect herself.
“Didn’t realize you were looking,” she says.
Nico grins at her, a little crookedly. “I’ve been—”
“Busy,” Hailey finishes. With hockey, with other girls, she doesn’t add. She thinks Nico gets it anyway.
The bartender slides Hailey her drink. She turns around, but Nico doesn’t step back.
“Listen,” Nico starts. Hailey looks over his shoulder, towards the group of guys he was with before. A few of them are already looking in their direction. Hailey meets Nico’s eyes again. “How about—”
Hailey cuts him off. “No, you listen,” she says. “I’m here with my friends, you’re out with yours. I’m not looking for anything tonight, Nico, and I don’t think you should be abandoning your friends to leave with me.”
“Eh, they’d be fine without me,” Nico defends mildly, but he takes a step back, unpinning Hailey from the bar. “Next time?” he asks.
Hailey hopes there isn’t another next time. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she says. She doesn’t wait to hear if he answers, just brushes past him on her way back to her friends.
Hailey’s friends don’t try to hide the fact that they’d been watching the whole exchange. Hailey slides back into her seat next to Beth.
“We can never come back to this bar,” she says.
The next time Hailey runs into Nico Hischier isn’t at a bar at all.
Hailey’s walking out to her car after a rec league softball game when she hears someone call her name—an accent she wishes wasn’t so familiar echoing across the half-empty parking lot. Hailey turns towards the voice—Nico’s voice—as she tugs the elastic out of the end of her braid, shaking out her sweaty hair. Nico’s jogging across the parking lot towards Hailey.
“Hailey, hey,” he says as he gets closer.
“Are you stalking me now, Hischier?” Hailey asks.
“You played well out there tonight,” Nico says earnestly, completely ignoring Hailey’s question.
Hailey shrugs. It’s a competitive league, but at the end of the day it’s still a recreational league for a bunch of washed up college athletes. Hits and stolen bases don’t really matter anymore.
“How’d you know I would be here?” Hailey asks.
“Uh, I didn’t,” Nico says quickly. “Your organization, they partner with Eric LeGrand for charity stuff, and the Devils worked with LeGrand a few seasons back, and I stopped in for coffee today after practice, and he mentioned something about the rec sports—” Nico’s rambling, and Hailey realizes he’s nervous. Nico continues. “I was bored and had the night off when I looked it up I saw a game tonight and—”
Hailey takes pity on him and cuts him off. “And then you got here and saw me playing.”
“Yeah,” Nico says lamely. He seems to recover from his awkwardness and grins at Hailey, flashing his dimples. “Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks.
Hailey regards her own dirty pants, her janky Crocs. She probably smeared her eye black with sweat, too. Not exactly the picture of beauty. “Do those dimples usually work for you?” she asks instead of voicing any of those thoughts.
Nico takes a step closer to Hailey. The strap of her gear bag is digging into her shoulder, and she steps back under the guise of shifting it to her other shoulder.
“I seem to remember them working on you before,” Nico says.
They’re working on Hailey this time, too, but she’s not willing to admit that right now. “I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m sure you do, too.”
Nico shrugs. Doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Hailey with his eyebrows raised.
Hailey gives in. “Fine.” She tries to ignore Nico’s triumphant smile. “But we’re going to mine.”
It’s Nico’s turn for the walk of shame this time. If he’s even capable of being shamed, that is.
Nico looks like he might argue, but he says, “Okay. But you’re going to have to give me your address first. Y’know, so I don’t get lost.” He holds out his hand expectantly, waiting for Hailey to give him her phone.
There was a reason they never exchanged phone numbers the first time they hooked up. There was also a reason why there was never supposed to be a second hook-up. Hailey disregards both of those reasons as she unlocks her phone and passes it to Nico.
Somehow, Nico beats Hailey back to her apartment complex. He’s leaning against the driver’s door of his car, face lit up by the glow of his phone screen, but he locks it and shoves it in his pocket when she pulls into the spot next to him and climbs out of her car.
“Here, let me,” Nico says, trying to reach for Hailey’s softball bag.
Hailey shoots him a look and shifts her bag to her other shoulder, away from Nico. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”
Nico huffs but follows Hailey the rest of the way up to her unit in silence.
Hailey’s apartment isn’t as swanky as Nico’s—or as clean, Hailey thinks absently, as she dumps her bag—but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Do you need a Gatorade or something?” Nico asks.
He looks out of place in Hailey’s little apartment, with her hand-me-down couch and Facebook Marketplace kitchen table. Hailey can’t help but laugh.
“Are you this nice to all of your hook-ups?” she asks.
Nico shrugs, looking a little put out. “I mean, I guess?”
Hailey laughs a little again. “It’s cute, you’re cute.”
Nico scoffs. “Cute?” He takes a step closer to Hailey, close enough to slide his hands around her hips. “Just cute?”
Hailey pretends to think about it, but Nico is kissing her before she can respond.
Hailey knows that something has shifted before Nico rolls off of her, before she slips out of bed to take a shower. Nico’s still wrapped up in her sheets when she emerges thirty minutes later, shirtless and scrolling through his phone again. Hailey pauses at the end of her bed.
“Don’t you have to be up early in the morning?” she asks. Hailey has work, too, but she expected Nico to ditch her while she was in the shower.
Instead, he stretches lazily, dropping his phone to his chest. “Mmm, probably,” he says. He shows no signs of getting up any time soon. Hailey gives up and slides back into bed beside him.
“Probably?” Hailey echoes.
She resists the urge to poke at his ribs, exposed with one of his arms carelessly stretched over his head, or to trace his collarbone until she reaches the crucifix on his chain, tug on it until he comes over and kisses her again. There’s a tattoo on his arm, bold, black looping lines that cover most of the inside of his left bicep. Hailey gives in and reaches out to trace them with her fingertip. Nico twitches but doesn’t pull his arm away.
Nico goes on. “We have film review in the morning, but skate’s optional.” He trails off.
“Which means…?” Hailey prods.
Nico does roll over, then, bracing himself on his hands above Hailey. She tilts her chin to meet Nico's eyes. He smirks at her.
“It means I don’t have to be ready to go work out, and I’ll still have time for a nap before our game tomorrow night. I don’t have to rush out of here.”
Hailey fumbles for her phone in the sheets and glances at the time. It’s creeping towards midnight. She stalls, scrolling around until she finds her morning alarm for work. The one where she can be a little lazy with her morning routine and still make it out the door on time. She tosses her phone aside.
Nico’s watching her carefully, brown eyes somewhere between serious and teasing.
“Well, some of us have to work normal jobs in the morning.”
“What, it’s not like you need any beauty sleep,” Nico says. He leans in for a kiss, and Hailey tilts her chin up again to let him. The kiss nearly gets away from her before she remembers she’s supposed to be awake again in six hours. She pulls away, albeit reluctantly.
“I don’t think I have any NHL approved breakfast foods in my fridge for you,” Hailey says carefully. An offer to stay and an excuse for Nico to leave all in one. “Just a bunch of frozen waffles and frozen breakfast sandwiches.”
Nico shrugs. “There’s always breakfast at the rink.”
Hailey scoffs. “Must be such a difficult life, being a professional athlete.”
Nico doesn’t retort, though he does roll his eyes and kiss Hailey quiet. She grabs at his bicep, presses her thumb into the tattoo there. Hailey turns her head.
“What is this?” she asks. Her finger follows one of the lines again.
“A tattoo,” Nico says. He brushes his hand over Hailey’s ribs, her hip, where she has tattoos of her own. She shivers. “I know you’ve seen them before.” At Hailey’s flat look, he smiles. “They’re the zodiac signs of me and my family,” he says.
“That’s really sweet,” Hailey tells him. It's surprising, somehow, but Hailey guesses she hardly knows Nico at all.
Nico grins at her again, flashing those damn dimples. Hailey has to kiss him about it, feeling desperate with it, like she might never get to do it again. Nico gentles her, a hand on Hailey's jaw. They kiss, slow and lazy, until Hailey yawns into Nico’s mouth. He pulls away with a chuckle.
“I should let you get some sleep,” he says. He rolls off Hailey again. He picks up his phone and checks the time, grimaces. “Do you know how far you live from Prudential Center, by any chance?”
Hailey doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Devils play in person. “Grew up a Rangers fan,” she murmurs, already halfway to sleep.
Nico slides out of bed, starts searching for his clothes. Hailey thinks she dreams him brushing a kiss across her forehead as he slips out of her room.
It’s a few weeks later, and Hailey and Nico are walking out of his apartment on a rainy Saturday morning. The elevator dings just as Nico swears and pats down his pockets.
“I forgot my phone,” he says. He glances at the elevator. “I’ll, uh, meet you downstairs,” he tells Hailey. He looks back at the elevator, and says, to the guy holding the door for Hailey and looking amused, “Play nice.” Nico retreats back down the hall, and Hailey steps onto the elevator, bemused.
The guy in the elevator speaks up first. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hisch repeat before.”
Hailey feels her cheeks burn. Nico had texted last night, early enough that Hailey wasn’t in bed, late enough that she was under no illusions about his intentions. And yet, she dragged herself off of her couch and into slightly-more-respectable pants, all the way to Nico’s apartment in Jersey City.
Hailey realizes something. “You were the one we saw on the elevator that one time.”
The boy grins at her and sticks out a hand. “Jack,” he says. “I mean it, though,” he continues, “must be pretty special to get Hisch to come back for seconds.”
They’ve reached the ground floor, and the elevator doors slide open. “Thirds,” she says without thinking. Four times, actually, if you count that time Hailey rejected Nico in the bar. Five times, if you count the one where Nico called Hailey the wrong name.
Jack whistles. “Our boy must be down bad.”
Hailey laughs. “It’s definitely not like that—” She’s interrupted by—saved by? —Nico appearing out of the emergency stairwell nearby. She shuts her mouth and hopes her face isn’t still too red.
Nico looks between Jack and Hailey suspiciously. “What’d you say to her?” he asks Jack.
Jack laughs awkwardly. “Nothing, nothing, Nico, c’mon.”
Nico continues to regard them warily. “Jack—” Nico starts, but he, too, is interrupted by a fourth person joining their little conversational triangle.
“You two are going to make us late, and Lindy’ll—oh.” The new boy stops when he notices Hailey standing between Jack and Nico. The look on his face turns sly. “Sorry, Hisch, didn’t realize you were doing something.”
Jack makes a noise of protest. “Hey, how do you know she didn’t sleep with me?” he asks.
“Dude, I live with you, of course I know you didn’t bring a girl home—” They walk away, still arguing.
Hailey blinks after them, confused.
“That was Luke, Jack’s little brother,” Nico supplies, watching them head towards the front door of their building. “I’m sorry on their behalf.” Nico checks the time on his phone and grimaces. “Luke was right, though, we really are going to be late.”
They start walking towards the front door, where Luke and Jack are impatiently waiting. Nico presses a quick kiss to Hailey’s cheek as they part ways.
Jack’s words from the elevator rattle around Hailey’s head as she walks to her car, as she drives home. Our boy must be down bad. Is that what this had become? Hailey didn’t know the last time she’d had a hookup stick around and make her breakfast in the morning—even if he had somehow managed to burn the toast—let alone keep coming back for more.
When Hailey parks in front of her building, she has a Venmo notification—from Nico: for coffee x. There’s a coffee emoji, too, because Nico’s a dork like that. Hailey smiles down at her phone; they’d been lazy about getting out of bed, until Nico was rushing out the door, and they had to leave their coffees to go cold, mostly untouched.
Hailey’s cheek burns again with the phantom sensation of Nico’s lips, the ghost of his kiss goodbye.
It’s a few days before Hailey sees Nico again. On another night off for the Devils, Nico appears at Hailey’s door with a heads-up “On my way. :)” text and takeout. He kisses Hailey hello, a chaste peck as he steps through her doorway.
“What’s all this for?” Hailey asks, watching as Nico dumps several bags of food on her little kitchen table. She trails after him, curious. “Smells good,” she adds.
Nico grins at her as he starts unpacking the bags. “Wanted to see you,” he says, like it’s simple, like hanging out is just a thing that they do. He goes on, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a little of everything.”
Everything indeed, Hailey thinks, surveying her table—it looks like Italian, sandwiches and salads and pastas and what could be arancini. She picks up one of the discarded bags and reads the restaurant’s name.
“Hey, I’ve been wanting to try this place.” It’s just a few blocks away from her apartment. “Always felt too pathetic to order takeout for one,” she says.
Nico chuckles. “Well, I guess I helped you out then.” He grins up at Hailey, who’s still standing beside the table. “C’mon, sit, we’ve got a lot to eat.”
Hailey sits obediently, across from Nico. Nico had managed to find Hailey’s plates, as well, and Hailey begins to fill hers with a little of everything.
“How much of all of this,” Hailey gestures broadly at her overflowing table, “is on an NHL player’s diet plan?” she asks.
Nico looks sheepishly down at his own full plate. “Not much,” he admits.
Hailey suddenly remembers something she’d seen on Twitter a few days before. She nudges Nico with her foot under the table; he immediately traps her ankle between both of his.
“Happy belated birthday, by the way,” she tells him. A look that Hailey can’t read crosses Nico’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appeared. “Had a pretty good game the night before, too, I hear.”
“You watched our game?”
Hailey finds herself blushing. “Saw some of it,” she says. She had thought about texting Nico, both about his three point night and his birthday, but she had chickened out. Thought it might be too earnest for a semi-regular hookup.
“I thought you were a Rangers fan,” Nico teases.
Hailey kicks him with her other foot.
Nico keeps their dinner conversation steered carefully clear of hockey talk after that. They slowly work their way through some of the piles of food Nico brought over. Hailey thinks she’s going to be eating leftovers all week, regardless.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Nico asks suddenly during a lull in their conversation.
Hailey swallows her bite of pasta uncertainly. “Uh, sure?”
“Why softball?”
“What do you mean, ‘why softball?’” Hailey echoes. She goes on before letting Nico clarify. “I’ve been playing softball forever. I used to toddle around at my older brothers’ tee ball games, trying to take a swing at every baseball I could find.” Nico laughs a little at that. “I ended up playing all the way through college. A lot of my friends were pretty beaten up or burnt out by the time we graduated, but I never really lost the love I had for the game, y’know?”
Nico nods but doesn’t interrupt.
“I mean, we never, like, won the College World Series or anything, but I liked going out there and playing all the time. When I left college ball behind and started my big girl job, I guess I was feeling kinda lost. Someone told me that New Jersey Play Sports had a competitive division for washed up athletes, it gave me a team again, a reason to get out of my apartment and get active.” She pauses, assesses Nico. He’s watching her intently. “Plus, some of the former college baseball players are kinda hot.”
Nico flushes bright red, and Hailey smirks at him. She had actually slept with one of them once, but that had been long before Nico. Nico clears his throat.
“I get that—the, the team part, I mean. I think I’d be pretty lost without hockey.” Nico takes a pensive drink of his wine. “And I don’t think you’re washed up, you looked pretty good when I saw you play.”
“Are you sure you weren’t just looking at my ass in my softball pants?” she teases.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Nico says, holding his hands up in defense. “Maybe a little,” he admits.
Hailey heaves a sigh. They’ve barely made a dent in all of their food, but she doesn’t think she can eat another bite. “I think it’s time to clean up all this fuckin’ food,” she says, pushing her chair back and standing.
Nico stands, too. “Here, let me help.” He reaches for Hailey’s plate, but she holds it out of his reach.
“No way, buddy. You brought the food, I clean, that’s how this works.” Nico makes a face at Hailey, but he hands his plate over. Hailey makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Go find us something to watch on Netflix, or something.”
Nico trails after Hailey as she steps over to her sink. “Oh, are you trying to Netflix and chill me now?” Nico asks, voice low.
Nico places his hands on Hailey’s hips and crowds close behind her, pinning her to the counter. Hailey tries not to shiver. He presses a kiss to her cheek, then her neck, then to her shoulder. He keeps his face there, buried in her neck.
“I think we’re way past that, Hisch,” she tells him. Her voice comes out mostly normal. Nico releases Hailey, but not without one last kiss on the cheek.
With the food all stashed in the fridge and dishes done, Hailey wanders back into her little living room to see what Nico’s found to watch. He looks ridiculous lounging on her shitty hand-me-down couch, one of his socked feet hanging over the arm of the couch. He looks away from the TV to smile at Hailey as she walks over.
She can’t resist bending down to give him a quick kiss.
“Bathroom break,” she tells him, tossing her phone down on the cushion next to him. “Be right back.”
While Hailey is in the bathroom, her phone vibrates. Nico digs it out from where it had slid underneath his thigh, intending to set it on the coffee table instead. It vibrates again, then once more, before Nico has the chance to set it back down. Nico glances at the screen. Three new text messages, all from someone named Connor. Hailey has her message previews off, so Nico stares at the three little iMessage notifications until her screen goes dark.
Hailey reemerges from her bathroom.
“Nico?” she says softly. “Is that my phone?” Nico doesn’t release his white-knuckled grip on her phone. Hailey steps into his line of sight, crouches down in front of him when he doesn’t move. “Nics? Did something happen?” she asks.
Nico manages to say, “You got a few texts.”
Hailey eyes her phone. Nico still hasn’t set it down. “Okay?”
“Why don’t you have your message previews on?”
She’d had to turn them off when Nico had tried—quite badly—to sext her one night while he was bored on the road in December. She doesn’t say that, though.
“Because apparently the guy I’m fucking is nosy as hell.” Nico inhales quickly through his nose. Hailey pries her phone out of Nico’s grip, barely glancing at it before setting it aside. She’s feeling defensive now, though she still doesn’t understand why Nico suddenly got so upset.
“I didn’t realize you were sleeping with someone else,” Nico says stiffly.
Hailey blinks up at him. “What?” she asks. Then says, “I’m not, what the hell?”
Nico crosses his arms, frowning. “Who’s Connor, then?” His eyebrows, always so expressive, are drawn together. Hailey resists the urge to poke them.
Hailey crosses her arms, too, mirroring Nico instead. “What makes you think that’s any of your business?” Nico opens his mouth to argue, but Hailey barrels on. “And what makes you think you can judge me if I were sleeping around, anyway? Jack told me how you’re always bringing home different girls, never sleeping with the same one twice. Or how I literally saw you leave the bar with another girl the night I turned you down in October?”
Nico, somehow, frowns harder. He’d been trying to fend off Jack and Luke’s teasing for weeks; he’d lost count of the number of times he’d told them this thing with Hailey was just casual, just another hook-up, even though the rest of his regular picking up and hooking up had fallen by the wayside. Hailey watches him in silence as he struggles to organize his thoughts and respond.
“I— I haven’t slept with anyone else in—” He breathes out a harsh breath. “A month? Two?” The days all blur together during hockey season. They’d started to turn into: day off, game day, or a day he could see Hailey again.
Hailey’s face softens. “And Connor’s my brother, you dumbass.” Nico gapes at Hailey. She shrugs and pushes to her feet. Nico grabs at her wrist and tugs until she topples onto the couch, half on top of him. “Think you’ve got a little jealousy problem there, Cap,” she teases.
She likes the way Nico blushes and tries to hide his face in her neck, even though he scoffs.
“I’m not— I wasn’t jealous, I was just—” He trails off.
Hailey rests her head on Nico’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you can say it.”
Nico pinches at the skin above her hip, but he goes quiet for a moment. “I think—” He tries to collect his thoughts. “I think I was worried I’m more invested in this than you.”
Hailey cranes her neck to look into Nico’s face. He’s resolutely looking at a spot over her shoulder, towards the neglected Netflix screen. She pokes him in the cheek, right where one of his dimples is. He blinks and looks down at her.
“And what is ‘this,’ exactly, Nico?” she asks.
“I really like you,” Nico says. He doesn’t look away from Hailey this time.
She thinks about Jack Hughes telling her Nico was “down bad” in the elevator, Hailey grins at him. “I know,” she says.
“What?” Nico asks. He looks a little alarmed. “What do you mean, you know?”
“Jack told me,” Hailey says. “Something about never coming back for seconds?”
Nico swears. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Hey, Hisch?” She waits until Nico meets her eyes again. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, because I really like you, too.”
Nico, somehow, looks surprised. “Really?” he asks.
Hailey pulls him in for a kiss, slow and sweet. “Yes, really, Nico. You are definitely the only guy I’ve hooked up with in—longer than I’d care to admit, actually.”
Nico chuckles and pulls Hailey in for another kiss. They never do end up watching what Nico had picked out on Netflix.
#cait writes things#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier fic#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils imagine#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey fanfiction
329 notes
·
View notes
Note
not a request per se but i just felt like asking. which non-sexual turn ons do you thing sigma would have?
you can also replace sigma with any other character, i just thought of him cause i know you like him best lol
Tags: mentions of NSFW, but no specific descriptions of it. Sigma and Dazai being whipped for you, fluff, kinda self-indulgent
OKAY OKAY UHHMMMM
Sigma, Dazai, and Fyodor are my main babygirls, however I don't trust myself with knowing Fyodor well enough to do this, so Sigma and Dazai are my chosen victims
For Sigma:
Probably making him dinner: him coming home all tired and stressed from a long day, only to come home to you making him some food and seeing you in the kitchen, he'd do anything you wanted, especially if you don't cook often he'd be literally on his knees
checking up on him and making sure he's doing alright and isn't overwhelmed; sweet boy is so stressed and having someone who wants to make sure he's alright and isn't having a breakdown just makes him melt and wanna make out with you till you're both breathless
Literally just cuddling with him and holding him close makes him instantly hard he's so whipped 💔💔💔
Dazai:
PLAY WITH HIS HAIR 🗣️‼️‼️‼️ he would melt and be so relaxed, probably would fall asleep, but on the rare occasion he doesn't???? As soon as you take a break to give him a kiss you're in for it
If you're jealous or slightly possessive over him???? done. He feels bad about it slightly, especially if these come from insecurity, BUT the way you pout and inch closer to him, grabbing his hand. he'd tease tf out of you. And you'd be sure that he's yours after that. would def make sure to let you give him as many hickeys as you want until your satisfied and he would not even attempt to hide them
If you get him like a small gift, just because it reminded you of him??? whipped. Would eat you out for HOURS. It could literally just be like "I picked this wild flower for you and carried it all the way home because I thought you'd like it :)" and he'd feel like hes gonna THROW UP because how the hell are you so cute and sweet and perfect????? he'd make sure to put it in a little vase so it lived as long as possible and then DRAG YOUR ASS TO THE BEDROOM ‼️‼️
#cait's writing ♡#bungou stray dogs headcanons#osamu dazai x reader#sigma x reader#bsd#bsd fluff#bungou stray dogs#dazai x reader#bsd x reader#bsd dazai#bsd sigma#sigma bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs dazai#cait answers
166 notes
·
View notes
Note
companions react to sole crying when they raise their voice at them
AWW this one's sad
For clarity I'm going with the idea that the companions aren't yelling at Sole out of anger (like, a low affinity talk) but more like they're either scolding Sole over something minor ("you could have gotten hurt! Be careful!") or ranting out loud about something unrelated and Sole is very sensitive to that sort of thing!
Companions react: Sole crying when yelled at
Includes Cait, Codsworth, Curie, Deacon, Desdemona, Danse, Hancock, Haylen, Maccready, Nick, Piper, Preston, Rhys, X6-88
Cait
Uhh. Fuck.
Cait is probably Least Capable of dealing with a crying person
First instinct might be to use tough love because that's what she uses on herself and it works fine
Like "Oh come on suck it up, it wasn't even that bad"
Actually starts to feel bad after a few moments though and will change trajectory into something more gentle
Gladly lets Sole have alone time if they ask because she really needs a minute to try and think of what to say
If Sole comes back completely ignoring what happened she'll also ignore it, but if they continue to seem upset she'll make the first move and actually apologizes
Very awkward with it, every sentence is like she's testing the waters for Sole's reaction.
The apology IS genuine, though, and Sole can tell just by how awkward she is about it. She won't just brush it off if Sole won't brush it off.
Codsworth
IMMEDIATE GUILT
Poor Codsworth would do a complete 180 and start comforting Sole
Sort of has a hard time if they want to be alone to collect themself, he's worried they'll hate him forever (he has a bit of separation anxiety after being alone for 200 years)
Will note exactly what made Sole cry and will never talk about that topic with that voice again
Like if they cried because he was worried about them getting hurt every interaction like that afterwards will be "You NEED to take better care of - I mean, please take better care of yourself please"
Curie
If Curie is raising her voice at Sole she's probably scolding them for not taking care of their health
She wants them to take care of themself but she didn't mean to make them so guilty they cry!!
She'll immediately comfort them and apologize for being so strict
100% mom friend, will not stop apologizing and trying to make it up to them via food and comfort
Gives Sole a hug and a forehead kiss and tucks them into bed with a warm cup of soup. Maybe cries a little
Probably tries to stand up for them on their behalf in the future, like if someone yells at them she'll scold the person yelling for being mean
Deacon
Ah shit
Deacon prides himself on being able to stay calm during conflict and read the other persons facial expressions, it's his job after all
But anger always managed to get to him somehow, and it made him ignore the small signs that Sole was getting stressed out
He wasn't even upset at them, he was just having a bad day, but he knew he fucked up the second their face scrunched up and they looked away
They're crying. Sole is crying because of him
Might try to fix things by making jokes but if he realizes Sole is genuinely upset he'll probably end up leaving and giving Sole their space
He leaves them to cry for a while and comes back once they've calmed down so he can sincerely apologize
Tries to make Sole feel better for the next few days by pulling some strings
Their favorite animal is brahmin? What a coincidence, Des is telling us to go to a safe house with a huge brahmin farm! They really like Blamco Mac and Cheese? Deacon just found a HUGE stash behind HQ, we better eat it!
Desdemona
Just kinda. Freezes.
This never happened before?? And either she doesn't really know Sole that well (agents faces tend to get confusing since so many come and go) and doesn't know what to say, or they're like, the best agent in the Railroad and she's very worried that she managed to make them cry.
Tries to brush it off as smoothly as possible and excuses them somewhere private to calm down so at least they're not crying in front of everyone
If she's closer with Sole she'll actively search them out herself and apologize directly
If not she'll honestly probably go to Deacon or someone first being like "Are they pissed at me?? Should I apologize or do I pretend it didn't happen?"
Might take the silent approach of giving Sole less work/more support and makes the mental reminder not to yell at them
Danse
Listen, this man is used to reprimanding people. He can practically do it in his sleep
But when he hears Sole burst into tears? He immediately loses all train of thought
He's probably the type of person to go "... Are you crying?" because this has never really happened to him before
Super worried that he's pushed Sole too far, regrets even yelling at them in the first place
Doesn't really know what to do, ends up waiting for Sole to make the first move (explain themself, run away, etc)
If he isn't as close with Sole he'll probably hesitantly give them space - it's what he would want if he burst into tears
If they're close/romanced he'll default to trying to talk to them and calm them down
He is a bit awkward and tends to fumble a lot, so Sole may have to be direct with what they need from him (Space, comfort, apology, etc) but Danse will do basically anything to get them to calm down
Like a person who is very bad at dealing with a crying toddler: "no no don't cry... Here's some candy... and twenty bucks... we can get ice cream if you want just please stop crying"
Hancock
I imagine Hancock to be a pretty touchy guy, so if Sole started crying his go-to comfort is by hugging them or rubbing their arm/back
He has high energy and expresses himself loudly so he realizes that he can be overwhelming at times
He'll quiet down and focus on comforting them and getting them what they need
Absolute KING at respecting their space and autonomy
The only thing worse than crying is crying in public so he's bringing them to a quiet room and letting them cry it out distraction free. They make the tiniest action that seems like they don't want to be touched and he'll back off, no questions asked
Also a bit of the "poorly dealing with a crying toddler" person: "You want chems?? No? Candy?? Would it make you feel better if you punched me??"
Haylen
Very empathetic towards Sole, immediately switches to a "Oh, hey, come on, it's okay..." type of voice
She gets that the Brotherhood is overbearing and it can take a while to get used to being reprimanded/spoken to in such a harsh way
If she's spent a good amount of time around Sole she's probably pretty in tune with their emotional needs and can work with that
Sole won't even have to ask, she'll just show up with some hot chocolate and a blanket, or apologize, or pretend like it never happened, or any mixture of those
A little worried and overprotective of them for a while after, though, especially if she's already worried about their mental health
Might talk to them to try and see what's wrong or convince them to take a break
Maccready
Another member of the "Wait... are you crying?" group.
Panics, probably. Doesn't know what to do or what to say.
He'll end up apologizing to them either way
If he's close with Sole he's more likely to do so first and more quickly, if not he might wait to gauge Sole's reaction before talking to them
A little bit awkward but he's got the spirit, will probably try to understand what made them cry and what he can do to make sure it doesn't happen in the future
Will also do a sort of follow-up check in after the fact or if they're having a rough day some other time
Tries a lot to stay more in-tune with Sole's emotions and what makes them upset after this point so they don't end up crying again because of him
Nick Valentine
For Nick to raise his voice like that he'd probably have to be distracted in some way
Either thinking about his words and not his voice as he reprimands Sole or snapping about something unrelated that's on his mind
So he doesn't even realize Sole started crying until their tears manage to snap him out of his thoughts
He's the type to try and comfort them straight away by cautiously reaching in for a hug and apologizing
If Sole runs off or yells at him he takes it personally, getting upset at himself for making Sole so uncomfortable
He will eventually reach out to them and get them to talk about what's bothering them, even if it takes a while
He'll immediately step up and sincerely apologize, and then turn his focus onto Sole's mental health
He realizes Sole has A Lot going on and them crying was probably the result of many days/weeks/months of bottled up emotions
Piper
Sole crying stops her in her tracks and makes her re-think everything that's happened between them in the past 24 hours
Was it something she said?? Or something she did?? What did she do wrong!?
Depending on the situation will either try to explain herself ("I didn't mean it like that, no don't cry I was just joking I swear -") or immediately be worried for Sole and try to comfort them
Might take Sole needing alone time a bit personally, she'll end up worrying that they're REALLY mad at her
She feels like she's not the best at comforting people so she'll try to turn to acts of service/gifts to bring them comfort
Buying them their favorite food, carrying more of their items, giving them hugs, etc.
Preston
Almost confused at first
He's never had anyone shy away from him before - if anything people didn't take him seriously and tended to look down on him
So the fact that he managed to make Sole cry really made him reassess their entire conversation up to this point
Immediately apologizes and asks what's wrong because surely there has to be something else going on for them to cry like this, right?
If Sole doesn't give an explanation he'll default to assuming they're overtired and stressed from work
Probably ends up feeling guilty for every time he gave them more Minuteman-related work to do
Might end up in a bit of a self-deprecating spiral of "I pushed them too hard, now they're upset, it's all my fault, how the hell can I fix this..."
He'll really focus on being there for them, whatever they need.
Less work? He'll take on their load. Shoulder to cry on? He'll stay up all night for them. A warm hug? He won't let go until Sole lets go first.
Rhys
Laughs
Alright he's an asshole
Kind of goes on a power trip about it too
Like "Haha yes I made them cry. Because I am the strong alpha male of the group"
At some point might come to the conclusion, either through his own means or by Danse/Haylen calling him out, that he was being a little bit of an asshole
If he apologizes though it's extremely short and awkward.
Like "Hey. Uhh. Sorry for making you cry. Just don't do it again. It's weird." And never brings it up ever again
Alternatively, takes the "Older Brother When The Younger Brither Starts Crying" approach of "Don't tell Danse! I didn't even yell at you that much! You can punch me back so we're even just please stop crying dude Danse will hear you and he'll get mad at me"
X6-88
It stops him in his tracks
Part of him is freaking out because Oh God Someone Is Experiencing Emotions Around Me
And the other part of him is freaking out because He Made Sole Cry Uh-Oh
Will probably give Sole some space immediately and waits for them to calm down - he's never been good at dealing with emotional people
Once they're calm he'll revisit them with a peace offering of sorts, like a fancy lad snack cake or some tea or something
Very curt apology, hands them the gift, leaves a moment of silence as an opportunity for them to speak up about what made them cry if they want
Once that's over he'll just try and pretend it never happened while also keeping them safe from whatever else could trigger that
He'll try not to yell at them and actively avoid putting them in situations where they'll be yelled at again whenever possible
#SORRY THIS IS SO OLD#i got the ask at about the same time @slocumjoe did. which was. a while ago.#but i like this ask and creativity struck one fateful evening so I actually managed to write it#fallout 4#companions react#cait#curie#codsworth#paladin danse#deacon#desdemona#john hancock#scribe haylen#robert joseph maccready#nick valentine#piper wright#preston garvey#knight rhys#x6-88
320 notes
·
View notes
Text
Close Calls Ch. 2
This is the last chapter of this but I may do more of this au in the future! Also please don't judge me for my accuracy lol. I only did surface-level research on wounds and infections :')
Description: The infection grows more serious, and Virgil has to drag Roman to the clinic before it gets any worse. Unfortunately, he doesn't quite succeed. In other words, Roman is stubborn, Virgil is tired, and everything goes wrong.
Genre: hurt/comfort
Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality
Warnings: panic attack, injuries mentioned, infections, homophobia menntioned, crying (let me know if I missed something or if you want something tagged!)
Word Count: 5,360
Chapter 1
The next day, I woke up a bit late, and, after hurriedly getting ready, began my duties as usual hoping Logan wouldn’t notice I was late. Logan was already in the clinic, as always, but this time Lord Patton was there as well. Thankfully, his presence saved me from a lengthy lecture. Patton was a well-known Lord in the castle, famous for his kindness and friendliness. Plus, he and Roman were pretty close as far as I could tell. Well, as close as a visiting Lord and a prince who only saw each other in formal spaces could be, I guess. They seemed to get along well is what I’m trying to say. Everyone at the castle loved him, though to be honest. Recently, I’d noticed he’d been visiting the castle more frequently and staying for longer periods of time, making a point to visit the clinic and say hello when he did. It had gotten to the point where he insisted that I call him Patton and drop the formalities while we were in the clinic. Logan had seemed to drop the formalities with him long ago.
“Um, good morning, my Lord,” I greeted Patton, still not quite being able to break the habit quite yet and trying to run a hand through my hand to make my bedhead more presentable. What so sue me, I didn’t have time to fix it that morning. I’d been up all night worrying about a certain prince.
“Oh, hi, Virgil! Good morning!” Patton grinned brightly. Ugh, how did he have so much energy so early in the day. I’d never understand morning people.
“I told you to just call me Patton, kiddo. No need to be so formal,” he added, coming over to ruffle my hair. Welp, guess fixing it had been pointless. Sometimes, I wondered if he knew we were the same age or if he just called everyone kiddo. From what I knew of him it was probably the latter.
“Um, right, so uh, is everything ok?” I questioned, awkwardly clearing my throat. “I—I mean, you’re not sick or anything, right?”
Sure, he’d been showing up here for a while now on his visits, but it never hurt to make sure. This was a clinic after all.
“Oh, no, no,” Patton assured, walking back over to Logan. “Just checking up on my two favorite physicians!”
“I’m still a nurse, technically,” I reminded him, though I couldn’t help but relax at his friendliness.
“Oh, Virgil, I meant to tell you. Today, you have the day off,” Logan finally spoke up, looking up from the papers he had been flipping through on his desk. So much for worrying about being late…Wait what?
“The day off?” I blanched. “But you always say that a doctor’s work is never done.”
I truly couldn’t remember a single day off since I’d started working here unless it was for medical reasons—ironic really.
“Ah, yes, well, Patton has expressed an interest in my profession, and I thought I’d take today to teach him a few things,” Logan replied, blushing slightly. Strange, Logan didn’t blush very easily…. I glanced at Patton and raised an eyebrow, trying not to jump to conclusions. If Logan understood what I was hinting at, he promptly ignored me, and I squashed down the thought. It wasn’t my business anyway, especially considering my own circumstances.
“If an emergency arises, I shall send for you, but soon, I’ll be taking Patton on my rounds to teach him to deal with less, um, life-threatening injuries and illnesses. You’re welcome to stay in the clinic if you’d like, but in case you need to find me, my list of patients to visit for today will be on my desk,” he instructed, clearing his throat.
“Oh, um, ok,” I muttered, already inching toward the door, “See ya later then, I guess. Bye Lo. Uh, Patton,”
I nodded a goodbye to both of them and waited until Patton had smiled and waved cheerily and Logan just nodded back to make my escape. Well, this gave me a chance to check on Roman at least.
Once I got up the many stairs and reached Roman’s room, I took a minute to catch my breath and look around before knocking. You’d think I’d be more used to making that trip by now.
“Um, your highness?” I called when I received no answer to my knock, glancing around again, just to be sure. When I still received no answer, I decided it was safe to just go in. Maybe he didn’t hear me?
“Roman?” I called after I made sure the door was closed behind me. Roman was standing by his window, studying the lush gardens outside, but he made no move to greet me.
“Princey?” I tried again, growing more concerned by the minute.
“Oh, Virgil!” He finally exclaimed, turning around a bit unsteadily. Huh, well that didn’t seem good.
“Uh, hey there, Roman. You doing ok?” I asked, already trying to examine him. His forehead was slick with sweat, and—though it looked like he had tried to cover it with makeup—I could see how flushed he was from across the room.
“Yeah, Yeah, I’m perfectly ok, V,” he smiled, as I came closer. The closer I got the worse he looked. His eyes were glazed, and he looked a little out of it, constantly rubbing at his eyes. Plus, other than the badly concealed flush of his cheeks, he was concerningly pale.
“Really,” I deadpanned.
“Yes, really. You’re only a tad bit blurry!” he asserted before cursing as he realized he’d just given himself away, “It’s really not that bad. I’m fine.”
“Wha—Roman, that’s not fine,” I chastised, hurrying the rest of the way over to him as he blinked sluggishly. “Can you make it to your bed?”
“No, because I do not need to be in my bed,” he waved me off nervously.
“Roman,” I growled, grabbing his arm.
“Truly, Virgil, I’m completely fine,” Roman insisted, pulling at my grip.
“Obviously,” I retorted when he failed to get his arm back, “Just drop the act so I can help you. I need to see exactly what’s going on.”
“No,” He snapped yanking away from me, “I said I’m fine. I-I have an important meeting with the council to attend about the raids. So, if you’re done, I need to be on my way. Good day, Virgil,”
“Don’t you dare, Roman,” I threatened as he made his way shakily to the door.
“Listen, just—just make an excuse. You’re the prince. I’m sure you can postpone the meeting.”
“It’s not my meeting. My father called it, and he’s expecting me. I’m very sorry, Virgil, but I have to go,”
Ah, so that’s how it was. If this involved his father, it was going to be a whole lot harder to convince him to skip.
Roman had made it into the hallway and halfway toward the staircase by the time I collected my thoughts and made it to the doorway. However, I didn’t miss the fact that he was hugging the wall the whole way there.
“Roman—er, your highness—” I cleared my throat, looking around quickly. It was strangely empty. Whatever, it would be a lot more trouble if I got caught with Roman looking like this than for not addressing him properly, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.
“Roman, please. You can’t do this. You can barely stand up straight, much less last through a whole meeting,” I begged. Roman straightened slightly but otherwise kept walking making me tsk.
When he reached the staircase, he turned to glance at me before straightening once again and disappearing down the stairs. Groaning at his stubbornness, I hurried after him.
“Roman?” I called, getting worried when I turned the corner and didn’t see him. I made it a little over halfway down the winding staircase before finding Roman, leaning against the wall and panting. How the hell had he moved so fast and gotten so far ahead in this condition?
“Ro?” I asked hesitantly, eyes flicking over his slouched posture and glassy expression.
“May—Maybe I don’t feel so great,” He muttered before sliding unceremoniously down the wall.
“Princey,” I gasped, grabbing his arm and part of his shirt to keep him from toppling down the stairs.
“Hey, hey, Roman, are you ok?” I questioned, shifting to get a better hold on him and pinning him back against the wall. Roman mumbled a response too quiet to hear as his eyes fluttered.
“No no no no. Roman, stay awake, ok? Stay with me. We’re still on the staircase, I can’t get—I don’t—ugh, damn it, Roman. I’m not strong enough to carry you back up. Why didn’t you just listen to me,” I muttered, starting to panic.
It’s ok, it’s ok, I started coaching myself, taking deep breaths as I tried not to launch into a full-blown panic attack. just take a deep breath and think. It’s not that bad, I blatantly lied to myself, trying not to even entertain the thought of what would happen if someone chose this moment to walk down the staircase. I could do this, right? I could—I could at least get him to the clinic if not back to his room. That was better anyway. He needed medical care that wasn’t me, and besides, going downstairs would be easier than going up, right? At least that’s what I hoped…
I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this was easier than going upstairs, but if that were true, I dreaded to think how going upstairs would be. After I had convinced Roman to finally let me take him to the clinic—as if I was really giving him a choice this time or that he was alert enough to fight back anyway—I found myself carrying a delirious, semi-conscious Prince on my back. Unfortunately, no matter what direction you go, trying to navigate stairs with a whole person on your back is rather difficult.
“Remind me—to—to kill you—after I make sure—you’re ok,” I huffed, out of breath and already sweating. Roman didn’t reply, concerning me even more. How had he gotten so sick just overnight? It had to be the infection, right?
After what felt like ages, I reached the clinic and almost sagged in relief.
“Logan?” I gasped, kicking open the door. At this point, Roman was completely unresponsive and slack against me, making it even harder to keep him on my back. I quickly laid him on the clinic bed and frantically looked around for Logan before realizing he was probably already on his rounds.
“Are you kidding me,” I grumbled, going to grab a damp towel for Roman’s forehead. The whole point of risking bringing him here instead of to his room was that I didn’t know what to do.
Huffing, I gathered some bandages and supplies to check on Roman’s wound again. That’s really the only thing I could think of that could be causing this. Did the infection get worse? Just how bad? When I got the bandages from yesterday off, I hissed in sympathy. Just as I had feared, the infection was much worse. It—This whole thing was beginning to feel like my fault. If I’d done better cleaning and stitching it. If I’d noticed that he was developing a fever yesterday. If I’d convinced him to come to Logan. If—If…I took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts to focus on what I should do now. My hands trembled as I began thoroughly cleaning and sterilizing the infected area. At least there were actual supplies in the clinic, I guess.
After I cleaned it, I set to work quickly, gently rubbing some antibiotic cream over the infection and making sure the stitches were ok. I’d have to make sure to change his bandages more often and to keep it clean so this wouldn’t happen again or get any worse. Next, I grabbed a cup of water and some medicines that should help with both the fever and the infection. This was the only other thing I could think of doing. The infection didn’t seem severe enough to have to remove it surgically or anything, but I’d be sure to ask Logan when he came back. The thought of him seeing how horribly I’d messed this up made me sick to my stomach, especially when the prince was the patient; but I knew it would be much worse if I didn’t get his help.
Sighing, I brought the medicine over to Roman and sat on the edge of the bed
“Princey,” I whispered, nudging his arm. Roman groaned and groggily batted my hand away.
“Come on, Princey, I need you to take these,” I coaxed softly, ignoring his swat and shaking him again. This time, he managed to squint his eye open.
“Do wha’?” he slurred tiredly.
“Take these pills, Ro. They’ll help.”
“M-My father. I have to—” he remembered suddenly, trying to push himself up and ignoring the offered pills.
“No,” I responded curtly, pushing him back down gently, “Your father can wait. I’ll even help you make up an excuse. Or you know, I’ll have Logan write you a medical note to prove that you have a fever and are not fit for work today. You—You passed out, Roman, I think that warrants skipping the meeting. Lean back and take these. Please.”
Roman sighed heavily but did as he was told and took the pills and water from me. His easy compliance told me all I needed to know about how badly he must be feeling.
After he gulped down the rest of the water, he ended up passing out again, leaving me to sit and wait by myself. Logan’s rounds usually took about two and a half to three hours because of the amount of soldiers the castle housed. More soldiers meant more injuries to check up on, and on days were the infirmary wasn’t full, or when the clinic was slow, Logan took his time to personally visit and check on every one of them. That’s not even mentioning the other castle staff that he’d tend to when illness spread throughout the castle or the fact that he had earned the title of royal physician, meaning that he also took care of not only the royal family but also any visiting noble staying in the castle. Needless to say, he had a lot of patients, and though he had other physicians and nurses that would regularly come and help him, especially when there was an influx, he usually preferred to work alone when he could. Today, no one was scheduled to be in the clinic, and no one was in the infirmary, so I knew Logan would be taking his time. With Patton there, it would probably take him even longer. He loved any opportunity to teach.
Sighing once again, I went to stand to get some water for myself when something warm clamped around my wrist.
“Roman?” I questioned, turning to find his hand holding me back. “Is something wrong?”
He grunted softly before yanking me forward, almost causing me to trip onto him.
“Cuddle,” he mumbled before I could yell at him. I felt my face flush bright red at his request.
“R-Roman, you know we can’t,” I protested, trying to pull away.
“Virgil,” Roman pouted, gazing up at me blearily, “Please?”
“We’re—We’re not in your room, Ro. Someone could walk in.”
“Please?” he begged, already struggling to keep his eyes open. I bit my lip hesitantly. He didn’t look far from falling asleep again. Maybe I could just cuddle long enough to get him to sleep then slip out before anyone could see us. Besides, it wasn’t as if anybody but me and Logan usually came into the clinic when it was closed anyway, and Logan was out on his rounds.
“Fine,” I gave in reluctantly as Roman smiled victoriously and scooted over to make room for me.
I couldn’t help the contented sigh that escaped my lips once I was settled in his arms, making sure to be careful of his wound. It was just so warm and comforting, and the way he was playing with my hair…I absentmindedly snuggled into his chest and let the warmth numb my mind. I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, worried about Roman—apparently for good reason. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, I was sure Logan wouldn’t be back for at least a couple of hours, and he was always complaining about the dark circles under my eyes and telling me to get more sleep. He should be happy I’m finally taking his advice. Unfortunately, my brain was too tired and too content to remind me just how bad an idea it was to let my guard down out in the open like this. Roman’s now steady breaths lulled me deeper into comfort and I felt myself slipping. It was so warm. This is nice, my mind almost sighed as I slid into sleep with Roman’s arms still wrapped securely around me. I should really learn to listen to my instincts more…
I was pulled from that warmth a little bit later by a rough nudge to my arm. Thinking it must be Roman, I groaned and shoved the arm away. The nudging paused and I was about to go back to sleep when there was another nudge—softer this time—followed by a voice.
“Virgil, you should probably get up.”
Oh. That—That wasn’t Roman’s voice. In an instant I shot up, inhaling sharply as I saw Logan and Patton peering down at me. No, oh no, no no no, how could I have let this happen? I should have never fallen asleep. I always harped on Roman for doing things that could get us caught but this was all my fault. What should I do? What could I do? Both of them had always been kind to me, but there was no telling how they’d react to this. Were they going to be angry? Were they disgusted with me? Were—Were they going to report me? What about Roman? I couldn’t let anything happen to him because of my carelessness. As my thoughts swirled around me, it became harder to draw air into my lungs. Once I realized that I couldn’t breathe, my chest constricted, holding back more of my breath. If it tightened anymore, I feared it would be impossible to breath altogether, but I couldn’t seem to collect my thoughts enough to loosen the knot there. My hands shook as I hugged myself, willing my panicked thoughts to go away. Obviously, it didn’t work. I saw motion from the corner of my eye and realized Logan was talking to me. Had he been talking this whole time?
“Virgil,” he coached, “Virgil, do you think you can take a breath in? Follow my breathing, ok?” more movement, to my left this time, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I tried to follow along; I really did. But every breath hurt. Everything hurt. My throat was burning. My chest ached. My head pounded. And everything was going wrong. Everything that I feared was happening. We’d been discovered. I ruined it. We couldn’t—I couldn’t—we just…half formed thoughts plagued my mind and my breath hitched as I realized I was crying. Was I going to be executed for this?
“Virgil, dearest. Look at me, my love,” a different voice spoke up this time, but there was only one person who called me dearest and my love. I felt a hand touch my cheek hesitantly, then gently tilt my face until I was face to face with Roman.
“I need you to breath with me, Virge,” he instructed, calmly. “In for four seconds. Hold for seven. Out for eight, remember? You can do it.”
As he counted out the seconds, he removed his hand from my face in order to take my hand and press it against his chest. I struggled to follow along at first, but he continued breathing deeply and counting the seconds until I could. With Roman’s reassurances and guidance, I slowly felt myself relaxing.
Once the world came into focus again and I could breathe regularly without feeling like I was dying, I took one more deep breath before slouching forward into Roman’s chest.
“It’s alright, V,” Roman soothed, carding his fingers through my hair. Except, it wasn’t ok. Logan and Patton saw us. They know. I couldn’t even bring myself to look up and see if they were still standing there or if they’d already gone to report us to the king. The silence in the room made me inclined to believe the latter. I loved Logan, but he was very strict with the rules. There’s no way he’d let something as big as this slide. I was just another nurse, right? Instead, I sniffled and buried myself further into Roman’s chest.
“Oh, your shirt,” I lamented shakily, brushing my fingers against the wet spot that now stained the expensive fabric.
“It’s nothing, stormcloud,” Roman hushed, pulling me closer. I felt more tears burn my eyes at the action.
“Sorry,” I whispered, feeling the weight of everything settle uncomfortably in my chest.
“You have nothing to apologize for, dearest,” Roman assured softly. Liar. How could he say that when I was the reason we’d never get to see each other again.
“Um, pardon me for interrupting, my prince, but I believe this tea may help Virgil,” Logan’s voice offered softly from behind me making me jump. He was still here? Wait, he didn’t sound angry or disgusted.
“Ah, um, thank you,” Roman responded, accepting the tea.
Taking a steadying breath, I finally pushed myself away from Roman’s chest. Roman handed me the tea before placing his arms loosely around my waist. I looked at the tea then hesitantly back to Logan. Patton stood behind him, worry swimming in his eyes. What was going on exactly?
“The tea helps to calm the heart rate and I find it to be quite helpful when I’m feeling stressed,” Logan explained awkwardly when I didn’t make any move to drink it. Nodding warily, I took a sip, relishing the calming warmth that flooded me when I did.
“Um, I also would like to apologize, Virgil. I did not realize that waking you would cause such a reaction. I should have been more careful,” Logan continued after a short but tense silence. At his apology, I couldn’t take it anymore. Why wasn’t he freaking out?
“Aren’t—Aren’t you gonna say something? A-About this?” I stammered out, hating how raspy and shaky my voice sounded.
“What would you like me to say, Virgil?”
I blanched at him, then glanced back at Roman who looked equally confused as I felt.
“I—Aren’t you, d-disgusted or—or something?” I pressed incredulously.
“Why would I be disgusted?” Logan questioned, tilting his head. I mirrored his look of confusion before setting my tea down lest I spill it with how much I was still shaking.
“By—By us? Or—I mean—m-maybe not disgusted but, you know, this isn’t really…accepted. I-I mean don’t you think it’s—wrong or something? I mean we’re both—and on top of that, I’m just a—I—”
“Virgil,” Logan interrupted before I could work myself up too much, “I would never be disgusted by this. Any of it. By you both being of the same gender, or by you being from different social classes. I—You know that I’m your friend, right? And that I would never report you or anything? Even if I were against it, I couldn’t do that to you. I would never do that to you.”
At my shocked expression, Logan’s shoulders slumped.
“I take it you didn’t know any of that,” he sighed, looking even more miserable as I shook my head.
“I suppose that’s on me, then,” he frowned remorsefully.
“Lo,” I started, suddenly feeling guilty for ever doubting him. I never would have dreamed that he considered me a friend. I thought I was just another apprentice. He’s had plenty before me…
“No, no, I should have made it clear that I care for you,” Logan insisted. “Let me make it clear now.”
I shut my mouth and nodded for him to continue.
“Virgil, I have considered you a friend for a while now, and if you’d like, I’d still like to consider you one,”—he paused and I nodded frantically at the offer before he smiled and continued—“I care for you and your well-being very much, and I would never wish harm on you. I have no intention of ever reporting you as long as the current king is in rule. His methods and punishments tend to be a little cruel, and I never want to see you hurt. Nor will I report you for something that shouldn’t even be considered a crime. If Prince Roman is the one you love and you are the one he loves, then I support you fully. You cannot help who you fall in love with. If it is mutual and consenting, then there shouldn’t be a problem, social class or gender be damned.”
“That’s right, kiddo,” Patton spoke up stepping forward, startling me. I’d kind of forgotten he was there. I was really not on my game with being vigilant today.
“I won’t report you either. It’d be a little hypocritical of me if I did,” He smiled, shooting a quick glance to Logan. I wanted to ask him to elaborate on that last part but decided against it. I was pretty sure I got the hint, and again, it wasn’t really my business anyway.
“And I know that I haven’t known you nearly as long as Logan, but I’d like to be your friend as well if you’d like,” Patton continued, shooting me a beaming smile. I returned his smile hesitantly, though mine wasn’t nearly as big or bright. I don’t think I could fully comprehend what was happening right now. This was certainly not how I thought things would be going. Just a few minutes ago, I’d been getting ready to say goodbye to Roman forever.
“Ok, um, we—we can be friends, if, uh, you really want to,” I nodded, snorting as Patton bounced in place a bit and nodded happily. He was always so excitable, I couldn’t help but grin.
“You—You really won’t report us?” Roman assured, arms tightening around me slightly, “Either of you?”
“Of course not, My Prince,” Logan confirmed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness,” Patton chimed in.
“Please, just Roman is fine.”
Patton grinned at him and nodded, while Logan just raised an eyebrow.
“Alright then, now that that’s been settled, may I ask what you two are doing in the clinic in the first place? Is something wrong?” Logan inquired, studying the two of us.
“Oh, that’s right. It’s a bit risky to be cuddling out in the open like this, even if it was pawsitively adorable,”—Patton giggled at his own pun— “Wouldn’t it be safer in your room, Roman? Or somewhere hidden?”
“Ah, well—” I glanced back at Roman and at his reluctant nod, began explaining.
“Princey, er, Roman sneaked off to take part in stopping the raid on the nearby town and came back with a stab wound. He wouldn’t let me take him to you, Lo, trust me I tried,” I grumbled, taking a second to glare at Roman which he promptly ignored, “so, I tried to tend to it myself. I, uh, I guess I didn’t do very well. It got infected. Then I tried to fix it, but when I went to check on him this morning it was even worse, and he had a fever and ended up passing out. I managed to get him here and tried the best I could with mending it an everything, but uh, if you could take a look…”
Logan nodded at my request, and I scrambled out of Roman’s lap as he bent down to pull up his shirt. He quickly undid the bandages I’d wrapped and started examining it, asking what medications and ointments I’d used as he went.
“Well, you’ve done a remarkable job at cleaning the infection as far as I can tell. You gave him all the correct medicines and ointments as well. The stitching is also very well done. Keep in mind, Virgil, that the infection may not have been caused by you or by improper care. It could be internal body bacteria, or the fact that you did the stitches in an unsterilized environment under what sounds like not ideal conditions. All things considered, you did everything right,” Logan commended before leaning back and turning to address both me and Roman. I felt the knot in my chest lessen even more at his words even as I blushed at the praise.
“All you can do now is monitor the infection and keep it clean and dry and change the bandages often. Also be sure to avoid scratching at the stitches. They may begin to itch, especially because of the infection. I’d recommend avoiding heavy physical labor that could stretch or break the stitches as well. If you need an excuse, come find me and I’ll be more than happy to write you a note or talk to your father myself. You’ve suffered a very bad fever after all, even collapsing from it. I’m sure I could convince him you need bedrest,” he instructed, smiling softly at both of us. I blinked at him, pretty sure I’d never seen him smile so genuinely before. Huh. Today was full of surprises.
“Oh, also, take these pills for the next week, your Highness. Your fever seems to have gone down quite a bit, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll have Virgil keep up with your infection as he’s done an excellent job already and I’m sure you’d both prefer that.”
“Thank you, Logan,” Roman nodded, returning Logan’s smile and taking the pills that he offered.
“And I’ve told you a million times to just call me Roman.” He added with a huff.
“And I’ve told you a million times that it’s unprofessional to address you as such,” Logan tsked, sighing as he quickly re-bandaged his wound.
“Well then don’t do it as a professional do it as a friend,” Roman shot back, making Logan pause. He slowly finished up the bandages before taking a step back and raising an eyebrow
“A friend?” he questioned, crossing his arms.
“Yes. I believe this could be the start of a great friendship, the four of us. Don’t you guys think? Besides I’ve known you for years, Logan. Plus, I’m well acquainted with Patton already, though we’ve never gotten to spend much one-on-one time together. And Virgil, well, of course, uh, you know…” Roman cleared his throat blushing a bit. “Um, anyway, it’ll be nice, don’t you think? We can all just be here and exist together. No need for formalities or regard for social status or any of that. We can all relax and be ourselves.”
Logan took a minute to think it over before sighing and nodding softly.
“I—I suppose that’s acceptable,” he agreed, “You seem to constantly land yourself in my clinic anyway; so, it’s not as if I don’t get enough of you. It would be…nice to be friends.”
“Yay! New friends! I need you to know that I already love all of you so much,” Patton cheered as Roman stuck his tongue out at Logan.
“I think you just love everyone, Patton,” I couldn’t help but snort.
“Well, maybe, but you guys are special. I can’t wait to get to know you all more,” he replied, looking fondly at Roman and Logan who were now arguing about who-knows-what.
“Yeah,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes as Roman dramatically gasped and put a hand to his chest, “Me either, Pat.” Me either
#this fic is purely self indulgent lol#sanders sides#sanders sides fic#roman sanders#virgil snaders#logan sanders#patton sanders#ts morality#ts anxiety#ts logic#ts creativity#my fics#cait writes#royal au#sicfic#hurt/comfrot#prinxiety hurt/comfort#prinxiety#platonic lamp#logicality#tw panic attack#tw injuries#tw homophobia#damn this is a lot of tags
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good morning! I'm here to bring you an ice-cool Natural Sparkle update, right as the temperature drops where I live. It's finally starting to feel like fall over here, for better or worse.
Flurry wants to be Ai's partner but fears he's too timid to be a good match for her. When Sytry attacks Kiramori's ice rink, he learns that they make a good combo after all.
As always, I hope it's an enjoyable read!
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
On my way to save a caitvi edit on Pinterest and my food board pops up as a suggestion…
I’m open to sharing cuz I can’t handle them all on my own 😮💨
#food recipe board specifically….. recipe for lesbian disaster I’ll tell you that much#arcane#caitvi#vi arcane#vi#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn#violyn#piltover’s finest#piltover's gayest#vicait#DONT READ THE ALT TEXT LOL#OMG ALSO I NEED HELP IF ANYONE IS READING THESE TAGS#THERE IS THIS FANART OF CAITVI IN ACADEMY UNIFORMS#I THINK IT MIGHTVE BEEN A JAYVIK AU#CAIT WAS IN A SKIRT AND VI WAS IN PANTS AND THEY BOTH WERE IN VESTS#I NEED IT CUZ IM USING THAT IDEA FOR SOMETHING IM#WRITING#anyway that’s it that’s the post
155 notes
·
View notes
Note
Caitvi x reader who just goes along with things and doesn't state their opinion or how they feel,but they do get quiet or tense when they're uncomfortable or pick their nails. But if your alright with angst maybe they get overwhelmed or hurt or both,but still refuse,so they force it out of them,and they're hurt like "why didn't you tell us?.." or something,it's comfort.if it's a little to dark I'll ask something else😭 sorry if it is
Hi! It's not too dark at all. To let it be known, I'm fine with writing angst! If you're curious about how much is too much, you can simply message me! I hope y'all enjoy the fic.
"You Can Tell Us." | CaitVi x Reader
╰┈➤ PLOT: In the household where you grew up, expressing your opinion wasn't tolerated. Hell, expressing your emotions wasn't tolerated either. To keep the peace, you learned to not say anything in stressful situations, even if that means sacrificing your well-being.
╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Yelling, Co-Workers Being Assholes, Name Calling, Hurt/Comfort(?), Pet Names, Cursing, Not Proofread
⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ
A/N: I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR. THIS KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME LMAO
Your whole life you were the person who kept the peace. You were someone who bit their tongue to avoid getting yelled at or offered solutions to problems that had nothing to do with you. If there was a solution to a problem or a way to avoid conflict, you were the person who chose those options.
So, why did this have to happen to you?
At your place of work, you were minding your business. You finished some paperwork earlier than planned and decided to take an early break. Then, four of your team members rushed into the break room.
"Do you think you can sit here and have us do all the work?" "You have some nerve making us look like the bad guys." "You're a lazy piece of shit. I don't know how you even made it this far."
The words pierced your skin and heart like darts to a board. You didn't dare to say anything back. Stunned in the moment, you took a sip of your water. Your eyes focused on the plain wall behind your teammates.
"And look, now they're spacing out like we're not even here," a co-worker buzzed. He scoffed. He leaned down in front of you and waved his hand in your face. "Hello? Anyone home?"
When he didn't get a response, he knocked on your skull.
You gave them nothing. Tears stung in your eyes.
"Wow, shocker! No one's home," he laughed. The rest of the team followed. Fulfilled, the man hummed. "Guess that's what happens when you hire an airhead who's probably having relations with the boss." the man put his hand on the table, cornering you in.
Your eyes remained on the wall. You weren't having an affair with the boss, but you didn't feel the need to say anything.
He shifted himself into your eyesight. A sinister smirk tugged on the corner of his lips. He took the tip of his finger and tipped the bottom of your cup. The cup fell over, the clear liquid soaking through your shirt and lap.
The laughter roared.
"Oops!" he feigned a gasp. He pulled away from you, his hand on his chest. "Guess you should've been more careful. It's okay," the man gave a fake smile, "holding cups is hard."
A cackle ripped through him as he leaned his head back. He shoved his hands in his pockets then turned around and left. The others flocked after him like ducklings to a parent.
Hot tears ran down your cheeks when they were out of sight. You forced yourself out of your chair and dragged your feet towards the paper towels.
Sobs scratched your throat at your pathetic attempt to dry your shirt. You were drenched through and it was cold out. Only six more hours left.
-
Home and on the couch, you stared at the wall to calm yourself down. With your nervous system still on the rocks, chews on your lips and nails, and an unfocused gaze, the attempt was a failure.
"Vi, that was completely inappropriate and not needed!" Caitlyn scolded as the two of them walked into the house. In the right mindset, you would greet them and ask how their day was, but because of today's earlier events, you didn't hear them come in.
"Oh, come on, Cupcake," Vi spoke. A chuckle followed her sentence. "All I did was curse him out a little and threaten him." the pinkette threw off her boots. Caitlyn carefully slipped her feet out of her own. "Don't act like you didn't like it," her tone was sing-songy.
The bluenette's cheeks were dusted pink. She put her hands on her hips, watching Vi's smirk grow as they kept eye contact. "I-It... It was fine, but it wasn't needed."
"Come on!" Vi threw her hands up. She hopped and spun on the balls of her feet as she entered the living room. "Muffin," Vi gave you a playful pout. She sat beside you on the couch, her arm resting on your shoulder. She gave you her signature puppy eyes. "Am I the bad guy for telling one of Caitlyn's employees to get their shit together or else their job is on the line?"
"That is not what you said," Caitlyn rebutted. She found her place on your other side.
Vi hummed, shrugging. "So, maybe I paraphrased a lil'. What's the harm?"
"The harm is you're trying to sweeten up your side of the story to be more appealing," Caitlyn narrowed her eyes toward Vi. Vi only grinned in response.
Vi put her gaze back on you. "Is it workin', Muffin?"
You're far gone. You haven't moved and the chewing on your nails got worse. You haven't blinked in so long, your eyes were producing tears to regain moisture.
"Muffin?" Vi leaned closer to your face. The tears now slid down your cheeks and your chest heaved up and down. Vi glanced to Caitlyn who was already scanning you to see if there was something physically wrong.
When she couldn't find anything, Caitlyn shook her head to reassure Vi of your physical safety.
Nothing was wrong physically which meant something emotionally or mentally was bothering you. Vi frowned. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Muffin. Hey." Her voice was clear and firm. She was sure her voice had no hint of sadness to not push you over the edge. However, if you looked into her eyes, you would find them glassy with dilated pupils.
Caitlyn's eyes were similar. Her blue irises darkened in concern, fear, and anxiety; all the words she could use to describe how disheveled she was feeling.
Not seeing you move, Vi shook your shoulder. "Muffin. Snap out of it. What's going on?"
Caitlyn brought a hand to your thigh. She gave your thigh a gentle squeeze.
With another squeeze to your thigh from Caitlyn and a squeeze on your shoulder from Vi, you finally blinked. The moisture in your eyes made a reappearance. You looked between the two of them, pulling your nail out of your mouth. "Huh?"
"You've been staring at the wall. Cait and I came home a while ago and you haven't said a word," Vi whispered. Her grip on your shoulder turned into comforting rubs.
"Oh, I'm fine," you force a smile. Caitlyn deadpanned. She pulled her gaze to Vi who wore the same unphased face.
"You're not fine. It's okay to not be fine, dear," Caitlyn stroked your thigh. Her eyes were filled with sadness, the same with Vi's grey eyes.
"I promise, I'm fine."
"Bullshit!" scoffed Vi.
"Violet."
"No, they're not fine. That's obvious!" Vi removed her hand from your shoulder. Instead, she got up from the couch to resume her sentence. "I should've known you weren't okay. You didn't do that cute greeting of yours when your face lights up and you squeeze us like you haven't seen us in years."
You shifted in your seat, a frog in your throat. Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time, these tears are from sadness. You scratched your palm with your nails.
Caitlyn sighed. "I, too, should've noticed the change in your behavior. I guess we were too wrapped up in our own drama to notice," Caitlyn took a glimpse of Vi's expression.
Her eyebrows were furrowed, the skin between them creased. She'd squeeze her hands into fists and then let go repeatedly as a fidget.
Caitlyn took Vi's anger as a sign she should resume speaking. "We're not trying to force you into telling us, but if you're not okay, you can. We're here to comfort you, be your rock when you can't be your own." Caitlyn shuffled to squat in front of you. She doesn't force you to look at her, but you can see her worried eyes in your peripheral vision.
"Being with the two of you taught me it's okay to depend on others," Caitlyn admitted. "I want to be the person who can have anything under control and can come off as collected, but keeping all my frustrations inside or innermost thoughts can be challenging."
Vi calmed herself down enough to sit on the floor. She rested her head on your knee and put a hand on Caitlyn's leg.
Gaining comfortability, you slid down the couch. You sat between them with your back resting on the couch's edge. Vi's head repositioned itself to your shoulder and Caitlyn's moved to your other knee.
With her sitting adjustment, Caitlyn continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be the strong one. I don't want you to feel like you can't be vulnerable with us or even disagree with us."
"Yeah, Muffin," Vi's voice broke as she spoke. "Disagree or angry, we're going to love you the same. Confrontation comes with life." Vi dragged her hand down her face. "It's shit sometimes, but you gotta work your way through it, yanno?"
A heavy sigh escaped your body. You threw your head back onto the cushions and covered your face. You sobbed behind your hands. Your heart sank; your chest tightened. That frog in your throat grew into a toad. You babbled about this morning's events and how helpless you felt.
Anyone who wasn't familiar with you wouldn't be able to decipher what you muttered behind your hands. Luckily for you, your girlfriends know you inside and out. Even if it takes them a bit to notice when something's off.
The two of them pulled you in a tight embrace. They didn't speak or make efforts to shush you as you spilled your guts to them. Vi made a conscious decision not to let her anger get the best of her.
Although, those guys had no clue what was in store for them tomorrow morning.
Caitlyn also thought about making a visit to the office, but to complain to HR about the events. Not to find the culprits and make them pay. She was sure Vi had that handled. (Caitlyn would also have to handle her later.)
When your sobs calmed and your breathing evened, Vi spoke first. "They're a couple of dicks."
Caitlyn didn't feel the need to scold her.
"They should know how to treat a human being. Guess you can't do that when you're a shitty human, huh?" Vi chuckled to lighten the mood, but there was no joy behind her laugh. Only pure rage. "I'll fuck them up for you, don't worry." Vi placed a tender kiss on the side of your head. "I'll run you a bath, mkay? You should wash the day off of you."
"What about you and Cait's argument or whatever?" You peeled your head off the cushion to look at them. Everything was blurry behind your tears, but you could make out their frames and silhouettes. "Don't you need help?"
"Taking care of you is much more important than some silly fight," Caitlyn whispered. She smoothed the area on top of your head. Her delicate fingers brushed against your ear lobe as she brought them down. Her polished fingernails carefully traced the outside of your lobe. "Vi and I are big girls. I'm sure we can figure it out."
Vi grinned. "Hey, what fight?" she winked at the both of you.
A sad chuckle left your body. For a moment, relief washed over you. Once your chuckle finished though, the heaviness came back.
"Hey," Caitlyn's hand ran down your cheek. She wiped your tears with her thumb, Vi copied. "How about we get food from your favorite restaurant? I can go pick it up while Vi prepares your bath."
"I think that's a great idea," Vi used the back of her hand to soothe the skin on your cheek. "What do you think? Does that sound good, Muffin?"
You gave them a meek shrug.
"That looks like a maybe." Caitlyn giggled. "What if I add in dessert? would it be a yes then?"
"Oh, Muffin, say yes! Say yes! She's offering dessert!" Vi grabbed onto your arm. She shook you like a kid begging their parent for ice cream.
A genuine laugh came from your throat. Finally, all the pain is released from you. You don't know what made it leave. Maybe the sound of dessert or Vi's childlike begging. Or maybe it was the fact that Caitlyn and Vi cared for you enough to sit down and work through whatever problem you were facing.
For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Truly safe. You felt as if you could freely speak your mind without the underlying fear of rejection. You could say what you want.
"Okay," you gave the both of them a slight smile. "I think that sounds nice."
"Oh, yes! I love you, I love you, I love you!" Vi wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you on top of her. She gave you a bone-crushing squeeze.
"Vi!" you laughed.
Caitlyn laughed as well. She stood up and went to put her shoes and coat on. "Don't hurt them, Vi."
"Could never, Cupcake," Vi said from under you. "Now, hurry on and fetch us our dinner, woman! Mama's hungry."
Caitlyn scoffed, smiling. "Mama? Woman? Who are you talking to right now?"
"Oop," you muttered, grinning at Vi. "You're in trouble," you taunted in a whisper.
Vi playfully narrowed her eyes at you. She glanced at Caitlyn with an innocent and playful grin. "The tallest, cutest Cupcake in the world?"
"Right," Caitlyn dragged out the word. She opened the door. "I'll be back soon. You two stay out of trouble." and with another laugh, Caitlyn left the house.
Vi hummed. "I think she secretly liked being called 'Mama'."
You perked a brow. "Sure, she did, babe... Can we go draw my bath now?"
"Can I join you?"
WC: 2,285
#pastel-peach-writes#gender-neutral terms#pastel peach writes#gender neutral terms#lesbian#arcane fanfiction#caitlyn x reader#vi fanfic#vi x reader#cait x vi#caitvi#vi x caitlyn#caitlyn x vi#caitvi x reader#caitvi fanfic#violyn#vi#caitlyn fanfic#caitlyn arcane#vi arcane#vi x you#caitlyn x you
302 notes
·
View notes
Text
'tis the damn season | Matthew Tkachuk
today's the unofficial official start to summer, so here's a 4th of July Matty fic I couldn't bear to hold on to for another month. once upon a time, kim @troubatrain wrote another matthew fic by the same title, but i'm fairly confident this is entirely different. as usual, @wyattjohnston was my enabler in writing this.
length: 3.0k words
It’s late when you finally peel yourself off the Adirondack chair you claimed hours ago next to the bonfire, empty seltzer can dangling from your fingertips. The bonfire has died off, barely more than some embers and the occasional spark. Even the fireworks that have been echoing around the lake for days have petered out. It’s just you, Matthew and Taryn left outside, all your other friends having wandered off to find somewhere to sleep—except you think Taryn might have also fallen asleep, wrapped up in one of Matthew’s old Calgary sweatshirts and a beach towel.
Matthew watches you with heavy eyes, watches as you stretch sleepily and the big T-shirt you’d thrown on over your swimsuit rides up over your hips.
“Don’t drive home,” Matthew says, so low you barely hear him.
“What?” you ask. You’re not heading back to the city until after the long weekend is over, and your parents’ lake house is just a couple of miles away.
“Don’t leave, there’s a lot of drunk idiots out still,” he says again, standing too. You and your friends were some of those drunk idiots earlier in the day, but you don’t point that out.
“Dude, I’m fine,” you tell Matthew. You turn to look for your flip-flops. “It’s not far, and I stopped drinking a while ago.”
Matthew grabs you by the hip. The night has cooled off, but Matthew’s hand feels hot on your skin. “I’m not worried about you being stupid, I’m worried about something happening to you,” Matthew says. “Don’t go.”
You didn’t pack enough clothes to spend the night—you’d always been planning on heading back to your parents’ at the end of the night. The house was crowded with friends of Matthew and Taryn.
“There’s nowhere left for me to sleep,” is what you end up saying.
Matthew tightens his grip. You step closer. “Sleep in my bed.”
You’d done it before, but not since before Matthew had moved to Michigan to play for the USNTDP. Not since before your crush on Matthew had shifted from something childish to something more like pining. You stare up at him, his blue eyes serious, clear even in the moonlight.
One of the logs on the dying bonfire pops and shifts, sending out a spray of sparks. You both startle, moment broken. Matthew takes a half-step back from you. You hadn’t realized how far you’d both leaned in. Taryn stirs somewhere behind you.
“Fine,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”
Matthew grins at you. You shake your head at him as you finally turn to walk inside.
You think you hear Taryn murmur, “Get a room,” as you pass her.
The lake house is a mess. You survey it with dismay for a moment: there’s people passed out on several different couches, empty cans and bottles scattered across most surfaces, and remnants of dinner still sitting out in the kitchen. You drop your own empty can into the recycling near the door and wander quietly through the first floor, picking up what you can. You haven’t been at it very long when Matthew steps inside as well, gently shutting the door behind him. He clicks his tongue at you when he spots you in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.
“I thought you were going to bed,” he whispers.
“I got distracted,” you whisper back.
Matthew trails his fingertips across your side as he steps past you to open the fridge. You shiver, and not because the AC is turned down low. Matthew pulls two bottles of Gatorade out, offers one to you.
You take it, suddenly surprised at how thirsty you are.
Matthew watches in amusement for a moment as you chug a third of the bottle, before he says, “C’mon, it’s past your bedtime.”
“It’s not that late—” you try to protest, before you catch a glimpse of the time on the microwave clock. Almost 2 AM. “Oops,” you say instead.
Matthew flicks off the kitchen light and heads upstairs.
You make a pit stop in Taryn’s room on your way down the hall to Matthew’s room. The door creaks as you open it, and you wince, squinting at the bed, where three of Taryn’s field hockey teammates are sleeping. No one moves. You steal a pair of shorts to sleep in and sneak back out.
Matthew is waiting for you, again, perched on the edge of his bed. The shower in his ensuite is running, steam filtering through the ajar door. “Shower’s ready for you, if you want,” he says.
There’s a bottle of your face wash and a toothbrush with your initials Sharpied onto the handle underneath his sink, the same way they have been since you were 14. You take a fast shower and try not to think too much about it.
You run into Matthew when you walk out of the bathroom. Literally. You're bumped backwards, into the doorjamb. Matthew doesn’t step away. You’re still wearing one of his T-shirts.
“I was just—I need—” Matthew stutters.
“Matty—” you breathe, before Matthew’s lips crash into yours. He tastes like beer and sunscreen, and you wrap your hands around the back of his neck so you can pull him closer.
Matthew breaks the kiss first, but he doesn’t go far, pressing his forehead to yours. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours.
“I was just going to brush my teeth,” Matthew whispers.
You make a face instead of kissing Matthew again. His face is still so close to yours.
“Good, you need it,” you whisper back. Matthew rolls his eyes at you, presses a kiss to your forehead before ducking into the bathroom.
You’re sprawled out in the center of Matthew’s bed when he re-emerges, watching the ceiling fan turn lazily above you. You feel drunk, like the room’s spinning, too, but you think that might just be proximity to Matthew. You should have just found a couch or a corner of floor to sleep on.
“No way,” Matthew says, standing at the foot of the bed. “Scoot over.”
You think about pushing it, just to see if Matthew would push back, but you scoot over. Matthew flops onto the bed next to you in the space you just left, then rolls on top of you, anyway, braced with his hands next to your head.
You take a second to just look at him. You’ve been sneaking glances all day, over the rim of a seltzer can, from underneath your sunglasses, across the boat. It had felt illicit then, but now Matthew is right in front of you, blue eyes meeting yours. His curls are getting long, messy from being in and out of the lake water all day. He’s always tan now—living in Florida all winter does that—but he’s sunburned across his nose and across the tops of shoulders. You lift one hand and skim a finger down his nose, across his jaw.
“I miss you,” you blurt. It’s not what you had meant to say, but now that you’ve said it, you’re not sure what else there is to say.
Matthew laughs softly. “I’m right here, babe,” he says.
He’s here now, but it won’t be long until summer’s over, and he’ll be gone again. Back to the real world. You don’t know the last time you and Matthew were able to spend time together like this, don’t know if you’ll ever get this time again. It’s always been one thing after another—injuries, or vacations, or work. You don't talk the way you used to, either. Matthew's schedule clashes with yours so often that neither of you have time for hours-long phone calls anymore.
Matthew drops to an elbow and brushes your hair out of your face. You try not to sigh. His hand is on your knee next, by his ribs with your feet flat on the bed. You don’t stop him as his hand starts to slide up your thigh, closer to the hem of his T-shirt, riding up your hips again.
Matthew drags a line of kisses down your neck. You can’t stop your sigh this time. Matthew comes up for air, tucks another strand of hair behind your ear. It’s humid outside and in Matthew’s bed; you can’t breathe, gasp for air. His hand is back on your hip, burning hot on your skin.
He asks, “Yeah?”
You can feel his breath on your cheek. He’s panting, too, and it’s nice to know that he’s as wrapped up in this as you are, at least for this moment. That he might want you almost as bad as you want him. That he’s wanted you as long as you’ve wanted him.
You don’t trust yourself to get any words out, just nod.
“Think you can stay quiet?” Matthew says, before sealing his lips on yours again.
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰
You wake up late the next morning, the ghost of Matthew’s fingers still on your skin. He’s in bed, too, tangled in the sheets, head turned away from you. Distantly, you hear the sounds of the rest of the house stirring, your friends laughing, coffee brewing. You don’t make any move to get up.
You’re still laying there later—15 minutes, 30 minutes, you’re not sure—when Matthew starts to stir. He rolls over quickly, almost panicked, but he relaxes and smiles when he sees you still lying next to him.
“Hi,” he says dumbly. He fumbles for his phone, but it’s not beside him. “What time is it?” His words and eyes are still heavy with sleep.
You don't know either; you must have left your phone downstairs last night;. You shrug and stretch. Matthew watches you closely, the way your body moves beneath the sheets. You feel your cheeks flush.
“Dunno,” you say. Closer to noon than early morning, if you had to guess by the way the light is slanting through the partially closed blinds. “Late,” you add.
Matthew grins at you and props himself up on one elbow. You have to resist the urge to reach up and tug on his curls, even messier now from your hands and sleep.
“Then I don’t think anyone will miss us if we stay in bed a little longer,” he says, leaning over to kiss you.
You indulge him and his morning breath for a few moments. Wrapped up in your own little bubble, twisted together in Matthew’s sheets, you can pretend just a little longer—that this is real, that it won’t disappear the second you step through that doorway and back into a world where other people and other obligations exist. But then your stomach rumbles and shatters your illusion.
You push Matthew away by the shoulders—gently, though part of you wants to be harsh with him, hurt him the way you know he’s going to break your heart. Matthew goes easily, but you see the flash of furrowed brow before he smooths his expression back into something easygoing.
“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” you say, “but I need something to eat.”
Matthew raises his eyebrows at you. “I’ve got an idea of what I want to eat,” he leers.
You knee him in the chest in retaliation.
“Oof,” Matthew complains, but he’s laughing.
He rolls off of you, rubbing his chest and pouting at you. You just roll your eyes and slide out of bed. You hunt the floor for the shorts you’d been wearing when you went to bed, trying to ignore the way you can feel Matthew staring at your ass. Your shorts ended up across the room, by the bathroom door. When you turn around again, Matthew is pulling on a shirt. There’s a hickey on his collarbone that you hazily remember leaving there. He sees you looking as his bare skin disappears and smirks at you before throwing another clean shirt of his at your face.
You grab the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, but say, “Turn around.”
Matthew gapes at you. “It’s nothing I didn’t see last night,” he tells you.
It feels different in the daylight, though. You stare Matthew down until he heaves a sigh and turns his back.
You poke Matthew in the ribs when you’ve finished changing. It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Matthew gave you a shirt with his number stamped on the left shoulder to wear. Matthew reaches to take your hand as you start down the stairs, but you pull away and run ahead of him.
This isn’t like that.
“Oh, you’re both alive,” Taryn calls when she sees you. “We were thinking about sending someone up to check on you.”
You and Matthew exchange a look. You don’t miss Taryn smirking from her spot on the couch.
“Where is everybody?” Matthew says, instead of saying anything to give Taryn any more ammunition. The house has quieted down. There’s still a few of Taryn’s teammates lounging around, but it looks like more of Matthew’s friends have cleared out.
“Weather’s shitty, people started leaving after breakfast,” she says.
Outside the windows that overlook the lake, there’s fog clinging to the water. It looks chilly out, and you shiver. You tell yourself it’s because of the cold, and not because Matthew is standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat. He nudges your elbow, and he’s holding a cup of coffee out to you, already the perfect color for you to drink it. You shoot him a grateful smile as you take it; your fingers brush, and you try not to jerk your hand away.
“Nobody even said good-bye,” Matthew gripes.
You laugh, but it’s Taryn who says: “Maybe because you’re a shit host.”
Matthew gasps in outrage and throws a discarded can koozie at her. It falls weakly to the floor halfway to the couch, and all of you burst out laughing.
You and Matthew move easily around each other in the kitchen, piecing together leftovers and assembling your breakfasts. It sends a pang through your chest, the familiarity of it, even as the years and distance build a canyon between your relationship. You don’t know when Matthew went from being your best friend, to the boy you dreamed of marrying one day, to the guy you knew so well yet barely knew at all.
You feel like you can’t breathe.
“That’s disgusting,” you say, watching Matthew take a bite out of a cold bratwurst straight from the fridge.
Matthew shrugs. “What?” he says with his mouth full. “It’s a sausage, people eat sausage for breakfast all the time!”
“But not—oh, fuck you, never mind,” you say.
You escape the kitchen, slipping through the back door to the porch. The bonfire from last night has long since burned out entirely, but you drop into one of the chairs beside it anyway, where you eat your breakfast undisturbed. When your plate is cleared, you wander down to the dock.
The late morning sun has finally started to burn away the fog, but the air is still cool. You sit down on the edge of the dock and let your feet dangle in the water. It’s quiet, especially for the day after the holiday; the weather has scared people indoors. You shiver again. You only have a few minutes of peace before you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know that they belong to Matthew.
He drops down onto the dock behind you, drapes his legs off the edge on either side of yours. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you let yourself lean back into his chest. Neither of you speak.
You’d been here once before, sitting on this dock with Matthew. You were younger then. Matthew had just been drafted, and you were heading off to college. You’d both been on the verge of something big, and you thought maybe it had been your chance to do big things, together. You wonder if Matthew is thinking of that night, too, of the silence in the darkness of midnight, when you’d both slipped away.
Matthew presses his lips to your shoulder, where the collar of your shirt—his shirt—has slid down and exposes your bare skin.
“Would you wait for me?” you asked, 18 years old and so, so scared of losing everything you had ever known. Desperately trying to hold onto Matthew.
“Would you?” he asked back. “Would you still be ready for me in another few years?” You both knew you couldn’t even imagine following Matthew to Calgary until you had graduated, unwilling to sacrifice your own future for a possible one with Matthew.
You had waited. You had been waiting for Matthew for even longer than you were willing to admit. Even when you were in other relationships, you felt like you were just waiting for something else. For someone else. You wondered now what your life would look like if you had said yes to Matthew on the dark dock all those summers ago, if you’d waited for each other. You couldn’t wait any longer.
“You could stay for a few more days,” Matthew says.
“You know I can’t,” you say. You reach back so you can run your hand through his hair. One last time.
“Think we could do this again sometime?” Matthew asks.
“You know we can’t,” you say. Matthew sighs. You can feel the tension in his body. He’s ready for a fight, but you don’t know if you have the energy for it. You lean more of your weight against him, and he holds you up, strong and steady.
Matthew takes a moment before he responds. “We could,” he argues. “We could do this forever.” Your heart hurts. You know he doesn't mean it.
“Matthew,” you say, quietly. “Matthew, please.”
“Why not?” he asks. “We’re good together, aren’t we?”
You are, and you wish you didn’t know just how good it could be between you. In your head, you see all the things you could have, all the things you should have done. It’s so, so tempting.
“I think we both know why we didn’t try ‘us’ when we were 18, Matty,” you tell him. The petty arguments, the way you were both so stubborn that hanging out ended in slamming doors just as often as it didn't. You always came back, but you don't know if you can do it much longer.
You move to leave, and Matthew slides back to allow it. You let him offer you a hand as you stand up. Matthew squeezes your hand once, quickly, just before you let go. You leave him sitting on the dock. You don’t look back as you make your way back up to the house.
Some things are best left in the past.
#cait writes things#matthew tkachuk imagine#matthew tkachuk fic#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagine
102 notes
·
View notes
Note
babying ango and giving him aftercare after overstimming him sm he’s nothing but a whiny mess… just saying
flamey is this you /j
NSFW BELOW THE CUT
mostly rambling, probably not coherent but ehehehe
I just spit this out idk man
cw: afab reader, overstimulating, aftercare, soft dom! Reader, subby baby sweet boy Ango, crying, semi like dub con ish? (Mainly in the overstimulation it's too much kinda way), pretty light on aftercare that's written
just him coming home from a long day at work, being HARASSED!!! By Dazai and the ADA
And he comes home and just wants to relax and snuggle and bury his face in your tits and be babied!!
but....you have a little different idea. You want to spoil him rotten tonight. Just make him cum...again...and again...and again...and ag-
Most would probably be mean about it, but not you.
No no no, you're so sweet about it! So gentle and reassuring he just can't help but want more and enjoy himself
Whispering soft praises while you make him cum in his boxers first, just to keep the sensitivity a little bit more subdued, telling him how good he's doing, what a pretty boy he is
Getting to a point where he needs to take a small break so you let him rest and pleasure you if he wants... your fingers gently massaging his head while he eats you out until he's ready again
Telling him "just one more, pretty boy..."
And it's a littttttlllleeee bit of a half truth...you just want one more before you ride him that's all!!
By the time you finally sink down on him he's almost sobbing so you pause a little...giving him some time to collect himself. Kissing his tears and telling him more sweet words.
"shhh shhh shhh sweet boy, you doing okay?"
Poor baby can't even speak and can only nod
"good, good, doing so good for me love... just one more I promise"
and this time it's completely true! Just one more time and talking him through it so softly kissing him to distract him from some of the slightttt pain setting in when he gets closer and closer. Letting him cry and whine, and thrashing around a little, but not stopping until he's cumming inside. Probably shooting blanks at that point but it's alright!!
And when it's over, you let him stay inside while he settles down. Cooing softly at him and waiting until he's ready for you to pull off of him. And when you do of course he hisses and whines a little!! But you just kiss him and hold him until he's y'know...back on earth
Very very carefully cleaning him up. He's definitely too tired for a bath, but wiping off the cum sticking to his and your body. Crawling in and holding him, talking to him about how it felt and making sure he's okay. And then letting him fall asleep.
And it's the best goddamn sleep he's ever had.
#cait's writing ♡#cait answers#im not rereading this rn im posting with my pussy#bsd x reader#ango sakaguchi x reader#ango x reader#ango bsd#ango sakaguchi bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs ango#bungou stray dogs x reader
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
#Cait Corrain#anti Cait Corrain#racist#31 pages#I hope this ruins her writing career#it won’t#but I can hope#i can’t imagine#this shit is wild#writer#debut writer#crazy#author#sabotaging other authors#evil#goodreads#sockpuppets
83 notes
·
View notes
Text
GUIDED MASTURBATION ౨ৎ
female reader x caitlyn kiramman nsfw under cut
you having the upper hand, being able to tease cait as if she wasn’t controlling everything you did. where your hand went, what your fingers touched— everything. you belonged to her, you both knew that… but she didn’t want to ruin your fun so quickly.
“slowly. we’re in no rush.” her pretty voice invades your mind like the plague, and all you can do is nod and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, panting as you slowly circle your clit. your other hand kneads your boob, the side of your mouth tweaking up when caitlyn exhales deeply at the sight. she knew you were trying to get a ride out of her, testing her patience.
but really, you just played yourself
cause not long after, ur gasping and moaning n crying, hand still between your spread thighs. your fingers curled inside your cunt, trying to mimic what your girlfriend usually does, but you just can’t get the right spot. cait sees your struggle, squeezing the plush of your thighs and smiling down at you. “why don’t you use that pretty head of yours, hmm? you have another hand.”
you’re quick to stuff your other hand above the other when you realise what she meant, your head falling back on the pillow as the pressure beneath your clit begins to build the more you rub. your wrists and arms ache like hell, yet you continue because she hasn’t told you to stop yet. and you don’t wanna find out what will happen if you disobey. but you also know you still need her permission to finish
“cait, im— im close…” you warn, staring up at the blue haired woman with pleasing eyes. she just hums, her nails lightly brushing over your hot skin as you sob, realising you had been terribly mistaken in the first half of this. “please, please tell me to stop, i— please.”
ignored
#MASSACREDKITTY .ᐟ#kitty writes ᡣ𐭩#lesbian#arcane#league of legends#caitlyn kiramman smut#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn kiramman fanfic#caitlyn kiramman arcane#caitlyn kiramman fic#caitlyn kiramman#cait kiramman hc#cait kiramman#cait kiramman smut#caitlyn smut#cait arcane#cait kirmman smut#caitlyn league of legends#caitlyn lol#caitlyn arcane
225 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thelegendfrombeneath
From King to Legend.
kelpia-side-blog
Saving Atlantis art side-blog
iuub
幼幼资源 精品 iuub.uno
nikolaurakov
Nikola Urakov