#Nightmare can hardly move and his idiots are trying to get him back inside so he doesn’t completely fucking freeze
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y’know.
poor killer and nightmare during the winter.
I’m just imagining, like, nightmare’s goop gets super cold and almost freezes, which i can imagine is a bit of a problem. killer’s eye goop probably freezes to his face, but more keeps coming out no matter what. so it just turns into this mess of frozen liquid on his face.
don’t ask I just randomly got that thought LMAO
#meow.//#killer sans#nightmare sans#Honestly it’s true though. Killer tries to go out in the snow and throw snowballs and shit but the eye shit clogs up his vision even more#because his vision is alread bad so like. he just becomes blind during winter HAHAH#Nightmare can hardly move and his idiots are trying to get him back inside so he doesn’t completely fucking freeze#‘Dude boss you gotta get inside you’re gonna freeze out here’#‘No no no it’s fine I’ll be fine it’s just a little cold’ -Nm while he can hardly move#Nm goes on like a midnight walk and ends up frozen in the forest somewhere and everyone is so confused on where he went. they have like a#-search party going and. probably horror finds nm and he just starts laughing so loudly because ‘boss can’t fucking MOVE because of the cold#Killer Dust and Cross find those two and join in on the laughing. Nm proceeds to get very angry and curses them out while he’s STILL trying#-to move#ANYWAYS
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A Hard Choice To Make - Part 1
"Go talk to him. It's the only way to wash your emotions away." April, the reporter of Channel 6, advise you.
"No!" Your eyes went wide "No, I won't!"
"Then do you want to live with it stuck into you for the rest of your life?"
You lower your head, not knowing what kind of response you should give besides this not-desired possibility. April is right.
Since you met the brothers—three years ago—you have created a strong family bond with all of them, specially with the fearless leader in blue who your heart shines for. You knew that something within you is brougth to life every time Leonardo is around, and it is kind of torture because you literally fell in love with this terrapin.
But there's a doubt haunting you: Is Leo with the same feelings about you? The objection behind it is almost invalid in your point of view. He is the leader of his group, known as being the only one who tries to keep his brothers in line, making decisions for each time they are out for patrol, dealing with the most heavy and difficult choices and moments throughout their adventures. And you... You are just a human as you always say.
You sigh, turning your eyes back at April "Ya know, I have no idea if he feels the same about me. I'm afraid of how he'd react from my declaration."
April leaves her desk, and sits next to you on the sofa in the living room of her apartment. "Y/N..." she said softly, landing her slender hand on your shoulder "Soon or late he will know; but if I were you, I would go talk to him. He won't figure it out alone". You nodded, staring at the floor again with your mind lost in an ocean of thoughts and emotions. "Try, Y/N. Do not let it consume you; or it will get worse" the reporter rubs your shoulder and embrace you in a comfort hug.
"Would you like me to talk to him?" She offered herself.
"No! No... I must be prepare myself first."
April let's out a soft giggle "Okay. Take your time, sweetheart. Call me if you need help." She smiled.
You let the comfort of her embrace take you completely as a help to try to kick out your anxiety, but your nervousness insists to stay. How would you say to the most respectable man that you're in love with? How would he reacts? Will he treat you in a bad or good way? You knew he wouldn't treat you like an idiot or something but even that you are not secure.
A few weeks has passed since April's advice.
You and Casey Jones were called by Chief Vicent to attend a meeting at NYPD police station for a debate about Shredder after his sudden disappearance in the day that Technodrome has appeared in the sky. And for your surprise you're not the only one who were invited.
Your mutant turtles best friends are there.
And speaking of them...
"Hey Casey and Y/N!" Mikey was the first one who came up to welcome you both as you enter in the police station. "Finally you're here! Chief Vicent is waiting for you" the young brother pointed at up stairs of the building.
You and Casey went quickly to the second floor.
Arriving there, Mikey pointed at one of the several rooms throughout the large corridor. From outside you could see three shells facing the only door of the small space, and your eyes shone. In the middle of the three massive terrapins, a blue and well-written kanji with a pair of katanas.
"Y/N? Are you coming or...?" Casey called, noticing your behaving.
You froze, desperate about what you would do with that handsome man a few steps away from you—actually standing on the other side of the table.
Gulping, you walked behind Casey as you both enter the room.
"Good evening, Casey Jones." the blond-haired woman nodded from the other side of the rectangular table, facing you both "And Y/N" she nodded again, sharing a polite smile. Other three pairs of eyes landed on you while you stand beside Casey "Hey, guys" Donnie waved with that cute grin he has. "Hey..." Raphael said with a neutral voice; and finally Leonardo who, as Chief Vicent, shares a nod and a smile.
Oh God, that smile makes your bones shiver.
"So what are the news, Chief?" Casey asked, leaning above the table to watch papers and pictures scattered above it.
"We got a prove that Shredder must be still alive" she continued "We have captured Karai who was with him in the day that Kraang has arrived on Earth for the first time, and has confessed that Shredder was teleported into Technodrome. It was the last time she has seen him" she finished, glancing quickly at Shredder's picture on her right side and then looked up at everybody there present.
"Wait, wait..." The hot head turtle interferes "Last time? But how? Karai and Shredder used to work together all the time! Perhaps she is laying-"
"We don't know, Raph." The leader cuts his brother, then Mikey continued "Or maybe Shredder is working for Kraang.", Donnie moved his body a bit to stand face-to-face with his brothers and continued "We do not know if all those suggestions are valid, but I fear what Mikey said. Shredder must be working for Kraang."
Chief Vicent nodded positively, leaning above the table "I wouldn't discard this possibility."
The idea of Shredder working for Kraang freaks you out. Shredder is known for being dangerous, and Kraang is known for being deadly; and the two of them together is a nightmare.
After a few minutes of silence, Casey questioned "So, what are we gonna do now?"
"Wait. For now." Chief Vicent responded, not breaking her eye contact with the Shredder's picture beside her, and the room was filled with Raph's indignation voice "Wait?! How much time of wait?!"
"Raph, more respect!" Leo punch his brother's arm, murmuring and shaking his head in disapprove by his brother's behaving.
You tried to not giggle by their brotherhood behaving.
"We don't know..." Chief Vicent replied "but all we can do now is use what we have available to find Shredder; and Kraang. I'm highly doubt that Shredder isn't on Earth. Maybe he was brought back by Kraang. As you said before, Donatello" she pointed "the atmosphere in Technodrome is toxic for those who have a normal cardiovascular system. Hardly Shredder would survive in that thing out there".
"There's an interesting point" Leo continued "But It's been months since his disappearance and till now no one has seen him. For sure, if someone have, they would warn us."
"Or they would help him" Raph participated one more time "We don't know if someone is his follower."
"You mean a new Shredder?" Mikey asked, surprised.
"I would freak out if it is true." You said.
"Me too." Chief Vicent agreed, sighing.
The worst nightmare of the boys is that another (or other) person ended up like Shredder. For sure someone out there have inspired themselves on that horrible assassin and perhaps will keep on doing his dirty work as a next generation of the Foot Clan. It must be happening in any city, state or country right now.
After two hours of debate, Chief Vicent has decided give a break, and then back to the reunion.
You are checking out your Pinterest in another small room of the building to spend some time. But your is mind busy thinking more about Leo than paying attention to the pics on your social media. You just scroll down, the pics passing through your phone screen quickly; then your mind focused in flashbacks of your conversation with April a few weeks ago.
You want to confess your love for Leonardo. You want to face him and say how much you love him.
But why are you feeling something negative inside you?
You sighed, without knowing what to do. Your eyes lift from the screen and scanned the small room around you. There's a desk with a deactivated computer in the left and a cupboard on the right. Cupboard? Why is it here in a office? Maybe this room is used like a kitchen. And speaking of it... where's the coffee machine and other stuff used by workers?
You shrugged, ignoring it and paying attention to your phone again.
"Y/N?" A familiar deep voice called from the door frame. You jumped and quickly looked up at the person.
Actually, at the turtle.
"Oh, hey Leo" you smiled, pretending you didn't got scared by his sudden apparence. But he was giggling a bit "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he came in, picking up a chair and sitting beside you.
Butterflies started to fly wildly in your belly.
"Come on, Y/N! Say something!" you thought. "So... How's things going?". "Really, Y/N?! Is it all you can say?!" You coursed at yourself.
Leo glanced at you and says confused "Um... Things are great. Thanks." he smiled.
Now is the time. You have to tell! You want to tell! But you're fucking afraid.
Your thoughts says to do not do it but your heart says yes. You took a deep breathe, rubbing your hands on your thighs nervously and finally looked up at him.
"Leo..." You called softly.
"Hm?" He looked back at you in the eyes. It seems that your heart will get out of your chest, and you could feel your cheeks burning.
"I...".
He just tilted his head, waiting for your answer.
"I... am gonna take some coffee. W-Would you like some?" That's it. You wanna punch yourself in the face.
He lift an eyebrow—at least you could see.
"Um... Yes, please". He answered, still suspicious about why are you acting that way. You got up from the chair where you were and walked out of the room, but before you could leave, Leo grabs your arm and makes eye contact with you, worried "Are you okay?"
"Why? Yeah! Why wouldn't I am?" You tried to act as normal as possible, but you couldn't hide it from him. This man can notice if something is right or not. And you fear that. You don't wanna mess your moment. You just want to relax with him, and not put more worry into him. Leo and his brothers are already dealing with Shredder's disappearance which is shaking them inside out frenetically. And the last thing you want is bother him with your love.
"I'll be right back." You gently released from his massive hand and left the room, leaving him alone.
"Damn, Y/N! What's wrong with you?" the whisper leaves your mouth and suddenly you bumped with another woman, hitting your shoulder with hers.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
"Oh, no. It's okay" the red-haired waved, grinning "I must apologize, I was distracted".
"Don't worry, I was distracted too." You giggled, then kept on your way to find a coffee machine which you have no idea where it is.
For sure your thoughts are torturing and preventing you by something you wish to do. You've been hiding your love for Leo for almost three years.
After ask a cob where to find a coffee machine you finally have found it in somewhere on the third floor of the police station.
"Okay, Y/N. You can do this" you whispered while you fill almost to the top two cups with the dark liquid. "You can do this. You can do this..." You continued to repeat, trying to fill you with courage.
"I'm ready. I can do this!"
Picking up the two cups with dark coffee youheaded back to the small room where the handsome man is waiting for you.
Stopping beside the door frame—you can't see what is happening inside the small room—you took a deep breath and get yourself ready for the long-awaited moment of your life.
Smiling, you walked in.
And froze.
Leo was there, as you expected, but he was kissing the woman who you accidentally bumped early on your way to get the coffee.
Your heart broke like someone has ripped it out from you.
It seems that the world has fallen under you; your body falling into an precipice.
You prepared yourself for three years for nothing. All the worries, expectations, and hopes you used to have, all that moments you've spent practicing what you would say to your best friend, all the great moments you and him spent. Three years of your life were wasted.
Leo and the red-haired woman broke the kiss and directed their eyes on you, surprised. You have to admit that you saw a light blush covering on his cheeks.
"Oh, Y/N." He said, smiling "Allow me to introduce you my girlfriend".
You felt a knot forming in your throat.
"Y/N, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is my best friend, Y/N." He used his hand to mention you and his girlfriend while introduce you both.
"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Melissa waved.
"Nice to meet you, Melissa..." You shares a small smile, hiding your frustrating, and waved back.
You take a step forward to place the cup on the small desk next to you. Some drops of the dark liquid slipped out from the object "You should drink before it gets cold, Leonardo." You simply said, trying so hard to not cry. The leader got surprised when you said his full name. It's rare to you do it. Since you both got intimate—as best friends—you started to say his nickname as you do with the others. He doesn't understand very well the reason of your sudden change.
"Um... Yes, I will". He pronounced every single word slowly, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you. Melissa noticed your uncomfortable expression and asked worried "Are you okay, sweetheart?"
"No!" you screamed mentally. "Yes! I am. I gotta go. Sorry." You whispered the last word, turning and heading out of the room, leaving the woman and your best friend together. Your eyes starts to get warm and a wet feeling of tears disturbs you completely; you refuse to cry in front of important and serious people from this place. So you forced your legs to walk fast towards the exit.
You were so distracted that you almost bumped Chief Vicent. You gasped.
"Hey, Y/N. We're going to back to our reunion right now. Have you seen Leo? I can't find him anywhere." the blond-haired woman asked.
"He-*deep breath* He's in that room." You pointed at the door in the end of the corridor. C. Vicent lift an eyebrow, studying your facial expression.
"Are you okay, Y/N?"
"No, I'm not!" You gulped as see Chief Vicent's eyes going wide by your anger, then you immediately completed, "I'm not feeling good..."
But before Chief Vicent had a chance to talk to you, you lower your head and ran away, the knot in your throat and the pain in your heart growing up wildly.
You couldn't stay in that building anymore, not with Leo there. Not with the news of his sudden dating with someone. All you want now is go home, lay down on your bed, bury your face into a pillow, and cry like there's no tomorrow—well, actually there's no tomorrow for you.
How much time Leonardo is dating? And why April didn't tell you about it? Or any of his brothers? Do someone know about his dating? Or does he didn't tell to anyone yet?
You don't wanna know.
Actually you couldn't blame him because he has no idea that you are in love with him.
And now you have to deal with a new reality.
#tmnt#bayverse tmnt#tmnt bayverse#tmnt x reader#tmnt 2016#tmnt 2014#tmnt leonardo#tmnt leo x reader#teenage mutant ninja turtles#teenage mutant ninja turtles out of the shadows
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The boys reacting to their s/o pulling themselves out of a Bad Depressive Relapse:
Warning(s): Mentions of depression, Intrusive thoughts, self-destructive behavior’s
A/N: I’m very proud of myself for pulling myself out of my bad depressive relapse episode this morning so, it’s time to write some comfort!
This man is pretty dense when it comes to dealing with other people’s internal suffering tbh.
Like, unless your outwardly showing signs of pain, he won’t fully get it.
He noticed that you were...Not your usual self for a while. A long while at that, it started to worry him that you weren’t laughing with him anymore for that period of your slump.
But, one morning, an early morning that is, you had snuck out of your room that you shared with the girls to find Luffy for some much needed Cuddling.
Ever so quietly moving towards his bed, you slowly climbed in. Him feeling movement on top of him startled him awake but, he kept quiet.
Seeing that you were the one crawling in his bed, literally made him have the biggest grin on his dorky face you’ve ever seen.
“Welcome back y/n-san” He whispered as he pulled you in for a tighter cuddle session, you couldn’t help but chuckle but, you kept quiet to avoid waking the other boys.
Soon enough, it was morning, and the rest of the crew saw that you two were finally cuddling again after your depressive slump.
Nami so took a picture with the Camera-snail for blackmail evidence to tease you with.
Seeing you severely depressed drove him Mad.
Not because he was mad /at you/ But because he was mad at /himself/ for not noticing it sooner than he should have.
Robin tried telling him about your depressive slump but, Zoro was completely clueless on what she was getting at.
“My y/n? Depressed? Why? She looks perfectly fine to me.”
That line was a big mistake on his part since you accidentally heard that, which sort of drove you over the edge again
Ngl, it took him quite a while for him to start making it up to you again after that night. His guilty conscious refused to let him rest peacefully until things where settled between you two again
Weeks went by, and even though most of the Straw Hats assumed you where still depressed, Zoro sensed otherwise.
It seemed like to him that you were finally starting to shed your light again, even if it was a slow start at first.
One day though, while the two of you were on grocery duties to help Sanji since he took the role of guard duty this round. You grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly.
it startled him at first because he thought he was being kidnapped or something, but once he saw that you had just grabbed onto it and acted so casually about it
This mans started to blush a pink hue. A brief silenced filled the air between you two before he spoke up,
“...Y/n-san....” He paused before turning towards you, “Is everything ok now? And I don’t mean that fake bullshit ‘Ok’ either...” he asked while looking concerned
You looked up to him, with the biggest smile he’d ever seen. Even if it was a small one, the fact that you smiled again after so long of not smiling, it drove him Wild.
“Yeah...........Yeah.......Everything’s gonna be ok now.” You started off before holding his hand firmly, “I have my Nakama...And I have you by my side. So, I’m no longer alone anymore.” You smiled again while looking up to Zoro, who still had the blush but, a genuine smile back
“That’s my girl.” Zoro just says while bending down to give you a quick peck on the forehead, which made you blush a deep crimson red seeing as you two were in public still.
Okay but, you /KNOW/ this idiot is gonna think it’s his fault your depressed.
He’ll constantly blame himself for your sadness, as it’s not something that could be easily cured with affection or food.
He’s even more sad when he can’t dote on you so much because it makes you feel even worse.
You have to keep reminding him that this was just how your brain worked sometimes.
It wasn’t until Nami and Chopper explaining it to him properly, is when he started to finally understand that some people just feel down and needed some space for a bit.
Even when he was giving you your personal space, he still made you your favorite foods, making sure that you had stuff to drink and eat even if you were cooped up in your bedroom for a long time.
He won’t admit it directly but, he genuinely misses you. He misses your smell, your touch, your face, your body, your everything.
He especially misses the way you can easily fluster him and make him feel like a King, but he’ll deny those feelings if you asked him though.
A couple of month’s had gone by of this depressive state of yours. it was starting to take a mental tole on himself, knowing that you were stuck in those same four walls, missing everything that was happening, being unable to help you at all during this.
Just as he was about to head towards the sleeping cabin area to drop off your next meal, he’d noticed that your door was slightly open. He blinked, confused and worried that somebody had tried sneaking inside of it somehow.
But soon enough, you had popped out, yawning as you’d just woken up that morning. Nothing had harmed you physically from the looks of it, he looked up and down for a while before placing the food tray on a nightstand to avoid spilling the food.
You turn after hearing the tray clink against the wooden surface, “Oh? Morning Sanji-sa--Ouf!” You where cut off from a tackle hug.
Sanji had wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you so close to him you were practically choking on his hair. “S-Sanji?? Is everything alright?” You asked, patting his back gently
Your eyes widened as the next thing he did was give you a big passionate kiss on your lips. You felt salty fluids on his face. “Oh.” You thought as you realized what was happening
“I missed you so fucking much y/n-chan.” Sanji says after the kiss. Hearing him say that so bluntly made /you/ turn red-faced and start to stutter.
“....Yeah....I missed you too Sanji-san.” You admitted while smiling again after so long of not showing your smile to anybody. Poor Sanji nearly fainted.
Law knew something was off about you even before you realized it yourself.
You were grumpy, snippy, more “tired” than normal. You had constant mood swings that showed up out of the blue. Everything was just...Off.
It didn’t take much for him to realize that you were dealing with Depression. Although he knew very little of your past, he knew that something was eating at you.
Once your downward spiral of your mental suffering began, you stayed in your bedroom for the majority of the time, refusing to go out even if it was for a general meeting for a mission, or even for food.
Law wasn’t the best at communicating his own feelings towards somebody, so helping his crush with her depression was a little bit harder to do than he thought.
He didn’t realize that you would get so bad that you just woke up absolutely /screaming/ at the top of your lungs during a nightmare. The only reason he knew what was happening was because Bepo went to drop off some food for you, and then ran once he heard the screaming.
After a while of some studying on Depression, Law tried everything that he could to at least /try/ to get you to speak with him...But, after a few weeks of this, he started to get tired of chasing you.
“Y/n-ya...At least let me check for injuries.” He said as he sat on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door with a frown....No response.
He could hear silent sobbing and hiccups behind him, which hurt because he didn’t know how to help you! it drove him Mad!
He was about to give up, sighing in irritation. As he started to walk away, he heard the bedroom door start to click open. You peaked your head out tiredly, face stained with dried and fresh tears, your face all red from not just crying but from stress as well.
Seeing you so Broken hurt him. He’s been there before, he’d never wish to see his friends be broken like this...Let alone his crush.
You opened the door wider so that way he could come in, “...sorry....For the mess...” You weakly spoke, allowing him to enter your room.
Once the two of you were in your room, you had shut the door, then locked it behind you...Eventually turning to face Law, the next moved startled him
You were so tired from the depression night terrors, the screaming, the crying and well...Everything else...That you just fainted into his arms! “Y-Y/n-ya??” He questioned as he stood still. No response...Well, nothing with words anyways. A soft snore leaked passed your slightly open mouth
You had fallen asleep, quite literally in his arms. And he didn’t know how to handle it. You were his crush after all! What was he supposed to do!? Move you away!? Fuck.
He calmed down and carried you bridal style in his arms, thanking God that you were a heavy sleeper, and shuffled his way onto your messy bed, kicking his shoes off at least before getting comfortable.
Another week had passed since that night, and throughout that week, law would give orders to Bepo and Penguin to take control of the ship while he stayed put. he would only move to take a piss/shit or a quick shower before rushing to your side again. He’d forgo the shower if waking you would cause you to feel alone and start crying again.
Once that week had passed though, you had woken up to feel a body underneath you. Blinking, you were confused as to what was happening. You then blushed a deep crimson red seeing Law underneath you, holding you so tightly to him that you could hardly breathe properly because of it.
Law had woken up after feeling your movements to try and get out of bed and take a shower, since you hadn’t taken a proper one in the past three weeks due to your depressive state hitting you like a two ton truck.
You then felt an arm snake around your lower waste, pinning you down of sorts, which made you jump a bit and turn to see who’s it was. Only to see Law wide awake and looking upwards at you
A brief silence filled the room before Law had spoke. “Y/n-ya......You’re Ok.” he says quietly, trying not to startle you...Soon, the memories of what you went through during your depressive state had hit you. You saw everything that happened. And then you saw that Law had tried his hardest to get you to feel ok.
You started to cry again, which made him frown in worry, only to . be taken aback by the sudden tackle hug you were doing, “Law!” You kept muttering in between your hiccupped sobs as you held him.
All Law did was rub your head gently and held you close to him again. He didn’t know how to respond. “....You saved me.....” You commented, now hovering over him with a shaky smile.
Those words. Those three single words made his heart melt with pure happiness. A feeling he hasn’t had in a LONG while. Despite the fact that he hated being called a Hero, if he could save /you/ from death? Then he’ll take being called a Hero by you any day.
You just kept hiccupping as you cried of happiness, but that was easily silenced with Law’s next action. You felt Law’s rougher lips against your own, which easily made you stop crying. He broke the kiss after a while and smiled back, “...I’m glad that your Ok y/n-ya.” he says before pulling you down for another kiss
#luffy x reader#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#law x reader#holy fuck this got long#sorry that law's was long but listen#I love Law ok#tw// depression
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I got my second covid shot yesterday, and the side effects are happening. Got anything in any of your RWBY AUs that'll makr me feel less Generally Bad?
Awww, sorry the side effects are happening, anon. :( Lemme see what I can find that isn't horribly angsty.
...
Team Gremlin verse:
Hei Xiong —Junior to literally everyone because apparently Mistralen names were too much for Vale tongues to handle— knew his boys weren’t … the brightest or the best. That was fine. His father wouldn’t have given him the brightest and the best even if he hadn’t been the family disappointment. But he had expected his boys to at least know the basic rule of, say, not bringing children into a criminal operation. Semi-criminal. Far less criminal than his father wanted it to be.
It was an abandoned warehouse full of guys with guns. Not a child suitable environment.
“Boys,” he ground out past the budding headache he got just looking at the tiny child sitting politely on a random box —the kid was tiny, how old was he, four?—, “I’m pretty sure I said to ‘go get us some cash’. Not ‘steal a random child’. And if one of you bozos did this thinking about holding a toddler for ransom-.”
“I’m not a toddler!” Piped up the child in the indignant tone of the young.
Junior ignored that outburst for the moment, “Then I’m going to throw all of you in the river. I told you, we’re not resorting to kidnapping to get the funds for this! If I wanted to do that I’d just go back to the old man and lick his boots for more money.”
His men cringed, and the biggest of them —Tiny, and why his men all gave themselves the stupidest, least relevant nicknames was still a mystery to him— held up his hands defensively, “We didn’t kidnap him! … Not … intentionally?”
Junior pinched the bridge of his nose, “Did he wander inside on his own?”
“Well, no-.”
“Are any of you related to him?”
“Well, no, but-.”
“Do his parents or guardians know where he is right this second?”
“Uh- I don’t think so-.”
“Then it’s kidnapping, you idiots! I oughta-!”
A light but firm whap to his knee cut Junior off and he stared at the toddler in shock, because since when did toddlers have canes to whack people with? “Excuse me,” said the boy in a tone that was far too prim for this part of town, “Please stop yelling at your men.” The boy ducked his head a little, looking almost embarrassed, “They were just trying to help me. I got separated from my friends and I don’t … my leg isn’t very good. They let me come inside to catch my breath.”
…This kid was very articulate for a four year old, maybe he really was a bit older than he looked. Still, Junior felt another sigh building in his chest that he squashed down with effort —he was twenty two years old and sometimes he already felt like he was his old man’s age—, “What are you doing out here, kid? The docks is no place for a kid, especially one who needs a cane.”
The boy scowled at him, cheeks puffing and oh no, he was adorable, “I can handle myself! Besides, one of my friends works here. I was with her before I got. Um.” The boy blushed and looked down at the ground, “A little turned around.”
Hummer, the quietest and arguably most observant of his boys, leaned over to whisper in his ear, “He was having a panic attack on the sidewalk about a block from here. We think he lost track of his caretaker at one of the intersections. He’s definitely from out of the kingdoms, he was terrified of the cars. He probably panicked at the sight of so many of them and bolt- ow.”
The boy pointed his cane warningly at Hum as the man held his knee in pain, “I can hear you. I wasn’t scared of cars, I just- got startled. That’s all.”
“Sure kid,” muttered one of Junior’s boys and Junior grunted loudly, because they were getting off topic.
...
One in a Hundred verse
The familiar jolt of rising, of sliding into place, and the body snapped awake with a startled gasp. Ozpin flailed, accidentally rolling right out of bed and landing on the floor in a tangled, confused lump of limbs and blankets. His head ached with the remnants of tears and when he waggled his fingers, they were gloved. He was … in control? No. No-no-no-no that wasn’t right, he only took control when it was necessary. “Oscar,” he rasped hoarsely in a voice that wasn’t his —was far too young and soft to be his—, “Oscar, where are you?” He sat up, groping frantically for the sense of Oscar under the dangerous thrum of Old Kings. He finally found a sense of him, a glimmer of Oscar under the flow, but when he reached to pull it out, the boy just batted his mental hand away like a tired, cranky cat, sliding deeper under the flow instead. Ozpin tried four more times before a spiking headache and repeated flairs of exhausted-agitated magic made him stop for fear of injuring either himself or the boy.
It would seem that … whatever had happened, Ozpin was temporarily in control.
…He hoped it was temporary.
Well. Lying in this position wasn’t good for either of them, so Ozpin careful set about untangling the body and … taking care of things he supposed. He debated the merits of a shower, and normally wouldn’t have dared, but Oscar’s frame was shivering slightly and felt clammy from sweat —from the nightmares of reliving a past life as Ozpin walked through it, just as he had relived his past when Oscar walked through his—. He grimaced, but so long as he was in control he had to take responsibility and care, so he hastily stripped down and hurried his way through a cold shower.
He froze up briefly in front of the mirror, because Oscar —by habit it seemed— rarely looked in a mirror or down at his hands, and never without his gloves and bandages on. Ozpin swallowed hard and saw the thick, ugly scarring on a too-young neck ripple with the motion and felt queasy. Grimm attack. He knew the signs. He just- hadn’t expected to —had hoped never to— see them on a boy this young. Then he shook it off and rummaged around for clean bandages and gloves and clothes. Finding a proper brush was a little trickier, because just a hair brush wouldn’t suffice, at least if his foggy memories of past lives were to be believed.
He took his time getting himself sorted, meticulously brushing out all the kinks and trying not to twinge anything sensitive —he was out of practice with that—, before putting on clothes. A few failed tries at tucking everything away without pinching and he gave up —he was very out of practice, not that it could be helped—. If Oscar’s aunt was accepting of multiple personalities and body-hopping cursed wizards, she would no doubt have long ago accepted this part of Oscar’s own body.
Ozpin made his way downstairs carefully, grimacing past the phantom ache in a leg he knew was just fine but would never feel fine to him, hanging onto the stair railing and repeatedly reaching out to Oscar in the hopes the boy would wake up from whatever strange trance he seemed to be in and take back his rightful control.
Miss Pine looked up in open surprise when he skirted carefully into the kitchen, “Oscar? I thought you said you were going to have a Quiet Day. I was just about to come check on you.”
Ah. This was likely going to go poorly, “My apologies, Miss Pine,” Ozpin murmured and refused to flinch when she stiffened in realization, “I … I do not know what is going on. I woke up in control through no action or intent of my own. I have tried waking up Oscar multiple times but he- he doesn’t respond.”
For a moment, he thought she would accuse him of lying, of stealing control. She would hardly be the first. But after a moment of hard staring, the fight left her shoulders and she sighed heavily, “No, I don’t suppose he would. I should have realized a Quiet Day with … another person … in his head would lead to something like this. Sit down, you might as well eat. Oscar won’t otherwise.”
Ozpin tentatively sat down, careful of how he moved so nothing pinched or was pinned, “You and Oscar mentioned those before. Quiet … days?”
“That’s what we call it when Oscar loses control of the voices. He usually spends the day sleeping or drifting around the house in a daze, unresponsive, barely eating.” She looked pained, worried for a moment, then shook her head, “At least they don’t make him sick and feverish anymore.”
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Harry walking on Ron and Hermione ;)
A/N: Hi Anon! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy!
Four Times Harry Walked in on Ron and Hermione and One Time He Didn’t
I.
Harry sighed as he walked through the Burrow’s front door. He’d been at Death Eater hearings the majority of the day, and now he just wanted to sleep. Trials weren’t as simple as he thought they should be. Of course, the world wasn’t as simple as he thought it would be either. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would testify for Draco Malfoy.
Shaking his head, he continued into the surprisingly quiet house. He was pretty sure Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had gone to Diagon Alley to check up on George. Mr. Weasley was still at the Ministry when he left. That left Percy and Ron. Percy was probably in his room trying to figure out yet another way to apologize to his family. Harry figured Ron was still in his room sulking while he waited for Hermione to return from Australia. Ron had been moody ever since she left.
Honestly, it was the quickest turn around Harry had ever seen. Ron had been gone for several months and returned; then they were thrown into battle, only for Ron and Hermione to come out of it holding hands. If only Harry was so lucky.
Sighing, he pushed the bathroom door open and turned the shower on. After such a long day, all Harry wanted to do was shower and sleep. He turned to go up the stairs and grab some clothes, thinking about what was next for him. As he passed Ginny’s room, he sighed, wondering if her room like it was the last time he had been in it. Ginny had been on his mind too much lately, yet he could never find the right words to say to her. Something stupid always ended up coming out of his mouth.
Shaking his head, he pushed the door to Ron’s room open.
And was meant with an eyeful of Hermione’s bra.
At least, the back of it. She was straddling Ron while the redhead lay underneath her, shirtless. Harry’s heart dropped out of his chest. Hermione wasn’t supposed to be back for another week—four days at the least. Yet, here she was; setting on top of his best friend with nothing more than a pink bra and tight jeans, while Ron gaped at him, red sneaking up the sides of his neck and ears.
“Harry!” Hermione squeaked.
“Hermione!” Harry mocked, trying his best not to let his breakfast make a reappearance.
“You were supposed to be in the Death Eater trials.”
“You weren’t supposed to be back for another week.”
“Got in early.”
“Me too.”
By this time, Ron’s face had gone completely red, and Hermione had a faint blush creeping up on her face as well. Harry wanted to smack them both with a Beater’s bat. What if Mrs. Weasley had come upstairs and found them?
However, he couldn’t hide from himself the fact that he was jealous that they had each other in this moment after the war. He was happy they could take comfort in each other, even if he had no one to take comfort in right now.
“I’m going back downstairs to check on my shower,” Harry muttered through grit teeth. “When I come back up, you two better be dressed.”
He slammed the door and headed back downstairs, hoping he could get some sleep soon and not have nightmares about Hermione sitting on Ron’s lap.
I.I.
Harry planned to meet George at his and Ron’s flat after George closed his shop. The three of them were going out for drinks to get George out of his flat. Honestly, it was a miracle he had agreed to come with them. He had just agreed to reopen the shop with Ron’s help.
Harry had to give Ron credit though. He’d been training as an Auror and working in George’s shop in the early mornings and late evenings. More often than not, Ron had showed up with dark circles under his eyes. He was always smiling though, happy to help his brother and train with Harry to become an Auror.
As he climbed the steps to the flat, Harry wondered what Ginny was doing tonight and if they should ask her to tag along. Since graduating from Hogwarts, Harry hadn’t seen much of her—not that he’d spent much time with her while she was in Hogwarts. Ginny was just as untouchable now as when he’d broken up with her.
Turning the knob, he entered the flat. It was darker than usual. The only light coming from between the curtains of the windows. There was only once piece of furniture in the front room and it was a couch, which happened to be housing his two best friends.
Ron was on top of Hermione with his pants just starting to be tugged off his hips. For her part, Hermione was mostly covered. Her blue dress only had a few buttons undone, but the bottom of it had ridden up from where Ron was grinding into her.
“For fuck’s sake,” Harry sputtered.
Ron jumped, nearly exposing Hermione to Harry’s line of sight. He thanked Merlin that it was dark.
“Harry,” Ron panted, as he pulled his trousers back up. “I didn’t expect you to be early.”
“Early?” Harry shot back. “I’m on time. Where the fuck is George anyway?”
“Downstairs closing,” Ron answered, still not moving from between Hermione’s legs. “He said he could close without me since I’d been working so hard.”
“So, you thought you’d come up here and have a quickie?”
“No,” Hermione objected, her distain for the word obvious in the way her lips tightened.
The door to the kitchen opened, and the kitchen light came on, exposing more of Ron and Hermione than Harry wanted to see. George appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised.
“Having fun?” he asked drily.
Ron growled finally standing up and beginning to put his shirt on. Hermione grabbed her dress and pushed it quickly done her legs. Clearly seeing that she wasn’t wearing a bra, Harry glanced away. As Hermione began to button up the top of her dress, George snorted.
“Right then,” he said. “Let’s get going then. No birds allowed.” He offered a pointed glance at Hermione.
Well, Harry’s plan of asking Ginny to come along was ruined.
I.I.I.
Harry found Ginny, George, and Percy in the kitchen of the Burrow. Ginny looked devastating as always, her hair pulled up into a high pony that showed off her high cheek bones. Harry remembered when he was allowed to run his thumb alone those cheekbones and trace the line of her freckles. She acted annoyed when he did that, but she let him anyway. His hands drew into fists for a moment, to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her face. George would take the mickey out of him if he did that.
“What are you lot doing in here?” Harry asked.
“Waiting for Mum to get back,” George answered. “Starving we are.”
“Hardly,” Percy muttered.
He was still awkward around his family sometimes, mostly around George. Harry suspected it was due to the fact that George had nearly fought him at Fred’s funeral.
“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked. “It’s too early for super.”
“I know,” Harry said, trying to think of something cool to say other than, ‘I wanted to see if I could get you alone.’ “I got off training early. Thought I’d swing by and see if Ron was here yet.”
Idiot, he seethed inside. He prayed that his best mate wasn’t here yet; then he could spend more time with Ginny.
Ginny hummed, glancing down for a moment. “Ron’s in the front room.”
Harry nodded and slid past Ginny. The smell of her perfume made him weak in the knees. Merlin, what he wouldn’t give to have enough courage to talk to her about them, even Ron had been with Hermione for three years now, and Harry couldn’t even manage to talk to Ginny about anything that was remotely romantic. Last time he’d had a proper conversation with her, it was about Quidditch and how the Harpies were cheated out of their chance for the Cup.
Annoyed he entered the sitting room and stopped dead.
Hermione was bent over Ron’s lap, her head bobbing up and done slowly. Ron, thankfully, still had his pants on, so Harry couldn’t see anything below the belt. He still had his shirt on as well, though Hermione’s hand was traveling underneath it. With his head thrown back against the couch and his eyes closed. Ron looked completely at ease.
Until his eyes opened.
“Harry,” he squeaked.
Hermione froze. Harry thought she was about to remove her mouth from Ron’s lap, but his hand came down on her head, keeping her in place.
“Really, Ron?” Harry hissed. “In your mum’s sitting room?”
Ron had the grace to blush. “Listen, Harry, just . . . don’t tell Mum.”
Throwing his hands up, Harry turned and marched back into the kitchen. George had a shit-eating grin on his face, while Ginny was biting her lip. Percy’s gaze was somewhat sympathetic.
“You knew,” Harry growled, turning to Ginny.
“I guessed.”
At this, George couldn’t hold back his laughter.
Harry was glad someone found this amusing.
I.V.
Harry couldn’t help but smile against Ginny’s lips. It’d been months since he’d seen her. She was out with the Harpies playing match after match and practice hardly left her with any free time. He, on the other hand, was busy trying to work on several different cases at once. His boss seemed to think he was good enough to solve them all at once since he was Harry bloody Potter.
Thankfully, when Harry was with Ginny, he didn’t have to think about how he was going to fix the world’s problems.
Ginny pressed her body more firmly against his as she leaned against the wall, her fingers pulling tight at the messy locks of his hair. He couldn’t get enough of her, his hands pressing into the softness of her back.
“Glad you came to that stupid Ministry function?” she asked, her lips grazing the skin of his neck.
“Yes,” he mumbled. “Never enjoyed one so much until I saw you in this dress.”
Ginny laughed.
He hadn’t wanted to be at the Ministry, but Ron had talked him into it. Harry hadn’t realized that Ginny was supposed to be there, but thanked his lucky stars that he had been able to talk to her—and get her alone. They were still in the Ministry, down some deserted hallway.
“Come on,” Ginny muttered. “I wanna get you alone, where I can get your clothes off.”
Harry groaned as he pressed against her. “Gin.”
They still weren’t together. Somehow Harry had been lucky enough to get in her pants again, but that was it. She never asked about him taking her out on a date or hanging out with him as something more than a friend. It frustrated Harry to no end, but he didn’t want to bring up a relationship if all she was looking for was fun. Merlin, he really needed to grow a pair and ask her out.
“In here,” she mumbled as she pushed open the door to a vacant room. He stumbled in after her, kissing the side of her neck. If he could just find the tie to this dress, he would be the happiest man in the world.
“What the bloody fuck!”
Harry yanked away from Ginny as she lit her wand and spun around.
On a nearby counter, sat Hermione covering her breasts with Ron between her legs. Harry’s best mate was wearing nothing, but the trousers around his ankles, his freckled arse on display for both of them to see. Hermione wasn’t much better. The dress she had been wearing earlier was around her waist, covering only a small portion of her and Ron’s private bits.
“What are you doing?” Ginny laughed. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, Hermione.”
She scowled and was about to say something, but Ron beat her to it.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “And what’s Harry doing with you? I thought you two weren’t together.”
“We’re not,” she answered. “And I don’t believe you’re in a position to be asking questions, Ronald. Wait till Mum hears about this.”
Ron started towards her, but Hermione tightened her legs around him to stop him from moving.
Harry finally recovered his voice. He grabbed Ginny’s arm.
“Come on, Gin.”
“Get back to work, Sparky. Make sure that girl has an orgasm!”
V.
Ron slid into the bed next to Hermione. She’d rented out a room in Diagon Alley to live in over the summer as she looked for a permanent job. Ron had taken the liberty of spending most of his nights with her—behind his mum’s back of course.
“Ron?” she mumbled.
“Hey,” he said, snuggling up to her. Spooning Hermione was the most comforting action he could think of. All of the stress melted out of his body and dripped onto the bed, bothering him no more.
“It’s late.”
“Mum was up for a long time. Crying I think, but I couldn’t get her to admit it. She was probably missing Fred.”
Hermione turned to face him. “Is she ok?”
Ron pushed a strand of curly hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. Dad came down and talked to her. They went to bed about thirty minutes ago.”
“Are you ok?” she asked. He knew she wasn’t talking about missing Fred exactly. He’d been working with George and trying to balance his job as an Auror, all while figuring out how to deal with the loss of his brother. It wasn’t an easy thing.
“Yeah, Perce has been helping with the book keeping. George and I aren’t very good at that.” He snorted. “Go figure.”
“I worry about you sometimes,” she whispered, thumb running along his jawline. She was fully awake now, and her big brown eyes were watching him with a mix of curiosity and pity.
“Don’t,” Ron said, poking her stomach. “I’m the one who should be worried about you. What’s all this nonsense I hear about you not being able to get a job because you’re ‘overqualified?’”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t matter. And only one person said that. I haven’t heard back from the other two departments yet. I’ll find something, Ron.”
“I know,” he said. “But I want you to love it.”
Hermione sighed and rolled on top of him. Ron grabbed her hips and enjoyed the view.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing.”
She leaned down and kissed him. Ron let his hands slid up to cup her face and hold her there. This was his favorite part of dating her. He got to be intimate with her, and not just in a sexual way. He got to hold her hand and kiss her and cuddle with her late at night. It really was the closest he had been to anyone in his life.
She began to tug at his shirt.
“Hermione,” he muttered. “Do you really want to do this right now?”
“Yes,” she answered pulling the shirt over his head.
Ron reached for her shirt and tugged it up as well. Fuck, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
If he’d thought it once, he’d thought it a hundred times. Hermione had perfect tits. They were on the small end, but her nipples were large and pink. They stuck out beautifully when she was turned on—much like they were doing right now.
“Hermione,” he groaned, grabbing her hips and grinding up into her.
She grinned at him, proud of how she made him squirm. Ron surged upward to kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip.
“Ron,” she groaned, her hands sliding up his arms and coming to rest on his shoulders.
“Hermione,” he answered. “I . . .” Words left him. He wanted to ask her to get a flat with him, but he knew that it was too soon for that. She would want to live on her own for a bit while she had a job and try to figure her life out first. Damn her independence.
“I need you to take your pants off,” he said instead. Hermione willingly complied. She moved off his lap and pushed her sleep trousers off her legs, leaving her in bright pink knickers. “You’re gorgeous.”
Ron pulled her back into his lap and pressed his lips into the edge of her collarbone. Hermione moaned, rocking her hips into his pants since he’d thrown his trousers off when he’d entered her bedroom. His hand grabbed the ends of her hair and pulled slightly. Hermione’s head rocked back, and her chest arched toward him. Without thinking, Ron leaned forward and captured a nipple between his lips.
“Ron,” she gasped. Pride thumbed through his body as she moaned his name and wiggled on his lap. He still couldn’t believe she let him do this to her.
His hand ran down her body until it reached her knickers. As his hand rested on her thigh, he let his thumb reach down and begin to rub her clit. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth now as she waited for him to drive her closer to the edge.
“You’re so sexy when you’re like this,” Ron said, brushing small kisses across her chest.
Hermione pulled against his grasp, and he let her hair go. The hands on his shoulders became forceful. He fell back on the bed. Hermione’s hands were on either side of his head, her hair fanning around them both, bits of it covering her eyes.
“Get your pants off.”
“I love it when you order me around.”
“Shut it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ron quickly rid himself of his pants and laid back down with his hands resting behind his head.
“Why are you so smug?” she demanded.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I just like watching you strip.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and climbed on top of him. He could feel her wetness as she rubbed herself on him. His hands ran down the bed and found her thighs. They climbed the creamy skin until they reached her center. He lined himself up with her entrance as she lifted up slightly. Then she was sinking down onto him, and Ron was trying so hard not to come inside her already.
He’d improved greatly since they’d first started this. Before, he hadn’t been able to last more than five seconds, and he’d have to finish her with his fingers and mouth, not that he didn’t enjoy that. However, when he was able to last longer and make Hermione come while he was inside of her, it was even better than before.
“Hermione,” he moaned, pressing his hips into her in an effort to get deeper.
“Ron. Yes. That’s so good.”
Ron pushed up into her again, loving the feeling of being close to her.
Sometimes, he felt like he was the more sentimental one when it came to sex. He loved watching her as she moved under or on top of him. He was the one who enjoyed the feel of her, regardless of how much pleasure he received from the position they were in. She was more analytical about it, trying to figure out what they both liked and what positions would work best for both of their pleasure. Ron was content just to be inside her.
Her hips were pushing roughly against his. Ron knew that if he didn’t help her out, he’d be the first one coming tonight.
“Hermione,” he muttered, hands sliding down her hips to her core. “I love it when you ride me.”
Hermione moaned loudly. Ron’s hand found her clit and began to message it slowly.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he said, pressing her clit harder. “I love watching you.”
His name fell from her lips and she pressed herself against his hand, as she tightened around his cock.
“You feel so good around me.”
His hand started to add more pressure to her clit and she whimpered.
“Ron, I’m so close.”
“I know, Hermione.”
He pressed up and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Hermione moaned loudly before clenching around his cock and bringing him with her as she came down from her high.
“I needed that,” Ron muttered as Hermione lay exhausted on top of his chest.
“I know,” she said. “You’ve been stressed lately.”
“Oi, are you saying you only shagged me because I was stressed?”
“No, I shagged you because I wanted to. Sex just happens to help with stress.”
Ron grinned as his hand traced patterns on her back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.
#anon#romione#ron wealsey#hermione granger#harry potter#ginny weasley#i had fun writing this#hope you enjoy#hp#Smut#My writing
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35. “Why are you looking at me like that” i want to see what you do with this one
Anon, give me free reign, and I will return with some of the nichest interests to fandom. Another sourdough starter! This is for a time-travel AU with Yoichi/Sorahiko (Yoihiko) for end-game. Sorahiko's canon is set after Nana dies, and before Toshinori heads to the States.
//
So Sorahiko got punched some thirty-plus years into the past.
Fine. Typical One for All bullshit.
(He is going to punch Toshinori so hard if he ever gets back to the present. Regardless of how much Gran Torino deserved a humbling, Sorahiko did not sign up for this.)
It’s a nightmare of a time period, especially because pro-heroes aren’t exactly a concept yet. Sorahiko is unlucky enough to be picked up by some kind of guerrilla faction, and even more unlucky when he finds out they are connected to All for One. Not in a friendly way, mind.
The leader of the resistance and his right-hand man interfered before Sorahiko could be summarily interrogated and killed. To be fair to the guerrilla faction, Sorahiko had been shooting his mouth off left and right, because this whole situation was awful, and he wasn’t shy about taking his frustration out on assholes.
Things that alarmed them: his gear, his hair, and his unheard-of Quirk.
“Are you related to Shigaraki?” the leader had asked, suspicion written all over his face.
“Who the hell is Shigaraki,” Sorahiko had answered, eyeing the leader’s gauntlets.
Talks are, believe it or not, uphill from there. Once Sorahiko is confirmed to be thoroughly, passionately agreeable to using violence against All for One, he is more or less folded into the resistance. And before long, the resistance launches an all-out assault on All for One’s base.
Gran Torino is mercilessly placed on the front lines, nearly shoulder to shoulder with the leader (determinedly nameless) and his right-hand man (Sanjuro Yojimbo).
“Easier ways to take me out of the game,” says Sorahiko, checking the suction seals of his gloves. He grimaces at the loosening fit; although his time hadn’t been the best with the daily grind of patrol - villain - paperwork, its miserable characteristics did not hold a candle to the present.
These are lean times.
“Gran Torino, you’re the one who wanted to wear your shining beacon of a costume,” says Sanjuro. The man adjusts his bandana, fussing with fraying seams.
“I wasn’t going to repaint my gloves and boots.”
“And now you’ll attract all sorts of attention,” sighs the leader. The three of them are sharing one last quiet moment, staring at the hastily-scrawled map Sorahiko managed to draw up. Honestly, he has no idea if the resistance would have managed this fight without his help.
They certainly aren’t in any records.
“Sure you won’t tell me your name?” Sorahiko needles. “Dead man’s request.”
“As you like to remind us, it’s hard to kill you,” the leader says. He folds the map into squares, slides it into his jacket, and cracks his neck from side to side. “Send the signal.”
A red flare shoots up into the sky.
Gran Torino, as the fastest, hurtles himself over the gates and dodges the first slew of projectile Quirks. Nothing particularly dangerous, nothing tricky. However much All for One is in his prime, the Quirks of this era are… lacking in potency.
That, or All for One has already snatched the strongest of them up.
He supposes the real nightmare is that All for One’s followers are simply that. Followers, willing to do what the man wants, in broad daylight. Vicious, vindictive, villainous. The civilians can’t fight back, because the ban on public Quirk usage affects them the hardest. The government flounders, still is floundering by the time Gran Torino had hit the streets, so… it makes sense that this resistance appeared to fill the gap.
His entrance into the building is preceded by an unconscious woman’s body, thrown through a window. Presumably, the leader’s gauntlets will blow open the front doors, but once Gran Torino is on the move, he tries not to stop.
“Get him!”
“What the hell is he wearing?”
Gran Torino kicks that commenter in the face. He moves on. One, two, five, ten--there are more guards than he anticipated. Further down: a stairway, a hallway, a large heavy door with a spinning handle attached.
Despite knowing of the smart thing to do (wait for reinforcements), Gran Torino sets on to open this door.
It does not turn easy. But it does turn, and the door does open.
He shoves it, steadies his footing, and braces himself for a surprise attack. The light from the hallway floods into a dark room, and Sorahiko can barely discern a cowering figure on the floor, pale-haired and green-eyed.
“N-nii-san?”
Sorahiko blanches as the sound of an explosion shakes the floor above. He knows of very few people with hair like theirs, and this trembling voice does not sound like All for One. Stumbling back so his shadow doesn’t fall over the other man’s, Sorahiko has a crazy thought: whoever this relative of All for One is, he looks--kind.
“You’re not my brother,” says the man, green eyes going wide. “You--”
“Do you want out?” Gran Torino demands.
“I…”
“This estate is being attacked,” he says, trying to pick his words carefully. Shimura was always better at reassuring terrified civilians, or de-escalating emotional spirals on the verge of a panic attack. “If you need help, then… the people I’m with can provide it.”
“You don’t know who I am.”
Gran Torino exhales, sharp, and stalks into the vault. The man stays on the floor, staring up and up, except his eyes hold less fear and more fascination. They follow Gran Torino as he crouches, and then they skitter to gaze at the outstretched hand.
“I don’t need to know who you are,” Sorahiko says. “I wasn’t sent here to find you. All I know is that you’ve been trapped in this room, guarded by more goons than feasible for a hallway patrol.” He tilts his head. “Makes for easy lines of attack, I gotta say.”
“... Your Quirk?”
“Trade secret,” says Sorahiko simply. He wiggles his fingers. “This is an offer. Get out of jail free card, you could say.”
The man hesitates, but he reaches back, thin fingers ever smaller against the size of Gran Torino’s glove. They curl into a surprisingly strong grip as Gran Torino levers them back up.
“Can you run?”
“I’m not in the best of shape,” says the man, sheepish.
He considers his options. Escorting a malnourished unarmed civilian will turn them both into sitting ducks. Carrying him? That’s doable. It may also deter Sanjuro and the leader from automatically killing the man.
“Ever get motion sickness?”
“Never had the opportunity.”
Gran Torino nods and says, “I can carry you. In my arms or over my shoulder, pick your poison.” Upon seeing the flustered expression bloom, Sorahiko rolls his eyes. The man won’t see; the lenses are opaque. “If it helps, it will be faster if you’re in my arms. I can compensate for the extra weight easier.”
Not that you look like you weigh much, Sorahiko adds silently.
“Whatever works,” says the man, faint, and Gran Torino hooks one twiggy arm around his much broader shoulders and scoops him up off the floor by the knees. He’s right. The man doesn’t weigh much at all. Fingers curl in, grabbing a handful of his cape.
“This’ll work,” he confirms, and turns smartly on his heel to exit the vault. Before Gran Torino reenters the hallway, he stops and warns, “Bodies up ahead.”
The fingers tighten. “You killed them?” the man asks woodenly.
“Mine will wake up with a severe migraine.”
“Ah.”
That’s about as much as Gran Torino’s willing to throw his comrades under the bus. He forges on into the light, picking his way past the fallen unconscious bodies. Being in the past has turned him more cutthroat, but… he’s been hardwired to perform swift knock-outs. For most wannabe villains, getting kicked unconscious once is embarrassing enough to turn them onto milder paths.
Better a shoplifter than a mugger, in Gran Torino’s eyes.
These ‘guards’ had been pretty pathetic. Supposing the resistance doesn’t send a ‘clean-up’ squad, the idiots might be able to turn over a new leaf.
He would use Jet, but the hallway is kind of tight. So Gran Torino is stuck walking until he reaches the stairs, and he tries not to jostle his passenger. This effort does not go unrecognized, a fact Sorahiko realizes when he glances down to check in.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, unsettled by the shining green irises.
It looks uncannily like when Toshinori actually respected Gran Torino, instead of hating him to the point of sending him far into the past.
“You’re a hero,” the man whispers, almost giddy with the naming. “You’ve got to be.”
Sorahiko bites the inside of his cheek. His face feels too warm, a fact that he will have to blame on the floor being heavily insulated. Slowly, to better communicate a disbelief that he doesn’t actually feel, Sorahiko says, “And what makes you think that?”
“Your suit. The cape. A refraining from meting out ‘righteous justice.’” The man layers the sarcasm thick on the last two words, like he’s quoting some egotistical asshole.
“Some villains make the cut,” mutters Gran Torino.
“Exceptions to the rule?”
They’re at the bottom of the staircase. Sorahiko can hear the resistance wrecking shop upstairs, and he is keenly aware that he will be entering the fray with another man in his arms, in a one-person lift more commonly associated with bridal carries.
“When a villain promises to destroy your whole world,” he says, “when they already have destroyed a crucial part of it, with no remorse, no intention to atone... I think…”
This is hardly the time to indulge his grieving heart.
Nevertheless, the man presses his hand against Sorahiko’s chest. Sorahiko, startled, meets those fascinated, fascinating green eyes.
“I hear you,” he says, quiet in his empathy. A quick breath. “My name is Shigaraki Yoichi. It’s nice to meet you…?”
Sorahiko swallows past his trepidation.
“Call me Gran Torino, Yoichi-san,” he says.
#bnha#yoihiko#torino sorahiko#gran torino#shigaraki yoichi#second ofa user#third ofa user#shih.txt#asks#anon#oh what shall we call this...#ofawrecker au#that tag might change in case i ever write a vest!gestorino fic#I DON'T KNOW
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Something comforting
The night was cool and quiet, not a soul to be seen. Only a soft pattering of paws echoed through the empty walkways. Pace quickening, nervous, unsure where it was going. Just needing out. Just needing to “breathe”.
If he could sweat, he would be. Trying not to panic.
He was exhausted, interrupting his sleep cycle after a nasty nightmare that woke him abruptly from his slumber. With every step his chest got tighter, and tighter, and for a brief moment he was thankful he didn’t actually have to breathe otherwise he was sure he would have passed out.
There was no rhyme or reason as to why he was out here- just could not be in his apartment. It was so empty. So lonely. So...suffocating. An empty shell, just like he was, just like he was trying hard not to admit. Cackling echoes in his head, a dreadful thudding noise in his ears, eyes squeezing shut as he forces himself forward. Flashes of claws and pain and a voice that used to haunt the inside of his mind rattle around behind his eyelids, and he nearly cries. He knows he can’t, biting his lip with a low whine as he hears his systems spark in his chest.
Soon his paws meet grass, and he gasps, eyes flashing open to view the park that he had unknowingly wandered into. Shakily, he slowly makes his way further in, looking at the trees, the plants, behind him, making sure there was nothing hidden in the depths.
It was just as quiet as everywhere else, just the sound of nature and owls that were out for the night.
With a deep shaky sigh, he rubs his hands down his face. Surely he was losing it. He didn’t even know what park this was, or how far he had gone from his apartment. There is a bench nearby, and finally, he moves over to sit down. As soon as he does, he draws his legs into his chest, burying his face into his knees to form a ball.
He was lost. He was alone. Haunted by what was rattling in his brain. Every noise could be it. Every second that passed he could be found by it. A rattling sob finally manages to rip out from his throat, hot purple-tinted tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. A function that he so desperately wished had never been installed. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop himself, ears flooded with the noise of sparking and systems firing while he sobs into his knees, shoulders bouncing as he cries. His head tells him to stop, error noise upon error noise, but he can’t. He’s lost, he’s alone, he’s scared, he wants to go home, he doesn’t want to go to an empty apartment, he wants-
“...Diogo? That you?”
He freezes, recognizing the voice almost instantly. Freezing and hoping that they would just go away. Leave him alone. Do not see him like this. To not see him so weak and pathetic and ugly and-
“Hey, uh, y’need to talk or somethin?”
Diogo can hear them kneel in front of him, frozen in his place. He knows they’re staring. He knows they’re looking. He knows they’re judging. He knows-
“Is it ok t’touch ya? ‘M not gonna do anything bad or nothin’.”
There’s a faint pause in Diogo’s thought process, still tightening ever further into his ball, almost wanting to disappear. Yet finding a strange warmth in the other’s voice, at the attempt to sound soft and comforting despite the rough tone. He knows better than to trust them, to let them see him like this, expecting them to say something stupid like they always did. But Diogo isn’t sure why he found himself nodding.
He feels their large hands carefully find his own, gently pulling them from their vice-like grip from around his legs. Thumbs stroke the back of his hands, and Diogo can feel his sobs lessen their grip on his chest, slowly going back to a steady state. They were quiet, only offering a comforting touch, and Diogo’s hands began to squeeze back- tightly. Not wanting to let go. Wanting more, the support, the comfort, just to not feel.
“Y’er okay…”
They quietly repeat, dulling out the sounds of system errors and Diogo’s own internal voices. There’s a lingering sniffle, but slowly, eventually, Diogo pulls his head up, wet tear trails still staining his face. As his vision clears, he can finally make out the android in front of him. They lacked the stupid smirk that they usually wore, instead their face was laced with concern, perking up as Diogo finally moved, a soft smile of relief etching it’s way onto their features. Diogo was surprised that Eryth of all people was...well. Being so nice. To him.
“Y’good to talk now?”
Diogo shakes his head no, glancing away from Eryth, who gives a nod in response. One of his hands moves away from Diogo’s, carefully hovering at the side of Diogo’s face. Diogo flinches at the movement, and Eryth freezes immediately, smile disappearing.
“Is this okay?”
They repeat, not allowing themselves to do anything Diogo was not comfortable with. Diogo looks over at Eryth, watching his hand out of the corner of his eyes. There were no claws. There was hesitation. They just waited, letting Diogo make the decision. Taking a faux deep inhale, Diogo nods tentatively, his hand squeezing Eryth’s other one just a bit tighter. His eyes squeezing shut as Eryth’s other hand gently places itself on his face.
It’s a lot at once, the gentleness of Eryth’s actions, the movement of his thumb wiping away his tears, the soft comforting rubbing that he was trying to give. Diogo can feel his systems speed up, to make sense of the foreign sensations without overheating. Yet Eryth was going so slow, so careful to allow Diogo’s systems to catch up without an issue. The other android knew that it was a possibility that he wanted to avoid.
As Eryth continues his motions, Diogo’s legs slowly uncurl from his chest like a sealed chest that was finally being opened to the person with the key. His eyes open again, to see Eryth leaning forward further into his space, face ever closer to Diogo’s own. He seemed focused on the other android, careful, not making any sort of quip or shitty joke that Diogo had expected.
The lights in his cheeks flicker for a moment, Diogo observing the other in silence, trying to focus on the small ministrations that Eryth was giving him. It was...nice. Having someone there. Even if Diogo kept expecting the other shoe to drop, he didn’t want it to drop, knowing that at some point Eryth would flaunt this over his head. Use it against him whenever they would eventually argue next. Something. Diogo hated that he was showing this side of himself to Eryth. He hated that Eryth was being nice. He hated how much he liked his hand in Eryth’s. He hated how Eryth was making him feel better.
But Diogo didn’t pull away.
“D’ya need anythin’?”
Eryth finally breaks the silence once again, hand still gently cupping Diogo’s cheek. Diogo blinks, slowly, unsure. Not wanting to ask. He glances off to the side, looking around, as if he expected someone to be there. Watching. Ready to use this against him in the future. Paranoid of losing this person he had so carefully crafted himself to be. Unconsciously, his hand grips Eryth tighter, a shake beginning to rattle his body. Fears gradually build more and more, tearing away at his mind. What did he need? What did he want?
“Diogo…” His name is spoken oh-so softly, “It’s okay, promise. No one here but you ‘n me.” As if reading his mind, carefully observing Diogo’s movements.
“That’s-” Diogo’s voice finally works, sounding staticy at first as the system makes itself work again. “That’s what I’m-” He stutters, unable to fully admit his fear, but Eryth seemed to understand all the same.
“I’m not gonna do shit if ya don’t want me to.” Eryth hand slides away from his face, taking Diogo’s other hand once again, “Not even I’m gonna kick a man when he’s down, I may be a real piece ‘a shit but I ain’t that bad.” His tone gets lighter, trying to ease the mood just a little. “‘Sides, even if I tried, you’d probably kick my ass into next week!”
There’s a soft wheeze from Diogo’s chest, involuntary he’d claim. But Eryth’s grin gets wider, not missing a single beat. It wasn’t the same usual stupid smirk Diogo despised so much, but a genuine lopsided smile, and Diogo couldn’t help but stare. He felt, warm. His thoughts melted into the back of his mind. Eased by Eryth’s reassurance, somehow. He may be an idiot, but Eryth never did lie to him.
Maybe that’s why his body moved how it did.
Without really thinking, Diogo lurched forward, trying to grab Eryth and either pull them closer or himself closer to them. It was clumsier than intended, still shaky from his near panic-attack, finding himself just tumbling into the other android with an oof! His long hair flew out behind him as he tumbled, falling erratically over the two.
Eryth is stunned at the sudden shift for a moment, unsure what to do as Diogo collides into him and he stumbles backwards on his heels, falling onto his butt into the grass with Diogo clutching their jacket and pressing his face into their chest. He blinks down at Diogo for a moment, hearing the smaller android sniffle, before carefully wrapping their arms around him, pulling Diogo into his lap for a more comfortable position without a word. He understood, and knew better, than to say anything right now. Not while Diogo was this fragile.
Diogo pressed himself tightly into Eryth, curling up against the other android as Eryth brought him closer. Claiming whatever comfort the feeling of being held and near someone else was giving him.
As Eryth’s arms slowly held him tighter, Diogo felt himself relaxing more and more. His worries seemingly fading away as he listens to Eryth’s systems fire from beneath the metal plating of his chest. Quicking and fading, similar to breathing- but not quite.
Most importantly, however, Diogo felt safe.
There were no claws. There was no one waiting around the corner. No empty apartment. No mirror that showed what he didn’t want to see.
Just Eryth, and an overwhelming feeling of comfort.
He hardly notices Eryth beginning to rock them both, slowly, one of his hands gently rubbing at Diogo’s back. Eryth’s chin eventually lowers, maybe a little daring to softly press his lips to the top of Diogo's head. He lingers for a moment, feeling the strands of Diogo's hair on his face, before pulling away and resting his chin on Diogo's head instead.
Diogo lets out a quiet sigh, tension easing from his body, replaced with a lingering exhaustion having been out for so long with lack of a proper charge and his expended mental state. He barely notices the soft kiss Eryth planted on his head, leaning further and further into the other android, eyelids slowly coming to a close.
He doesn’t hear himself softly purring, the noise barely audible as he finds himself slipping off into slumber. Feeling comforted in this small piece of the world that only contained himself and Eryth, the bigger android seemingly blocking out everything around them to make this bubble that encapsulated them both. He doesn’t see Eryth smile at the noise, saying nothing about it.
Soon Diogo doesn’t hear anything at all, his systems shutting down and entering into a sleep mode, his body slumped against Eryth’s.
“...Diogo?” Eryth softly murmurs, not getting a response, knowing that he’d need to get him home sooner or later. He waits for a response for a moment, before carefully moving his head to get a better look, seeing Diogo sleeping peacefully in his arms.
“Ah shit...” Eryth immediately realizes, knowing that if he moved he risked a very cranky Diogo- and he really didn’t feel like ruining the moment. Meaning he was stuck here, on the ground, with none other than Diogo in his arms. This was such a strange night.
He observes Diogo for a little while. As strange as it was, he felt a similar warmth in his own chest. Weirdly happy that they had crossed paths tonight, getting a glimpse at the man behind the ego. A little bit of truth that Eryth selfishly wanted to hoard for himself.
Resting his chin on Diogo’s head once again, Eryth slowly lowers his body and Diogo with him to lay back on the grass, knowing that in the previous position it would get really uncomfortable really fast. Diogo rustled for a moment- but didn’t awaken. With a sigh Eryth keeps his arms around the android, letting Diogo sleep for the night while he stares at the vast sky full of stars and he wonders.
Wonders why he wanted to never let Diogo go.
#sugars sweet treats#cadenza#diogo#eryth#dieryth#non canon#takes place b4 theyre dating in their timeline of things#still figuring shit out#anyways i wrote this when i was sad and wanted comfort so wahoo
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Truth. (Iruka x Kakashi)
Rating: T
Summary: In which an accident on a mission forces Kakashi to admit his true feelings to Iruka.
A/N: Written for KakaIru Month ( @kakairu-fest ) Day 6 & Day 12 Prompts: Flowers & Hospitals.
ao3 link
When the village finally emerges on the horizon, Kakashi lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Pulsating pain from the injury to his right side makes it hard to breathe, but Kakashi tries to ignore it – he doesn’t want to worry Tenzo more than he already has.
“Is your wound feeling worse, senpai?” Tenzo asks, making Kakashi wonder if he has gotten worse at pretending over the years or if Tenzo grew more attentive.
I’m feeling much better, Kakashi wants to lie.
“I think it’s gotten worse,” he says instead, barely able to suppress a frustrated sigh.
Of course, his rotten luck would have him encounter Truth Flowers while on the mission.
Their assignment in Hyougagakure was supposed to be a simple elimination mission, and all was going well until one of the targets tried to get away. Kakashi pursued the man deep into the village, following him into a strange greenhouse-like building. Inside, there was a myriad of flowers with crystal-clear petals, filling the air with sweet scent and low humming melody.
Kakashi knew that something was wrong – the moment he breathed in the scent of the flowers and heard the low hum emanating from the petals, his mind went hazy. There was no time to dwell upon it, however – the other shinobi attacked, and Kakashi had to fight. He prevailed – but not before sustaining a nasty kunai injury just below the ribs on his right side.
“Senpai, are you ok?” Tenzo asked him, worried, once Kakashi emerged from the greenhouse.
Kakashi was never the one to complain about injuries – and he didn’t want Tenzo to be concerned.
I’m fine,he was prepared to say.
“This stab wound hurts really bad and makes it hard to breathe,” fell from his lips instead.
Kakashi paused, confused. Why did he say that?
“We should get out of here quickly before the patrol returns,” Tenzo frowned, eyes full of concern, “And tend to your wounds.”
Kakashi nodded, pushing the question out of his mind and blaming his sudden bout of candidness upon the adrenaline from the battle and the pain from the injury.
By nightfall, he’d almost forgotten about the incident when his tongue betrayed him again – this time by letting Tenzo know that the soup he had cooked for dinner was unbearably salty. A cold, sinking feeling in the pit of Kakashi’s stomach told him that it wasn’t a coincidence, and still, he tried pushing the thoughts away.
I’m just tired, Kakashi told himself, I should be all better by the morning.
Tenzo took the first watch, letting Kakashi rest. When he finally managed to fall asleep, he was haunted by dreams of darkness, disturbing and strange, filling him with the sense of frazzled terror. Kakashi woke up long before the sunrise, panting and sweating and utterly overwhelmed by suffocating anxiety. Putting his vest on made the pain under his ribs radiate towards his right shoulder, but Kakashi didn’t care. He couldn’t be in this dark tent anymore – he needed to be outside.
“You don’t look so good, senpai,” Tenzo glanced up at Kakashi from his place by the campfire, “Is the wound preventing you from sleeping?”
“I was having nightmares,” the moment the words left Kakashi’s mouth, he knew for certain that something was wrong – he’d never admitted to having nightmares to anyone, and that fact wasn’t lost on Tenzo.
“Is…is everything ok?” Tenzo started carefully, looking Kakashi in the face, “You have been much more…candid with your insights today.”
Kakashi wanted to lie, to say that he was just tired and in pain, but he knew before he opened his mouth that his tongue would betray him. This time, he didn’t try to fight it.
“I think there was something wrong with the flowers in that greenhouse,” he said, “Ever since I walked in there, I can’t stop myself from saying what I’m thinking. Even when I want to lie, only truth comes out.”
The look on Tenzo’s face was equal parts concerned and amused.
“I think I’ve heard of flowers like that,” he replied after a brief pause, “It’s called Truth Flower, if I’m not mistaken, and works a lot like truth serum.”
A shiver ran down Kakashi’s spine at Tenzo’s words. Wonderful.
“And is there any antidote?” Kakashi asked.
“Not that I remember,” Tenzo shrugged, “I’m pretty sure its effects last only a few days, so you should be able to wait it out.”
Kakashi could barely suppress a sigh. Just what he needed.
Tenzo was a better man than most – on their way back to Konoha, he had barely spoken to Kakashi, lest an accidental question makes Kakashi reveal something he didn’t want to tell. Kakashi knew he owed him one for the consideration he had shown.
“If the wound’s gotten worse, you should go to the hospital,” Tenzo’s voice drags Kakashi out of his thoughts, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No,” Kakashi replies, “You must go to the Hokage with the report right away.”
Tenzo gives Kakashi a hesitant look.
“Go,” Kakashi repeats, “I can take care of myself.”
He has no plans of going to the hospital, but what he says isn’t exactly a lie, and Tenzo seems satisfied with the response.
“Very well,” Tenzo nods, “I’ll come to see you at the hospital as soon as I’m done with the report.”
With that, Tenzo flickers away, leaving Kakashi to walk the remaining short distance to the village gates by himself. Pain under Kakashi’s ribs radiates through his right side, and all he can think of is the moment he will fall into his bed and sleep for hours on end. Or at least, for as long as is necessary for the effects of this flower to wear off. Distantly, Kakashi remembers that he didn’t close the window in his bedroom and hopes that it hasn’t rained – if it has, his entire bed is likely wet, and changing the bedding is far beyond his strength at the moment.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, Kakashi doesn’t notice how he reaches the gate – until his eyes catch the sight of a familiar silhouette. Kakashi’s heart skips a beat – he sees Iruka sitting on one of the benches just by the gate. Warmth rises in his chest, and his heart flutters, as he almost believes for a single moment that Iruka’s waiting for him.
Bitter smile blooms on Kakashi’s lips. Of course he isn’t.
Kakashi would be utterly delusional to think otherwise – after all, Iruka had no idea about his feelings, about Kakashi’s desperate dream that they could grow old together. And even if he did, what good would it do? Kakashi is damaged and broken way beyond measure, and Iruka deserves much better.
He realizes that he should walk away – given the impact of the flower, it’s dangerous for him to be around Iruka, lest the truth slip out - but it’s too late.
“Kakashi-san,” Iruka calls out, standing up from his seat.
“Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi says softly as he approaches Iruka.
The bright smile on Iruka’s face makes Kakashi almost forget about the pain in his side.
“You are back already?” there’s a slight surprise in Iruka’s voice, making Kakashi wonder if he knew what kind of mission he and Tenzo were sent on, “I hope your mission went well.”
“It did,” Kakashi nods before adding, “Are you waiting for someone?”
“Yes,” Iruka smiles, “Naruto should be back soon, and I was hoping to take him out for ramen.”
The words hurt more than they should – Kakashi knows, of course, that Iruka wasn’t waiting for him, but for a moment, it was nice to pretend.
“I see,” he says, simply. A sudden jolt of pain shoots through Kakashi’s right side, making him double over.
“Kakashi-san,” Iruka’s next to him immediately, hands-on Kakashi’s shoulders, steadying him, “Are you hurt?”
Kakashi doesn’t want to answer – the last thing he needs right now is to make Iruka worried, but he cannot stop the words escaping his lips.
“I got stabbed on a mission,” Kakashi explains, wincing as another wave of pain spreads through his body, “And the wound won’t stop bleeding.”
“You need to get to the hospital,” Iruka frowns, “Here, let me help you.”
“I can walk,” Kakashi replies, more curtly than he intends, “And I wasn’t planning on going to the hospital. I’ll deal with this myself.”
An angry, incredulous look crosses Iruka’s features.
“You can’t be serious,” Iruka exclaims, “You’ve been bleeding for days. You need to see a doctor.”
“I can take care of myself,” Kakashi protests, feeling lightheaded. He doesn’t want to argue with Iruka, but there is no getting away, it seems – he doesn’t have the chakra to flicker away, and he’s pretty sure that Iruka’s hands on his shoulders are the only thing stopping him from falling over.
“Can you?” Iruka asks, his voice suddenly almost dripping with venom, “Because Naruto tells me you end up in the hospital after half your missions precisely because you don’t take care of yourself.”
“And why does that matter to you?” Kakashi almost spits out, feeling hot anger rise in his chest, “We aren’t even friends.”
Iruka has always been politely distant with Kakashi – what gave him the idea that he could scold Kakashi like he was one of his students?
Iruka looks at him, speechless, and, for a moment, Kakashi almost believes that he will drop the issue so they could both move on with their day. And then Iruka shakes his head, and a strange, unfamiliar expression crosses his features.
“Why does it matter to me?” Iruka repeats slowly, looking Kakashi straight in the eye, “You know, I ask myself the same question all the time, and the only answer that I’ve come up with thus far is that I must be an absolute fool for falling in love with Konoha’s most reckless jonin. You are all reckless, of course, but you, specifically, I swear…I wish I was less of an idiot and could simply not care about you, but I can’t.”
Kakashi’s head spins, and the sound of his own heartbeat threatens to drown him. He can hardly believe his ears - Iruka is in love with him?It feels too much like a fantasy, but Iruka’s hands on his shoulders are steady and warm, and Kakashi knows that it’s not a dream. Iruka’s staring him straight in the face – still incensed and flushed with anger – and there’s nothing Kakashi wants more at that moment than to kiss him.
His mind’s racing as he tries to stop the inevitable, tries to prevent the fateful words from escaping his lips - after all, Iruka deserves so much more than he could ever offer - but the Truth Flower is merciless.
“I’ve been in love with you for years,” Kakashi breathes out.
Anger and color both drain from Iruka’s face, and he’s staring at Kakashi wide-eyed. There is a pit at the bottom of Kakashi’s stomach, and his heart drops, but there is no taking back his words. Whoever said that sharing a secret makes one feel better was a liar, he thinks, a wave of suffocating anxiety washing over him as silence stretches.
“What did you say?” Iruka finally asks, voice no louder than a whisper.
“I said I’m in love with you,” Kakashi repeats, “And have been for years.”
“What…what brought about this sudden bout of honesty?” Iruka narrows his eyes, looking at him suspiciously.
Kakashi hardly wants to recount what happened on the mission, but his tongue betrays him yet again.
“I’ve run into a greenhouse full of Truth Flowers,” he explains, “And now I cannot lie, at least for a while.”
Iruka looks at him for a long moment – and then something shifts in his face, and a small smile appears on his lips.
“Oh,” is all Iruka can manage.
Another jolt of sharp pain through Kakashi’s side makes him almost fall, but Iruka holds him up.
“Well,” Iruka laughs awkwardly, “Now that we’ve gotten the confessions out of the way, we need to take you to the hospital.”
Kakashi doesn’t want to go – now that he knows Iruka loves him back, there’s nothing he wants more than to stay by his side, so he tries to argue.
“Naruto told me you’ve had some medical training,” Kakashi says, leaning against Iruka’s side for support, “So maybe you could help me, and there would be no need to go to the hospital.”
“Trying to use my feelings against me already?” Iruka chuckles, “But it won’t work – we are going to the hospital so that your wound can get treated properly.”
Kakashi hardly has the energy to argue, so he lets Iruka lead him away from the village gates towards the hospital. Feeling Iruka’s warm, steady presence against his side almost makes Kakashi forget about the burning pain under his ribs. The moment they enter the hospital, however, Kakashi feels completely lightheaded, and all his remaining strength is gone as the room spins around him. He wants to ask Iruka to stay by his side, but no words leave his lips before he sinks into the darkness.
When Kakashi opens his eyes, he’s lying in the hospital bed. Bright light streams into the room through the half-open window, and he knows that he must have been unconscious for at least a day. As he glances around, warmth rises in Kakashi’s chest – Iruka’s sitting on a chair next to his bed, looking exhausted yet relieved.
“How long was I out?” Kakashi asks, his voice hoarse from sleep.
“Two days,” Iruka tells him, “Your wound has gotten infected, and you needed emergency surgery – but the doctor said you should be all better now.”
Kakashi takes a deep breath and nods.
“Also,” Iruka continues, leaning slightly closer, “The effects of the Truth Flower should have worn off by now.”
Kakashi raises an eyebrow, confused. Iruka’s right, he can feel it, but how would he know that?
It seems Iruka understands him without words.
“I’ve done my research,” Iruka shrugs, lifting up the book that’s resting in his lap.
“I see,” Kakashi murmurs.
Silence falls upon. Kakashi wonders if he should pretend that their conversation at that gate has never happened – after all, Iruka deserved much better than the likes of him. But he’s always been weak and selfish, and he’s yearned for this for so long that he cannot stop himself.
“So…” Kakashi starts carefully, his heart racing in his chest, “What does that mean for us?”
By the look on Iruka’s face, it’s clear that he knows precisely what Kakashi’s referring to – their love confessions.
“I don’t know, Kakashi,” Iruka says after a brief pause, and Kakashi’s heart drops – until Iruka reaches out and takes his hand, “But I think we could figure it out – together if that’s what you want.”
Kakashi can hardly stop himself from smiling as he gently squeezes Iruka’s fingers – there is nothing he wants more than what Iruka’s offering. It still feels so surreal that the object of his secret, desperate pining, returns his feeling, but Kakashi knows he’d be a fool to complain. And, though a man like him has no right to be as happy as he is at the moment, now that he has felt this happiness, he’ll never let go of it. Not if he can help it.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Kakashi says softly.
Perhaps they will grow old together, after all.
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miles apart // p.p.
summary: peter decides to surprise you for your one-year anniversary.
pairing: peter parker x reader
warnings: MINIMAL angst, fluff
word count: 1.5k
a/n: this is a repost.
it was your smile that caught his eye first. that dazzling grin that radiated pure happiness and joy. peter wondered what you’d been looking at on your phone that had made you smile so wide. it wasn’t until you looked up in alarm when someone bumped you that he noticed how gorgeous the rest of you was.
his palms tingled as his leg bounced up and down, his heart fluttering fast. he didn’t even know your name, how old you were or where you were from. he just knew he had to get your contact information before you walked off the train.
as peter frantically argued with himself back and forth on how he should go about attempting to talk to you, he nearly missed you as you rose to get off the train. like a bullet, he shot up from his seat and grabbed your wrist.
you shot him an alarmed glance, your expression frozen with fear. peter dropped your wrist immediately, his eyes widening with horror and his face turning beet red. “oh-oh shit, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”
as you watched him stutter his way through an explanation, your fear slowly melted away and a relaxed smile took its place. peter pressed his lips together, hoping he’d get the chance to see it reappear.
“i-i was just-you’re really pretty,” he mumbled unabashedly, then immediately clamping his teeth down into his lower lip. “i was wondering if i could get your number?”
your cheeks flushed red as the train doors slid closed. “you think i’m pretty?”
he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
peter felt like he was floating as he watched you dig out a pen, take his hand and scribble your number on it. the pen tickled his palm as you wrote, but he was too lost in your failure to hide your smile to notice.
the train lurched forward, sending you sliding forward with a yelp. peter’s strong grip caught you just in time, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange of shock. you immediately bounced up, still feeling peter’s fingers lightly hovering on your back.
“i’m sorry i made you miss your stop,” he apologized quietly, his hand dropping to his side. guilt flooded his body as you reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
“it’s okay,” you reassured, tilting your head to the right. “i can get off at the next one. it’s closest to the airport, anyway.”
and he watched you carefully step off the train once it stopped again, mesmerized as you shot a wave and grin his way. his gaze followed you as you walked away, your hand resting on the top your over-the-shoulder purse. peter glanced down at the ballpoint numbers on his palm. it had already smudged from the nervous sweating. he immediately copied it into his phone.
it wouldn’t be until midnight that he’d finally muster up the courage to properly compose a text that would spark the start of something wonderful.
the first time he’d heard your voice over a phone call, he’d immediately fallen for you all over again. it was nighttime where you lived, and your voice was soft and raspy. you often paused your sentences to yawn, and no matter how many times peter had begged you to sleep, you’d always stay up for ten more minutes just to listen to him talk.
fast forward a year and a million heart-melting texts later, you were floating on cloud nine as your thumb tapped the blue “send” button on your phone. you bit the inside of your cheek as you watched your long paragraph to peter send, showering him with affectionate nicknames and sweet words.
you glanced at the polaroids strung up on your wall, still hardly believing that it had already been a year since the cute boy on the train had prevented you from getting off at the right stop. and boy, were you glad he did.
you kept continuously glancing down at your phone, waiting for it to light up with a new message from peter. when it didn’t, you swallowed the small twinge of hurt. it must’ve been time zones. that was what it was, right?
hours later, you sank down into your bed on top of the covers, rolling over on your side to check your phone one last time before heading off to sleep. still no response. you scrolled up to the last message he’d sent. a week ago.
you swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay as tears dotted your vision.
you wiped your tears away with the heel of your palm, slightly shocked that peter hadn’t bothered to respond to your text on your one-year anniversary. you sniffed, tugging your blankets closer to you. what was he doing all the way in queens, anyway? your tired, sleep-deprived mind immediately assumed the worst. were you breaking up? was he ghosting you because he was tired of you?
a quiet knock on your window made you leap up off your bed, your sleepy body immediately becoming rigid. “who’s there?” you cried, eyes darting around for the nearest object to use as a weapon.
“it’s me,” a familiar voice called. you blinked once, then twice. was your mind playing tricks on you, or was that actually-
“peter?” you asked hesitantly, waiting with bated breath.
“yeah.”
you rushed over to the window and ripped open your curtains to see peter perching on your window ledge, wearing his familiar blue midtown sweater he knew you loved. you gasped as you frantically fumbled with the locks on the window, pulling him inside as soon as you got it open. “peter, oh my god, what were you doing out there?”
peter wrapped his arms around you, hugging you close to his chest. “i needed to see you, especially on a special day like this.”
you hugged his waist, your head dropping on his shoulder. “how-how did you get here? and why were you standing on my win-”
he pressed a brief, hasty kiss to your lips, his thumb brushing across your cheek. both your bodies flushed with heat as you pulled away, the question on your mind already forgotten.
“i thought you were mad at me,” you blurted out as his fingers ran through your messy, untidy hair. “where have you been this whole week?”
“i was getting here,” he shrugged. “to see you.”
your bottom lip quivered as you sighed in relief, your fingers playing with his. “i’m such an idiot. i thought you were breaking up with me.”
“darling, i would never,” peter promised, squeezing your hand in response. “i would never.”
your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you threw your arms around him again, hugging him as tight as possible. you felt every muscle in his body relax at your touch, and you melted into his embrace. you couldn’t help it as your tears dotted his sweater-clad shoulder. it had just been too long since you’d seen him.
“can we cuddle?” he asked, his voice muffled by your neck. tingles shot up and down your spine as his lips moved against your skin.
“of course.” you gestured to the bed, where he immediately jumped on the covers like a five year old and opened his arms. a giggle slipped from your mouth as you crawled into them, letting him pull the blankets up and over your bodies. peter smiled. your laugh was even better when he heard it in person.
his hands wrapped around your shoulders as he tugged you closer. it wasn’t until you saw peter’s face up close that you noticed the deep eyebags that looked like they could carry groceries. you ran a thumb over them, shooting him a concerned glance. “have you been-”
“yes, i’ve been sleeping,” peter finished uncomfortably, waving your hand away. you frowned. liar.
“c’mon, peter, don’t lie to me,” you whispered, ruffling his dark brown hair. “y’know i love you.”
he wriggled around in your arms for a while before finally acquiescing to your worried gaze. “fine,” he grumbled, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “i-i’ve been having trouble sleeping-every time i close my eyes, i think of you in some sort of trouble and i can’t do anything from queens, when we’re miles apart, and-and-”
you wiped away the tears that had gathered in his eyes and were spilling softly down his cheeks, and placed a kiss to his cheek. “i’m here now, okay, baby? please sleep for me?”
peter stroked your hair gently. “i don’t deserve you, darling.”
”shut up,” you poked a finger into his side playfully to lighten the mood. he sniffled and chuckled, making you grin. “i love you.”
his arms closed around your body as he placed a series of loving kisses up and down your jawline. you sighed contentedly as you snuggled up into his neck.
after only a few minutes of cuddling into peter’s soft as fuck hoodie, you drifted off to sleep in his arms. peter blinked down at you, unable to keep a goofy grin off his face. it wasn’t until extremely late at night that he finally fell asleep, not because of nightmares. but because, for once, reality was better than his dreams.
permanent taglist:
@stiles-banshees @littlehealer @kehlanis-parrish @im-salt-but-not-salty friend @averyfosterthoughts @parkerslutz @zabdisamor @alopix861 @astronomical-parker @marshyrebelcloud @screeching-student-unknown @boyfriend-cal @miraclesoflove @zendayacolema @a-hardcore-romantic @cloudy-zoey @hollandsamor @aidiastyles @halfblood-princess-505 @deans-daffodils @kickingn-ames @stuckonspidey @cosmicholland @murdermornings @imanativeofswlondondahling @yaofanblogue @thwippeter @hollandfangirl @musicalkeys @starryjiani
peter parker taglist:
@givelove-always @starlightparker @kitykatnumber @seamusfnngan @im-salt-but-not-salty @averyfosterthoughts @spideygirl2003 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @alexxcorona113 @its-the-unknownspideywrites @astronomical-parker @yourlocalbisuperhero @pastelpeter @hobiflowie @trustfundparker @parkerpeter24 @herb_the_dino @kelieah @shadowsndaisies @the-crazy-fanfictionist @k-wedgeworth @starlight-starks @luvgxnya @quaksonhehe @awaywithtime @gayfeministbroadwayyeet @universeoffandoms1 @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @yoinkyourheart @t-monosapiens-h @throughparisallthroughrome @slytherinambitious @theamazingtomholland @drishtisikarwar @1missglum1 @clara-licht @anapocalypseinmymind
#ari writes#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker fluff#peter parker angst#peter parker smut#peter parker marvel#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#tom holland imagines#tom holland angst#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#peter parker
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Papa Bear Mode: Activated
Request: Could we maybe get some wannabe dad!henry where his younger co-star that’s like a little sister/daughter figure to him gets hurt but Kal was there and ran to get Henry but basically just fluffy fluff from that man?
Characters: Henry Cavill, Teen!Reader, Kal, OC
Summary: Y/n wants to walk Kal by herself and it take an accident for Henry to find out why
Warnings: tiny bit of angst (if you squint), fluff, language
Word Count: 1,186
“I’m such an idiot. How the hell do you get hit by a fucking moped?” Y/n scolds quietly to herself.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry! Are you okay?”
Y/n tries to stop the tears as the young man comes running to her side. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She goes to stand but yelps in pain. “Okay, maybe I’m not as fine as I thought.” She looks down at her ankle. “Fuck!”
The boy winces in sympathy. “I think you broke it. I should get help.”
Not wanting this to get all over the news, Y/n reaches out for the boy’s arm. “Wait! I know someone who lives not too far from here. This is actually his-” Y/n cranes her neck, looking for the white and black Akita. “Oh no, where’s Kal?!”
“Is that the Akita I see around here all the time. Usually with a man?”
“Yes. That’s Kal.” Y/n counts down from ten, trying to calm her nerves.
“Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. He probably got scared and ran home. Who is this person I can get for you?” Alex tries to calm her as he guides her to lean against a tree.
“Henry.” Y/n answers before giving him instructions on how to get to Henry’s place. “Thank you so much-”
“Alex.” The teenager smiles
Y/n returns the smile. “Y/n.”
“Okay, Y/n. I’ll get this Henry for you.”
***
Henry looks at his watch, wondering where his two kids are. One may be a dog and the other may not be his kid by blood, but ever since she played his daughter in a movie they were in, she’s been his daughter.
He glances at his watch again, deciding he’s going to go look for them. He grabs his phone before heading out the door. He’s been walking only about five minutes when the scene before him brings back nightmares.
Henry feels as a cold shiver runs down his spine when he sees Kal but no Y/n. “Hey, boy. Where’s Y/n, Kal? Where is she?”
The Akita runs circles around Henry before speeding off in the direction that he came. Henry quickly picks up the pace; terrified of what he’s going to find.
His chest tightens at the sight of Y/n leaning against a tree, her eyes closed. He can tell she’s in pain from this distance. When Kal nudges her with his snout and she doesn't move, he panics. “Y/n! Y/n!” He falls to his knees next to her and immediately grabs her face. “Open your eyes, Y/n. Come on, open your eyes.”
Y/n can’t stop the laugh from escaping her lips. She shouldn’t laugh; the poor man is scared for her. “Henry, I’m fine." Another burst of laughter escapes.
Henry tries to look stern and scold the teenager, but he’s too worried. “It’s not funny, Y/n. When Kal came without you and then I found you here, not responding when Kal nudged you. I thought-”
Y/n bites down on her lower lip; feeling guilty for worrying the older man. “M’sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, Henry. I collided with a moped. Kal saw a squirrel and I wasn’t holding on to the lead tight enough. As I was chasing after him, I didn’t see the guy on the moped. He tried to stop and swerve around me; but I still got grazed.”
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Y/n snorts. “It was an accident, Papa Bear. Besides he left to get you, but I guess Kal was faster. I think I broke my ankle.”
Henry’s heart swells inside when she calls him Papa Bear. She hardly ever calls him that. Only when she’s half asleep or when she thinks he’s being overprotective.
“I’m sorry I almost lost Kal. I knew it was a bad idea to walk him alone.” Y/n confesses.
“Hey, none of that.” Henry sits down next to her, leaning against the tree as he pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her; mindful of her ankle. “This was all an accident. It was no one’s fault.”
Y/n relaxes at his words, glad he’s not mad about Kal getting away. Wanting to not think about the pain, she asks a question that she knows will rile up her co-star. “So that means you won’t harass Alex when he comes back?”
“Alex?” Henry exclaims.
“He told me his name before I gave him directions to your place.” She explains.
“No, I won’t harass Alex.” Henry mumbles, letting her know he only half means it.
Y/n listens to the man’s heartbeat, noticing it’s still beating faster than normal. “Good; because he’s cute.”
“What?!”
Okay, maybe this was the wrong way to distract him from her being hurt.
“How old is this Alex?” Henry says the boy’s name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
“He’s my age.”
“The kid dies.”
“Henry!” Y/n laughs as she looks back at her father figure who is only half-joking. “Be nice. He seems like a nice guy. He brings treats to the dogs that walk in this park and he even helps old ladies cross the street.”
Henry’s eyebrows shot up at her words. “Y/n, are you stalking this boy?”
Y/n can feel the heat rise to her cheeks. “N-No, I just see him around when I either come to your place or when we walk Kal.”
“Is this why you wanted to walk Kal alone?”
“Maybe.” Y/n says cheeky.
“So you used my dog to get close to a boy?”
“Yep.” Y/n answers, not at all repentant. “I learned from the best. You.”
Henry chuckles, not able to deny her words. He kisses the top of her head.
“Oh, thank god! I was worried I would have to deliver bad news.” The boy, Alex slowly approaches the two; getting mixed signals on what to do next.
Y/n is smiling sweetly at him while the older man is glaring at him. “If there’s anything else I can do-”
“I think you’ve done plenty.”
“Henry!”
Henry swallows his retort as he stands to his feet; holding out his hand to the kid. “I’m Henry. Thank you for helping Y/n and not just leaving her.”
Alex shakes the actor’s hand. “Alex. And it was no problem. It was partially my fault, Y/n was hurt. I couldn’t just leave her when she can’t even walk.”
Henry nods his head once. He grabs Kal's lead before bending down and scooping up the teenager in his arms.
Y/n tries to hide her embarrassment at being carried; but it’s not like she can walk. “Thank you, Alex. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Alex smiles. “Definitely.”
Henry turns on his heel, heading back to his place so they can go to the ER. “Not.” He murmurs but unfortunately the teenager in his arms hears him. He grins when she smacks him in the chest. He responds by blowing raspberries on her exposed neck. He chuckles softly when she squeals in protest.
Tags: @desiredposion
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Prompt where Geralt leaves Jaskier in charge of Ciri and when he comes back its just... Chaos?
To be fair, Geralt should have known better than to leave Jaskier and Ciri to their own devices for any longer than a day.
But he couldn’t very well have them distracting him while he hunted down a drowner. The last time Jaskier had accompanied him on such a hunt, they’d both nearly died, if only because Jaskier simply can’t seem to shut up, even when faced with what would be most people’s worse nightmares.
So yeah, with Ciri now tagging along with them and as curious as ever, Geralt figured it’d be safer for everyone to leave them both at the inn for a couple of days. He left Jaskier in charge with a stern, “Don’t let her wander off.”
Jaskier had given him a mock-salute. “But of course not.”
“And don’t get anyone knocked up while I’m gone. We have enough to deal with without you buttering the wrong.... biscuits.”
“Aw, Geralt, euphemisms sound so crass when you use them.” At Geralt’s responding glare, Jaskier had given him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Besides, my faith lies with you and you only, my dear.”
“Great,” Geralt had responded, not feeling at all reassured.
A sentiment which he finds is completely justified upon his return, when he hears a mixture of shouting and cheering as he approaches the dingy tavern a couple evenings later.
He walks into the tavern and is somehow entirely unsurprised to find a crowd surrounding Ciri and Jaskier, who are facing off two large men bearing swords, one holding a ridiculously colorful coin bag which Geralt immediately recognizes as Jaskier’s, a purchase Jaskier had insisted was essential.
If they weren’t in immediate danger, the picture before him would be rather amusing. Ciri, with the dagger Geralt had given her to use until they arrive at Kaer Morhen, where he can finally start her formal swordsmanship training, and Jaskier, looking reluctant but ready to swing his lute.
Geralt swiftly pushes his way through the crowd, crossing his arms sternly.
“I believe that doesn’t belong to you,” Geralt grits out to the man holding the bag, and the man laughs.
“Oh, yeah? What’s it you? I think we’re all owed a little compensation after listening to this bloody banshee wail for three days straight,” he sneers, gesturing to Jaskier, and Geralt feels a low growl building in his chest.
“Just because you don’t have any qualities useful enough to earn you money doesn’t mean—”
Geralt closes his eyes for a second. Jesus. “Fiona,” he grits out to Ciri. “Quiet.”
She huffs, but closes her mouth. Her dagger, he notices, is still raised threateningly, just as he’d taught her, and he can’t help but feel a rush of pride. He turns his attention back to the two men.
“Hand over the bag and leave,” he orders, and they laugh.
“Oh no, witcher. That wasn’t part of the deal, you see,” the first man says, and Geralt shoots Jaskier a look.
“Deal?”
“Little Miss Princess and your side bitch here agreed to a duel for the money. We win, we get to keep it.”
Geralt shoots them an incredulous look, and they both shrug sheepishly. This, he thinks exasperatedly. This is why I always traveled alone.
“Great. I’m on their team,” Geralt announces.
“Ah, but three against one isn’t fair play, witcher!” one of the men protests.
Geralt quirks an eyebrow at them before turning to Jaskier and Ciri. “Fiona. Out.”
“What!” she protests, enraged, and Geralt barely resists the urge to sigh. So much for keeping a low profile.
“Fiona, dear heart, why don’t you sit this one out?” Jaskier says soothingly. “I’d rather like to have this all settled quickly.”
“I can handle myself better than you can,” Ciri mutters, too low for anyone but Jaskier and Geralt’s witcher hearing to pick up.
Exactly, Geralt thinks. And no one can know that.
She cringes when she meets Geralt’s stern gaze and sighs, lowering her dagger and stepping out of immediate danger, and Geralt can’t help the wave of relief that washes over him. She, at least, is safe for now.
He turns back to the men. “Great. Now we’re even.” Geralt feels a sense of grim satisfaction at hearing how their heartbeats speed up in fear.
“Whatever. Time to exterminate this witcher scum, yeah?” the man says to their gathered audience. There are a handful of cheers, but for the most part, everyone is waiting with baited breath. Tired of playing, Geralt pushes himself in front of Jaskier, and swiftly makes the first move.
From there, the time passes quickly, Geralt dancing forward and back, swinging his sword in smooth arcs and sharp jabs, opting to disarm the men rather than kill them altogether. As much as he’d admittedly like to, he refuses to commit needless murder in front of Ciri, who has seen way too much of it for a lifetime.
Within minutes, both men are incapacitated, and Geralt snatches up the bag of coin, jabbing the unconscious man viciously despite himself. That, he thinks, is for threatening my bard and my kid.
Geralt straightens up and glares at the people around him. “Get these men out of here,” he growls out to no one in particular. He turns to Ciri and Jaskier. “You two. Upstairs.”
His face must say a lot, because for once, they shuffle out in front of him without protest. Geralt snatches a tankard of ale up before following them. He figures he’ll need it.
They make their way upstairs and Ciri and Jaskier quickly make their way inside, sitting on the edge of Geralt and Jaskier’s bed while Geralt stands in front of them.
“Jaskier, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“Oh, I see,” Jaskier huffs, offended. “Just assume it’s all my fault, Geralt.”
“You’re the adult,” Geralt says, trying not to roll his eyes. “It is your fault.”
“Actually, it really isn’t his fault,” Ciri cuts in.
“Ciri, he’s right—”
“When those men took his bag, I was the one who challenged them to a duel.”
This time, Geralt really does sigh. “Why.”
It’s more of a statement than a question.
She shrugs. “To be fair, they looked like they’d lose against a gust of wind, so I really wasn’t all that worried,” she tells him.
“You can’t afford to not be worried!” Geralt snaps. “You don’t have the training to not rely on your abilities, and using them in the open could literally mean life or death for you right now.”
Her face falls a bit, and Geralt immediately feels a rush of guilt, though he stands by the sentiment. But looking at these two reckless, beloved idiots sitting before him, his chest aches at the thought of something happening to them.
He takes a deep breath and moves forward, crouching in front of her. He tentatively takes her hands into his, knowing that, just like Jaskier, Ciri responds best to touch and kind words, though not to the same degree as the bard.
It is a softness he’d scorn in anyone else. But he loves these two for it.
“Ciri,” Geralt starts, trying to get his words right this time. “You know as well as anyone that this world does not take kindly to people like us. Powerful people. We cannot afford to be reckless. I know this is difficult, but I made a promise to your grandmother, and to you. We will reach our destination shortly, and then I promise, you will have more freedom. Do you understand?”
She looks down at him and sags, all traces of playfulness leaving her face. For a moment, she looks like a lost, terrified child—and, really, she is—but then her face hardens in an echo of Queen Calanthe’s fierceness and nods.
“I understand,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”
He squeezes her hand gently before reaching up to tenderly brush her hair out of her face.
“Go wash up while Jaskier and I talk,” he tells her kindly, getting to his feet again. She gets up and darts around him, grabbing his ale and taking a swig.
He reaches out to swat at her, but she darts away with a laugh, all at once the picture of a playful kid again. Jaskier shakes his head as she disappears into the washroom.
“That’s what you get for always letting her sip from your tankard,” he says pointedly. “She likes the stuff a bit too much, yeah?”
“You really think the daughter of Calanthe has never tasted beer before?” Geralt asks him, raising an eyebrow.
“Good point,” Jaskier admits. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Jaskier slumps. “Alright, go ahead. Lay into me.”
Geralt studies him for a moment, watching him squirm. “I’m not mad,” he says eventually.
“You’re—wait, what?” Jaskier says incredulously.
“Do you want me to be?” Geralt asks, amused.
“Well, no,” Jaskier sputters. “But I thought you were furious, what with the whole grouchy, ‘You. Upstairs,’ bit and the fact that we challenged some big scary men to a duel.”
Geralt tilts his head. “Annoyed, maybe. But not mad. You and Ciri are still healthy and in one piece. You did as I asked. Those men were shitbags, you couldn’t have stopped that.”
Jaskier sighs in relief, happy that Geralt isn’t furious with him. He tugs Geralt down onto the bed next to him, placing his head on the witcher’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry about Ciri. The duel,” he mutters into the crook of Geralt’s neck, listening to Geralt’s answering rumble of laughter.
“It was hardly a duel. You two really probably would have gotten by without my help,” Geralt comments.
“Yes, but I was rather hoping to avoid harm to my lute,” Jaskier admits.
“Shit, I definitely shouldn’t have stepped in then,” Geralt jokes.
“Geralt!” Jaskier whines. “Don’t be rude.”
“Can’t help it. It’s my default,” he says as Jaskier falls fully into his lap. “Tired?”
“Mmmm,” Jaskier replies sleepily. “Hard work keeping a child alive.”
“Think of how I must feel. I have to keep two alive.”
“Shhhh,” Jaskier says, too tired to be properly offended. Besides, he knows Geralt loves taking care of them. “Sleepy.”
“Rest, then. Long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“‘Night, Geralt,” Jaskier slurs tiredly.
The witcher runs a gentle hand through his hair, sitting back and allowing himself to relax.
Trying to parent his wild Child Surprise alongside his bard, who has just as much of a penchant for mischief as their child, is a lot of work sometimes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
#some cheesy stuff for u!!!!#this kinda got away from me whoops#idk its probably not chaotic enough but oh well#i just think ciri and jaskier would be a cute and disastrious duo#geralt is the gruff dad & jaskier is the fun dad who’s almost like a brother#geralt of rivia#geralt#geralt z rivii#the witcher#jaskier#the witcher fanfiction#geraskier fanfiction#geraskier#ciri#cirilla#princess cirilla#ciri & her two gay dads#hope writes#fanfiction
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I concur. The last option is the best. Maybe a few headcanons or snippets on how Angeal got roped into being a Braincell again? (Bonus if he originally refuses the call because *cough* Genesis *cough* but still ends up bundling up Ardyn and giving him some calming tea while in complete denial)
Hmmmm finally up for rambling this ask so buckle up!
-Angeal has no desire to be anyone special. He has had a good childhood this time around, with two loving parents and no scientific experimentation whatsoever. His father is one of the gardeners for the Oracles themselves and Angeal is perfectly content to follow in those footsteps once his father retires. He hopes for a peaceful life and carefully hides his lingering guilt and trauma from another life under the mental carpet, and refuses to admit he still dreams of the people he failed (Sephiroth who he abandoned, Genesis who he couldn’t save, his mother who committed suicide because of her guilt at what he’d become, his son apprentice Zack whom he forced to kill him).
-He is befriended by the young Princess, who smiles at him and is content to talk for hours about the flowers and plants he helps maintain. She follows him around sometimes, both asking for advice and giving it impulsively, and even though she is just a child, she has an impressive green thumb and an even more impressive kind heart. He knows that everyone says the Princess is ... odd. And she is. She is too old for her skin sometimes, too wise and too silly by turns in the way only someone who has seen it all and come out the other side can be.
-Privately, Angeal thinks she might be like him. Someone who remembers another life. But he never asks. He never admits. It doesn’t matter anyway. They are both content in their respective new lives, there is no need to drag up ghosts.
-Then one day Fenestala Manor ... burns. A lot of people are killed. A lot more are terrified and grieving and angry. There are whispers of rebellion, of defiance, but none dare when the late Oracle’s children are within Niflheim’s grasp.
-Angeal (who now wears the name Theseus like a suit he refuses to admit doesn’t fit right) keeps his head down and makes no moves to step out of line. He played hero once and he became the monster instead. He will not make that mistake a second time. He does, however, try to make his garden a sanctuary for the poor Princess. He can’t imagine how she must feel, to lose her mother so young, to be held captive by her mother’s killers, to have a brother who rages and cries and pulls bitterly away because he cannot see that his sister is grieving, just in a different way.
-Then the Chancellor of Niflheim visits for the first time, and Angeal only knows because he spots the Princess leading the bemused, sharp-tongued man around the garden, smiling and gentle and welcoming, like she is speaking to an old friend and not one of the leaders of the nation holding her hostage. Angeal keeps his head down, but the Princess trusts him and seems to think he makes fine company for a princess and an enemy politician, and she drags him over to talk about the flower crown she is making their guest.
-The Chancellor smiles and verbally cuts open Angeal in only the most veiled, politest ways. It’s almost impressive, if it didn’t remind him too much of Genesis. So Angeal pretends to not notice and hopes the man goes away and never comes back.
-He goes away.
-He keeps coming back.
-And Angeal keeps finding them in his garden, the Princess and her dangerous, half-mad guest (and Angeal knows madness, he has seen it in faces of friends and mirrors alike, he knows what the Chancellor hides behind his flowery words and indulgent smiles it is not anything nice), and he keeps getting dragged into the conversation, and somewhere along the way he notices that it’s almost always raining on the days the Chancellor visits. A pleasant, faint sort of rain that is almost as nice to be out in as sunshine. If it’s not raining before he arrives, it is within the hour he appears, and it always leaves within the hour the Chancellor does. And that the rain itself whispers against his skin like magic, like the faintest, most persistent of cure spells that Angeal hasn’t felt since he woke up as Theseus.
-Its a coincidence until it’s not. It’s happenstance until Angeal spots the glimmers of something quieter and saner appearing in the man with each visit and flower crown and long, rainy day conversation with the young Oracle.
-It’s not his problem until he stumbles on the man in question vomiting his guts out behind the gardening shed while the Princess has briefly been called away by nervous servants who make up any excuse to keep her away from the Chancellor she seems set on befriending.
-And Angeal has no desire to take another self-destructive, sharp-tongued, venom-fanged, art-loving, idiot redhead under his wing, but he likes to think he isn’t a horrible person in this life, so he gently rescues the man’s hat before it can fall into the smoking black (???) bile and gently steers the man to the nearby plastic chair Angeal sits on when maintaining his tools. He steps into the shed and comes back out with the thermos of tea he was saving for his own lunch and gently pushes the cup into the man’s hands while gold eyes stare at him and toy with his murder (Angeal has seen this powerful man in a moment of weakness, if Angeal disappears in the next two weeks, he won’t die surprised).
-“You should drink,” Angeal tells him softly, “It will help your stomach settle.”
-“Oh will it now.” Ardyn Izunia drawls even as he takes a slow sip of the herbal blend and makes the tiniest face at the taste. They stay in silence for a while, with the Chancellor recovering his breath on the chair and Angeal debating what to do with the patch of very dead ground where black bile was moments ago and healthy grass had been long before that. In the end he covers it with a piece of old tarp and decides to brave the potential radioactive spot later. Once the man who apparently had that stuff inside him has calmed down and hopefully left.
-“You’re taking this very calmly,” Izunia drawls, and Angeal can feel the barbs on the other man’s tongue, waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation.
-“You’re hardly the first man to get an upset stomach,” Angeal deflects calmly, “It’s perfectly normal.”
-A scoff that is startled enough to count as a genuine laugh, “Normal, he says.”
-Angeal ignores the question in there and instead turns around to look thoughtfully at the Chancellor. Without his hat to hide his face and his venomous smiles to discourage scrutiny the man looks ... exhausted. Rung dry. And very, very thin. Like he hasn’t eaten a good meal (or anything at all) in days.
-A workaholic maybe? Or something worse. The Princess is an Oracle after all, her duty will be to heal the sick of the otherwise incurable. It isn’t that much of a jump to say she could sense that Ardyn Izunia was sick and was trying to help even while untrained. Either way it’s not his problem. He’s just a gardener. He has no business interacting with this man beyond the times the Princess insists he does.
-He keeps telling himself that as he disappears back into his shed and comes out with another thermos, this one of soup (it’s a good thing it’s chilly weather, otherwise he would have brought a sandwich and that might be too hard for this man to stomach). He offers a cup of still warm soup to the Chancellor, who stares at it like he doesn’t remember what it is. Angeal keeps holding it out until the man takes it from him, “...You have no idea what is going on do you,” Izunia rasps as he sips almost experimentally on the soup.
-Angeal shrugs, “No. But you look like you could use a sit down, some tea, and some food, and my mother would kill me herself if I refused to share what I had with someone who might need it more.”
-A sneer and a flicker of something furious in gold eyes, “Pity then.”
-Angeal turns back from where he had been about to wander off and resume gardening, because he knows that tone and he knows where it leads and it hurts too much to walk away (this lifetime), “No.” He snaps and the Chancellor blinks in surprise at Angeal’s sudden fire. Angeal picks up the tools he needs for the next hour and says more quietly, “Kindness.”
-“Are they not the same thing?”
-Angeal thinks of a blinding smile from a boy in another life who didn’t know the darkness of the world and made it better in the process, of the Princess who welcomes a leader of the enemy into her home and gives him flowers like he is a long-lost friend. He thinks of another redhead who once said something very similar before the end. He dares to meet golden eyes again, “No,” he tells the Chancellor, “they aren’t. But you’re a smart man. I think you knew that already.”
-Ardyn Izunia stares at him and is, for once, speechless. Angeal turns and hurries away before he can give in to the urge to grab a spare picnic blanket out of the shed and drape it on the man’s shoulders.
-That man is dangerous. He is broken and mad and feral and good at hiding all those things which makes him even more dangerous than he otherwise would be. Angeal cannot (will not) get attached. Not again. He won’t fall into that trap. He isn’t a good friend for anyone, let alone a good moral compass or shoulder to cry on. He’ll just make things worse. He knows that.
-Yet somehow that doesn’t stop him from packing a thermos of soup whenever it starts to lightly rain, and passing out cups of it when the Princess and the Chancellor inevitably wander into his corner of the gardens.
-(And maybe, weeks later, Ardyn Izunia corners Angeal where the Princess cannot see and stares at him for a long time. Maybe Izunia’s face shifts and pales as black blood weeps from his eyes and mouth until he looks not like a man but like a ghoul from a nightmare. Maybe he smiles like a predator looking for a kill and asks “Theseus” if he is frightened. If he is horrified.)
-(Maybe Ardyn is left stunned when the simple gardener looks him in the eye and with painful, gentle honesty says no.)
-(”Why not? I am a monster. You should be afraid.” Ardyn growls, his Scourge on display, his monstrous nature bared for this strange, mild-mannered man to see. And he is stunned when the gardener gently touches his pale, purple-veined hands and guides him down to a familiar plastic chair, as he disappears into the shed and comes back with a familiar thermos of soup and presses the cup into his hands.)
-(He is left speechless when this gardener, this human, this mortal, foolish man, finally answers his question, “This,” the gardener taps one of Ardyn’s deathly pale hands, “doesn’t make you any more or less human, or more or less a monster than me.”)
-(“Then what does?” Ardyn asks in a whisper, not sure if he is curious or insulted or ... desperate.)
-(The gardener just smiles, and in the expression there is something unnervingly old and sad and knowing for someone who has not lived two thousand years and not seen his own humanity crumble before his eyes, “You’re a smart man, Chancellor” he hums, “you tell me.”)
-(And Ardyn finds that he is, once again, speechless.)
#SE asks#dreamer-under-the-moon asks#Secret Engima Rambles#Clouds and Moonlit Skies verse#long post#i have many feelings about angeal in this verse apparently
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A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 11
<- Chapter 10
Summary: The end of a journey and the start of a new one
The world was beautiful—bright blue skies stretched overhead with a few lazy white cotton puffs drifting unhurriedly through and topping distant snow-covered peaks. Insects fluttered and chirped in the afternoon heat from the tall grass that lined the dirt road at the center of town, where tiny white and yellow flowers bloomed. Inside the gloomy church, you hadn't even noticed what was waiting just outside.
It was not a peaceful summer day, however. Word travels fast in a small village, though not always well or with accuracy, and a general chaos turns in the air—villagers carrying buckets of water clamor toward the smoke and others, still screaming, clamor to get away. It won’t be long before men with muskets come to hunt the great beast who had caused the calamity and abducted a bride from her wedding.
A large but fast warmblood waits, loosely tied to post just outside the church door. You could swear you’ve seen it somewhere before.
The creature sets you on its back side-saddle, before climbing on behind you and spurring the horse to a gallop. Behind you, a handful of villagers stare after you in shock.
“We shall be long gone before they recover enough to come after us,” he says, a laugh brightening the edges of his voice. You grin into the wind, fingers grasping at a handful of chestnut mane. You’re both exhilarated, and can hardly believe what just happened.
As you continue down the road, reality has to catch up sooner or later. Fear creeps back into your mind.
“Where are we going? What will we do?!”
“Are you not happy? You came with me of your own accord...”
“Of course I’m happy! “Of course I’m happy! You rescued me from that nightmare.” You’re not sure how to show your affection while trying not to fall off a galloping horse, so you nuzzle your face against the arm he has wrapped around you. “Only, we still have the same problem we had yesterday,” you frown.
“In truth, I may have wallowed and wasted away in self-pity, doubting if interference on my part was wanted, but I was encouraged to action. There is something that may assuage some of your apprehension.”
He slows the horse and turns its reins down a narrow path into the forest, barely visible from the road. You ride for several minutes, ducking sharp branches that tug at your dress, winding through the undergrowth until it opens up upon a small clearing at the edge of the river. The water is cool and clear, far calmer than the angry brown churning that overflowed the banks in the spring.
“This is where we first met, isn’t it?”
He slides himself off the saddle and lands softly in the tall grass. Taking the reins under the animal’s chin, he leads you toward a figure waiting at the far side of the meadow, under the dappled shade where the forest line hangs just over the riverbank. A smaller horse grazes idly beside them. He raises a large hand and waves to them. The figure waves back, mahogany curls bouncing with the movement, the light catching on their long, fussy sleeves.
It couldn’t be.
“Stop where you are!” she barks as the creature approaches too close. “Fifteen feet, remember our deal?” She holds up a hand in front of her eyes and squeezes them shut as if to erase him from her vision.
“Bess?” you stammer.
She looks up at you with big brown eyes and smiles. “Sorry for missing your wedding. I heard it sucked.”
You jump off the horse and nearly knock her her flat with the force of your hug. “What are you doing here? How did? What? And you didn’t—” your mouth is running at a million miles a minute yet you can’t quite manage to articulate words.
“Alright, alright,” she pats your back. “I am astonishing, I know.” She steps back and gestures to a large leather saddle bag next to her on the ground. “While everyone was distracted, I packed everything you’ll need to survive. Baked some hardtack special for you, so you shouldn’t starve for at least a month, though I recommend foraging something to supplement it.”
“This… this was your idea?” Your jaw hangs open. “But I… But you...” Your open jaw wobbles in disbelief, your last memory of Bess wide-eyed with terror and screaming.
She tucks a hand on her hip and looks aside. “I saw what I saw, and I was shocked. Frankly, it would have been a lot to process even without a damned—whatever you call him—involved. I didn’t say anything of course, but it was distressing. I didn’t know what to think. That you were cavorting with the legions of Hell after all? Then I recalled your strange behavior of late—your distraction, your mysterious smiles and contented sighs. Always hiding away in that barn yet refusing any aid with your chores. After I could breathe again it was not difficult to put together. I’m not a dummy, dummy,” she smiles.
“Suddenly they were forcing you to marry Ferdinand. I knew you would never do so willingly, but I had no power to stop their machinations. I didn't know what to do, so on a hunch, I checked your barn and found this brute curled on the floor with ten cats, weeping into one of your chemises. Thus I recruited him to my aid.”
The creature steps forward and gestures a large hand toward Bess in a friendly manner. “It was she who secured the horse and supplies, and who suggested—”
Bess waves him away sharply, clamping a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry, guy, I cannot even look at you.” She shudders deep and sickeningly to her core. “You are fucking crazy,” she says to you, “I don’t get it. But this fellow makes you happy, doesn’t he?” You nod. “Then I am happy for you. This town has been a prison for you ever since we were children; I watched it draining your life, your dreams. So take your scary boyfriend and get out of here!”
Tears sting the back of your eyes. The creature was right—all along, Bess would have understood. Instead of confiding in a friend, you let fear lead you by the nose into a trap from which the two of them busted you out just before the door could snap shut behind you forever.
“I should have told you.” You wipe your eyes, laughing softly. “I’m an idiot.”
“No…” she coos soothingly, with some hesitation. “Well, yes. A little. But we love you.” She makes a visor over her brow with her hand and points in the general direction the massive, ominously looming creature is standing. “He loves you quite a lot, you know.”
“I know,” you smile, blessing him with a gaze affectionately returned (though he keeps his distance from the flighty Bess, occupying himself by packing up the horse). “He’s wonderful.”
“It takes all types,” she shakes her head. “Alright then,” she clears her throat, steeling herself, “Ride as hard as you can until you reach the next town. Blake is our fastest, strongest horse and should be able to bear the weight for a sprint of that distance. That should be enough of a head start to then disappear on foot, especially if nobody knows your intended destination is Geneva. If you would be so kind as to return the horse to the livery stable there—it is run by my cousin, and he won’t ask any questions. When you reach your destination, I expect a letter or I’ll think you’re dead.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
Her eyes grow wet. “It isn’t my journey. This place is not so much a cage for me as it has been for you. Though one day, I hope, we shall meet again.”
“I will miss you.” Your lower lips quivers with unspoken sorrow. She hugs you fiercely and protectively one last time before pulling back with a sniffle.
“Now go on! You must hurry before they come looking for you.”
The creature reaches down a hand. You clasp it, warm and strong in its grip, and he pulls you up onto the back of the muscular horse. Bess waves, running after you on foot as he kicks the horse into a brisk canter. “Don’t forget that letter!”
Tears stream down your face as you turn in the saddle and watch Bess and the river grow smaller and smaller, and eventually be swallowed up by the forest. You inhale deeply and let out a long, shaking breath.
“Are you all right?” the creature’s question vibrates in his chest, pressed to your back.
“Yeah.”
He is silent for awhile. The wild exhilaration of your escape from the church has withered and been replaced by a mournful determination to move forward. To begin new lives. The reality is not so glamorous as you reminisce on all the things you are leaving behind—Bess, Edelweiss, your flock of chickens and barn cats, the moss-covered boulders that were your secret place since childhood—yet you are ready to build that new life, whatever challenges lie ahead. You’ll have the best help one can hope for.
You let your weight shift back so your head rests against the creature’s chest. His long black hair flutters around you in the wind. He leans down and presses gentle kisses on your hair and your shoulders, and a comforting warmth spreads beneath your skin. You feel safe and cared for.
“Do you hate me? You must hate me,” you murmur into the wind, but his sharp ears pick up every word.
“I love you,” his chest rumbles. “You are my life, as much as the air that fills my lungs. Why should I hate you?”
“I was useless. I gave up. I was so terrified, I gave up on us. How can you ever forgive me?”
“You saved my wretched life long ago, dear angel.” He holds the reins in one fist, and slides his other hand under your arm, caressing your side and splaying out his fingers over your belly, smoothing the fabric of the gown. The gesture is warm and possessive, and keeps you secure on the speeding horse as you melt into him, intoxicated by his touch. “You dragged me out of misery into the light—cared for me with patience and love I never believed myself deserving of. You stood beside me and tended my wounds of both flesh and of my soul. Your company alone is a gift of which I was made unworthy. I have always wanted to thank you for saving me.”
“Now we’re even, huh?” you laugh.
“No,” he replies softly and insistently. “I think I would like to continue paying you back.”
The hand he had rested on your belly glides up to tip your chin toward him, and he presses a precarious kiss to your lips. A small jolt of hooves over the terrain sends you clutching for mane, but his steady hand darts back around your waist to keep you balanced.
“I will have to exact more payment once we have arrived on solid ground yet again,” you promise sinfully, resting a hand over his and squeezing it. “I want to kiss all of the scars on your handsome face.”
His chest vibrates with an eager hum of anticipation.
As you ride away from your old life, you feel something changing deep in your bones. You are already farther from your home than you have ever been, and ahead of you is the wide horizon of blue skies speared by sharp mountain peaks. You look up at the closest mountain to the road. It is not one you think you have seen before, although its shape is hauntingly familiar, like the face of a childhood friend, after years of separation, as an adult.
“What mountain is that?” You point to it.
“It is the white-crested peak of the great mountain that overlooks your town. The one I greatly admired from the window of the hayloft. We face its west slope, now.”
A wave of excitement for the future surges through you like electricity. What will your life look like from a fresh angle?
#frankenstein#frankenstein's creature#the creature x reader#monster x reader#fluff#epilogue#TeamBess#AND THERE YOU HAVE IT#IT'S FINISHED#I actually have so many more ideas and them leaving is just the springboard#but idk if I'll ever get around to writing them or not#so here is where it ends for now#my writing
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When You Love Someone | Streetfighter!Shawn (Part Four)
Whew. Hi. Not sure if anyone still cares about this series and I know Shawnblr isn’t what it used to be but I’ve had this part near completion for months and I finally just forced myself to finish it. Thank you to everyone who has still taken the time to send me messages of support for my writing over the past few months even though I’ve hardly posted anything. It means the world to me!
Also want to take this space to say very briefly that with everything going on in the world right now (especially for my fellow friends in the U.S.), staying out of politics/current events is a privilege and it is our responsibility to participate and to stay informed and aware. Do your part.
With that being said, here is 5.8k words of Streetfighter!Shawn. There’s naturally some violence and all that stuff, so please don’t read if that’s something that would bother you. You can find parts one, two, and three in my masterlist. Enjoy!!
“Hey,” was the first word Y/N heard the next morning, and she groaned as she blinked her groggy eyes several times to slowly let in the light of the room. The first thing she became aware of was Shawn leaning over her, his hand on her hip as he lightly shook her awake. The second was the splitting headache that she felt in her temples. She moaned, still half-asleep as she covered her eyes with her arm to block out the brightness of the room. She had yet to realize the situation she was in.
“I know you’re tired,” Shawn continued, slightly amused as he continued to shake her into full consciousness, “but you have class. You should get up.”
Class. It’s Friday. That realization alone was enough to have Y/N jolting up like she was waking from a nightmare. “What time is it?” she cried, not missing the way Shawn, looking like a deer caught in headlights, had jumped back with a start.
“It’s 10. You have an hour.”
“Fucking hell,” she grunted, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She flew around the room, familiar to her only as bits and pieces of broken memories from the night before flooded back, and noticed a pile of her clothes in the corner at about the same time she realized she was clad only in a large t-shirt that certainly didn’t belong to her. She dashed over to retrieve last night’s outfit. “I’m gonna be so fucking late.”
“Relax,” Shawn reassured, moving to place his hands on her arms in an effort to ground her. “You have an entire hour.”
“I need to get home and change,” she mumbled, raising a hand to her aching forehead.
“I’ll drive you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do,” he chuckled. “I promised you last night that I would.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, sheepishly, trying to ignore the small wave of nausea beginning to creep up on her. She didn’t remember that. “How are you, like, okay right now?” she queried, reaching to grab her phone from where it sat on the nightstand. “God, I feel like crap.”
He laughed softly. “I can obviously handle alcohol better than you.”
“No shit,” Y/N replied snarkily, laughing despite herself as she reached to pull her matted hair up into a hair tie. Wine always does you dirty, you idiot. What were you thinking?
Shawn grinned, flopping back onto the bed and reaching to rest his hands under his head. As Y/N went to tug on her jeans, she realized for the first time that morning that Shawn was shirtless. She didn’t even have time to appreciate it before a wave of panic had set in. My clothes are on the floor. I stayed the night at his place. I don’t remember anything.
Y/N looked up at Shawn, wide-eyed. She took a deep breath. “Did we…?”
It took him a second to understand what she was insinuating, but as soon as he did he sat up immediately, his wide eyes mirroring Y/N’s. “God, no,” he replied. “You were drunk. I was too, for what it’s worth. You just slept here.”
“Right,” Y/N mumbled, slightly humiliated that she even had to ask. She’d never done anything like this before, and especially not on a night where she had class the next morning. “Okay.”
Shawn propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands. “I can take you whenever you want to leave.”
She glanced around the room one last time to make sure she had all of her belongings, then brought her eyes to Shawn. “Now’s good.”
“Do you want some ibuprofen or something first?” he offered, not oblivious to the massive hangover she was undoubtedly experiencing.
But Y/N just shook her head, already out of his room and heading to the front door of the apartment. “I’ll be fine.”
Shawn laughed, pulling a shirt on and grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Whatever you say.”
He followed her down the dingy corridor towards the single working elevator, and they could hear it clanging to a stop on their floor before the familiar ding that preceded the opening of the doors had sounded. Shawn allowed Y/N to go in first, and he reached past her to press the button for the first floor.
Y/N heaved a deep breath, taking in the complex’s surroundings as she and Shawn stepped out into the parking lot. Just how run down Westgate was became so much clearer in the daylight--startlingly so.
Westgate was scary; there wasn’t a single person in the entire city that wouldn’t admit that much. In all actuality, Shawn made enough money from his fights that he could easily afford to stay in a much safer area. His current apartment was all he’d had the money for when he moved out of his parents’ house, but for whatever reason, he’d grown too attached to the place to want to relocate somewhere nicer. Additionally, Westgate was close to Dynamite, and it was where most of the people he ran with lived. He’d grown to not mind it; something he knew most people would never understand.
The ride to Y/N’s house was silent, for which she and her pounding head were appreciative. “I’ll be quick,” she mumbled as Shawn pulled into her driveway, fishing her key out of her purse.
“No rush,” he responded. He watched with a slight smile as she made her way up the driveway to her doorstep, almost amused at the possibility that she was angry with herself for behavior anyone else would consider normal for a college student.
Y/N turned the key into the lock of the front door, wincing at the creaking sound it made as she pushed it open. She crossed her fingers in the hopes that she wouldn’t run into her roommates, but her wishes were immediately denied as she heard Jade’s voice floating out from the kitchen. “Y/N? Is that you?”
Y/N didn’t answer, instead just turning to shut the door behind her. She saw Jade come into view, her curly dark hair pushed off of her face with a headband. “Woah. You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Y/N scoffed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Where were you?” her roommate continued, and Y/N leaned back against the front door and pressed a hand to her temple. “Brook and I were worried. We didn’t hear from you all night.”
“I was with Shawn.”
“All night?” she shrieked, and Y/N swore the sound made her brain rattle inside her skull.
“You’re gonna want to speak very softly to me,” she warned. “And as much as I’d love to stand here and have this conversation right now, I have class in half an hour and Shawn is waiting outside for me to get my shit.”
“And change your clothes, I’m assuming,” Jade chirped, and Y/N couldn’t even manage the energy to roll her eyes.
“Thanks for that,” she griped, moving towards the stairs that would lead to her bedroom.
“Want coffee?” Jade asked, but Y/N only shook her head no before disappearing down the hallway. After brushing her teeth and swapping her day-old outfit for some clean leggings and a freshly-washed hoodie, Y/N shoved her laptop into her backpack and swung it over her shoulder, silently praying that the computer was charged enough to get her through class. She clambered down the stairs and grabbed a protein bar from the kitchen despite the fact that even the mere thought of eating made her want to throw up, then threw it into her bag before retreating back to Shawn’s car.
“Have everything?” he asked, and as soon as he saw her nod he put the Jeep into reverse to guide it out of the driveway.
Y/N spent the brief car ride resting her forehead against the cool glass of the passenger side window and reveling in the silence that she knew would end the second she got to campus. Shawn eventually pulled up in front of the building Y/N’s class was held in, and she reluctantly pulled her backpack up into her lap.
“What time are you done?” Shawn asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had characterized the trip from Y/N’s house to campus. “I’ll pick you up.”
She immediately shook her head, already feeling guilty for all that he’d done for her in the past twelve hours. “Don’t worry about it, it’s okay.”
“I want to,” he insisted, and Y/N took a deep breath as she realized that this was a battle she’d surely lose.
“It’s supposed to end at 12:30, but the professor might let us out early because it’s Friday. I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” he nodded, already looking forward to it even though Y/N had yet to leave the car.
“Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” she teased, and Shawn laughed.
“No promises,” he joked back, leaning in to kiss her quickly before unlocking the car door. He watched her slide out of the Jeep and immediately press a hand to her forehead as the unfiltered light hit her eyes, and Shawn sat behind the steering wheel with a goofy smile on his face as he watched her climb the steps up to her class.
When she set her things down at her usual place in the lecture hall, Y/N finally had a moment to breathe and process her thoughts; despite the rush, she’d made it to class with just over five minutes to spare. She had been so preoccupied with the hangover and her race to get to campus that she hadn’t even had time to reflect on the previous night; no chance to be excited about it, no chance to relive the memories that would surely make her stomach flutter, and no chance to even thank Shawn for all he’d done for her from showing her his secret rooftop, to telling her about his past, to sharing countless glasses of wine with her and allowing her to stay the night, and making sure she got to class the next day. She vowed to find a way to properly thank him as soon as the fogginess in her brain cleared up enough to allow her to think clearly.
Shawn, on the other hand, could do nothing but think about the previous night as he drove back to his apartment. He’d hated having to wake Y/N up that morning; there was nothing in his life that had ever made him happier than seeing Y/N’s peaceful face pressed into his pillow, her body curled into his sheets. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to put an end to it. As he drove he thought about getting her coffee, but decided it would be better to stop for it on his way back, so he pulled into the parking lot of his run-down apartment complex as planned.
From that point, however, any plans he had were out the window.
As Shawn turned into his typical parking space, he couldn’t help but notice a familiarly burly, blond-haired man standing in the spot and thus blocking Shawn’s path. Axel. Shawn froze, but he did his best to feign nonchalance as he shifted the Jeep into park and slid out of the driver’s seat. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his skin instantaneously crawling in response to the casual smile that crossed Axel’s mouth.
“I want to talk about the stunt you pulled with Damon at the bar the other night.”
Shawn sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. That little shit swore he wouldn’t say anything. “What about the stunt you pulled with me? Interrupting one of my fights to get some bullshit form of revenge because you still can’t stand that I beat you?”
Axel’s jaw clenched. “Is that why you ran the second I showed up?” he interrogated, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “Because you really seemed confident in your ability to beat me then.”
“That’s not how it happened, and you know it. You had me triple-teamed.”
“Get over yourself.”
“Could say the same to you,” Shawn laughed, but he took a threatening step closer to the blond in front of him. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”
The same sickening smile made its way back onto Axel’s face, and though he’d never admit it, it began to make Shawn uneasy. “I was waiting to confront you again until I had leverage.”
“What leverage?” Shawn spat, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Damon said your little dispute that night was over some girl he’d never seen before.”
Shawn ignored his instigative words. “Wouldn’t call it a ‘dispute’ so much as him getting his ass kicked. And for good reason.”
“Maybe so,” Axel conceded. “But we can agree that it was over a girl?” Shawn was quiet, but he swallowed heavily. “Right,” Axel continued, seemingly accepting Shawn’s silence as an affirmative. “So I had him and Rocco do some investigating, and--” Shawn’s heart plummeted.
“What, have you been following her?” Shawn interrupted, fists clenched at his sides.
Axel lit up with a sort of delighted expression, his sharp blue eyes unwavering from Shawn’s face. “So there is a girl.”
Shawn strode toward his challenger until he was less than a foot away from his face. “Did you have her followed?” he repeated furiously.
“At first,” Axel admitted, and Shawn’s blood boiled hot. “But then Raven decided to help us out. You know she’s never been one to keep her mouth shut.”
Raven. Of course. “I swear to God, Axel. She is a nice person and she doesn’t deserve any part of this. You lay a single fucking finger on her and I’ll--”
“Easy, Mendes,” Axel laughed, much to Shawn’s chagrin. “I don’t know what she looks like. Hell, I don’t even know her name. But I guess Raven was right when she told me that you really seem to give a shit about her.”
Shawn scoffed, incredulous. “What, are you running around with Raven now?”
“Jealous?” Axel smirked.
Shawn could only laugh at the assertion. “You two deserve each other, that’s all.”
“You’ve been there too, Mendes. What does that say about you?”
“What do you want?” Shawn demanded, ignoring Axel’s antics, but the phrase was flat and menacing; less of a question and more of a command. “Stop wasting my time talking about whatever leverage you think you have and tell me what you actually want.”
“Nothing, really,” Axel replied, making a dramatic show of shrugging his shoulders. “Just came to give you fair warning that the next time you decide to take on me or one of my guys outside of Dynamite, we have a pretty good idea of how to get back at you. And I have a feeling it’d hurt a hell of a lot more than a punch to the face.”
“Do not threaten her.”
“I mean it as more of a threat to you. Like I said,” Axel went on, ignoring Shawn, “I don’t know her name or what she looks like, but I could find out so fucking quick if you don’t stay in your own lane. Try me.”
Shawn didn’t realize he’d punched Axel until he recognized the pain in his own knuckles. Or maybe it was when he felt Axel’s fist collide with the corner of his mouth in retaliation. Regardless, Shawn’s mind was overwhelmingly clouded with rage and protectiveness and a thousand other feelings he was too emotional to pinpoint. Mentally Shawn was back at Dynamite, taking on a challenger as he had done so many times before. But now, for the first time in his life, there was a real reason why he was fighting. He didn’t care that he was in a parking lot; no one, not even Axel, would threaten Y/N and expect to walk away from it unscathed.
Armed with a motivation and an anger he’d never felt before, Shawn got to work. Axel was pinned on the pavement within seconds, thrashing under Shawn’s strength so violently that it was almost funny.
“Are we done now?” Shawn grunted, reveling in the way Axel struggled underneath him.
“Behind you,” Axel heaved, turning his head to the side to spit blood onto the pavement. “Cops.”
Shawn smirked. “Can’t take it?”
“I’m serious, man,” he groaned. “Look.”
Shawn was still tense, but he turned over his shoulder anyways only to catch sight of the squad car Axel was talking about parked across the street. “Shit.”
“We’ll finish this another time.” Axel turned to run off, but not before Shawn could grab him and immediately pull him into a tight chokehold.
“Why do you keep trying to fight me when I always win?” he sneered. “Give up.”
“Let me go before I flip you over my shoulder,” came Axel’s equally menacing reply, but Shawn knew he wouldn’t have the energy left to do so.
“When I do, you’ll leave Y/N alone,” he seethed into Axel’s ear. “Got it?”
“If you stay out of my shit, then yes,” Axel grunted, lacking the energy to fight back. He turned to face Shawn after being released from his grasp, his blue eyes narrowed and his lips pulled up as though something was curious or amusing. With his cockiness, it was hard to believe he’d just been in a chokehold. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Leave,” Shawn commanded, not at all willing to put up with Axel’s antagonizing words or draw unwanted attention.
Once Axel had darted off around the corner of the building, Shawn, not bothering to address the fact that his Jeep was only halfway in its parking spot, ducked his head and dashed towards the lobby of his dilapidated apartment complex. He ignored the throbbing in his lip and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as he maneuvered his way to the elevator without drawing the attention of the elderly woman working in the lobby, breathing a sigh of relief once he was safely behind the closed doors and en route to his floor.
Once inside his apartment, Shawn made a beeline for the bathroom. He took in his reflection and sighed; he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. He grabbed a washcloth and wet it under the sink, bringing it up to scrub at the blood around the corner of his mouth that was beginning to dry.
He didn’t bother to be gentle or work around his pain; after years of fighting, it was something he was oddly numb to. He could see his eye beginning to bruise, and as he clenched the cloth in his hand he noticed that his knuckles were, too. He laughed to himself as he wondered how much worse Axel would look.
It wasn’t until the last of the blood had been rinsed down the drain when realization dawned on him: he’d forgotten about Y/N.
“No, no, no,” he rambled, immediately pulling out his phone to find three messages from her that he’d missed.
12:24 Hey! I just got out of class. I know it’s a little early, so take your time.
12:40 Are you close?
12:57 I’m just gonna walk. Talk to you later.
And then nothing.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, dialing her number with no thought of what he was even going to say.
After sitting through a mind-numbing lecture for an hour and then walking home through a hangover, all Y/N wanted to do was shower, put fresh clothes on, and sleep for the rest of the day. She was just about to test the water temperature in her shower when her phone rang, so she reached for where it sat on the bathroom counter and took a deep breath when she saw Shawn’s name lighting up the screen. She didn’t realize that she’d made the conscious decision to answer the call until she heard herself saying hello.
“I’m so sorry I forgot,” Shawn blurted. “I promise there’s a reason.”
She sighed as she took in his words, too exhausted to bother with it. “It’s really no big deal.”
“Yeah, it is, though,” he responded. “Can I pick you up in a little bit? We can get dinner and I can try to make it up to you.”
“Not tonight, Shawn. I’m really tired. I’ve gotta go.”
Shawn groaned when he realized she’d hung up, pressing a hand to his forehead in frustration with himself. It didn’t take long before he’d grabbed his keys and decided to make the drive to Y/N’s house; he wanted to give her a real apology, and he wanted her to know that he cared enough to do it in person.
When Y/N got out of her shower, feeling significantly better than she had all day, all she could think about was going to sleep, even if it was only three in the afternoon. She changed into fresh, clean clothes and crawled into bed, heaving a sigh of relief after she felt every muscle in her body relax into the mattress.
It seemed that not even two seconds after her head had touched the pillow, one of her roommates was calling out for her from downstairs. At first Y/N ignored it, opting instead to pull the covers up over her face as though it would successfully shut her off from the rest of the world. But the voice, presumably Brooklyn’s, sounded again, and Y/N knew she couldn’t avoid it. Frustrated to the point of tears, she slid out of bed and trudged down the stairs, griping the whole way.
“You’d better be dying or something, Brook, because if I just dragged my hungover ass all the way down here for something stupid I’m--” Y/N froze as the front door came into view; rather, as the person behind the front door came into view.
“Shawn?” she questioned tentatively, squinting at the bright light coming in from the doorway. “What are you--Holy shit.” She strode towards him with a newfound energy as her eyes registered the wounds on his face, her hands immediately coming up to hold his chin for a better look. “What happened to you?”
“I’m gonna go upstairs now,” Brooklyn muttered, turning away from her roommate, but the comment was disregarded by both Y/N and Shawn.
Shawn pretended that Y/N’s wide, concerned eyes didn’t tug at his heart, instead simply shrugging his shoulders and gingerly removing her hands from his face. He turned away to finally close the front door. “It’s not important. Are you feeling better?”
“I saw you a few hours ago. You were perfectly fine,” she cried, ignoring his lame attempt to change the subject.
He sighed, running a hand with freshly-bruised knuckles through his hair, and followed her to the couch in the living room. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not being there to pick you up from class,” he started, still avoiding the only topic Y/N now cared about. “I told you I would, and I fucked up. I didn’t want you to be mad and think I forgot, or that I was ignoring you, or--”
“I don’t care about that,” she cut in softly. “Why do you look like this?” She shook her head slightly, in disbelief. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he defended, but Y/N wasn’t having it.
“You do not look like that for no reason,” she challenged, cocking her head to the side.
Shawn heaved a breath, leaning his head back against the sofa. “I know,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just--okay. Remember the night we met?” Y/N nodded. “I told you I was running from a group of guys, one of them being the asshole I pulled off of you. And I told you about the one who’s kind of their leader, too.”
Y/N nodded once again, curious as to where this was going. “A little bit, yeah.”
“Okay, well, he apparently didn’t like that I beat up on one of his buddies that night.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He was pissed off enough to show up at my apartment and threaten the hell out of me about not doing it again. I didn’t like what he was saying, so I hit him,” Shawn admitted, though there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice. He paused. “And then he hit me back. And then...you know. So that’s why I forgot to come get you.”
Y/N inhaled sharply as she processed Shawn’s words. “Why did he wait so long to find you if he was really that angry?”
“I don’t know,” Shawn lied. Y/N didn’t need to know that there were men who had, at one point, been tracking her for the sole purpose of having something to hold over Shawn’s head. He wanted to leave her out of it, for her own sake. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
“Well how did you get him to finally leave you alone?”
Shawn sighed, reaching a hand up to the back of his neck. “We saw a cop car parked across the street, so we ran. Not trying to get involved with that.”
“I don’t understand,” Y/N admitted with a frown. “He chased you away from your own match with every intention of catching you and fighting you. Now, what? He’s mad because you defended yourself--and me--from some asshole who happened to be one of his friends? And then he showed up at your apartment to fight you over it? That doesn’t make sense. It’s hypocritical.”
Shawn could only shrug. “That’s just how he is. Always has to have the upper hand on everything.”
“But you’re still going to fight him again.”
“No idea. But if I do, it’ll be the right way.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes. “How is there a right way to fight someone?”
“Dynamite,” Shawn muttered. “Like, officially. In front of people.”
“God,” she whispered, reaching her fingers up to lightly trace over a fresh cut on his cheek. “Who is this guy?”
He breathed out softly. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
Y/N was quiet, and it made Shawn nervous. Seeing the physical effects of his pastime of choice made Y/N realize the true intensity and danger of what Shawn was involved in, and what she was seeing in front of her wasn’t even from a full, official fight--he had people trying to go after him on the side, too.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked softly, unable to withstand the silence for any longer.
“This just scares me,” Y/N whispered. She nervously fidgeted with her fingers, her eyes downcast. “Half your face is busted and there are people, like, after you and you’re acting like nothing even happened.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle. For me, this isn’t a big deal.”
“But I’m not you,” she pressed quietly. “For me, this is a little concerning.”
“You should see the other guy,” he joked, but Y/N just stared back at him, anxiously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and biting down on it.
Shawn couldn’t ignore the crease in her brow, and he fought the urge to reach up and smooth it out. “Come stay with me tonight.”
“I-I don’t know, Shawn,” she stumbled, slightly taken aback. “I’m really tired and I have a lot to do and it’s not--”
“I won’t bother you at all,” he promised. “You can do homework the whole time, or sleep, or whatever you want.”
“But I can do that here, too,” she pointed out, the teasing glint in her eyes giving away that she was actually closer to saying yes than she was pretending to be.
“I just like having you around me,” he admitted, but it was only part of the story. The whole truth was that it would make him feel infinitely better if she was with him, because he could guarantee that nothing would happen to her. He’d never admit that out loud, and he certainly couldn’t mention it to Y/N. He knew it would scare her, and that’s the last thing he wanted to do.
He watched Y/N study his bloodied knuckles as she contemplated his offer. He couldn’t help but think about the fact that Y/N’s entire essence was the antithesis of his, to the point where it was almost comical. If it weren’t for the fact that she seemed to like him just as much, Shawn would feel selfish for wanting Y/N in his life; like he was dragging her into something he knew she deserved better than.
Y/N let out a heavy breath, carefully studying Shawn’s face. He raised his eyebrows at her, eliciting a small giggle before she finally delivered the verdict.
“Fine,” she said, trying to be stern but unable to fight off a smile. “But I’m going to bed the second I get there.”
“Okay,” he grinned. “My car’s in the driveway, so we can leave whenever.”
“Can I have a few minutes, actually? I should probably talk to my roommates before I just leave again, plus I need to grab some clothes and stuff.”
“Of course,” he answered, not realizing how annoyingly nervous he’d been that she’d say no until she agreed. “I’ll go pick up coffee and then come back.”
“I can’t drink coffee right now, I need to sleep,” she laughed.
“Right, okay. Tea then.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “I’ll see you in a few.”
With that she headed up to her room to begin throwing her books, some clothes, and a toothbrush into a bag, but Brooklyn was waiting in Y/N’s room for her.
“So,” Brooklyn started, watching her friend as she moved to grab her backpack from where it sat next to her dresser. “You gonna tell me what happened to your boyfriend?”
“I was about to come find you, actually,” Y/N sighed, softly shutting a textbook that was on her desk and reaching to put it into her backpack. “Have you already talked to Jade?”
Brooklyn nodded, offering a comforting smile. “I wanted to see if she’d know what was going on, but she was just as clueless as me.” She paused, seemingly considering whether or not she was going to continue talking. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just that the protective friend in me is a little concerned that, the first time I’m meeting this guy, he looked like that. I’m thrilled that you’re happy, at least from what I can tell, but I want to make sure he’s a good person worthy of my best friend.”
Y/N smiled, and it was genuine. It wasn’t hard for her to understand why Brooklyn would be concerned on her behalf. “I’m going to stay with him again tonight,” she admitted, not missing the way Brooklyn’s eyes widened, silently prompting her for more details. “I don’t know,” she continued. “It’s just so easy to be with him, which is weird because most of the shit he does when I’m not around scares me to death.”
“Like what?” Brooklyn queried, carefully watching Y/N, but she didn’t answer right away.
“Jade?” Y/N called out, pausing to wait for a response. When her other roommate’s voice floated out from across the hall, Y/N wasted no time asking Jade to come to her room; she only wanted to explain this once, which meant she needed both of her roommates with her.
“Hey,” Jade said, moving to sit on the edge of Y/N’s bed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just want to tell you guys about Shawn. I feel like I haven’t talked to you both in forever, anyways.”
“Shawn,” Jade imitated. “So he has a name now.”
“Shut up,” Y/N groaned, and both of her roommates laughed. “I really like him, you guys. He’s...I don’t even know, he’s just not like anyone I’ve ever known before. He’s so tough all the time but there’s also, like, this depth to him that…” She stopped, moving her eyes down to sheepishly stare at the floor. “God, I probably sound so stupid.”
Jade and Brooklyn exchanged looks, which Y/N did not like. “Okay, acting like you’re reading each other’s minds like that is stressing me out,” she laughed, but it was fueled by nervousness. She desperately wanted her best friends to like Shawn; without their approval, she wasn’t sure what she would do.
“You don’t sound stupid at all, and we’re not trying to stress you out,” Brooklyn reassured. “We just know what your last relationship did to you and I think I speak for both Jade and myself when I say that we never want to see you go through something like that again.”
“Shawn is nothing like he was,” Y/N insisted, unwilling to so much as say her ex’s name.
“If you say he’s not, then I believe you,” Jade chimed in. “I’m so happy to see you excited about a different guy, but I just want you to be extra careful of any red flags. And Shawn showing up at our door all beat up isn’t exactly the image I want in my head of the guy my best friend is spending all her time with.”
“It’s normal for him,” Y/N insisted, then immediately reconsidered as she took in the looks on her roommates’ faces. “Okay, so it’s not normal but it’s not shocking. He fights professionally so it just comes with the territory, I guess. He’s never worried about it, so I’m trying not to be.”
“Another fighter?” Jade interrogated, concern clearly taking over her features.
“I know, I know, but this is different,” Y/N jumped, quick to defend Shawn. Her ex had been a boxer, and so she could understand her friends’ concern over the strangely coincidental similarity the two shared. “Shawn doesn’t just go around looking for trouble outside the ring, and from what I understand his style of fighting is different, anyways. He’s different.”
Jade moved next to Y/N, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We just want you to be careful,” she said softly. “If Shawn makes you happy, then we’re happy for you.”
Y/N finally looked up at her friends and held out her arms for a hug, breathing a heavy sigh of relief that this long-overdue conversation had finally happened. Now that things were right with both Shawn and her roommates, Y/N felt like she could relax again. “I’m always careful,” she reassured, offering a slight smile once Brooklyn and Jade pulled away from their group embrace.
But no amount of being careful could have prepared her for what was yet to come.
Thank you for reading!! Feedback makes me very happy.
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Into the Woods (1)
Part 1 of 2
Summary: When disaster strikes a fairy tale forest wedding, Y/N must take charge to save the lives of herself and her friends. Will she be able to survive being hunted while trapped in the woods?
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Square filled: Nightmare for @spndeanbingo
Word Count: 2979
Warnings: Swearing, show level violence and gore, suspense, minor character death, fear-filled situations, sarcasm, jerky guys, random moments of compensating humor. It’s basically a Supernatural thriller.
A/N: About 64,000 years ago, I entered a challenge the wonderful @foreverwayward was having for hitting 500 followers. Well, there wasn’t a due date, because she’s the sweetest, so I kept saying I would get to it and get to it, and then I never did. Well, surprise, here it is! This is the first part of a 2-part miniseries, and the quotes for the challenge will be included in the second part, which is posting tomorrow. Enjoy!!!
The moonlight, shining through the dark green trees, softly reflected on the string lights that were hung between the branches. They were blowing gently in the breeze, making the dense woods feel like an otherworldly fairy tale.
Your best friend, Lindsay, had spent days painstakingly transforming the unassuming woodland into a heavenly escape for her wedding, with long white tables strewn about, covered with crystal centerpieces and extravagant floral displays. As you watched her dance blissfully under the twinkling lights with her brand-new husband, Aidan, you knew all her hard work had more than paid off.
You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched her, sipping your glass of champagne off to the side of the clearing. Your feet were killing you, so you slipped off your heels, easily hiding your bare feet under the long hem of your dress.
“They look great together, huh?”
You spun around to find one of the groomsmen, what was his name? Brian? No, no...Brandon. Yes, Brandon, leaning against a nearby tree, looking you up and down appreciatively. “What? Oh, yeah,” you answered offhandedly. “They’re great together.”
You started to turn away, not wanting to encourage his obvious interest in you, but, suddenly, he was by your side, his alcohol-coated breath hitting your face. “I noticed you’re not dancing with anyone.”
You leaned away from him slightly, wanting to toe the line between polite enough not to make a scene and clear enough that he knew he was this close to being punched in the face. “No, I’m not,” you said firmly, crossing your arms across your chest.
But, he wasn’t taking the hint. “Well, you are now, baby!” he shouted, swaying a little as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the dance floor. You tried to pull back, but his grip was strong, and, before you knew it, you were on the dance floor, barefoot and struggling.
“Brandon, really, I don’t want to dance,” you insisted, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp. “Please let me go.”
He didn’t even hear you, closing his eyes instead and beginning to move his hips back and forth, your hand still trapped in his. You began to look around frantically for help, and your eyes zeroed in on Lindsay, who instantly registered your panic and left her husband’s side to push her way through the crowded dance floor to get to you.
She hadn’t even made it halfway when you felt Brandon unexpectedly drop your hand. Surprised, you instinctively stepped back, spinning his way as you did, but what you saw sent a shock of terror straight to your heart.
Brandon was no longer standing in front of you. Instead, he was laying at your feet, a massive, gaping hole where his heart had been.
The scream that tore from your throat was almost primal, as if the instinctual response of terror would chase away the unblinking, hollow eyes staring back at you. But, they didn’t disappear, not even when you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that they would.
You didn’t think it could get any worse, but then you opened your eyes. What you saw was a living nightmare.
Standing there, over Brandon’s lifeless body, was a man, but when he turned to face you, you realized he was hardly a man at all. He was more like a monster, a monster with long claws and razor-sharp teeth, and he was looking right at you.
You screamed again, this time urgently, desperately, only stopping when you realized that more than just your scream echoed around you. Looking over his shoulder, you saw three more monster people rush into the clearing, their fangs bared as they began to grab guests at random, flinging them across the woods like they were no more than rag dolls.
Your eyes shifted, meeting the golden, distorted ones of the monster in front of you, and you did the only thing you could do: you ran. Spinning around, you sprinted away, pausing only to grab Lindsay’s hand and pull her terrified form with you. “Come on, we gotta go!” you shouted, trying to rally as many people around you to follow you as you could. Most were too panicked, but a few reacted, including Aidan, who fell into step beside you, picking his frozen wife up into his arms without even breaking his stride.
You raced into the shelter of the trees, your small group following your lead. Behind you, you could hear the cracking of branches and the rustling of leaves as at least one of the monsters followed you, but you pushed on, somehow ignoring the stinging in your side and burning in your chest to keep running.
Eventually, the noise behind you dropped off, and you slowed, taking stock of your surroundings. You were deep in the forest, somewhere distinctly unfamiliar, so probably in the exact opposite direction of the safety of the main road and the parking lot where you had all left your cars. Aidan and Lindsay were still next to you, Lindsay now standing on her own feet, but still looking somewhat shaken. A few other people were milling around, but there was no sign of the monsters that had been chasing you.
“I think we lost them,” you panted out, clutching your side as you tried to catch your breath.
“Are you sure?” Aidan asked, protectively moving closer to his wife while he looked back over his shoulder.
“No, I’m not fucking sure, Aidan! I’m not exactly an expert on evading fanged monsters who pull out people’s hearts, now am I?!”
Lindsay’s eyes whipped up at you, your outburst startling her out of her shock. “Y/N!”
You shook your head, closing your eyes for just a second. “Sorry...I’m sorry, I know you’re just worried. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
Aidan smiled, giving you a reassuring gaze. “It’s ok. What do we do now?”
You looked around, taking in the growing number of people that had gathered around you. There couldn’t have been more than a dozen. A dozen out of nearly a hundred wedding guests. You hoped more than anything else the others had just found a different way to escape. “Um, well, obviously, we can’t go back the way we came.”
“Obviously,” Lindsay laughed, more out of fear than anything. “I've even watched enough horror movies to know that.”
Aidan reached down and grabbed her hand, calming her, and you couldn’t help but wish you had someone to do that for you right now. “Right, so we keep going.”
A man on the other side of you stepped forward, his suit ripped and tousled. “Wait, shouldn’t we try to get back to our cars, get help?”
You shook your head. “It’s too risky. We don’t even know what direction the parking lot is in, and those monsters are still out there. We need to find shelter and hunker down, at least until morning. Then, we can try going for help.”
He glowered. “Who put you in charge?”
You turned towards him, raising your chin resolutely. “No one, but I’m not about to be an idiot and stay out here any longer waiting to be killed. If you want to, help yourself.” You dismissed him, looking back at everyone else. “Anyone still have their cell phone on them?”
A few shook their heads, but a young man in the back held up his. “I already checked. No service.”
“Fantastic…” you muttered, spinning around slowly as you tried to come up with another idea. You were really grateful you’d taken off your heels right about now, but the forest floor wasn’t doing any favors for your feet. As you spun away from the group, you spotted a flash of light, the reflection of the moonlight on...something.
“We should go that way,” you said, pointing. “I saw something.”
You started to take a step, but Mr. Tousled Suit grabbed your arm. “Hold on there. How do you know it’s not the killer things? Maybe they’re leading us into a trap.”
Glaring up at him, you wrenched your arm from his grasp. “Because whatever it was, it reflected in the moonlight, which means it’s some kind of glass or metal, and the ‘killer things’ that attacked us weren’t robots, the last time I looked. It could be a house, with a phone, or a ranger station or something.”
Aidan stepped forward, flanking you. “Y/N’s right, Tim. We need help, and whatever she saw could be it. Besides, it’s not like we have a lot of options. We can’t stay out here.”
“Fine,” he huffed, stalking ahead towards where you had pointed. You hesitated for a second, turning to whisper to Aidan.
“Your side of the family?”
He smirked. “Annoying cousin. Every family’s got one, am I right?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, for what felt like the first time in years, but then reality came crashing down on you again, and you stiffened. “We should get going.”
Aidan nodded and grabbed Lindsay’s hand again, quickly following you deeper into the forest. Soon, the three of you had caught up to Tim, The Tousled Suit, as you were calling him, with the others quietly following you.
Your guard was up, and you swore you jumped at every little noise. But, you kept going, determined not to be that girl in every horror movie who acts like an idiot and draws the monsters right to her. You were definitely channeling your best Emily Blunt right now, but, inside, you were frickin’ terrified.
After a few hundred yards, you started to notice the silhouette of a cabin forming in the distance, and you got excited, picking up your pace. You pictured a warm, welcoming woodsman with some kind of satellite phone and enough emergency supplies to survive a war. But, as you got closer, you quickly realized that the cabin was worn down and dirty. It probably hadn’t been occupied in years.
“It’s deserted,” Lindsay whispered.
Tim looked at you smugly. “Great plan, Wonder Woman.”
Okay, this one you really were going to punch. Aidan must’ve read your intention, because he stepped between the two of you. “It’s still better than nothing.”
You nodded, actively choosing to ignore your urge to kick the asshole in the balls. “Yeah. At least this will be defensible until morning in case those things come back. Let’s go.”
You led the way, carefully stepping up the rotting steps, each one creaking under your bare feet. “Remind me to get tested for tetanus if we survive this,” you mumbled.
Stepping onto the porch, you hesitated as you reached for the doorknob, your mind flashing to the possibility that this might be the monsters’ hide out. But, you knew you didn’t have a choice, so you grasped the handle, slowly pushing the door open.
To your relief, the one-room cabin was empty. You moved to the bathroom to clear it just in case, like you’d seen on cop shows, but there was no one there. It really was deserted. “We should be safe here.”
You moved around the room as the others filed in, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. You spotted a loose floorboard, and dropped to your knees, starting to pull it up.
A dramatic sigh came from behind you. “What are you doing now?”
You really were going to kill Tim. “Getting us a weapon. You got a problem with that?”
Aidan dropped down beside you as another sigh echoed behind you. “Here, I’ll help.”
“Thanks,” you whispered.
“No problem,” he said, his voice straining as he helped you pull. “Can’t have my wife’s best friend taking all the chances alone, now can I?”
With a final tug, he yanked it loose, holding it out to you victoriously. “Here.”
You smiled and grabbed it with both hands, when you heard a creaking sound coming from outside. The stairs.
“Quick,” you whispered, gesturing everyone back with a wave of your hand. “Against the back wall, now.”
Aidan moved like lightning, getting everyone back and moving to stand in front of them, his hands up, while you made your way to the door, wooden plank at the ready. As you watched the doorknob turn, you held your breath and raised the plank up over your shoulder, ready to bring it down the second the monster entered.
It all happened in an instant. The door opening, the shadows in the doorway, you bringing the wood down, only for it to be stopped mid air while everyone around you started to scream.
“Woah, woah, woah,” a deep voice hit you. You followed the hand holding the other side of your weapon, up the arm until you made eye contact with a pair of deep, green eyes. Human eyes, you were relieved to see.
“Who are you?”
The mystery man chuckled. “I think I should be asking you that question, sweetheart.” He pulled the wood plank out of your grasp, looking at it before tossing it on the ground. “Not very often a beautiful woman tries to hit me over the head with a 2 by 4.” He paused and gave you a once over. “Especially not one in an evening gown. Love the look.”
Your mouth dropped open slightly as he pushed his way past you, followed by an even taller man with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, wait a second!” you stammered, finding your voice. “That’s mine. You can’t just come in here and take things. You have no idea what’s going on out there.”
He glanced over at you and grinned. “Oh trust me, sweetheart, I know exactly what’s going on. And, that little wooden plank’s not going to do anything against a werewolf.”
“A were…” your voice trailed off as your mind raced to comprehend what he’d just said. No, it couldn’t be. It was impossible. But, then you flashed back to the golden eyes and sharp fangs, and an involuntary shudder ran through you. Nothing was impossible.
“Okay,” you started, your voice thankfully coming out a lot stronger than you felt, as you closed the door and turned towards the two men. “If you think you’re such an expert, then what will hurt a werewolf?”
The green eyed man’s grin returned, but this time it was softer, more natural, like he was pleasantly surprised by your reaction. “What?” you asked, your sarcasm returning. “Did you expect me to faint or run away in the opposite direction?”
He winked at you. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
You stepped forward, standing toe to toe with him, although you had to look up slightly. “Yeah, well, I saw those things in action. Monster, werewolf, whatever, I know we can’t afford to underestimate them. So, just tell me what I need to know instead of pulling this whole mystery hero act, okay?”
His eyes widened at that comment, but his smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew. Before he could respond, the other stranger spoke up. “I’m Sam, and this,” he said, gesturing to the man you were currently staring down, “is my brother, Dean. We’re hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures like the werewolves that attacked you.” He turned his gaze to Lindsay and Aidan, taking in their attire. “It was your wedding? I’m so sorry.”
Lindsay nodded, stifling a little sob, and Aidan wrapped his arm around her. Your bravado fell from your face as you heard your best friend, and you thought you saw Dean’s eyes soften in response, but they hardened again at the sound of rustling leaves outside. “Sammy.”
His brother responded instantly, dropping the duffel bag he was holding and lowering to his knees to unzip it. He pulled out two silver knives and a gun, handing the knives to Dean, who tucked one in his belt, keeping the other one in his hand. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Silver,” Dean said, gesturing to the knife. “These can kill a werewolf.” He moved to the window, rubbing a circle in the dust so he could see out. “Sammy, we gotta secure the door.”
“Hold on,” you interrupted, drawing the attention of both men. “Aren’t you going to get us out of here? With your weapons, we could get back through the woods to the main road.”
Dean shook his hand. “It’s too dangerous. We’re outnumbered, and we can’t protect all of you with two knives and a gun. We’d be sitting ducks. Besides, it’s too late for that. They’re already here, we wouldn’t be able to get past them anyway.”
“They are?!” you exclaimed, pushing past him to look out the window. “How’d they find us that fast?”
“Probably the same way we did,” Sam said. “Followed the trail you left.”
Dean grunted. “Yeah, you didn’t exactly hide the fact that you came this way. Broken branches, footprints. We were tracking the wolves when we heard them attack, so then we had to start tracking all of you. It wasn’t hard.”
“Sorry,” you muttered. “Next time I run for my life from supernatural killer wolves, I’ll be more discreet.”
Dean chuckled, bringing a small blush to your face. God, Y/N, focus. “Okay, so they’re waiting out there, then we stay in here, right?”
“Mhmm,” Sam said, nodding. He turned to pick out Aidan and Tim. “Hey, help me move this?”
Together, the three of them pushed a large wooden table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, in front of the door. “There, that should hold, for a while at least.”
Dean nodded, only half listening, continuing to stare out the window, his eyes darting back and forth at any sign of movement. You looked back up at him, taking in the determined set of his jaw. It surprisingly made you feel just a little bit safer. “So, now what?”
To be continued...Read the exciting conclusion here.
Forevers- @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @impala-dreamer @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398 @hannahindie @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @wi-deangirl77 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ericaprice2008 @masksandtruths @roxyspearing @squirrel-moose-winchester @sweetpeamoose @babypieandwhiskey @deans-dirty-writer @roxy-davenport @heyitscam99 @spnbaby-67 @mogaruke @atc74 @dolphincliffs @closetspngirl @maddiepants @pinknerdpanda @focusonspn @deanwanddamons @wonderfulworldofwinchester
Dean Tags- @akshi8278 @whimsicalrobots @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets @alexwinchester23 @squirrelnotsam @deanwinchesterswitch
#foreverwaywards500#spndeanbingo#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#part 1 of 2
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Cave Boys [Chapter One]
Edit: Please tell me if the ‘read more’ isn’t working because this is the third time I tried adding it in and on our blog, it shows, but when I see it on my dash it isn’t there. I’m really sorry if it’s still not working.
Synopsis: While exploring, Logan finds an unknown cave. He’s too curious for his own good and wanders inside, only to be kidnapped by monsters and taken to their civilization as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.
Genre: Logan-centric whump with a happy ending for all, NSFW, romantic intrulogical, parental loceit, parental logicality, romantic moceit, background romantic prinxiety
Trigger warnings (for the entire fic): Angst and whump, blood, gore, kidnapping, monsters, human in a cage, human in a collar, human on a leash, I think maybe technically body horror?, implied unsympathetic Janus, implied unsympathetic Virgil (neither of them is unsympathetic they’re both just assholes lol), human slavery, human being treated as property, human up for sale, threats, eventual non-con, lots of bullying, poverty
Trigger warnings (for this chapter): Traps, ankle injuries, knives that go unused, suicidal speech, talk of a person ‘fading’ (very briefly and it doesn’t happen), arguing and insults, implied poverty
Word count: 6171
Written by: Claire and Virgil
Edited by: Virgil
A/N: Hi, I played Janus and if you ask me where his personality comes from, I have no answer ~Mod Virgil
When Logan was upset, he explored the forest by his house.
The woods spread over hundreds of miles. They were covered in towering pines, ground in thick moss and large boulders. There were plenty of places of interest marked out and documented— Hot springs, caves, clearings, ponds.
Logan had visited all of them.
It got to the point where he merely wandered, focusing on landmarks instead of the people who upset him, who had once again let him down. After all, he had to be able to find his way home. A few times he got lost in the forest for longer than desired.
He was several hours into his hike, in a direction he had never been before, when he came across an undocumented cave. He checked every centimetre of his map- The one he updated every night -but no one knew of its existence.
Humming, he flicked on his light, circling the area just in case, and making a note of the find in his journal before stepping in carefully, eyes wide with wonder. “Stupendous…."
The entrance of the cave was made of high ceilings and jagged walls covered in moss. The gurgling of running water from somewhere to his left echoed through the room, and straight across, through a narrow crack in the wall, was something… Glowing. Glittering, even, shining with purple, pink, yellow, and blue.
Gasping softly, he crept carefully towards the crack, a small shiver running down his spine. "Were I more superstitious, I would say this is a fairy ring or some nonsense… how does it shimmer like that though!” Reaching out, he slipped some gloves on to touch the nearest one, the darkest blue he’d ever seen.
It was… So warm. Warm and beautiful. What was this rock- No, crystal? If he got some of it back home, he could test it… He’d have to get through the crack to harvest some of it.
Leaning out a little further, he grunted. The moment he stumbled out of the crack, metal slid against metal, and as bars flipped upward to lock him in a claustrophobic cage, pain exploded in his ankle as something clamped around it. Cheers sounded nearby.
A terrified yelp spilled from his lips as he pushed and pulled at the metal. What’s going on?!
Thick, hairy hands curl around the bars of the cage, the metal screeching along the stone floor as Logan was hauled into the darkness.
“That’s four for me,” the voice closest to him grunts, “and none for you. Have you noticed that? I have.”
His hands flew to his ears. He quickly lost track of where he was, darkness and the long strides of whoever, or whatever, now had him, making it impossible. The screaming pain in his ankle had hardly subsided by the time the moving finally stopped. The only direction Logan was certain he went in was down. He started to realize why this place wasn’t marked on the map.
“Do him like the other humans, there should be an open spot close to the city,” the same voice ordered. “I’ll go update the books.”
His heart sunk. He flinched back as a long arm reached for him. The monster tugged at him even as he kicked with his unbound leg, fumbling in his pockets for his knife and swiping. “Get the hell away! Let me go!!”
The thing laughed gleefully as its slim form easily avoided his slashes. “You know,” it clamped down on Logan’s injured ankle, pain forming black spots in his vision, “those stupid crystal things were the best thing we’ve ever done for our jobs. Made things so much easier.”
Logan snarled, certain that if he could just get one hit in, it would be fine. Maybe he’d even wake up, bed sheets wrapped around his ankles instead of this millipede nightmare.
“If you don’t stop struggling,” it sang, “you’ll never be able to use that ankle again.” It squeezed tighter, digging the metal further into his flesh, Logan’s vision turning white.
He screamed and fell limp.
The thing dragged him forward by his ankle and slapped something against his neck. It crumpled and curled around like a collar, but the material was some type of metal Logan didn’t recognize. It almost… Harnessed heat. The longer it stuck to his skin, the more it burned, like holding your hand too close to fire without touching it.
It clipped a chain on the collar and dragged Logan across the dirt floor. Logan will never forget the things he saw as it led him further into the cave system.
It brought him down to an area with square holes cut in the walls, light seeping into the makeshift hallway. What could only be described as monsters peeked through the windows, watching Logan with expressions he couldn’t recognize. There was occasional hissing, chirping, incoherent English mumbling… But not a human in sight.
Slumped in the larger pen, he tried to put together what had happened for a long time after the creature left, he finally had looked down to see the bloody mess his ankle was, and the trap attached to it. It throbbed with his panicked heartbeat ever since he had given up getting it off.
“You’re such a bitch, you know that?”
An androgynous voice, sounding almost-human, echoed down the hall as two pairs of footsteps headed for his cage. Were they human? Were they going to save him?
Shifting to his feet, Logan carefully hopped back a little. A soft whine left his lips as he imagined the horror to come.
“What?! I’m a bitch?!” A louder tone answered, an almost trill to the end echoing off the cavern walls. “You!” The voice sputtered, as if trying and failing to defend itself. “You’re not even looking at me, fang boy!”
“I don’t have to look at you to know you’re a moron. You’ve tripped over more rocks than me, and I’m fucking blind.”
Two figures came into Logan’s vision. One of them was biped, and looked vaguely humanoid, but a long snout protruded from its face and in place of nails, long, black talons curled. They were sharp enough to slit Logan’s throat. The thing’s eyes, for what tiny slits they were, had no colour.
Gesturing with a broad swipe, the second figure proclaimed loudly, “So, I wanted to be fashionable and pretty for the new arrivals, Count Woe-laff! So sue me!"
“Count… Who?”
Logan gingerly hopped out of range of the claws and the cloak the louder one wore. It floated and fluttered, as if it sat on a tide. Eyes lifting to meet Logan’s, the loud one found a rock and went down hard. He squeezed out a pained breath.
The badger thing slapped a paw to its face, right above his snout. “God, you are such a moron.” It knelt down and wrapped a paw around the other’s wrist, and for a moment Logan thought those talons were going to draw blood, but the thing helped its counterpart up and patted its back roughly.
Huffing, it dusted off, just now noticing Logan. "So, I missed a safety measure or three. Did you see-? Oh! There’s a human!"
A deep rumble fell from the badger boy’s throat, presumably a laugh. “No, I don’t see. But do you know how I know anyway? Because I listen when we’re given orders.”
The two of them stopped in front of Logan’s cage. The badger held large, flat pieces of stone and ran a single talon along it. The nail wormed its way between all the grooves and indentations, face clenched in concentration.
“Logan?” It tried. “Did I say that right? You’re listed as male, is that correct?”
Mouth opening a few times, Logan managed after a few moments, "I… Yes? How do you know that?! I haven't… There weren’t any questions asked!”
“Everything I have here is first impressions, things our superiors could tell from sight. My name is Virgil, and the idiot back there is Roman. He uses he/him, I use they/them. What do you use?” They cocked their head towards Roman and mumbled, “Did I ask that correctly?”
Roman snorted softly. “I’m not an idiot, V!"
"Yes, a bit stiff and formal, but basically correct. I prefer he/him pronouns and my name is Logan. Why am I here? Can either of you get this device off of my leg?!” He balanced, using a part of the cage furthest from the two beings, uncertainty clouding his mind.
“You were unlucky,” Virgil answered, and then the rest of Logan’s words caught up with them. They snapped something in a language Logan didn’t understand, in the same implication of one spitting out a chain of curses, and asked, “Damnit, Roman, did they leave that fucking thing on again?”
“Looks like it. They pushed it in, too! Even when they struggle, that’s just mean!” Lilting sounds left his lips in much the same implied tone. “We have to get closer to get it off.”
“I’ll do it. Just make sure he doesn’t escape.” Virgil gave Roman the tablets and pulled a set of keys from one of their many pockets. They spoke as they unlocked the door. “Roman and I are assigned to guard you when you’re on good behaviour. If you act out too much, we can’t help, and you won’t like where you end up.” They knelt in front of Logan and pat the ground. “Put your ankle right here. You’re going to have to trust us, and accept the situation.”
Slowly pushing off the wall, Logan carefully slid to where Virgil indicated, voice soft and stubbornly resigned. “Do I have a choice? I don’t know where ‘here’ is or how to get home, even if I thought that I could walk or climb to get there.”
“You’re smarter than most humans they catch.” Virgil slipped a talon into a slot on the device, a thin tongue poking between their lips. They plunged the talon deeper, and the device popped off, ripping off some of Logan’s skin with it.
“FUCK! That hurts!” He groaned. He tugged his foot close and rocked, pressing at the bleeding parts of his foot. He glared. “What good does being smart do me? I’m still here.”
“I’m sorry.” They sounded genuine. “I didn’t want to warn you, it would have just freaked you out.” Virgil stood and left the cage, closing and locking the door behind them. They took the tablets back from Roman. “We don’t have a lot of human food. Do you have… Uh, fuck, what did that girl call it? Come on, Roman, speak up, you know way more about humans than I do.”
Roman jumped a little. “Which girl, the one that had those little bars in her bag or the one that said she couldn’t eat nuts?”
“The one who couldn’t eat nuts. She said it’d kill her. We weren’t aware humans weren’t able to eat all human foods. That’s so fucking weird… You guys are fucking weird, you know that?”
“Those are called allergies. Sensitivity in differing degrees to parts of our environment. I don’t have an allergy to anything. That I’ve encountered so far at least?”
A horrible grating sound sliced through the air as Virgil noted that down with their talon. “And how old are you? We’ve tried guessing age before but another thing humans are fucking weird with, you guys don’t look the same ever.”
Covering his ears, Logan gritted his teeth. “Twenty- I’m twenty years old.”
Virgil noted that down as well and, to Logan’s immense relief, pocketing the tablets. “Okay. So what’s gonna happen is I’m gonna grab you some food while Princey here watches you, then-”
“VIRGIL! ROMAN!” An impatient voice echoed through the corridor, rapidly coming closer. “I’M HERE TO MEET THE NEW HUMAN!”
“Get lost, Janus,” Virgil growled. “The human’s not open for meet and greets yet!”
Logan hissed softly, pushing back against the wall. No more new things…
At first glance, the rapidly approaching creature looked human. It almost startled hope in Logan, until it came into the light.
It was not human.
Its skin was ghostly pale in the spaces it wasn’t covered in shimmering green scales. Its eyes were slit like a snake’s, its fangs poking out between its lips. It had similar talons to Virgil’s, but a fraction of the length and looked almost manicured.
A dazzling grin slid across its face as its eyes landed on Logan. “Oh, hello darling.” It frowned, gaze dropping to his ankle. “Oh, dear, did these two do that to you?”
Virgil shoved the thing. “You can’t keep doing this every fucking time a human arrives. Just because you meet them first doesn’t mean anyone can guarantee you a lower price.”
“P-Price?!” Logan trembled. “You mean I’m to be sold… Like property?!” His vision swam. He curled up tight around his injured limb, rocking slowly as he panicked. “Maybe I should just fucking run… Hope I find a damn cliff or something’s claw…”
All three of them jumped in visible panic, jumping over each other to discourage him.
“-horrible, horrible idea-”
“-please, darling, you’ll only get hurt-”
“-you won’t make it far enough and the punishment will make you regret trying-”
The snake thing wrapped a hand around one of the bars. “I know it looks bleak now, but if you trust me, convince the others that I would be the best buyer… You’ll be happy they took you in the first place.”
Logan laughed with a snort. “Why the fuck would I want something like that?!”
“You’re going to confuse him,” Virgil growled. “Don’t make him think he has any say. Just go and wait for his display day, okay?”
“You’ll look fabulous! And certainly end up with a better owner than snake lips there!” Roman blocked the view with his body, winking.
“I can make you happy!” It insisted. “Please, don’t listen to them! My name is Janus. What’s yours? Let me get to know you, darling.”
“Happy?! Go suck an egg and choke.” Turning, Logan tugged at his ankle, turning to Virgil. “Is there any medical treatment? Water? Clean cloth?”
“Yes, I’ll bring you water with your dinner. Roman, did you-”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Janus did not seem sorry, “but I’m not familiar with that human expression? Was that- Was-”
“You were rejected,” Virgil said flatly. “When are you going to accept that no one wants you?”
“I don’t trust any of you and I don’t like this one bit,” Logan muttered softly.
Janus hesitated, then spun on his heels and left.
Virgil sighed. “Roman, did you remember the gauze?”
Producing a roll from a bag on his hip, Roman nodded. "Of course!”
Virgil took it and unlocked the cage again. “I’ll go grab your food after I get this wrapped up, okay? Did they hurt you anywhere else?” They sat and patted the same spot on the floor.
Slowly stretching out again, Logan thought. “The collar-thing felt like it was burning… But I don’t think so?” Looking at his hands, he hummed.
“Bruises on his hands at least,” Roman piped up, “probably all over from those damn cages.”
Virgil wrapped Logan’s ankle and held out their paws, palms up. “Give me your hands.”
Carefully, Logan held them out, palm down. “What is the purpose of taking humans? What use are we to you?”
“It’s different for each buyer.” Virgil’s dark skin was surprisingly soft as their fingers rubbed along Logan’s palms. “The simple answer is that there’s a huge market for it. There are rumours that people buy humans because they want to take out their anger at being locked down here while you all are free up there, but I think that’s bullshit. We could go up there if we wanted, we just don’t. I think the people who think that are cowards.”
Logan snorted. “Everything I’ve seen here is like a cross between a fantasy tale and a nightmare… Things most people don’t believe even exist! There’s no way there’s a lock or force keeping you here! That’s just not logical!"
“Exactly.” Virgil grinned, squeezing Logan’s hands. “You walked right in, didn’t you? What’s stopping the ones desiring to walk right out?”
"Well… I was exploring, curious. I rather fell in? It was a doorway, though!” He blushed, thinking back. “Seems it was a trap, though, from what they said.”
“Yeah,” Virgil mumbled as they rose to their feet. “It’s those crystals. Humans go crazy for them. The severity depends on the person, but it just makes you want to know… Everything about them. And you’ll put that priority over any others.” Virgil slipped out of the cage, then shut and locked the doors. “Humans are so stupid,” they sighed, and left to get Logan’s food.
Logan curled in on himself. Did I upset them? “Oh…"
Roman hummed softly and slipped into place at the door. "Should we get you more coverings? Are you too cold?"
Pausing, Logan shook his head. Virgil came back a while later with a tray of what looked close to oatmeal, and a few bottles of water. They slid it through a gap in the bars, towards the bottom.
“You should try to sleep after you eat.” They shoved a thick roll of cloth through as well. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. You’re going to meet one of our superiors, and she’ll be preparing you for your display day. Please, please obey us, and obey her. If you misbehave, Roman and I will not be able to help you.”
"I… Okay, I’ll do my best. Thank you for the advice. What- What exactly is a display day?"
“One of our superiors will take you to the city, along with some other humans, and, well, put you on display. People come by to meet you and look at you, and bids will start.”
"Oh… Has anyone ever… Gone home?”
Virgil hesitated, expression darkening. “You mean… Left the cave?”
“Yes. Is there a chance that I will ever see the surface again?” He raised his head to watch the expression of this strangely compassionate being. “Will I ever see my home again… Or am I here until I die?”
“Don’t ask questions like that,” Virgil hissed. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that will land you in a place you don’t want to be in. I’m sorry, I’m sure it must be hard to accept, but this is your best option now.”
“Oh…" His head dipped, resting on his knees. "That tells me what I need to know, I guess.”
“It’ll be okay,” Virgil promised. “If you’re smart, you can find yourself a good owner who’ll make you happy.” They looked over their shoulder. “Roman, will you set up our tent? I’m taking second watch tonight.”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Been setting it up as you two gossips talked, guess you really are blind, batboy!”
Virgil looked at them incredulously. “Do you think I’m exaggerating when I say I’m blind?”
Logan couldn’t help but laugh softly, a hand muffling the sound as Roman teased in that other language, causing Virgil to swipe at him.
Virgil finally just rolled their eyes. “Goodnight, Roman. Don’t be stupid, wake me up for my shift, okay?”
He huffed softly. “Fine… Sleep well, emo nightmare!”
“Goodnight, Logan. Let Roman know if you need something.” Virgil ducked into the tent and zipped it up behind them.
Logan spent most of the night struggling to sleep. The blanket Virgil gave him barely softened the hard stone floor, and every time he fell asleep for a few minutes, he jerked awake, body insisting he was in danger. Eventually, he settled for leaning against the back wall of the enclosure and mentally reciting the constellations to try and remain calm. At some point he must have passed out, because he jerked awake when the door opened, an unfamiliar voice speaking with the two guards from earlier.
“How has he been behaving?” The feminine voice asked.
“Perfectly,” Virgil said dryly. “Just went right to bed last night, didn’t even think about escaping.”
“Hmm. That’s perfect. Have you noticed anything strange about him, anything to take note of?”
Roman chuckled. “He seems quite intelligent, if a bit scared. The first crew beat him up a bit and I’m not sure if he’s having issues from that first handling?”
“Hmm,” she sounded indifferent, “I’ll check when we get him to the tailor. We’ll definitely have to market his intelligence, most humans are so dumb.”
Slowly pushing up, Logan hummed softly as dread crept into his stomach. Watching her body language for clues, he steeled himself for whatever she might do to ‘display’ him.
She talked with the two a little longer. She looked remarkably similar to Virgil.
She unlocked the cage door and beckoned Logan forward. “Are you awake? Come here, please.”
“I am.” Standing, he slowly approached, watching those long claws carefully. “Am I allowed to speak, ma'am?”
Her barely-there eyes widened a bit. “Wow, you guys weren’t kidding. He is smart. Yes, Logan, you can speak, but keep it to a minimum. I presume Virgil and Roman told you where you’ll go when you misbehave, and I feel it’s important to tell you that our rules and their rules will not be the same.”
“What are those rules, ma'am? I would prefer to avoid punishment if possible.” Gulping as she approached, he fought not to run.
She gracefully slid her talons under his collar and brought him closer, clipping on a chain. She gently tugged, like beckoning a dog, and stepped out of the cage.
“The obvious ones,” she told him as they walked through the dark corridors, Roman and Virgil flanking them, “like don’t try to escape, don’t be rude, don’t attack anyone. Any others, you have permission to break once, since you won’t know, then any time after that you’ll be assigned new guards.”
He nodded. If he were to break any rules, it would certainly be fighting back or being rude. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.”
“You’re very welcome, Logan. You’re very polite.”
She took them down a route Logan didn’t recognize, and seemingly all at once, the cave walls turned into carved out homes, the narrow hall opened up into a huge cavern bustling with noise, and he was surrounded in life. It was a complete city, underground, and crawling with monsters. “Roman, please visit the office and update the books while Virgil and I bring him to the tailor.”
Smiling wide, Roman saluted. He took the tablets from Virgil before turning with a flourish. “Certainly! I’ll meet back up with you there!"
Virgil’s boss led him through the city. Despite her lack of vision, she never ran into anyone or anything. She brought them to a tiny little building made of jagged rock, some of the door crumbling as she pulled it open.
“Go in, now.”
Stumbling slightly, Logan ducked inside. His eyes slowly adjusted to the lowered light. He could barely make out a small shop with piles of fabrics, some chains and restraints on the walls. "H-Hello?"
Scratching sounded as a figure rounded the mounds, low syllabant voice purring as wings and claws came into view. "Greetings, human… Hand over the chain, Sylvia? I need to see all of him easily, you know!”
A griffin.
Sylvia chuckled and passed it over. “He’s very intelligent, so we’ll need an outfit to highlight that, Rose, make sure everyone who sees him knows.”
Rose’s paw looped the chain over a stand as she drew him in closer. “So I see… His eyes are watching everything. Maybe if we highlight them….” Grabbing some materials, she draped them to check the shade. She sketched concepts with soft mutters. “Scholar… Robes?”
Sylvia hummed appreciatively and found a seat. Virgil stood guard by the door. “Yes, I’m sure that’ll work,” Sylvia said.
“Of course, darling, I AM the best!” Moving Logan with firm but gentle paws, she measured and worked on creating a heavy-looking robe with colours that complimented his features. It made him look wise, and yet hampered movement so he wasn’t tempted to run. Showing him off when she finished, she motioned for Logan to turn. “I would add some makeup for those eyes if you really want him to sell at mark up, sweetie!”
“I’ll mention that to the stylist tomorrow. I trust you’ve done a wonderful job, if there’s anything the boss has to say I’ll bring him back before closing hours.”
She stood and pulled a few gems out of the bag at her hip. One of them was an amethyst, but Logan didn’t recognize the rest. She held them out in Rose’s general direction.
Taking the stones, Rose purred and traded them for Logan’s chain. “A pleasure as always!”
“Virgil, come take this.” She held out the chain, and Virgil felt around until they found her wrist, and felt their way to the end of the chain. “Wait outside for Roman, then get him back to his cage and make him something to eat. I’m going to make sure the work on his display cage is going smoothly.”
“Sure.” They gestured for Logan to follow, taking it on faith that Logan saw and tugging him out the door.
Logan stumbled as he adjusted to the change in leading style. “Virgil?”
Sylvia passed them outside and disappeared into the crowd of people. Virgil leaned against the wall of the tailor. “What’s up?”
“Just a question. Am I to wear this outfit only for presentation, or is this to be my new daily attire?” Logan touched the navy fabric, careful not to mess it up.
“We’re just fitting you for your display day. After we get the boss’ approval, you’ll change back into your original clothes and we’ll keep that safe until everything’s ready. Why?”
“Oh… They are much warmer than what I currently have. The space I was in, it’s colder than I’m used to?"
Virgil stepped forward and clumsily rubbed one of their paws over the side of Logan’s face. “Hm. You’re right, I don’t think humans’ skin is supposed to be this cold. I’ll grab you a hoodie when I get your breakfast. Jesus, do you see Princey anywhere? He’s so fucking distractable.”
Shivering, Logan leaned into the touch. "Mmm…"
Roman scoffed softly, coming up behind Virgil. "Petting him without me, V? You’re bonding nicely!”
They dropped their paw with a sigh. “He’s cold. You should carry him back. Body heat should be able to warm him up just as well as fabric.”
“Oh!” Stepping in, Roman scooped Logan up after a quick consideration on how to position him. “Okay! He’s so light… Are they supposed to be this small?”
Virgil shrugged as they made their way back. “I don’t know. Like I said, humans almost never look the same. Feel below his chest, can you feel his ribs through his skin?”
Logan squeaked as Roman poked at him. “I am not underweight!”
“Just let Roman check,” Virgil sighed. “We need to make sure we’re feeding you correctly.”
Blushing a bright red, Logan nodded and tried to relax.
Roman hummed softly. “Not easily… Skinny but like just not a lot of natural padding? He is super cold though… Shivering.”
“Yeah, like I said, you gotta warm him up. Use friction.”
Chuckling, Roman cuddled Logan close, hands sliding under his clothes to rub gently. “Got it, V!”
They brought him back to his holding cage, Virgil holding out his old clothes. “Go ahead and get changed, I need those.”
Turning for modesty even though he knew it was useless, Logan nodded. He held out the robes to Roman. “Here… Might I request something warm for food? It helps.”
“Of course. We have some soups that are safe for humans. I’ll be right back.”
Roman grinned and settled Logan in his lap, stroking gently. “Soooo… Do you want to talk while V’s doing the boring stuff?”
He blushed and cuddled into Roman’s chest. “Sure?”
“Awesome!” Petting Logan’s hair, he bounced a little. “So, what do you do for fun? Do you live alone? 20 is above the age of leaving your parent’s territory, right?”
“It varies from person to person. It’s not an abnormal time to be on your own.” He shrugged a little. Somehow, thinking of his old life seemed… Bleeker. “I read a lot. Um, I did a lot of exploring, obviously. I liked finding things I didn’t know about and taking it home to run some tests, see if there’s anything interesting. And, uh, yeah. I lived alone.”
“Oh! So humans’ life patterns vary? There’s no set time to leave your first home, find a mate?” Roman’s eyes were wide, fascinated.
Logan nodded slowly. “Yeah… I mean, you can do whatever you want, really. Do you… Have a ‘set time’ to find a mate?”
He blushed. “Kind of? My species has a limit on how long you have to search. We have a token that we’re to give to our mates after courtship… and if you don’t, we kind of… fade?"
Logan frowned deeply. “That’s horrible. What if you don’t want a partner?”
Roman’s head tipped in confusion. "Who wouldn’t want a life partner? The world is lonely sometimes!”
“Well, plenty of people upstairs.” Logan turned to face Roman, wrapping his legs around him. He was slowly warming up, but not quick enough for his liking. “I mean… Well, are we talking about ‘life partners’ or ‘mates?’”
“Oh! You separate the sexual pairs from the companionship ones?” Roman chuckled. “That makes more sense now!”
He nodded, hesitantly resting his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Yeah. Some people only want one or the other, or neither. I mean, most everyone wants someone to be with for their lives, but… More separated. It’s hard to explain. People can just do whatever they want with their own relationships.”
Roman hummed, sliding off his outer covering layer to hold Logan closer, fingers playing with his hair. “It’s complicated. We do have some help, though? Our tokens can act as a guide, giving a nudge if we’re blind to our feelings!"
“Hmm… That’s really-”
“VIRGIL? ROMAN? ARE YOU BACK YET?”
Wincing, Roman groaned and tucked Logan against him. "Son of a sea cow! GO AWAY!”
Janus appeared in the light, looking flustered. “Oh- Logan! You’re out of your cage!” He smiled shakily. “How did you sleep? Oh- Are you cold?” He started to shrug off his jacket.
Logan snickered softly. He patted Roman’s hair as he hissed at Janus and bared his fangs.
“I am,” Logan said, “I slept some… Roman is taking care of me, but, thank you?"
“Oh, I don’t mind!” Janus messily grabbed some gems out of one of the pockets and stuffed them in his pants’ pocket, then held out the jacket. The inside was covered in patches of various fabrics, some of those patches with patches of their own. “I was hoping you’d be more up to talk today? Are you busy?”
Deciding it to be rude to refuse the gift, Logan slid into the jacket carefully. It wasn’t very comfortable— Scratchy, the material stiff. "Well… Um, I don’t think I’m allowed to before presentation day? I don’t want trouble.”
“Janus.” An irritated voice echoed through the tunnel, and Virgil came into view. “Why are you back?”
“I’m trying to talk to Logan.” Frustration bit into his voice, Janus’ hands curling into fists. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” Virgil snapped. “He doesn’t want you. You can bid on him tomorrow like everyone else.”
“Thank you for your interest, Janus… But perhaps some other time?” Logan set his head on Roman’s shoulder, confused by the odd snake creature’s persistence.
One of Janus’ fangs poked into his lip. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Virgil set the tray of food down and came over to Logan with a thick hoodie. They felt over Logan’s shoulders and frowned in confusion, then anger.
“Take that off,” they snapped.
Blushing, Logan quickly obeyed. “Sorry… It seemed rude to refuse?”
Virgil tossed the jacket on the floor, one of their talons catching and ripping another hole. “When Sylvia said you couldn’t be rude, that certainly does not apply to him. Don’t trust him. Don’t take anything he gives you.” Virgil wrapped the hoodie around Logan’s shoulders and patted him softly. “Let’s get back in your cage, okay?”
Janus picked up his jacket silently, and left.
“Oh… why?"
“He doesn’t deserve to be around humans. You don’t know how things work down here, so you wouldn’t understand, but trust us. He should not be around humans.” Virgil held out his food tray once Logan was in the cage.
Taking the tray, Logan leaned against the bars, wishing for Roman’s warmth again but sipping the soup happily. "Do you have any other advice?"
“You’ve been doing fine,” Virgil promised. “Just get some rest for your display day.”
"Are most humans bought after just one display day?” His forehead pinched at the thought of being uprooted again.
“No. There are usually four, and you’ll be waiting at least a month. How long exactly depends. Bids are open for at least a month, and depending on the popularity of the subject- You -the date might be extended to try and raise a higher price.”
“O-Oh… and I’ll be kept here, or a different place between displays?” I wish I had my notebooks, my things… I dropped all that outside the hole when I fell in.
“It depends on your behaviour. If you behave, you’ll be kept with us until you’re bought. If you break a rule, though, you’ll immediately be switched guards until you’re either bought or the superiors are convinced you won’t act out again.”
Shaking his head, Logan nibbled his bottom lip. “I meant is there a way to earn perhaps… Warmer space, things to distract myself with? I am used to activity, knowledge-seeking.”
Virgil frowned. “I’m sorry. No, that’ll have to wait. You can ask your owner when you’re bought.”
His shoulders slumped. “Oh… This will be a very long month then.” I’m to be bored and confused and scared, lovely.
Virgil headed back to Roman.
Blushing a little, Roman pulled out a small package and handed it to Virgil. “Oh, before I forget, I saw this new tea at the vendors! It’s supposed to be super calming and it smells really good!"
Virgil pressed the bag to their snout, sniffing it curiously. “Mm! Spicy! Thanks, Ro!” They jumped to their feet. “I’m gonna go make some, do you want any?”
Preening a little, Roman made a little chirp of happiness. "Sure!”
Logan arched an eyebrow. Is… Is Roman courting Virgil?!
Virgil squeezed his hand and rushed away. Logan arched an eyebrow. “So… You did say gifts were instrumental to the courtship process, did you not?”
Blushing bright red, Roman turned to Logan. “Yeah… Doesn’t have to be expensive, just thought out!”
Logan finished his soup and hugged his knees. “How many gifts have you given them? Do they understand what you’re doing?”
Roman hummed softly as he thought. “There was the material for a new hoodie, some repair on their clothes… The tea, a few meals. I don’t know if they do, but I hope so! They’re so sure that nobody would want them, silly Clawsian!"
“How long do you have until your, um, deadline?”
Looking down, Roman tugged at his cloak gently. "Six lunar cycles…"
Logan’s eyes blew wide. “What-? That’s- Tell them! You have to tell them!”
Roman blush deepened. "Well, I don’t want to make them become my mate out of a sense of duty, to somehow save me? They’re so honourable…. Kind.”
“That’s-”
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
Two mugs clanked against the stone and Virgil charged forward. They felt up Roman’s arms, his shoulders, neck, finally cupping his face, then tilted his head to kiss him hard.
Melting into the strong hands, Roman moaned, kissing back with equal passion as he revelled in the caring touches. “Virgil~”
Logan laughed. “I would agree… They seem quite amenable!”
Virgil slid their talons into Roman’s hair. After a moment or two, he pulled away, voice ragged. “If you ever put yourself in danger for me, ever again, I will break up with you so fucking fast, Princey-”
Face bright red, Roman nodded quickly and chased the touch. “O- Okay! I promise to tell you if I’m ever in danger again!"
Virgil poked his nose. “Good.”
They grabbed their mugs of tea and settled against Roman’s side. Virgil’s smelled approximately ten times spicier than Roman’s.
Nuzzling lightly, Roman smiled. "Does that mean we’re together then, you accept me as your mate?!”
“Depends on how good this tea is.” Virgil took in a long sip, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes, I accept.”
Laughing, Roman snuggled in and sipped his own. Virgil finished the mug and rested their head on Roman’s shoulder, falling asleep for a nap while Roman took watch.
The sub of this duo, Virgil, does commissions! Earn yourself 300 words for each coffee and the knowledge that you’re helping me pay the bills and start my own business
You can read my writing specifically here
#logan sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#janus sanders#prinxiety#sympathetic deceit#sympathetic janus#not safe for sanders#ds writes#cave boys#logan#virgil#roman#janus
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