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guessimwritingficsagain · 3 years

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Delightful, chapter five

Previously : Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four

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In the wake of your break-up, your friend Martha decided it was time for you to go out and let loose, just so you could forget both about James and about Javier. Though you weren’t sold on the idea, you let her drag you out. It’d been months, after all. Time to move on, especially because somehow, after James broke up with you, Javier disappeared from your life again. The bastard.

That’s how you found yourself getting a refill at the counter of a small place you both liked to hang out at. As you turned your head, scanning the crowd while the bartender was making your drinks, you spotted the man. Javier was sitting at a table a bit in the dark, in very good company. He was whispering something in the ear of a very very pretty woman, the kind who looked like she could be on the cover of some magasine. So much for forgetting about Javier Peña tonight.

The wave of bitterness wasn’t unexpected but still unwelcome : you didn’t see him anymore but here he was, very much alive and very much not working. So you turned your head around, paid the bartender, took the drinks and went back to your table, determined not to let the man ruin your night. Your brain obviously disagreed, though, because as soon as you sat down, your mouth, almost on its own volition, spat :

‘He’s here.’

‘James ?’

You shook your head.

‘Oh.’

After a beat, she asked :

‘Where is he sitting ?’

‘Other side of the room.’ You mumbled.

She took a look, trying to spot him even though she’d never seen him.

‘Let me guess : moustache guy.’

You grumbled in answer.

‘Nice. I see the appeal. But listen, he’s all the way over there, you got your back to him, there’s no reason to bump into him at all. Just … take the long way round to go to the bathroom, you know.’

Martha was right. The was no reason for you to get all worked up. You were friends, he’d probably been busy and he had every right to relax with some pretty lady after your ex broke up with you because of him. That wasn’t on him, that was on you. He didn’t even know about that.

So you had fun, and pointedly turned your back to Javier every time it was your turn to get drinks. You sensed someone sit down right next to you at some point but didn’t think much of it.

‘Nice dress. Trying to get lucky ?’

Fuck.

‘Hey, Javier.’

You didn’t bother pretending to be surprised, sensing he’d see right through it.

‘Why didn’t you come say hi ?’

You shrugged, and made up an excuse :

‘You have company and we’re having a girls’ night.’

He leaned to take a look at our table and waived at Martha, whom you turned to see with her eyebrows raised, clearly ready to get you out of here.

‘We never got a chance to talk about what happened.’ He suddenly said, and added as he saw how confused you were : ‘With James.’

‘Nothing to talk about.’

‘Something must have happened.’

You glanced at his table, seeing the woman he was with patiently waiting. He caught you, and filled in :

‘She knows I’m catching up with a friend. Maybe your pal and her could keep each other company.’

He said the word ‘friend’ with what seemed like mockery, as a hand went casually to your shoulder, like he was trying to keep you here. The asshole.

‘So, James ?’

You understood, then, he wouldn’t let go. You chose your next words carefully, choosing the safest option : not quite a lie, not quite the truth.

‘He was thinking of proposing.’

The hand on your shoulder squeezed and you relished in the fact that Javier was a bit thrown off by that.

‘And you didn’t want him to ? Why ?’

You shrugged and thanked the bartender as he handed you your drinks. The pressure on your shoulder grew insistant.

‘You’re lying to me.’ You heard Javier say. ‘Tell me the truth. That man was head over heels for you. Gave me a fucking speech once when you went to the bathroom, telling my how he didn’t really understand our relationship but respected the bond we shared. He would have accepted it if you didn’t want to propose. What happened ?’

There was so much to unpack there you were stunned for a minute. The way Javier said the word bond, the same way he’d said the word friends before, the fact James had talked to Javier at some point …

You turned sharply towards him, and snapped :

‘What did you tell him, Javier ? What did you tell him that day ?’

He leaned in.

‘Nothing. Should I have said something ?’

‘No.’

You hated how good he was looking, right now, you hated the tension in the air, the way the bartender was obviously listening, out of curiosity, or maybe, trying to assess if he should intervene.

‘What do you want, Javier ?’

‘I want to know why you broke up with him. The real reason.’

‘I didn’t. He broke up with me.’

You didn’t even feel bad for the glee that filled you at the pure astonishment that showed on his face at that.

‘Bullshit.’

‘It’s true. And I gave him a good reason for that.’

Javier had been an asshole in the past, had made some sharp comments about your sex life, but you would never have thought to hear from him the words he said next :

‘What ? Got you bored in bed so you went to have a little fun elsewhere ?’

The comment stunned you so much you didn’t stop to think about Javier would never push that far. He wasn’t mean like that. You quickly got up, and the hand on your shoulder dropped to your belly, the gesture out of place. You smacked his hand away.

‘Don’t touch me. How dare you ? Just because you have to fuck a different woman every night, and … Just because you can’t settle or be faithful to someone … Fuck you. Don’t ever show your face at my house again. Find another couch to sleep on. I’m done with you.’

———

Two weeks later, Javier showed up at the bar, took a seat, and stayed until closing time. You spent the night on edge, spilling drinks all over and messing up orders. Javier made no move to get out when you announced it was time to go home. By the time it was only him, Emil and you inside, you could wut the tension with a knife. Emil hurriedly left and you didn’t blame him.

‘I’m gonna lock you in, Peña.’

He just looked at you for a few seconds, his gaze unwavering, and explained :

‘I wanted you to be angry at me.’

You closed your eyes, just to compose yourself. You should throw him out, you knew that. But you still walked over to him, and sat on a barstool next to him. You didn’t answer, though. You weren’t ’t going to talk first. What left his mouth then took you by surprise.

‘I left a woman at the altar, once.’

Fuck, you were going to need alcohol for that. You got up, grabbed a bottle of whisky for him, and poured yourself a glass of vodka before coming back to sit down.

‘I did something bad. Told you that before.’ He started, lighting a cigarette, fire casting a yellow shadow on his face, as most of the lights were off in the bar. ‘That’s what got me sent home.’

A moment of silence, and then :

‘I worked with Los Pepes, to get Escobar.’

You remembered Los Pepes, you remembered what they had done. You didn’t say anything, though. When he understood you weren’t going to talk, he went on :

‘When I was working with them, I thought it was best to not come see you. You never know what can happen, and things were escalating pretty quickly.’

You remembered that too. Vividly. You also remembered the phone calls from your parents, frantically asking you please come home.

‘That woman, the one I left I mean … I saw her again, back home. She basically told me she was glad we never got married. You’d think I’d be relieved. I wasn’t. Kept thinking about how much of an asshole I was. And the worst part was everyone thought I was a hero. So when I came back here, I just …’

He paused, took a drag.

‘Listen, I was surprised. You had this nice guy with you. That wasn’t the issue. The problem was that, before, you were the one to give me shit when I was an asshole, okay ? And ever since I’ve been back into your life, you haven’t even asked. You waited ‘till I talked. You were being too fucking nice, giving me space and shit, never questioning why I never called you, never blaming me for anything. That wasn’t what I expected, or what I needed. Add James to the mix and I thought I’d lost you, for good. I thought I’d fucked up so bad you didn’t even care enough to get angry at me, and that somehow you let me sleep on your couch and hang out out of pity. So I just … I wanted you to be angry at me. I wanted to know you cared.’

‘That’s fucked up, Javier.’

‘I know. The look on your face the other day, I never want to see that again.’

‘You hurt me.’

‘I’m sorry, babe.’

One of his hand shot on your knee, just resting there. With his other hand, he poured himself another drink, the cigarette now in the ashtray. You took a moment to define what you were feeling, to put the right words in the right order. Carefully, you eventually explained :

‘I’ve been really angry at you. You had no right to say what you said, to assume …’

‘I didn’t mean it.’ He cut you off. ‘I didn’t mean any of that shit. You were in this bar, and you were ignoring me and I couldn’t stand it. I’m sorry.’

The silence lingered, as his thumb started tracing random patterns on the side of your knee. After a while, looking at your glass, you repeated :

‘You hurt me.’

That stilled his hand.

‘You think … You think you can forgive me ?’

You pretended to ponder the question carefully, even though you knew the answer already. At the end of the day, you cared too much about Javier Peña to lose him because of some dumb remark made in the heat of the moment. You settled with :

‘You’re not off the hook yet.’

You were smiling at him, though. Something tiny and timid, but that spurred him on. He jumped off the barstool and set himself right between your legs, both hands on your knees, now, and whispered :

‘That’s my girl.’

And then, quieter, and shy, he added :

‘I missed you.’

Having him that close was overwhelming, the heat from his body a pleasant invitation to lean in. Except you shouldn’t. He wasn’t off the hook yet. You whispered back, though :

‘I missed you too.’

Both of his thumbs were drawing circles on the inside of your knees and you closed your eyes for a bit, still feeling his on your face. You let your head drop on his shoulder, despite your best intentions. He stepped even closer to you, as his hands started moving a little bit up and down your thighs.

‘I’m here, now, babe. And I’m never pulling that kind of shit again.’

‘Promise.’

He didn’t hesitate :

‘I promise. Can’t afford to lose my best girl again, especially not to some teacher who’s gonna woo you with books.’

You stopped breathing at his hidden admission.

‘Javier …’

You voice was wavering, the weight of the situation crashing down on you, pining you here.

‘If you’re gonna tell me to fuck off, I will. But I’m pretty confident in my odds, here. We could be so good together, you know that.’

Your hands went to his hair. He hummed in satisfaction.

‘James knew.’ You admitted quietly. ‘That’s why he let me go.’

Javier’s hands jerked on your thighs, and he urgently asked :

‘Wait, did he think you cheated on him with me ?’

You raised your head and reassured him.

‘No, no, nothing like that. But he knew he was my second choice.’

Javier smiled at that.

‘Yeah ?’ He asked, as his hands slowly traveled to the inside of your thighs. You put your forehead to his temple, sinking into him. You hadn’t realized how wet you were.

Javier’s hands stopped, and squeezed.

‘Please tell me you want this as much as I do.’ He almost begged.

You wanted it, so much.

You whispered a breathy yes and his hands went back to work. You pressed against him and whispered :

‘Javier, we’re in a bar.’

‘It’s closed. Lights are mostly off. There’s no one in the streets. ’ He quipped back, a finger tugging at your underwear.

He slightly grazed your clit, then, making you gasp. He asked :

‘You want this ?’

One of your hands left his hair and grasped his neck as you breathed :

‘Yes’

He put a finger into you. One, and then two, a thumb on your clit. You felt so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself. And then Javier started mumbling nonsense into you ear, about how much he’d missed you, about how wet you were, about how much he’d wanted that to happen.

You came when his mouth finally found yours.

———————————————-

Tag list (don’t hesitate to ask to be added)

@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso @justpedropascal

#Pedro Pascal #javier pena x reader #narcos #javier pena

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

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Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer.

And boy, was he.

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage.

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world - but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen.

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response, “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect.

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off,

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed.

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!”

Charming.

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

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This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#analoceitmus #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #royality #qpr!royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #my fics #fanfics #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #this one just went wild #i dunno what to tell you #reads a little more like analogical and demus if i think about it #but whatever it was fun

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depressed-sock · 2 years

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Lucky Number Six

Part One: Death

Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Male Ryder | Scott/Reyes Vidal, Jaal Ama Darav/Original Character(s)

Characters: Noble Six | SPARTAN-B312, Male Ryder | Scott, mentions of noble team, Reyes Vidal, Jaal Ama Darav, Liam Kosta, Cora Harper

Additional Tags: Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, everyone's got anxiety and stress, Found Family

___

You'd think that facing imminent death would make you rethink your life, maybe even leave you terrified by the certain outcome that you’re definitely going to die. But the truth of the matter is...

They feel nothing.

No pain at all, though in truth, pain is a symptom of the past for them. With the nerve damage they've experienced so severely there was bound to be side effects. One’s that led to a screen blaring a red warning across their eyes even as they take another shot at the Jackal that had tagged them.

There was no time left to feel anything anyway. Their number finally coming up as they fight to the death in a hopeless endeavor to take out as many enemies as they can with them. The last stand.

The last chance for some kind of vengeance. They can't even bring themself to really care. Their team is gone. Picked off one by one, a 'heroic' sacrifice one after the other.

An exhausting joke about an unkillable team who got an Achilles heel.

Of course, Six couldn't actually know if their presence had made the difference. It felt like it though and tasted like some kind of failure on their part. The lone wolf was so great at causing death of all kinds it seems.

Even if their hands shake a little as they slam another clip into their gun. Even if their vision is starting to blur. Death is something they've been taught to do. So easy it's almost like breathing.

They hate it. They love it.

It won't ever bring back their lost friends. It won't reverse the bullet that had splattered Kat's skull against a wall. Won't bring back Carter from his self-sacrifice. Won't stop the blade that had sliced through Emile's chest.

...Won't stop Jorge from throwing them back into space. To watch as he died in an explosion swallowed by the vacuum of space. His dog tags heavy around their neck. Weighing more and more like a chain as their hopeless fight carries on.

Has it been minutes or an hour? It doesn’t really matter anymore does it.

Their breathing is getting heavier, each shot not as carefully placed. Bodies of dead covenant litter the battlefield but they just don't seem to stop coming.

Six can't stop if the covenant won't. They can still shoot, they can still kill. Even if they can tell that the air is growing warmer and the sky is growing brighter.

They know what's going to come. Know that Reach itself is lost. But there's still hope for others. Hope that stands on the backs of the dead who risked everything for it.

Their gun clicks empty and with a hiss of frustration they toss it away, grabbing their pistol from its holster.

It won't be long before they join their team. At least maybe Jun will survive though. Lucky bastard. A harsh bark of laughter filters through their helmet. Wish you the best of luck, hope you get out of this hellhole.

Because they definitely aren't. They feel like there should be more anger. Anger at these fucking aliens that murder entire planets. Anger that the Covenant had killed their family and left them with nothing.

Maybe even anger at their own government for taking advantage of a kid who'd lost everything.

It doesn't matter. Not when they can see their armor smoking from plasma shots. Shields already cracking and dying in a burst of blue light.

Not done yet. They still have time enough to run, dodging down into a sturdier cover as they pull their sniper rifle from their back. Only a few shots left but they'll make them count.

Because they never could get the stain of Kat's blood off their armor. No matter how hard they had scrubbed. No matter how much their own hands had bled.

One.

Another shot into the chamber. Another Elite in their site because they can still see the Pelican going up in smoke as it crashed into its target.

Two.

Dodge back down. Hold and wait for a chance because they had watched helpless as their friend fell forward and dropped from the guns.

Three.

Ignore the tears and blurred vision. Aim on target. Their hands somehow steady because they never got a chance to tell Jorge the truth.

Four.

Take them down. Give humanity the time it needs because there was still hope for one of them to get off of this planet.

Five.

Even if there was no hope for them in particular.

Click.

They want to scream as they toss the rifle away. Out of guns but not out of enemies. Left with no choice but to rush forward. Hand reaching down to grab a plasma rifle.

Shots burning into their side causing them instead to stumble away empty-handed. Only to have another shot crack into their helmet. Shards of it blown back into their eyes and face.

They try to blink away the blood that drips down so they can see their screen. Try and asses the damage. How much longer they might get. But the screen is gone and they're left with no way to know their condition. Leaving them with no choice but to rip the helmet from their head. Tossing it straight at the nearest grunt.

Black hair annoyingly falling and sticking onto the blood smeared across their face. Mouth turning into a snarl as they reach instead for a nearby plasma sword. Driving forward and through one enemy after the other.

They know they're dying. Their dark eyes feel like they've been glazed over. The world blurring together into a single entity as they give one final fight.

Elites swarm in around them and they know they're outnumbered. Hopelessly outmatched.

I don't want to die.

It's the first kind of pain they've felt in a long time. That sudden feeling of wanting to live so visceral it cuts them far deeper than any weapon could.

But there's no chance to think on it as the Elites pile on them. Forcing them down as their legs give out. A fight still building in them as they grab the knife strapped across their chest and shove it into the eye of a nearby Elite. No surrender. No defeat.

A spartan never dies.

They try not to think about the click of a plasma sword that hisses to life. Or the way their arms have become too heavy to move. Helpless as their executioner steps forward.

It doesn't feel like anything as the sword pierces through their armor. Just a gasp of air and the taste of blood on their tongue. And maybe that's what makes the entire situation so funny to them. Their laughter a mix of hysteria and blood even as the enemy watches them. An unnerving scene to the Elites that surround them.

Or maybe what's truly funny is the fact that they had pulled all the pins on their grenades during the struggle.

"I win," they whisper their last lie as an explosion of sound and light swallows them.

…

“What the hell was that?!”

“What did we hit?!

“Don’t know yet, ma’am.”

“Someone get on the comms and get me some answers!”

“On it.”

“We’ve got injured, ma’am!”

“Shit. Get them to the medbay now!”

#mass effect andromeda #halo reach #crossover #fanfiction #My writing #sock-writes

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sha3thehunter · 4 years

Text

Into The Light

Pairings - Demus/Dukeceit

Au - None

Summary - After Janus was accepted by Thomas, he goes back to get Remus so they could move to the lighter side of their host's mind together. Here was only one problem with that plan and there are a few sides who weren't happy with the decision.

Prompt - Safe

—————————————————————

Everything hurts.

No, that was an understatement, to say the least, but he didn't care in the slightest. He needed to get to safety before they caught up to him. He couldn't risk being caught and he knew what would happen if he was caught. They would hurt Janus and he would not allow that to happen again. He would rather disappear back into Thomas' mind then let Janus get hurt by those bastards again. Depression stayed behind to buy him some time to reach the lighter side of their host's mind. He could feel the weight on his back and he knew that he had to keep moving for Janus' sake. He needed the light sides to help him and to help keep his love safe from harm. He couldn't care less about himself as long as the man he loved was safe from being harmed again. None of this felt right and it didn't seem fair that any of it was happening. However, getting to safety was now his main goal and he could deal with those bastards later. He needed to make sure that Janus would be safe and that his injuries would be treated.

Remus used the wall to help support him as he limped towards the lighter side of Thomas' mind. He ignored the pain and he ignored the fact that his body was screaming at him to stop moving but he couldn't. Janus was in much worse condition than he was and he was mainly fuelled by his rage while he carried his lover on his back. Janus should have just left him behind but that didn't happen despite what they discussed previously. The dishonest side came back for him and convinced him to leave with him, to join him. That's when they were ambushed by the others and it didn't end well. They were aiming for Janus but they were counting on Remus being there. They were separated by those bastards and it took Remus a while to get back to Janus and he was grateful for Depression's help. Depression had managed to rescue Janus from the others and he stated that he would buy them some time so they could get to the light sides. Janus would be proud but there was no time for it. Remus ignored his injuries so he could get Janus to safety and he didn't care about his wellbeing right now.

Laughter echoed through the corridor and it was more than enough to encourage Remus to continue. He pushed off the wall and used all his strength to focus on walking. He was making good progress but he could hear them behind him and that wasn't a good sign. He could see the light that leads to the lighter side of the mind and he began to push himself even more as he was so close to safety. The sound of footsteps began to echo but they wouldn't reach Remus as he pushed himself into the lighter side of the host's mind. He found himself in the common area and he breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it to safety and they wouldn't be followed. Remus' legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. He carefully lowered Janus onto the floor before falling onto his side and he began to feel the pain seeping into his body. He held one of his boyfriend's ungloved hands and his eyelids were beginning to feel rather heavy. It wasn't long before Remus fell unconscious and his final thought was that someone would find them. Thankfully, there was a rather light sleeper among the light sides.

Virgil hadn't been able to sleep and he had a feeling that something was wrong but he didn't know what. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling all day after he learned of what happened with Thomas earlier on. Everyone had been on edge since Deceit had been accepted but the anxious side couldn't get rid of the horrible feeling. He hoped that it wasn't something too bad but he knew that he could be wrong since he has been wrong before. Virgil sighed and decided that he would grab some food from the kitchen before he attempted to get some sleep. He climbed off his bed and he made sure that he grabbed his jacket before he left his room. He might be able to sleep if he had a cup of tea or a small snack since it has happened before. He made his way to the kitchen but he soon stopped when he smelt something. That strange feeling returned and it was even stronger than before and he instantly recognised the metallic smell.

It was blood.

He could smell blood and he ran down the corridor to see what was going on. When he reached the common area, he felt his heart stop at the sight in front of him and he completely froze. He could see a mix of yellow, green and deep crimson red on the floor in front of him. Virgil felt sick to his stomach but he pushed that feeling aside and he quickly made his way over to the unconscious pair. None of this was right and he finally understood the feeling he had been having all day. It was his instincts, telling him that someone was in danger. And he ignored them. He fucking ignored them. He ignored his instincts and now the worse had happened. Virgil was going to make up for that mistake and he knew what he had to do. He was going to help Janus and Remus to recover but first, he needed some help to move them. They couldn't stay in the common area but that meant waking the others up for help which he was willing to do.

He kneeled next to Janus and he gently rolled him over so he was on his back. Virgil fought back the urge to vomit at the sight of the blood and he gently cradled the dishonest side's head in his arms. This wasn't right and he was starting to wonder how this happened in the first place. It was evident of who had done this but the main question was how they managed to escape without being tailed. Someone had helped them to escape and there was only one person who would have helped out. He would ask those questions later but he had a feeling of who it could have been. They were safe now and Virgil wasn't going to let them go back to that place again. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes and he didn't care about the consequences anymore. They needed help and he couldn't lose them again.

"Someone help!" Virgil shouted, his voice echoed as he started to panic. He didn't know what to do and everything was beginning to hit him at once. Thankfully, it was enough to wake everyone up from their sleep and he could hear the sound of footsteps.

"Virge, what's wrong?" Patton asked as he entered the common area but he soon stopped in his tracks. He covered his mouth with his hands in shock as he looked at the sight in front of him. He wasn't expecting this and he thought that Virgil had a nightmare or something like that. Virgil had a habit of suffering from nightmares so Patton was used to been woken up by the anxious side. This wasn't what he was expecting at all but he was going to help. Even if he was afraid of blood.

"I don't know what happened to them and I found them like this," Virgil said as he continued to panic and he was getting worse by the second. He wasn't thinking clearly and that wouldn't end well for anyone.

"It's okay kiddo, we'll help them," Patton reassured him as he kneeled beside him. Logan and Roman had just entered the common area which was surprising considering that they had been woken so suddenly. They had no idea of what was going on but they shocked by what they saw. Roman rushed over to his brother's side and it was evident that he was worried about Remus.

"We need to move them somewhere safer then we can treat their injuries," Logan said as he observed the situation in front of him. He didn't move any closer and stayed where he was but no one could blame him. He didn't know how this happened and he didn't want to ask but he wanted to help in any way that he could.

"We'll need Remy and Emile to help us," Patton stated and for a good reason. Virgil was in no condition to help and he knew that they would need extra help. Emile was handy to have around as he was able to patch anyone up who needed it. Remy could keep Thomas asleep and he was able to bring the sides into the psychical world with ease. Remy was the only one who goes between Thomas' mind and the physical world with such ease. The sides could be summoned and if Thomas wanted, they could become physical for some time.

Logan nodded his head in agreement and they were lucky that Remy was nearby for them to contact. It wasn't long before Remy arrived in the common area and they all agreed that it would be safer to treat the pair outside of the mindscape for safety. Whoever had done must be searching for the pair and they knew that Emile would be waiting for them. It would be risky but they knew that it was the only choice that they had. Thomas would understand and it would give them the chance to figure out who could have done this. Roman supported his brother while Remy gathered Janus up in his arms and they teleported into Thomas' place. Remy was able to help make everyone physical when they appeared in the living area. If any of the sides who were following the pair, they weren't able to do anything now. Virgil warned the other sides about the bridge between the two parts of Thomas' mind and how difficult it would be for an unaccepted side to cross over. Though it didn't stop any form of influence from entering the lighter side of Thomas' mind and they knew that it would be safer to treat the pair without that influence flowing over to them.

Emile was sat waiting for Remy to return and he was in complete shock when everyone popped up in front of him. He quickly rushed over to help out and he understood why he was needed. Thomas had no idea that this was happening as Remy made sure that he stayed asleep so they could work without Thomas worrying. It was a power that Remy had but it could have some nasty consequences so he didn't use it often. It could throw Thomas' sleeping schedule out of the window and he had only developed a good sleeping schedule. It was something that Remy was going to have to deal with later but he was prepared for it. They had more important things to focus on and they would help Thomas' fix his sleeping schedule later after everything had calmed down.

Remus woke a few hours later and he was confused as to where he was for a moment. It took him a minute to realise that he was laid on Thomas' couch. He didn't know how he ended up on the couch but he was grateful for been saved. He was beginning to wonder if Janus was okay and he tried to move but couldn't. Something was keeping him pinned to the couch and it didn't take long to realise who it was. It was Roman who had fallen asleep with his head on the couch. Remus did his best to sit up and he noticed that he had been bandaged up by someone else. Judging by the handy work, it was either Patton or Emile. Logan was also a possibility since he knew a lot about first aid and he wasn't afraid of blood like Patton was. He was grateful for whoever patched him up and he looked around the living area. He could see the other sides sleeping close by to the couch while Remy and Emile were sleeping on the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Janus asleep on the other end of the couch, his injuries had also been taking care of. They were safe and the others had helped them when the pair needed help.

However, Remus could feel his anger boil up inside of him when he remembered who it was that had hurt his favourite snake. He had decided that once he was healed up, he would get some revenge for what they had done to Janus. If Virgil found out then Remus knew that the anxious side would gladly join him to deliver some sweet revenge. Even if he didn't show it, Virgil still cared for them because they were his family for so long before he got accepted. Roman would want to know what happened and he wouldn't take no for answer. The pair did appear covered in injuries and blood which would be enough to worry anyone but the last thing Remus wanted was his brother getting involved with those in the darkest part of Thomas' mind. The darker creative side knew that he was going to have so much fun once he was all healed and he had so much planned for those who had hurt his boyfriend. Janus wasn't going to be able to stop him and he had a feeling that Virgil gets his baseball bat out for a little fun.

But that would have to wait for the time being. Remus had to focus on getting his strength back and letting his injuries heal before he did anything. While Janus won't agree with his plan, the dishonest side couldn't stop him when he needed to let his anger out. It would be well worth it in the end as long as he was able to keep the others away from Janus.

#romantic demus #demus sanders sides #demus #dukeceit #romantic dukeceit #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #roman sanders #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders side fic

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tinycaprisun · 3 years

Text

a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 16)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 My Master Post

Remy met the beady little eyes outside the car window with a glare. The cow gazed back at him, a challenge in its eyes. “What are you looking at, future minced meat?” Remy asked.

“They’re dairy cows,” Emile said, head on the steering wheel.

“How the hell would you know?” Remy asked.

Emile looked up at him. “The crashed truck says, ‘Robinson’s Family Dairy.’”

Remy pursed his lips. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Emile gave him a droll look.

“Maybe they’re the rejects!” Remy turned back to the cow. “I bet you’re too stupid to make milk, huh?”

The cow let out a breath that fogged the window between them.

“Bastard,” Remy grumbled at it.

“You are talking to a cow,” Emile reminded him.

“Oh, like you don’t talk to stuffed animals,” Remy shot back.

“At least I don’t make enemies with them and insult them.”

“She deserves it!”

“She’s just standing there. You’re taking out your frustrations on a farm animal.”

Remy looked back at the cow, his eyes narrowed. Its eyes peered back at him and they did not need to share a language to understand each other in that moment. “I’ll show you a coward,” Remy growled, taking off his seatbelt.

“No, Remy,” Emile hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

Remy ignored him and opened the door to climb out of the car.

“We are on the interstate!”

“Now, you listen here,” Remy said, staring the cow down. “You’ve already caused enough problems for me today. The least you can do is not stare me down in my own…or well my brother’s own car. You feel me?”

The cow stared at him blankly and made a mooing sound.

“Are you understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth right now?”

“I promise you, she isn’t,” Emile offered from the car.

Remy continued to stare the cow down. Finally, after a moment of staring, the cow turned away.

“Ha!” Remy said. “I win.”

“Get back in the car before you get trampled by a herd of cows,” Emile said.

“I’m not going to get trampled,” Remy insisted. “If anything, I’m establishing myself as their ruler.”

“Is this a productive use of your time?” Emile asked.

“Oh, what?” Remy said turning back to him. “And sitting in the car doing nothing is such a better use of my time? Thank you for your input, doctor.”

“Remington, please.”

“Oh, stop with the full name, bullshit,” he turned to cow nearest to him, “no offence intended,” he assured it before turning back to Emile. “You’re not our mother!”

There was a pause. “Remy,” Emile said calmly. “I know you’re upset about Virgil, but...”

“In fact,” Remy talked over him. “I’m older than you! Do you remember who put you through college so you could get that fancy degree you keep using on me tonight? Because it certainly wasn’t our mother because she was already fucking dead! Don’t act like you’re my parent because here’s the thing, I raised you by myself for three years. So, if I’m a shitty dad, you’re definitely fucked up somewhere under that shining topcoat of head doctor crap.”

“I never at any point said-” Emile started, but Remy cut him off.

“Oh, but we both know you’re thinking it!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Remy.”

“No, no,” Remy said. “I know exactly what’s going through your head. I never should have been a parent, and I proved that with you when you were a teenager, but I still managed to knock up literally the worst person I could. I’m constantly making horrible parenting decisions and even when I try to be responsible, I mess it up. Virgil’s third word was a curse word and I’m lucky he never developed scurvy because I let him eat whatever he wants. He’s currently on a cross-country road trip with god knows who because I fucked up a covert mission I had no business being on and now he’s being tracked down by the woman who shot me with a poisoned bullet. I’m a horrible person and a worse dad. That’s what you’re thinking.”

There was a second where his brother looked at him with his stupid annoying face. “Have you considered that you’re projecting.”

“Ugh!” Remy threw up his hands and turned to walk away.

“Remy where are you going?” Emile called after him.

“I’m walking to base to go get my kid!” Remy called back.

“It’s over 70 miles away!”

He turned around and spread out his arms. “Then I’ll ride a bloody cow! It’ll be faster at this rate!”

“They’ll be cleared up in a few minutes Remy, come back here!” Emile said. Remy flipped him off. “I am not following you on foot!”

“Good!”

Remy turned back around and strutted off down the interstate, skirting cows and police officers the whole way. He grumbled to himself and refused to turn back even when he was pretty sure by the flow of traffic that the accident must have been cleared 15 minutes later.

This was so stupid. Why was he so stupid and useless? Emile was probably glad he ran off like a petulant toddler so he wouldn’t have to deal with him. He’d probably be more effective finding Virgil without Remy messing it all up anyway. He kept walking.

After a couple minutes a car slowed and stopped next to him on the side of the road. Remy looked up to meet Emile’s eyes through the rolled down window.

“Get,” Emile said firmly, “in the damned car.”

Remy blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so.

Emile didn’t speak again until the car was back at a normal speed. “His first word was ‘dad,’” he said, “and he’s happy. I’m not a parent, but from what I’ve observed, parents are allowed to mess up. As long as they do their best and their kid knows they’re loved, they’re a pretty good parent. If you ask me, you’re a good dad.”

“Yeah, well his second word was ‘pizza,’ so I don’t know if it makes me that special,” Remy grumbled.

Emile glanced at him.

“I mean,” Remy continued. “Thank you and sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Emile said. “You know I love you right?”

“Oh, god don’t get all mushy on me.”

“I’m serious,” Emile said. “I’ve been angry at you this entire trip because if you’d died today, I don’t know how I would have handled it. You were reckless, and it could have easily gotten you killed.”

“Don’t you think I know I’m stupid.”

“Stop that,” Emile snapped. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well then, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, why, Remy?” Emile said. “Are you bored? Do you want to go back in the field?”

“No,” Remy said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Emile asked. Remy didn’t answer. “If you do, that’s fine.”

“It’s not though.”

“You’re the one who made that decision and it was 15 years ago,” Emile reminded. “If you want to change your mind, that’s fine, but if you’re going to do it, you can’t just go do it. You have to talk to Logan first, to me, to your kid. Your actions affect other people.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you just…You get so involved in your head sometimes and forget to think about the consequences. Or worse you ignore them because they’re too hard to think about.”

Remy reached forward and turned on the radio.

“Really?!” Emile asked.

“Chill,” Remy said, turning the volume down, “I just don’t want to have another cow disaster.”

Emile nodded and seemed content to wait for him a few minutes so he could gather his thoughts.

“I’m trying, Em,” Remy said. “Bless their souls, but I’m trying to not be our parents. It’s like walking a tightrope. Go too far one way, you’re an asshole, go too far the other your kid’s running from his mother’s hired guns and throwing out the tracking device you put on him because he thinks you’re dead.”

“It should have to feel like that for you.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “And how do you propose I stop it?” Emile looked over at him and opened his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, see a therapist. Do you have any suggestions that don’t require me to bare my soul and talk about my daddy issues to some random person?”

“No.”

“Rats.” Emile chuckled at him.

“If it’s any consolation, they would have hated how you turned out. I mean they 100% would have still loved you and would have adored Virgil, but you’d get so many side-eyes over the dinner table. I mean, a child out of wedlock, Remy?”

“They’d have tried to get me to marry her,” Remy said. “Then I would have introduced them to her, and they would’ve said ‘fuck that.’ Do you think I could have gotten dad to say, ‘fuck that’?”

Emile giggled. “That would have been weird.”

Remy hummed in agreement. Then they petered off into silence. “I love you too Em.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 17

#sanders sides #emile picani #remy sanders #platonic remile #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #patton sanders #platonic moxiety #logan sanders #adriana writes #road trips and missing persons #road trips and everything in between #guns #murder mentioned #kidnapping

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kieraswriting · 4 years

Text

Coffin Chapter Nineteen

Masterpost

Virgil slowly drifted awake. He felt sore, and his mind was fuzzy. He was starving. But that didn’t make sense. He’d eaten recently—- though he couldn’t remember when.

He tried to sit up, and his body exploded with pain. The cry left his mouth before he even knew it was there. His breathing sped up as he tried to remain frozen in place, terrified of awakening the pain any further.

“Shh, Shh, Virgil, I’m here,” said a soft voice, and his hair was stroked back from his forehead.

Virgil choked back a whimper and leaned his head towards the hand. He slowly opened his eyes.

Patton was sitting above him, looking nearly as terrible as Virgil felt. His eyes were bloodshot, with bags forming beneath them, he was paler than normal, making his freckles stand out, and he had dried blood on his face and in his hair. But he was still smiling softly down at Virgil.

“There you go, just lay still, ok? You’ll get better, I promise. Do you need anything?”

Virgil wasn’t sure he dared move enough to speak, but eventually he did. “ ‘m hungry.”

A fire lit up over his cheek, just from that small movement.

“It’s ok, Virgil, you can eat as much as you want,” Patton said, baring his wrist.

And then Virgil remembered. He’d eaten from Patton last, more than once in the last few days. Patton was already pale, there was no way Virgil could take more.

Patton held his wrist just above Virgil’s mouth.

“No,” Virgil said weakly.

“It’s ok,” Patton said gently, running his hand through Virgil’s hair again. “It’ll help you get better.”

“Roman,” Virgil said, trying to move his mouth as little as possible.

“Roman?” Patton looked surprised, and hurt. Virgil hated that. He hated that he’d put that look there on Patton’s face. But he’d hate even more if he hurt Patton by taking too much from him.

“Roman.”

“Ok. Ok, Virgil, I’ll get him. Will that help you feel better?”

Virgil gave the tiniest nod.

Patton left, and Virgil mourned the loss of the hand in his hair. Without that to balance it, the pain seemed so much worse.

Then the door opened, and Roman knelt beside his bed. “Hey, Virgil, you called?” His voice was carefully quiet, which Virgil very much appreciated.

Virgil gave a tiny nod.

“And Patton said you’re hungry?”

Virgil gave another slight nod.

Roman held his wrist against Virgil’s mouth, and Virgil bit down, trying his best to be careful. He had fuzzy memories of hurting Patton, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

Warmth flowed down his throat and filled his stomach. Virgil tensed, knowing that healing the burns would hurt. But why?! It was healing! Why did it have to hurt?

“Shh, just relax, Stormcloud,” Roman said. His voice was deep and resonant, and very convincing. And then he stroked his hand through Virgil’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

Virgil melted against the bed, riding through the waves of heat and pain, anchored by the soft touch and quiet murmurs.

He didn’t expect, not with how much blood was being used to heal him, that he would feel properly full, but he did, and he released Roman’s wrist, pleased to see the punctures healing over as Roman pulled away.

“Thank you,” Virgil said. His voice was hoarse and croaky, but he could use it now without pain.

“Anytime, Virgil.” Roman smiled at him, his energy tempered by a softness Virgil had never expected to be directed at him.

“Patton stayed here all night, didn’t he?”

Roman nodded, with an affirmative hum.

“He-he can’t do that. He has to sleep too. He had blood on him, Roman! What happened to—“ Virgil was cut off with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I told him to take a shower and then go to bed. He’ll be fine. He was worried about you, and a bit self-destructive.”

Virgil shook his head as much as he dared. “He can’t, I’m not—“

“Don’t you dare say you aren’t worth it.” Roman said firmly. “I know you enough to know what was going through your head. You did this for us. There’s no way in hell we aren’t going to repay that!”

Virgil broke eye contact with Roman, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just a vampire…”

“Are you kidding?!” Roman shifted position to come back into Virgil’s field of vision. “You’re most of the reason I learned not to look down on vampires like that, and you’re telling me that you look down on vampires?!”

Virgil turned his head away. “Vampires may be people, but we still all have to steal life away from others. We still hurt people, whether on accident or not. I’ve been around vampires my whole life, Roman. They aren’t good.”

“You can’t say that. Would you tell Dee that? Or Remy?”

“They know it already.”

“No— Virgil, where is all of this coming from? I thought you were just as much for freeing the vampires as we all were!”

Virgil turned back to face Roman. “Of course I am! No one should ever have to go through that!”

“Then what is all of this?”

“I’ve just, I was practically dead once anyway, and since then I’ve— I-I’ve hurt so many people, Roman. If it had to be you or me—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Roman was looking downright angry, and Virgil shrunk back against the bed. “Listen, we’ve both done stupid things. We’ve both hurt people. I’m a vampire hunter, I’ve killed. That’s more than you can say.”

“I—“

Distracted by talking, Virgil had forgotten about not moving, and tried to sit up. His whole body stiffened and he clamped his eyes and mouth shut as pain raced across his skin. His breathing quickened and small sounds, that seemed way more embarrassing with Roman in the room, slipped out between his gritted teeth.

“Hey, hey, loosen up a bit,” Roman said, his voice back to calm and soothing. “If you stiffen up it’ll hurt worse.”

He ran his hand through Virgil’s hair again. “I’m sorry. I made you upset. We can bench that topic until you’re better and Patton can get in on the conversation.”

Virgil gave a slight nod without opening his eyes, still trying to ride out the pain. Roman started humming softly in time with his hand in Virgil’s hair, which helped considerably.

As the pain faded, it was replaced with exhaustion. Virgil slowly slipped away to the soft sound of Roman’s humming.

•^*^••

“You sure you wanna come with?” Remus taunted. “Your Thomas won’t approve.”

Dee bared his teeth. “I’m not letting you go off and do it unsupervised.”

Remus shrugged, but his grin grew a little brighter, a little wilder. “It’s not like I have some good motive for doing this, you know. I’m not saving anybody.”

“Does it really change anything?”

Remus let out a cackling laugh, bouncing up and bounding away. Dee followed, at a much smoother, but equally fast pace.

Remus stopped outside of a prison. It was the middle of the night, so there wasn’t hardly any visible activity, but with his enhanced hearing, Dee could hear the telltale quiet crying. It had been converted, at least partially, into a holding place for vampires.

“I didn’t even know there were this many vampires before this insanity happened,” Dee murmured.

“You didn’t? How long have you lived in a bubble?”

Dee glared, but Remus was already walking up to the gates. He knocked on the door.

“Hey, Dee, you do know how to make thralls, right?”

“What? No.”

Remus’ eyes widened for half a second. But then the door was opening, and he was turning to it with a feral grin. He leapt on the guard, sinking his fangs into their throat, not bothering with any kind of care. He pulled back, and the guard slumped to the ground.

For a second, Dee thought he’d killed them, but then they starting groveling.

Remus crouched in front of them. “A huge group of vampires came, attacking and killing, there were too many, you couldn’t stop them. You only barely escaped with your life.”

The guard started quaking, their eyes wide with fear.

“Run.”

The guard bolted.

Remus turned to Dee with a crazed smile. “Now for the rest of them!”

•^*^••

“Where have you been?!” Thomas yelled. “I’ve been looking for you for hours! I thought you’d been hurt! Or captured! You can’t just do that!”

Remus elbowed Dee. Dee shot him a dirty look. “It was his idea. I just went along to babysit.”

“And you didn’t tell me?! Dee, it would have taken you barely a minute!”

Dee wilted slightly. He’d known Thomas would be upset, but not this much. “I’m sorry.”

But Thomas wasn’t ready to be so easily calmed. “And Remus is covered in blood! What did you even do?!”

“It was a prison break!” Remus said gleefully. Lucky bastard was still riding a high from the adrenaline and excess of blood.

Thomas turned to Dee, his face demanding answers.

“Yeah, it was a prison break. We should probably move out pretty quickly. They won’t be looking for us, but if they find us anyway it could be bad.”

Thomas’s face clouded over, his jaw tightening. When he spoke his voice was strained with the effort to speak calmly. “Then we’ll leave, but while we’re driving you’re going to explain this.”

Dee nodded, letting his head hang. He was not letting Remus drag him anywhere ever again.

•^*^••

Emile sat on the couch, looking out over water, holding a cup of steaming tea in his hands.

Logan settled beside him, also with a hot drink.

“This feels wrong.”

“Oh?”

“It’s too calm. The others are on the run, Virgil is heavily injured, and I’m sitting with a cup of tea watching the sun rise.”

“Your part is just as necessary, Logan.”

“For what?! What purpose am I serving?”

Emile lifted his cup to his lips. “You made the plan, Logan. Tell me, what is your purpose here?”

Logan turned to look at him, anger sparking in his eyes. “I’m here because my presence would hinder the other teams.”

“You are not a hindrance. What is the purpose of this team?”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “To monitor the progress of the hunters and to be an early warning system or backup for either of the other teams.”

Emile nodded. “I believe that monitoring the hunters is something to which you are especially suited. You have a good base of knowledge on the hunters, and the skills to infiltrate their systems to gain more. If we are to be the early warning system, I believe that it is you who will first recognize what they need to be warned about.”

Logan turned his head away, taking an angry swing of his drink. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m not suggesting that you need to like the situation. It’s awful. Our lives are at stake, and we have been maneuvered to a position where we are made almost entirely impotent.”

From behind them, Emile heard Remy snort.

“That’s not very helpful,” Emile admonished, sending Remy an exaggerated frown.

But to his surprise, there was a slight huff of amusement from Logan. “Thank you, Emile. If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

•^*^••

When Patton woke from his nap he was feeling much better. His scalp was still a bit sore if anything touched his head, but that would probably go away soon. He looked around for a clock, and was surprised to see that he’d been sleeping for nine hours.

“Oh, I hope Roman’s alright,” Patton said quietly, getting up and heading straight for Virgil’s room.

Virgil was awake, but Roman wasn’t, slumped over the edge of the bed, one hand tucked awkwardly underneath him and the other laying on Virgil’s head.

Virgil sent him a smile, which Patton immediately returned, with interest. “Are you feeling better?” He whispered.

Virgil nodded. “Much better.”

“Good!” Patton said. “You’re looking a lot better.”

The welts on his exposed skin weren’t raised anymore, though they were still pretty red.

“I’ll take Roman to bed, and then come back.” Patton said, shaking Roman’s shoulder.

“Wha— Huh?”

“Come on, Ro. Let’s get you to your bed.”

Roman let loose a slurred speech, something about belief and worth.

“Oh, yes, come on, let’s get to bed,” Patton said, slipping under his arm and propping him up.

Roman stumbled along, flopping down in his bed when they reached it. He was still sleep-talking, which Patton could barely understand any of, but agreed with regardless. He pushed Roman the rest of the way into the bed and draped a blanket over him. Roman let out one final burst of words, more slurred than ever, before dropping into a deeper sleep. Patton smiled down fondly at him.

Patton went back to Virgil’s room. “How’re you feeling, Kiddo?”

“Better. Still sore, but I think I could move now.”

“Oh, that’s good! I think I’d rather if you waited until you’re sure you can move, though. I really don’t want you to have to hurt any more.”

Virgil nodded.

“Is there anything I do that would help you feel any better?”

Virgil suddenly looked down, biting his lip. He looked… embarrassed?

“What is it?”

Virgil looked up at Patton, and flushed. That was good! If he had enough blood to blush he would probably be able to be fully healed in a day or two.

“Could you… maybe… play with my hair?” His voice got quieter and quieter as he spoke, embarrassment ringing clearly.

“Of course I will!” Patton said, sitting on the bed near his head and stroking his hand through his hair.

All the tension left his body. His eyes slipped shut and he leaned his head into Patton’s hand. Oh, it was so cute! Patton held his tongue for Virgil’s sake, but inwardly promised himself to pet his hair as often as possible in the future.

A few minutes later, Virgil was asleep. Patton’s eyes filled with tears. He was so precious and soft. How could anyone imagine hurting him? And then the fact that it was his own dad that did it stabbed his heart again. Patton still felt like it was his fault. He could’ve—should’ve done so many things.

But. If he looked on the bright side. At least Virgil was safe now. And Patton would never, never let him anywhere near his dad ever again. He didn’t care how many times his dad apologized, he’d never let Virgil near him. He was going to keep him safe.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

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stillebesat · 4 years

Note

Remy thought that he didn't deserve love, not after everything he's done. But, when Emile walked through the door to room 127, Remy's heat skipped a unexpected beat.

Warm Fuzzies

Warnings: Implied near Death Experience, Hospital

Remy thought that he didn’t deserve love, not after everything he’s done. But, when Emile walked through the door to room 127, Remy’s heart skipped an unexpected beat.

How could it not when the six-year old’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree upon seeing him?

“REMY!” Emile cried, his chocolate colored wings fluffing up as he pulled free from Anton’s grip and practically flew, his little wings flapping hard enough that he nearly did fly, across the hospital room towards his bed.

Remy barely had time to push himself upright, hiding a wince as his own newly grown wings unexpectedly spread out to balance him just as he caught the bundle of energy that was Emile, holding him close as the kid buried his head under Remy’s chin, his small arms wrapping around his neck in a grip tight enough that he doubted Anton would be able to pull Emile free even with a bribe of cartoons on the docket.

Emile sighed, relaxing as Remy’s own blue-grey wings moved of their own accord to wrap around him in a protective shelter of feathers. “You’re okay.” He whispered.

Remy shakily inhaled, squeezing Emile tighter as his heart skipped another beat that he desperately hoped Anton didn’t notice on the monitors. It really wasn’t fair that those two words could send such a wave of–of he didn’t know what–Emile would probably call them warm fuzzies, through him.

But then again, Remy had never had…well anyone really, who had been truly happy to see him before this kid had burst into his apocalyptic lifestyle with a cheerful smile and a friendship bracelet.

“Course I’m okay, kid.” He whispered, running his fingers over the edge of one of Emile’s wings, checking them over to reassure himself that he wasn’t injured.

Remy glanced up to Anton who hovered in the doorway, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “I ain’t gonna go nowhere.”

Because despite his best–worst?–intentions to keep himself distant from everyone and everything…he had grown rather attached to this little fluffy ball of sunshine.

Attached enough to risk his own life for the squirt without a second thought for himself or his morning coffee that was probably still splattered somewhere on the sidewalk eight blocks away.

Anton quirked the corner of his lips in a tiny smile, giving the barest of nods before he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Acceptance.

Emile pushed up onto his knees, grabbing Remy’s face in his small hands so he could look him directly in the eyes. “Promise?” He asked, bottom lip trembling.

His wings, still aching from how they’d burst from his back only hours earlier, flapped once. “I promise, squirt.”

Emile grinned that special smile he had to make the warm fuzzies flutter in Remy’s chest and pressed his forehead against his. “Good.” The tips of his small wings brushed Remy’s cheeks causing his heart to again spasm hard enough that the monitors screeched a warning.

How had he gotten so lucky? How had Emile ever known that he could take a washed up nobody and turn him into–

Well…he wasn’t sure yet…but Remy hoped he would be somebody Emile would always want to be around.

Two Sentence PromptsTaglist under cut

@loverofpizzaandallthingssweet @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @redundant-statements-for-400 @aikogumi @depressed-alone @lizziepopanime @midnightcandy @sidewritings @nekoabi @ironwoman359 @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @theblackhoundsdaughter @littlemiracle05 @virgil-has-a-houseplant @caristars @seas-space-and-stardust @thedannyparable @faacethefacts @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good @fancydelusionluminary @generalfandomfabulousness @theincediblesulk @i-am-avacado @entitydark @unikornavenger @iris-sanders-athena @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @uniquesoulshatter @made-of-bitterness-and-sarcasm @moltengoldenstardust @sanders-is-awesome @myownhappilyeverafter @dragonsight9 @loving-neko @lucifer-in-my-head @punsterterry @riley-castillo @sleepyssnail @fandomcrazy899 @fuck-perfection-be-a-mess @yay-cats9 @i-will-physically-fight-you @wisepuma23 @jemthebookworm @analogical-mess @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge @stormcrawler75 @book-of-charlie @just-another-rainbowblog @an-absolute-failure @nottheatretrash @nomejodasb @angels-and-dreams @winterrs-child @4amanxiety @doyouhowdont @bl00scl00s @timoteay @asthmatic-trash-bastard @the-lonely-lesbian @fandomloverangel @dorkoverse @bootsinthesun @never-end1ng-suffering @xpouii @night-time-anxi-tea @acanvasofabillionsuns @xaimelarks @imabad-b-youcantkillme @apocalypticbekfastclub @amintyworld

#Warm Fuzzies #stillebesat #Cartoon Therapy #Emile Picani #Remy #Sanders Shorts #Sleep #Dr. Picani #Kid!Emile #hospital tw #near death experience mention tw #Sanders Sides #two sentence prompts #winged!AU #Winged!Remy #Winged!Emile

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voreconnoisseur · 4 years

Text

Warmth

Joanne dragged herself along the forest floor, roots and stones scraping through her tattered clothes over her chest. She kicked her legs once or twice as she clawed at the dirt, but it was no use. They were definitely broken, and she had no adrenaline left to force them to work anyway.

Her skin was scraped, pierced, and torn, her limbs mangled. But she had to keep going. What she’d been through was nothing compared to what those townsfolk would do if they caught her now after already having escaped once.

She had to find Emil. Nobody else could help. Nobody else would help.

In her heart Joanne knew why he had to live so far into the woods; if humans couldn’t put up with the existence of something as harmless as a witch, they certainly wouldn’t accept a creature like him in their midst. But she cursed the fact nonetheless. After all, if she didn’t find him soon, she might just bleed out here.

After a few more minutes of dragging, Joanne finally collapsed from exhaustion. Her hands were cracked and bleeding, and she couldn’t bear to push any further. She rolled her torso over, allowing her to stare at the forest canopy as her her pulse pounded in her ears.

Just as she began to wonder if this was where she would die, she spotted a familiar serpentine shape slithering through the treetops. Joanne managed to force enough air through her lungs to call out once.

“...Emil!”

The shape that was Emil maneuvered gracefully through the treetops, descending along the trunk of a tree as he drew near.

“I thought I heard something down here—Wait, shit, hold on...” Emil’s face, which was at least half the size of the girl’s body, twisted in shock and horror as he took in the sheer amount of damage that had been done to her. “Oh gods... what happened to you?”

Joanne coughed and a mixture of blood and spit flew from her mouth. Emil ignored it, too focused on Joanne to show the disgust he might have ordinarily.

“They found out about my magic,” she groaned. “They tried to get me to give up names.”

“And you didn’t have any.” Emil’s face was slowly shifting to anger as he pieced together what was happening. “The bastards. If I ever see their faces out here—“

Joanne cut him off.

“I think I might die, Emil.”

Immediately Emil unclenched his fists and gently lifted the girl off the ground.

“No. No, you’re not gonna die. I’ll heal you. It’s gonna be ok.”

Joanne was in too much of a daze to argue. She’d known Emil had the ability to heal, but she’d been hoping she would be in a decent enough condition to use her own magic instead of wasting his energy. Of course, that wasn’t the case, so she didn’t try to protest.

Emil lifted her up to his face, opening his jaws wife as she neared it. Gingerly, he placed Joanne’s upper body inside. She tasted awful—blood, sweat, and grime everywhere. He took a gulp, letting her lower body fill his mouth and the rest of her sink deeper into him. On his tongue, he could feel the shattered bones in her legs almost piercing through in some points.

It was worse than he’d thought.

He took a few more slow, gentle swallows, sending Joanne down as easily as possible. He was terrified even this could damage her further. Joanne settled in his first stomach, and he relaxed a bit as soon as he heard her quiet, muffled voice.

“Thank you...”

“You’re okay then? If anything starts to hurt, just yell and I’ll—er, I’ll do something about it, I guess.” There was no response, but he could feel a shaky rubbing near the front of his stomach, which he took as a sign she was doing okay.

“I’ll start the healing process now.”

Inside, Joanne didn’t immediately bother opening her eyes. She was tired and even if she did, she wouldn’t see much anyway. She could feel, however, the soft, slick muscles of Emil surrounding her.

Suddenly, through her shut eyes she could sense a warm glow slowly warming up the space, and the stronger it became, the less pain she could feel.

It was numbing, at first, like her painkilling herbs, but then it took on a pleasant tingling feeling. A serene happiness. She opened her eyes, starting to regain her energy, and took in her surroundings a bit more. Emil’s stomach was a soft shade of yellow, a pleasant one like buttercups or sunflowers rather than some of the more nasty yellows she’d seen. With each breath he took, the walls moved. In and out. Almost hypnotic. Her heartbeat slowed down as she relaxed, coming closer to matching the one she could hear above her. She looked down at one of the scrapes on her hands, watching as it sealed shut, just like if she were seeing it being cut open in reverse.

She was so lucky to have an incredible, compassionate, warm friend like him.

#soft vore #safe vore #my fic #ocs #healing vore #injuries

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mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

I Put A Spell On You

Chapter 4 The Black Flame Candle

Warnings: a lit candle, talking of hanging, talk of a book bound in human skin, talk of a candle made from the fat of a hang man, I think that's it. Let me know if I missed any.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, Remile, and Logicality

Thank you so so much to @icequeenoriginal and @civilsounds17 you two are the best. This story wouldn't be possible without the two of you. Thank you for putting up with me. 💚💜💚💜💚💜

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The door to the old house creaked open. Dust covered every surface. Cobwebs hung in corners and simmered in the moonlight as it filtered in through the windows. "You know," Emile whispered. "Legend has it that buried within these walls are the bones of a hundred children."

Patton shivered while Roman fumbled along the wall trying to find the light switch.

"That sounds wonderful," he mumbled, frowning when he didn't find the light switch right away. Once Roman found the switch, he flipped it and electrical light lit up the inside of the old house. He sighed and shut the front door as he glanced around the house in awed curiosity. Many objects were on display with signs beside them to tell of what they were. There were even three broomsticks hanging on a beam, supposedly the brooms belonged to the Sanderson brothers. Roman was very convinced. He slid along the counter and found a lighter stand. Raising an eyebrow, he picked one up and flicked it on. As his friends moved around cautiously. Outside the window, eyes peered in from the darkness, glowing, mysterious, and watching.

Patton moved towards the heavy black cauldron sitting in the middle of the room. He adjusted his glasses as he leaned closer to the stand sitting in front of it and took in the information on the plaque. "Apparently, this is the original cauldron, and the witches are said to have slept upstairs."

Emile moved over towards a glass case covering a thick old book. He read the information on the plaque out loud. "This is the spellbook of Logan Sanderson. 'It was given to him by the devil himself. It is bound in human skin and contains recipes for his most powerful and evil spells.’"

Patton recited from legend. He frowned. "That's mean. How could anyone be so cruel?"

Outside, two outraged sounding meows rang out, unheard by the humans inside, thick glass stopping the noise. History was cruel.

Roman's nose wrinkled and he moved away from the book. He caught a glance of an object and moved over towards it. He frowned, unsure of how the object was relevant to the Sanderson Witches. "Hey, Emile?" He asked. "What's this?"

Emile turned. "Hm?" He glanced at what Roman was pointing at. "Oh, that! That's the black flame candle."

Roman smirked with a raised eyebrow and leaned against a beam to read the sign about the candle. "Black Flame Candle. Made from the fat of a hangman," his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ew!" He shook his head and continued reading. "Legend says it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on a full moon on Halloween night." He grinned, getting a devious idea. He pulled out the lighter he grabbed a few moments earlier. "So, how about we light this sucker and meet the old bastards."

"Language."

"Sorry, Patton." Roman moved to light the candle but was attacked by a black cat. He yelped and threw the cat off. The cat disappeared as Roman moved back towards the candle. The three friends were completely unaware of the disgruntled cats upset over the bad talking of their friends. Roman moved back towards the candle and flicked on his lighter.

"Roman, maybe we should go home."

The dramatic teen shook his head. "Come on, it's just a bunch of hocus pocus."

Emile and Patton shared a look but kept their mouths shut. They decided to let Roman have this. It was nice to see their friend without a frown permanently burned into his face.

Roman lit the candle and startled when the flame turned black. His eyes blew wide and stepped back. "Oh no." The fake flame lights above in the chandelier popped in quick succession. The three friends jumped as the floorboards rattled beneath them. Lime green light shone up through the spaces in between the boards. It stopped with a sudden deafening silence that settled over the three friends with a heaviness. They all stayed frozen for a moment. "What..what happened?" Roman asked cautiously, a fear-filled glance around the room confirmed they were alone.

Emile bit his lip. "Well...it seems a virgin has lit the candle." Roman flushed.

Then, all the candles in the house lit up themselves, flames flickering where light bulbs used to be. The three friends all jumped back as fire burst alive under the cauldron. Three sets of eyes widened as the sound of voices carried in from outside. Patton hid behind the counter while Emile hid behind a coat rack standing next to the door and Roman hid in the back corner of the room.

The front door burst open to reveal the darkened forms of the three Sanderson brothers. The three hidden teens' jaws dropped in sync as the three witches stepped through the door. The shortest of the three let out a breath. "We're home! Finally! See, brothers, the spell worked perfectly."

Another brother, one wearing a dress of whites and blacks, nodded. "Oh, it's probably because thou art perfect, Logan," Remy replied sarcastically. Two of the three friends hidden found their attention immediately being drawn towards two separate witches. Patton didn't think "Logan" looked mean at all, while Emile found the witch with the sunglasses interesting.

Roman watched the two witches interact but found his eyes drifting towards the third witch as he walked in. The skip of his heart was certainly not imagined. The final witch was adorned in a dress of deep, rich purples and blacks. His hair fell in front of his glowing purple eyes and Roman found himself drawn to him.

The last witch reached up to grab something behind a pillar. He pulled it down and smiled. "Yes! My lucky rat tail! Right where I left it!"

Logan took notice of the black flame candle and frowned. "We're back, but who lit the black flame candle?" The other two witches shrugged. Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head and moving towards his book. He tapped on the glasses and the book emitted a dark blue glow. He used his magic to float the book through the glass. "Come on, brothers, we've got work to do."

The brother in whites and blacks sniffed at the air before frowning. "Logan,"

"Remy."

"I smell children."

The hidden teens stiffened in alarm. Logan raised an eyebrow at Remy. "Sick 'em."

Remy moved around the room sniffing at the air as his two brothers followed behind. “I smell...a boy..16 ...maybe 17…"

"Oh joy, let's throw a party," the tallest witch said with a groan.

"Come out, we will not harm thee," Logan spoke as calmly as he could.

"Yeah, we love children."

"It's not like we're much older than whoever it is," the tallest muttered.

The three witches slowly moved over to the counter with silent footsteps. Logan contemplates something for a moment before slamming his hand down on the counter. Patton yelped and popped up. The three brothers jumped back in surprise, taken aback at the clothes. Patton panicked, worried for his friends and made a split decision.

"I thought thou'd never come."

The three brothers shared a glance with a raised eyebrow. Logan fixed his glasses, trying to distract himself from the particular amount of adorableness emitting from the teen in front of him. "Greetings."

"'Twas I who brought you back." Emile and Roman felt their hearts beat rapidly in their chests. Fear for their friend coursing through their veins.

"Imagine, such a…" Logan looked Patton up and down to inspect the human in front of him. "Interesting person…"

"He looks ...quirky," Remy said as he inspected Patton over lowered sunglasses. He glanced at Logan and noticed a slight flush to his brother's face and a devious idea working its way into his brain. He moved around the counter and took Patton's hand and patted it. "Tell me, handsome, what is the year?"

Patton frowned slightly, missing the dirty look Logan sent his brother. He followed Remy out from behind the counter and was pushed slightly into a chair. "Um, 2019."

"We've been gone for over 300 years?!?!" The tall witch, the one in purple and blacks, exclaimed. He was seemingly on the verge of a panic attack before his brother placed his hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles.

"Well, Virgil, time flies.." Remy started.

"When you're dead. Dead. We were dead!" Virgil barked out a laugh.

Patton glanced between the three before standing. "It's been fun, but I better get going."

"Oh, stay for supper. Meet the parents," Remy joked.

"I'm not hungry."

Remy pushes Patton back into the chair. "Oh please, stay. Logan would love to have you stay.”

Logan smacked Remy and the two engaged in a catfight before Roman bolted up to save Patton and drag them out of the house.

"Hey! Let go of my friend!"

The witches froze and turned to find the princely character brandishing his sword. They shared a look.

"Roast him."

Virgil shook his head. "No, let me, let me play with him." He snickered as Roman's face went as red as his sash. The colors matching perfectly. "Awe Princey's turning red."

Roman stomped his foot and waved the sword threateningly. Logan rolled his eyes and hit him with a jolt of energy. Roman yelped as he as thrown back against the wall and off the ground. His sword landed with a heavy thud beside him.

"Roman!" Patton screamed.

"Remy!" Emile yelled.

Remy turned. "Oh, hello handsome."

Emile knocked Remy over before he beat against Logan and Virgil with his bag. "Leave my friends alone!"

Roman dropped and hit the floor. He scrambled to pick his sword up. Then a cat leaped at Logan and attacked him. Logan yelped. "Virgil! Help!" Virgil and Remy went to pull the cat off, noticing the other cat sitting in the corner and realizing the brothers had planned something and came to a decision to play along.

Roman shoved Emile and Patton out of the house before climbing to the second floor and looking down at the brothers. The brothers raised an eyebrow as they looked up at the prince-like character. "You have messed with the great and powerful, Roman. Now you will suffer the consequences." He pulled out the lighter he grabbed earlier. "I shall summon the burning rain of death!"

The witches shared confused glances. "Burning rain of death?" Roman flipped the lighter open and lit it.

Logan's brows furrowed as he inspected the fire Roman's hands. "He makes fire in his hands, fascinating."

Roman held the flame under one of the sprinklers and suddenly the sprinklers went off. The brothers screamed and ran for cover, all too scared to notice the cool feeling of water. Roman jumped down but slipped on the wet floor. He fell back and hit his back with a groan. One of the black cats jumped up onto his chest.

"Nice going, Roman!" The cat snapped, his tail whipping with irritation.

Roman's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You can talk!?!?!?!??!"

"Yeah, no kidding. Grab the spellbook! Come on! Move it! Move it!"

Logan, Remy, and Virgil watched helplessly as Roman ran to the pedestal holding the book and shattered the glass before yanking the book close to his chest and running out of the house. "No! My book!" Logan screamed. Virgil and Remy held him back for fear of the unknown substance raining down from the roof.

Outside, Roman followed Patton, Emile, and the cat as they raced away from the cottage. Inside the cottage, Logan reached forward and tasted the clear liquid raining from the ceiling. He could have screamed. "It is but water!!!" He cried out. Remy and Virgil frowned and they both leaned forward and opened their mouths and sticking their tongues out to taste.

"Ooo! It's refreshing!" Remy exclaimed.

"Ahh…it is," Virgil agreed.

"He tricked us!" Logan fumed. "He stole the book! We have to get it back!" The three raced outside only to stop as they reached the black concrete road, glistening from recent rain. To the brothers, it looked like a river. When one has been dead for over 300 years, a concrete road is something that one would find unfamiliar and therefore, scary. "Tis a black river," Logan stated.

Virgil bit his lip. "Perhaps it is not too deep." He lifted his skirts to test it only to stumble forward with a scream as Logan and Remy shoved him forward. His limbs froze up as he landed and didn't sink. He glanced from side to side and then hopped up and down. "Tis firm. Tis firm as stone."

Logan cautiously stepped forward. He startled. "It's a road! Now, my book!" The three brothers hiked up their skirts and headed in the direction they saw the teens go only to stop and scream in terror as they saw a big red fire truck driving towards them. They turned tail and ran to hide, not used to the new things from the 21st century. The other cat raced over to sit by them as they waited for the firemen to leave. This was going to be a long night.

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IPASOY taglist: @maryann-draws @kittycake574 @partypoison1923 @i-need-you-buddy @ksallyyt

Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff

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roseamongroses · 4 years

Text

W.A.L: “Fly Me to the Moon” Part One (22)

s u m m a r y:

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.

Neither cared much for staying trapped.

So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.

Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s :

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, minor character death/suicide, repression, cursing,

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

“Are the rest of the brats getting ready?” Roman asked, picking up a comb and a jar of moisturizer.

“Uh-- I think so?” Lauren winced sitting back, “I wouldn’t know, Kai’s being… weird,” Roman ran their hand experimentally through the now kinkier coils in her hair, the light tugging of her scalp painfully nostalgic.

She’d always prefered her hair straight, but she never went so long without taking a break. It was mainly luck that she hadn’t had any major heat damage, but even that fear didn’t make the idea any more appealing.

You could say she was avoiding it in a way.

Her mom had always insisted on braiding Lauren’s hair herself, so the act was tangled with her in every way. Doing it by herself now only made her mom’s absence louder, but having Roman here made it better.

“Weird how?” Roman asked, detangling her hair, “Is he getting pissy about getting his ass kicked?”

“No…” She said, bracing herself, “That’s why it's weird. He’s not complaining, he’s avoiding me,” She sighed, feeling strangely annoyed. It wasn’t like she liked the constant arguing, but this was just odd…. Did she do something wrong?

Why does she even care?

Roman’s hands stopped mid braid, “Oh,” he hummed before resuming, “Maybe he’s just in a mood,” he said, a laugh peeking through his tone.

“What?” Lauren demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Roman snickered, “I’m just thinking about how pretty you’re going to be in that dress,” he cooed, pinching her cheek and effectively smearing whatever moisturizer he was using all over her cheek.

“Gross,” Lauren scowled to keep the smile from her face, “Anyway you’re too calm about this,” she said, her worry bubbling at the thought of just… walking into Council territory, “Do you really believe Drak’on’s going to play fair?”

It could go a lot of ways.

Logan was fair to a fault, so she wasn’t worried about dirty tricks from him. But he was predictable in a dangerous way. He had a never ending consistency that tended to wear people down. Roman wasn’t as unpredictable as Remus, but he had a similar quality. He couldn’t afford to trust that his body and magic would perform the same way every time, so he had to be creative, and more than often had to run himself ragged.

“Are you worried?” Roman asked, but it was more like an observation.

“You should be,” Lauren grumbled.

“I’m not,” Roman said.

She was oddly comforted by the finality of the promise.

---

Upon opening the letter, they were taken in a flash of light.

They first saw a glittering series of arcs that were almost translucent. It was as if the towering structure was merely ideas carved into the stars, but it solid beneath their feet. Deceit wasn’t sure how he was breathing with the world so far beneath him, with the stars so close.

The Offerings were a series of events, of elaborate ceremonies, of balls. A celebration at it's finest, but preformative grief at its core. Councilmen decked out in elaborate gowns and ancient suits milled inside the glittering gates, magic flowing from people’s tongues as easy as they laughed.

The brats were pretty much gawking, but thankfully they didn’t wander off.

Roman’s face betrayed nothing but unapologetic decadence. Their hair braided high before exploding into a fire of curls and flowers. All signs of exhaustion were wiped clean behind rosy lips and impossibly dark lashes that were stark against his eyes. Roman was in his element to anyone with eyes, but his death grip on Deceit’s arm told another story.

Which to be fair, was expected. They were deep in Councilmen territory, with their invitation only being allowed due to the technicalities of their situation--i.e all the alleged crimes not being directly linked to anyone, but The Stranger-- and Drak’on’s disturbing amount of influence.

Still Deceit knew that wasn’t it, “Roman?” He said, the question hanging in the air between them as they handed off their bags.

“The curse,” Roman sighed, “Even if I have temporary immunity, I keep expecting to...It’s more mental than anything,” he explained, low, “It shouldn’t be a problem, but...forgive me if I’m a bit more clingy,”

“That’s it?” He said scrutinizing them. They'd gotten better at actually vocalizing their limits lately, but Deceit knew he’d be more willing to cover it up in order to not cause a scene.

“E… Darling... tonight will be fine,” Roman promised. He tilted his head, horns catching the light and his eyes having a hungry glint, “You trust me?”

Deceit was breathless, “Something like that.”

---

Virgil stirred the brothy, something, in front of him, mildly impressed by how shiny the utensils were, but mostly getting sick by how rich everything tasted. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to eating “good” food, in fact from what he could remember he was most likely used to it, but there was a different level of luxury here. It was almost irritating.

Actually a lot of things were irritating, the key one being that his supposed date fucked off to schmooze with rich bastards, but the most alarming part of that was that Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Logan at all right now.

It was all duel this and duel that lately. About how this is what he always deserved, how he’ll somehow become better--how everything will become better once he finally puts this to rest and claim his rightful place. Virgil’s beginning to suspect that Logan didn’t even realize how obsessed he was getting with it.

In fact, Virgil suspected that Logan’s always been obsessed with this, but Dr. Picani never let him fixate on that need entirely. Even if Dr. Picani was low-key just as dysfunctional as his Apprentices, the man was disgustingly determined to create a somewhat functional life for them.

But Dr. Picani was gone, even if they found him-- his consciousness had yet to return. All they had now was Ms. Annalise Drak’on, someone who apparently had no issue with feeding Logan’s obsession.

Virgil felt sick.

He stood, not caring about how loudly he dropped the utensils or about the dirty looks sent his way as he pushed his way through the crowd. The band was some pseudo-jazz, a thundering accompaniment to his rising anxiety and the dazzling lights were getting too much and--

His spiraling halted upon catching the faintest blue flash in the corner of his eye. Turning around he met Patton’s eyes. Virgil flinched and for the briefest moment Patton’s brow furrowed, before smoothing into his normal dazed expression, “You’re alone?”

Virgil wanted to scowl, but he couldn’t. He was alone and he wasn't sure how long its been draining away at him.

Patton nodded at his non-response, “You need air,” he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. It took a few seconds before Virgil realized he was meant to follow.

Virgil somehow found himself out of the crowd, feeling the cool air first, and the relief of being away from all of those people all at once. Patton was already there leaning against the balcony, the translucent beads of their gown soft against the blue of the distant earth.

Patton turned his head to acknowledge him, “Is this better?”

“I think so,” Virgil sighed, slumping against the balcony, “Uh… thanks, I guess,” Patton laughed, an off colored chirp that normally unnerved Virgil, but now only made him blush, “What?”

“I don’t scare you anymore, do I?” Patton said, covering his mouth.

“I was never--” Virgil winced at the lie, “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes, but…” Patton started, trailing off, “I didn’t mind completely,”

Virgil frowned, “You didn’t mind me being an asshole?”

“I minded,” Patton said, “But at least you didn’t hide it,” he shrugged as if that explained it all, “I knew Logan and Emile cared about me, but… it was like they were afraid to admit that they didn’t always feel safe,”

“...Should we feel safe?’ Virgil said, twisting and untwisting the loose hair.

Patton didn’t respond immediately, tracing the rail, “I wish you could, but I…” he sighed, “Watchdogs aren’t meant to be outside the colonies for long without a bond...we aren’t built for that. When I’m home I can feel-- I’m in control,” he said, “But here, it feels like all I can do is take orders and hope, there’s nothing else there,” His face twisted unnaturally, but his eyes remained blank.

“Why…” Virgil tore his gaze away, “After Remus….Why didn’t you go to Roman?” he asked. It seemed simple, just go to another Sanders, a legal, full magic Sanders--

“I wasn’t in love with Roman,” Patton said, with no theatrics, but the simplicity throbbed with something intense, “Why didn’t you die in the river?”

“I-” Rushing water, blood everywhere,it was only supposed to be a game, it was a game it was a game, it was a game, “I didn’t want to die.”

“You’re lying,” Patton said, matter of fact.

Virgil blew out his cheeks, “I got lucky,” he admitted. Lucky that he wasn’t deemed enough of a threat by the other two. Lucky that the vial seared in his hand instead of in his eyes or down his throat. Lucky that at the end of the day, he thought it was a just game. Something stupid to do before church.

If only he knew that it was The Stranger’s Game he was playing.

“Well...I’m glad you were lucky,” Patton said quietly, “I wouldn’t have met you and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I did without you two…”

Virgil’s throat tightened, “I…” he wiped his eyes, “Why do I feel like that’s a goodbye?” he choked out a bitter laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Patton smiled, “You could always visit the colonies,” he said wistfully, and Virgil swore he glowed a little bit brighter, “I might be a bit...different there, but it's a good different,”

“...Can you tell me more about it?” Virgil asked.

Patton did.

He told Virgil about the fountains-- how water dripped like fire, but was icy to the touch. He talked about how young watchdogs burned holes in their cribs and terrorized their families. About the family dinners, with plates overflowing with food--how each story and laugh was never the same.

He told Virgil about how the community grew closer and took care of each other in spite of the stricter regulations. About how they’re even planning to build their own schools instead of relying on council tutors. He told Virgil about his mom and dad, about how they missed him, but understood he wanted to see his friends. He told Virgil about everything he missed and hated and seemed to glow a little bit brighter with each second.

Virgil doesn’t know why, but it felt nice. It sounded nice--talking to Patton was nice in a way that Virgil didn’t even know he missed. It's been awhile since he just...had fun.

The music changed, to something delicate--a soft piano, followed by a low, breathy voice. Patton’s voice trailed off and he closed his eyes swaying to the lullaby.

Virgil asked him for a dance.

#ts sides #roceit #ts deceit #ts janus #ts roman #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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borealtwilight · 4 years

Note

17: Top of head kiss for Corey and Artemis (I sense jackassery here)

“Hello there.”

Two hands clamped onto her shoulders, and Artemis gave a start, spinning around with her fist cocked, body bracing to clock whoever the hell it was that had dared to sneak up on her. She sighed when she realized it was Corey standing there, the glint in his blue eyes suggesting that if she had thrown a punch, he would have caught it. She shot him a look, and rolled her eyes, relaxing her posture.

“You know that’s not funny.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“No?” He canted his head. “I thought it was.”

“You’re such an arsehole.” she groused. He was lucky she liked him so much; if they hadn’t been on such close terms, if they didn’t get along as well as they did, she would have trounced him, and actually meant it. All Spartans had weird senses of humour; it came with the territory. But sometimes it got on her nerves; sometimes, she allowed it to get the better of her, and she lashed out.

It was one of the reasons why she’d butted heads with Emile, back during her first week as the new Noble Six. She’d struggled to get along with him, and to understand him, until it finally clicked. After that, the fights lessened.

Corey smirked. “And don’t I know it.” he riposted, all too pleased with himself.

“All too well, apparently, considering how smug you are right now.” Artemis shot back, and she swatted at him when he laughed. “Is there something you wanted, or are you just being a pest?”

He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought you were smarter than that; you figure it out.” Without giving her much of a chance to reply, he stepped in closer to her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, before ruffling her hair playfully. “Now it’s your move, kis piros.” Little red.

Artemis closed her eyes wearily. Oh, great. That so wasn’t fair! He knew she knew that she’d never get one up on him, and he’d set the challenge to purposefully get a rise out of her.

I am not going to let him get into my head like that. Sooner or later, one way or another, I’m going to win this.

When she opened her eyes again, the Spartan-II was gone.

“Cooooreeeeeeyyy.”

Two days later, she still hadn’t won. She’d tried, but the crafty bastard had remained out of reach, keeping her on her toes. If he didn’t want someone to catch him, they couldn’t. No matter how fast or stealthy they were.

At that moment, however, she sensed an opportunity.

The pair of them were watching a holovid; Corey was on the floor with one knee crossed over the other, hands behind his head, and Artemis rested on a couch above him, lying on her flank with one hand dangling over the edge. The environment was relaxed, sleepy. Surely now, at a time like this, he’d have his guard down. He’d never see her coming until it was too late. All she needed to do was wait for the perfect opportunity to arise.

And so, she kept one eye on the vid, and the other on her sibling.

His eyelids flickered shut. There.

Quick as a striking snake, she shifted upright, before lowering herself towards him. What she hadn’t anticipated, as she kissed his forehead, was his eyes snapping open and his head jerking, straight into her own.

“Ow.”

“Fuck!”

So caught by surprise, she reeled backwards, lost her balance, and toppled onto him with a grunt.

“Basszus!” Artemis hissed, delivering an elbow to Corey’s gut when he laughed at her. She rolled onto the floor beside him, pushed herself up to her feet, and frowned down at him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.” she deadpanned.

“Actually, I wasn’t expecting that.” he admitted, as she helped him to his feet. “Not a bad move.” His blue eyes danced with amusement, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his flank. “But…” He chuckled into her hair as he kissed the top of her head, then moved aside as she attempted to punch him. “I have one up on you again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You smug fucking bastard.”

“Damn right.” He winked at her, actually winked, and darted out of the room.

Oh, I’m going to get you again.

#natty writes #flaminglambo #*the lone wolf — artemis b312 #//brotp :: gremlin sibs ‹ corey & artemis ›#halo #you asked for jackassery #and you got it #corey is a fuck we all know this #am i referring to the man himself or the spartan #IT'S BOTH #i guess sometimes these two #turn their physical affection into a game #because they just be like that #* snarky vod — corey 067

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