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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 7 months

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 18

And I'm back!! I'm so happy to return to writing this fic for you guys, and for the long time I've been away, I've made sure to make this next chapter extra long for you all - at almost 6k words! (Which is a feat for me lol) So good news aside, I am unfortunately not going to be posting weekly anymore, as I have just started uni, and I already have a lot of studying to do. But I can promise that I will be posting chpaters as frequent as I can, I'll just be limiting myself to make time for my academic side of life. Anyways, Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 5960

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, claustrophia, accidental drowning, swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 // Chapter 19 >

Part 2: Chapter 18 -

Into the thick of it.

Selenotropism (Definition): Growth in response to moonlight. (Noun / Origin: Classical Greek / Se·lee·no·trop·isum)

The Old Forest, Outer Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. 25th October 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

I had strayed from the path a while back, grass replacing the smooth stones that marked the paths circling Hobbiton. Only the dying light of my small lantern accompanied me, I foolishly realised, as I had not planned ahead for this spur-of-the-moment outing – thinking I could rely on the shine of the moon, but I forgot that it was a new phase, so all that was ahead of me was the gaping darkness, as it tempted me deeper into the towering trees of the Old Forest.

By now, any glow from the lights left outside each hobbit hole had vanished behind the silhouettes of thick trunks and bushes that surrounded me. The only luck I had to return before Bilbo’s curfew was if I stumbled upon a road that led me back, and, I managed to guess the correct direction that wouldn’t lead me into the wilderness. Just because I had a map of Middle Earth on my favourite mug back home, didn’t mean I had memorised it. Which, at this point, was my biggest downfall.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, taking in the sharp, fresh air that came with a clear late evening, like a cold glass of water, that was blissful on your throat at 2am. Approaching one of the taller trees, I plopped myself down against its trunk and stretched my legs out. Many thoughts passed over my mind, memories from Earth, things I owned that would never be found here, but what stuck, was thoughts of my family; Where they were; if time continued on, and, if the two of us reported missing. How they would cope with the news. That was the one thing I dreaded – considering how sensitive my family was. I wondered about Bella, my dog. Knowing her singular braincell, it’ll take her a few years to realise I’m gone. I smiled at the thought of my dogs face as she pounced around the fields in search of rabbits, her thin ginger tail whipping back and forth. Her warm brown eyes staring intently at me from in between the long grass, the iris’ flickering with green.

Wait – green?

Bella’s eyes weren’t green.

I blinked rapidly, returning my senses to my surroundings. Pressing the bases of my palms against my eyelids, I blinked them open, and realised that the green eyes weren’t leaving – they were in fact, in front of me.

I grabbed my lantern and held it up, stretching my arm out to allow the dying flame illuminate the bushes that sat a few yards ahead of my feet. With baited breath I stared arduously at the small gap of leaves, until a flash of green flickered, and the pair of green eyes returned, this time with a physical body.

Placing one paw in front of the other, the shadow silently crept out from beneath the darkness of the leaves, almost like a hunter stalking its prey. Light shimmered like gold on ebony fur, and with a twitch of its ear, a black cat emerged, traipsing into the light.

A soft gasp left my lips, watching it stop just before where my feet lay, and I felt a smile warm my face. Any sorrowful thought that plagued my mind earlier was now whisked away at the sight of the small feline.

“Hello,” I whispered, as I gently placed the lantern down, watching as the cat’s emerald eyes flickered over me, following my every move. “Where did you come from?”

As slowly as before, I lowered my hand to the ground, and carefully moved it towards the creature, stopping just past my toes. To my delight, the cat took another cautious step forwards, it’s black nose lifting to sniff the air, before lowering it to my curled fingers. My pinkie twitched slightly, and the cat took a step back, returning to sit where it had revealed itself by the bush, the end of its tail flicking slightly from where it rested on the grass.

“No touching? That’s ok.” I murmured, taking my hand back and placing it on my lap. Minutes passed by, where the two of us simply observed each other, getting used to the other’s presence whilst waiting for the other to move.

My head raised suddenly, Bilbo’s stern face appearing at the forefront of my mind, and I remembered my curfew. Getting to my feet as calmly as I could to not startle the creature in front of me, I brushed off the fallen leaves that had caught themselves on my shift and coat, and picked up my lantern.

I had only taken a couple steps, when a ‘meow’ sounded from behind me. Puzzled I turned around to see the cat was now by my feet, it’s eyes wide as it approached me, almost playful.

“Huh?” Was all I said.

It meowed again, white teeth flashing as it opened its mouth to make the sounds.

“I’m sorry but I have to go.” I replied gently. “Or Bilbo will have my head.”

I went to walk away once again, but jumped with a start as I looked down to find it had appeared in front of me, but this time with something familiar in its mouth. Squinting, I gasped in outrage when I realised what it was.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, shoving my hand into the inner pocket of my coat, only to find it open and missing the one thing that was supposed to be inside it. Though I knew where it had gone – and it was currently trotting away with its tail held high.

Turning on my heel, I strode after the cat, keeping the lantern as high as I could to not lose the dark-furred feline to the darkness it could oh-so easily blend into. Eventually I broke into a run, frustrated at the sight of the cat as it only got further away.

“Come on!” I cried with heaving breaths – bed rest had not been courteous to my stamina levels. “That’s important to me! You can’t just take it!”

Said thing was a braided leather bracelet, cream in colour, with a red button sewn on as a clasp. It was a handmade gift from my grandad, one I had kept close to me and cherished since his passing three years ago. And I certainly wasn’t going to part with it any time soon.

My walking boots thumped heavily against the ground. Whilst working perfectly well on the wild terrain, they were certainly not suited for running, as my feet began to feel like they have become big hooves – too heavy and stiff for these kinds of escapades. Shoving away a low hanging branch, I then leaped over a twisted root, only to cry out as my still-healing ankle gave way, and I hit the ground with a thud.

With a groan, I pushed myself onto my elbows before twisting over to sit up. The cat came back into my mind, and I whipped my head around, ignoring the throbbing aches from the points of impact my body graciously had with the ground.

The glass of my lantern was smashed on the ground in front of me, and in the final flickers of the flame, my eyes landed on a large rabbit hole in the middle of a hollowed tree trunk, and as I climbed to my feet, I caught a flash of green from in the shadows. Marching over, I kneeled down, braced my hands on either side of the rotting bark, and peered into the darkness.

It was an exceptionally large tunnel, big enough for me to fit into. Roots of all sizes twisted and hung from the walls and roof of soil. The odd beetle appeared, before dashing away again, and as the flame behind me finally died, I went to give up on the rescue.

With a snap, a twig broke behind me, and I spun around, only to let out a scream as the rotten bark crumbled in my hands as it gave way. Feeling a sharp knock against my head, I watched the world go black, feeling myself tumble into the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“C’mon c’mon c’mon.” I whimpered, working my trembling hands as best as I could to strike the match against the rough side of the cardboard box. It really helped sometimes when I forgot to empty all my pockets, feeling extremely lucky that matches were one of the things found. What didn’t help was the uncontrollable tears that began to pool in my eyes – and also that fact that I was stuck in a narrow tunnel in the complete pitch black.

With a crackle and a hiss, the small flame burst to life in between my fingers, and I craned my head the best I could to look down either side of the tunnel, hindered by the fact that it was so narrow, my back was arched forwards and my neck was constantly bent over at the low ceiling. The tightening in my chest also meant the claustrophobia was kicking in big time.

Trying my best to look down both sides as much as I could through the blur of my tears, I noticed that one end trailed upwards, and decided that was my best option to fining the way out. Feeling the heat of the flame grow, I quickly blew the match out, and summoning all the energy I had left, I flopped onto my front, and began to commando crawl up through the darkness.

Digging my elbows and knees into the soil, I clambered onwards for what felt like a quarter of an hour, whilst also lighting the odd match, checking that there wasn’t any other tunnels that I would accidentally take. It was odd that I was so far down, and I wondered whether or not I landed down there naturally.

Soon, to my luck, the fresh air from earlier began to replace the damp and stagnant, the tunnel widening enough for me to stand on my knees, and I felt relief wash through me knowing I was almost out. Lighting a match, I raised it up, only to see a large hole above me just a metre ahead, with a familiar wall of bark surrounding it. Shuffling myself closer whilst trying to keep the match alight, I went to reach to the edge of the hole, when something caught my eye.

Adding on to the very odd things that had happened to me on this night, I stared bewildered at my bracelet hanging right in front of me, hooked onto an even odder-looking piece of wood. My hand quickly shot out, grabbing it and stuffing it to the bottom of my deepest pocket, making sure it was zipped up securely, safe and tight.

Lighting another match, I looked back, holding the small flame up as I eyed the piece of wood curiously. It didn’t look quite like a root – the end was too thick and blunt, and was covered in parts that were unnaturally smooth, a darkened colour as if someone had crawled down here and decided to carve and polish random parts of tree roots, leaving them to stick out about several inches from the soil. Reaching out, I poked and prodded at it with my fingernail, before slowly wrapping my hand around it. A pull.

But I didn’t pull it.

Before I knew it, my hand was jerked forward, sucked into the wall as if I had stuck my hand into the flesh of a giant slimy slug, and I quickly began to panic, my eyes widening as I watched soil wrap around my wrist like short, stubby tentacles to pull it in further. The squelching and crumbling of wet dirt and rock contorting around my limb echoed through the tunnel as I realised that I couldn’t let go of the stick, so trying my best to think rationally through the crushing fear of becoming part of the ground, I leant onto my back and lifted my legs up, bracing my feet against the wall. With all my might, I gritted my teeth together as I grasped my rapidly disappearing arm, and pulled.

I let out a loud grunting breath as I felt it give way a little, but quickly repositioned as I prepared to pull again. But before I could, a deep sound resonated in my ears, drowning out the noises of moving dirt, and every hair on my body stood on end, terror pinging through every vertebrae along my spine, the one sound I had wished to never hear again pounding against my ear drums.

Feeling the colour drain from my face, I slowly turned my head to my right, until my eyes landed on an oh-so familiar shape down in the tunnel.

It was blue.

Slitted eyes pierced into my own as I fixated on the terrifying creature from my dream, and a tsunami of panic crashed over me, for this time I wasn’t in a dream – and this was very much real.

With a cry, I returned to my arm, bracing my legs and pulling with all my might. My eyes darted back down the tunnel, and the creature lurched, it’s claws reaching out to gouge the dirt as it tried to pull its large body towards me. If they could gouge dirt, they could certainly gouge me. Sobs racked through my throat as I frantically tugged at my arm, feeling my fingernails break skin as I clawed uncontrollably at my wrist, that was slowly but surely revealing itself.

Letting out a scream with one final pull, my hand shot out, hitting me in the nose. Through the uncontrollable watering of my eyes, I watched as the soil closed itself back up, spiralling inwards like an alien mouth until it became part of the tunnel wall once again. A roar much closer than before pierced my ears, and I darted for the hole above me.

Hands clawed and gripped at grass as I clumped bundles of it up, pulling my torso up and over the edge whilst my feet scrambled and slipped against roots and waterlogged soil.

I managed to hook one knee over the edge, and went to drag the other up, when something pulled against it. Blood pumped through my ears as I looked down, only to find that the bandage around my ankle had snagged against a root. I pulled my foot up again and again, only to find that the know holding it together refused to budge.

“Curse Erard and his perfect bandaging!” I cried.

Remembering what I had put in my coat pocket earlier, I stuck my hand in to pull out my sewing scissors, and quickly got to work, hacking away at the cream material.

It was just in time, because as soon as my foot landed on the grass, a glowing blue set of claws shot out. I screamed in terror, then howled in pain as one of the hooked appendages nicked my shin, and I clambered to my feet, sprinting full power into the darkness.

Tears ran down and across my cheeks, and hair whipped across my face and neck as I raced between the dark silhouettes of trees and stumbled over unseen roots, hoping to whatever deity was out there that I was going the right way. Adrenaline had replaced any feeling as I tried to put as much distance between myself and that godforsaken hole.

I decided to only take a moment, hands gripping my knees as I arched over to catch what breath I’d lost, air rattling through my lungs as I tried my best to stop my breaths from shuddering and shaking. My back pressed against a trunk as I tried to shrink my shoulders together, hiding myself as best as I could whilst I recovered. Though an odd feeling in one of my hands had my eyes blinking open, and in the darkness, I could just make out the outline of a thin object in my hand. Running my fingers up and down the surface, I recognised it: I had not let go of the oddly shaped stick, the one that caused my hand to be sucked into a wall by some unseen force. Doing my best in the pitch black, I tried to make out the shapes and features on the stick of wood – surprisingly straight, and thinned out slightly at the top end, and I wondered if someone had dropped their toy wand down a rabbit hole.

Leaves rustled nearby, and I quickly spun around. Though I had not watched my surroundings, and my arm collided with the trunk, knocking the stick sharply against the bark.

A light.

A spark.

Then a bang.

I let out a scream, my arm coming up to shelter my face against the splinters of wood that flew past me. Lowering it, my eyes widened like saucers as I gawked at the sight in front of me.

The tree that stood to the right of mine was now smoking, the edges of the gaping hole that pierced all the way through the trunk glowing an orange, whilst embers floated, before slowly lowering to the ground.

My hands flew up unconsciously in surrender, when I looked to my right hand, looking accusingly at the perpetrator. Just barely, I managed to spot the tip as a light faded until it returned to looking like any other smoothed out stick off a tree.

Though I guess it wasn’t just a stick.

Thundering footsteps vibrated heavily through the ground, and up my legs. Daring to look around the tree, my eyes landed on the blue outline of the creature as it spread its wings, using them to help it skid to a stop, mud spraying everywhere (which was odd, considering I could still see through it).

I held my breath, begging for it to move on. It raised its horned head, taking deep breaths as it searched for scents in the air – most likely mine – and I prayed that the light wind blowed in my favour.

A creak, then a groan, then more creaks, sounded from beside me. Both me and the creature slowly turned our heads, watching as the tree with the hole began to splinter at the sides of the hole, bits of wood springing out as the upper half pressed its weight down. With a loud, creaking BANG, the sides gave way, and the upper half slammed down onto its lower half, before letting out a long, resounding groan as it fell to the side, and my body shrunk in on itself, cringing at every loud noise that drew the creatures attention to my hiding spot. Hitting the ground with a final mighty crash, branches and leaves snapped off whilst birds from all around scattered at the sudden noise.

Finally, I let my body relax, shaking off the tension as the foliage settled once again, and I peeked around my tree once again, only to find that the creature was looking directly at me.

Taking cautious steps, I slowly began to back away, only for the creature to lower its head, and it began steadily stalking towards me, just like it had done on our first meeting.

Feeling the fear and panic pierce through me once again, I racked my brain for a way out. I glanced at the stick in my hand. Raising my arm, I hesitantly pointed it at the creature. Its eyes landed on what I was pointing, at it let out a roar, and broke into a run. I sped up my backwards walking, keeping my arm raised, and without thinking, I brought it back, and gave it a powerful flick.

Just like before, a spark shot out the end, flooding the forest with light for a moment, crossing the distance in less than a second before landing a direct hit on the beasts head.

The blast sent it flying backwards, and it crashed into the bushes behind it, vanishing amongst the leaves after leaving an outline of its landing. I punch the air, letting out an uncontrollable shout of triumph. Though that was short lived, as the beast let out another roar, more aggressive than the last. Oh, I had pissed it off big time.

Stumbling over my own feet, I darted back the way I had come, speeding as fast as my legs would allow, praying that the lights of Hobbiton would appear again soon.

To my luck, as if someone was watching over me, I finally felt the stone path, that I had foolishly abandoned earlier, back under the soles of my boots, and looking up, I smiled, relieved, at the sight of a street-lantern just metres ahead. I could finally see properly. I continued down the path at the same running speed, not letting any false sense of security fall over me. The banks at either side of the path grew higher and higher as the stones travelled downwards towards the first set of houses, until one fell away to reveal the town. Behind me, my ears picked up the sounds of footsteps again, and I whipped around, raising the stick once more to point it at the creature, this time aiming for between the eyes.

It skidded to a halt at the edge of the forest, kicking up another spray of dirt as it did. It stood there, nostrils flaring, with what looked like smoke emitting from them and from between the gaps of its mouth. Claws dug into the ground as it stood on the bank that towered above me, its eyes boring into mine before flicking down to what was in my hand.

A growl erupted from its throat, one that you would feel in the ground rather than the air, it was that deep. It snapped its jaws, teeth flashing and saliva dripping and disappearing into thin air. To my surprise, with a flick of its spiked tail, it tucked in its wings and turned around, vanishing into the forest.

A breath escaped me, and I relaxed every tensed muscle, whilst patting my chest to calm my quivering heart. I reached up and rubbed my neck, moving my head around in a full circle to feel those satisfying pops in my spine. I also shook my arms and legs out, ridding what I could of my remaining adrenaline.

Doing a quick scan of the area, I figured everyone was still in bed, despite the loud screams and shouts I had made while deep in the forest. I made a reminder to never get myself back into any sort of danger whilst staying with hobbits, because you could guarantee that they would snore through the whole ordeal unless you smashed their window in screaming bloody murder.

After confirming that nobody was watching me, I began the trek up to Bilbo’s house. Despite the fact that no one heard me in the woods earlier, it didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be found wandering around after hours, so I decided to take the long but hidden route around the outskirts of the town.

‘At least it’s scenic.’ I thought to myself, but remembered immediately afterwards that I wouldn’t be able to see most of it considering the sun was non-existent right now, and the nearest lanterns were at least a couple metres away from the path.

Jogging over one of the stone bridges, I walked along the path until I reached the banks of one of Hobbiton’s lakes. Across it, I could make out the lights from Bilbo’s kitchen windows up the hill, and sped up. Walking past a cluster of bushes, I looked over them at the small lake beside me, only to stop in my tracks.

On the grassy bank on the other side of the lake, Kay stood in only her shift and socks, deathly still. Her head was tilted down slightly, strands of wavy copper hair hanging down and concealing her face slightly as she stared into the watery depths.

I stared apprehensive – she had never done anything like this before. Unless she had a secret hobby that included staring at water (when she knows she can’t swim yet), then there definitely was something wrong. Silently lowering into a crouch, I hid myself behind the bushes, and crawled on my hands until I was able to peek around the leaves.

She still hadn’t moved from her standing position, though after a moment passed, her leg moved out, and she took a single step forward, and leaned over slightly.

Yeah, there was definitely something wrong.

I went to stand up, planning on marching over there and dragging her away for an explanation, when I stumbled slightly. My hand shot out to grab at a branch of a bush, only for it to let out a crack that resounded through the silence of the night.

Kay’s head snapped up, and I immediately stilled, staring in horror.

From where I was, I could see that her eyes had turned completely white, reflecting in the yellow glow of the street-lantern nearby, and was that blue on her cheeks?? No, no blue anymore. I remained as still as I could – I didn’t trust white eyed Kay – and remained in the shadows until she slowly turned back towards the water.

A minute passed, where she only stood, then she took another step forward, her toes at the edge of the grassy bank that held her up about half a metre higher above the water level. She leaned further. And further. I was preparing to call out, when she fell, sending a wave to crash over the still surface of the water, and I rushed to my feet.

Nuh uh, there was no way I’m having some water-obsessed demon possess my only earth friend to jump in lakes!!

(Well, more like belly flopped.)

Rounding the edge to where she had stood, chucking the stick in my hand on the ground, and I dived in, getting flashbacks to pulling her out of that pond when we first fell here. In the black depths, I stuck my arms out, hoping to catch onto her at some point.

A turquoise glow appeared from near my feet, and brushing the blurred outlines of pondweed aside, I made out the fuzzy silhouette of Kay as she floated unmoving over the glow, though one of her arms was outstretched, reaching towards it. I then reached out and grasped her shoulder, only for her to begin thrashing in my grip. Despite her flailing, I managed to keep my hands on her, and started dragging her to the surface.

Breaking the surface, I gasped for air, and brought Kay with me, only for her to worsen. This time, she replaced thrashing for screeching, her hands shooting out to claw at where mine were on her biceps. At one point she leaned over to bite me, and I noticed something ghastly.

Her teeth had become pointed and fang-like, snapping menacingly just like the creature had done earlier as it chased me through the woods.

Deciding that enough was enough, I swam towards the shore. More like flopped around, considering I had a feral, possessed Kay in my grip trying to gnaw my arm into a stub.

Reaching a part of the bank that slowly raised into short pebble beach, instead of the miniature grassy cliff, I managed to find my footing, and quickly let go of Kay to shrug off my heavy, now waterlogged coat and chuck it onto the shore. Turning back, I stood and watched as Kay remained on her front in the water, her hands gripping onto the stone as she lifted her head up to glare at me with her white eyes. I took a small step forward, and she bared her teeth, emitting a cat-like hiss. I put my hands on my hips.

“Alright, mermaid time is over.” I deadpanned.

She hissed again, and pushed back against the rocks, trying to re-submerge herself. Acting quick, I kicked at the water, emitting a wave that hit her directly in the face. Whilst she flailed distracted at the attack, I lunged forward and grabbed her under the armpits. She shrieked, arms twisting and flapping about to try and claw at my arms again. Though she had cut her nails recently, so all that she left were shallow red and white lines along my forearms. Dragging her onto the stones, I pinned her down by the shoulders and tried speaking over her hissing and screaming.

“C’mon, you can’t just go –” *HISSS* “ –Stop it. I said you can’t just go around jumping into water whenever you feel like it and expect me to drag you out each time!”

A hand came out and slapped against the side of my head, and I sucked in a breath, gritting my teeth. Shutting my eyes for a second, I let out the breath and opened them again to meet Kay’s white ones, and came to my last option.

“You asked for it.” I warned, raising my eyebrows at her accusingly.

And slapped her across the face.

Letting go, I watched as she rolled over, groaning, and curled in on herself, then stilled. A moment passed, and her head shot up, whipping around with a frown on her face, along with a red mark shining prominently on her left cheek. What was relieving though, was the fact that her eyes had returned to her usual grey. Raising her hand to her cheek, she glared at me.

“The fuck was that for??” She whinged. “That hurt.”

“That hurt?? Then what the hell do you call this??” I raised my forearms up, accidentally flicking water everywhere, to show off the scratches and bitemarks along the skin. She gawked at them with wide eyes, but opened her mouth, outraged.

“I didn’t do that!!” She cried.

“Yes you did! For some reason you thought tonight would be a good time to play mermaids, and have been kicking and screaming ever since, all the while I’ve been trying to drag you out to stop you from drowning yourself!”

“Drag me out – ?” Looking to the side of me, her mouth hung open as she spotted the lake behind me, then down at her clothes, reaching to pull at the drenched shift that was clinging to her skin. “I was – I was in the forest!”

“The forest? What were you doing there?!” I questioned.

“I was there to ask you the same thing!” She exclaimed. “I followed you! To make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid after Bilbo had said you went for a walk. I ended up losing you for a bit when you ran after something, and when I found you looking into that giant rabbit hole, I ended up snapping that twig that scared you into falling in.” She frowned. “Then I think I blacked out, and woke up here – to you slapping the shit out of me, might I mention!” She accused, shoving a soggy finger in my direction.

My hands flew up in protest. “Yeah, cause you were acting possessed! I was walking back to Bilbo’s when I saw you standing on the bank just staring into the water like that girl from The Ring, then you fell in, and when I tried to get you out, you eyes were white and your teeth had magically become sharp for some reason!” I replied, gesturing to the shallow puncture marks in my arms. “All you had to do was grow a fish tail and I would’ve officially thought I was going mad!”

Kay stared incredulously, her mouth hanging open wide enough to catch an entire hoard of flies as she remained in a shocked silence.

“White eyes.” I nodded. “Sharp. teeth.” I nodded again.

“Would I lie about something as crazy as that?” I asked.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“So I went all demon on you?” She questioned, a guilty look on her face.

I thought for a moment. “More like feral mermaid.”

She raised her eyebrows, intrigued by that version.

“But you had no control over yourself.” I stated, and she went back to frowning, deflated at the revelation.

We both sat there, drenched hair clinging to our faces and clothes heavy and dripping with lake water. I ended up pulling a few pieces of pondweed off from where they had caught on my shoulders and legs. Flicking away a piece on my ankle, a tiny nudge of movement caught my eye, and I let out a gasp at the sight of a stick almost identical to the one I had found, held loosely in Kay’s hand. I pointed at it.

“Where did you get that?” I questioned.

She eyed me, confused, then her eyes switched to where I was pointing. Frowning deeper, she quickly brought it up to her face, examining it with wide eyes, before bringing it away and gingerly dropping it down between us.

“I have never seen this before in my life.”

We both stared at the stick as it laid on the pebble shore. Kay got startled as I then scrambled to my feet, kicking stones everywhere, and she watched as I ran along the shoreline, before skidding to a stop to grab something off the ground, and sprinting back. Flopping back onto my spot, I placed my stick next to hers, watching the realisation dawn on Kay’s face as she stared at them.

“I found mine,” I jabbed a finger at it, whilst catching my breath, “Down that rabbit hole I fell down.” Kay’s head shot up to look at me in shock. “It was sticking out of the soil, and when I tried to pull it out, the wall tried sucking me into it, a bit like how you were possessed and almost drowned when getting yours.”

Kay’s eyes glazed over as she stared, her mind most likely travelling a million miles a second as she tried to comprehend the newly revealed information.

“And mine did something.” I added slowly. “I don’t know how, but I ended up blowing a tree to smithereens with it.”

Her eyes refocused, and bore directly into mine.

“Like a wand.” She muttered.

I nodded. “Like magic.”

“There you are!”

We both screamed, jumping high in the air. I toppled over, though quickly regained myself to look up and see a very disgruntled Bilbo standing on the grass at the edge of the beach. He tapped his foot in place, his hands on his hips while a lantern sat at his feet.

“Jesus Bilbo! Where on Earth did you come from?!” I cried, clasping my chest as I tried to steady my breathing. Poor Kay looked as if she was about to cry from fright.

“I came looking for you two!” He pointed at me. “Your curfew ended two hours ago, and you!” He pointed at Kay. “You were supposed to be in bed! Imagine my panic when I found out you weren’t! And look where I find you, playing wizards in the freezing water!” He gestured to the sticks between us.

We both hung our heads, unsure on what to tell him. He looked at the two of us, and let out a long sigh, picking up his lantern.

“Right, come now. You must change out of those shifts and dry them before Mrs Greenfoot has you both by the ear.”

We stood up, both discreetly picking up the sticks and slipping them up our sleeves. Walking up to Bilbo, I grabbed my coat.

“Hurry now, can’t have you both developing an illness now.” He fussed.

“Yes mother.” I jabbed playfully as I passed him, listening amused at the sputtering match that went on behind me, before the hobbit grumbled under his breath, and ushered us along back up the path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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See you at some point next month for Chapter 19! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

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pfreadsandwrites · 2 years

Note

40 for Yamato pretty please 🥰

100 follower celebration

Okay, so let’s get a few things out of the way - I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long. I don’t even know if you’re still here and it’s literally been a year to the day since I last posted an actual fic and this request has been sitting here slightly longer than even that. I don't wanna get into a bunch of excuses, life’s been kicking my ass for various reasons, etc etc. Secondly, a Yamato request. Thank you for having faith in my writing enough to request a different character, but please forgive me and give me feedback if you feel I’m missing the mark here but I really appreciated the opportunity to explore him more. It was a bit of a challenge, but in a good way! I should say that this is *extremely rusty* because it's been a long time since I wrote properly.

warning: 4.4k, very rusty (it's been a year!), the fluffiest fluff, proposal (attempts), STUPID humour, cameos from team 7, a very smitten yamyams, a lack of abillity to portray yamyams but I TRIED, mention of a suggestive joke i guess, oh and some really shitty plant names (but i know people that have used these as plant names so take it up with them) , there may be mistakes

taglist: (also, note to those on my taglist - feel free to tell me to remove you if you're no longer interested in being on here, or if you aren't interested in reading non-Kakashi works - you obviously never have to read anything I post, but I'm aware that anyone who wanted to be on here was probably wanted to because of Kakashi, and also it's been literally a year since i last tagged anybody. Totally understand if you're over this, no hard feelings ) @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @aineirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists @daffodin @apricitobio

40. “Will you marry me?” (Yamato x reader) AO3 Link here.

回

In hindsight, it’s an easy decision.

A quick one, too.

It doesn’t take much, and though Yamato is never one to indulge himself the luxury of sentimentality - he might even have prided himself on that trait, once upon a time - that all melts away with you.

It isn’t like you do much, but then, it isn’t like you have to, either.

There you are, again.

Giving the poor shopkeeper a run for his money, intent on haggling your way to what you’ve decided is your fair and deserved price, no doubt - he’s sure you’re right, of course - and then, as if it never graces your face in the first place, your defiant expression disappears.

You turn away, and before it even registers in his mind, something else occupies your attention, and you vanish from his frame of vision. It disappoints him, briefly, and yet again, he begins to contemplate the ridiculousness of this situation as the wooden box in his pocket prods his thigh. The ridiculousness of him, of you, of how you manage to entrance him without trying every single time. (And every single time, he is left unable to come up with an answer.)

He’s still pondering - though he looks more perplexed than it makes sense to be - when you chirp up behind him.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over today.” There’s a lilt to your voice, and you shove his shoulder in mock-punishment harmlessly, but he stumbles anyway. It’s also ridiculous that of the few people in the world who can catch him off guard effortlessly, you’re one of them.

Yamato looks at you, smiling your carefree, strong smile, the way you giggle and lean against his side to steady him. He’s thankful you don't seem to notice the small wooden box in his pocket - not least because you’re the type to make a silly joke referencing his mokuton (to his detriment, you know from experience how beetroot it makes him) - but because you’d see right through him.

He can see it now, you persistently demanding an explanation from him in your infuriating way, just like how you’d demanded a discount from the merchant just now, until he does end up proposing to you in the middle of this tired Monday marketplace desperate for some excitement. No. He doesn’t want that. It’s not even the audience, though he doesn’t like that either, but it’s too small. Too trivial, too unremarkable. And you’re anything but.

“You don’t need to look so worried, Yamato. It’s not for any particular reason,” you smile again, and Yamato’s heart just might burst out of his chest, “I just missed you, that’s all.”

It always astounds him how easily words like that flow out of you, words that affirm your own feelings and his own significance to you, as if you just breathed them.

And just like that, he feels as if he’s taken his first breath of the day, the one he didn’t even realise he’d been holding.

(Every single time, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to find an answer, as ridiculous and unbelievable as his situation is. The answer is you.)

*1回*

“So, what’s your name?”

You had only asked that once, not even looking at him when you did.

Even though he knew exactly what you were asking, and you knew that in turn.

But you just concentrated on the small, but persistent, effective fire you’d built. The one where Yamato had only provided the kindling after he’d insisted; strange, he thought, you knew all about his ability. And yet it didn't even cross your mind, to use him to build some kind of lodging, let alone create firewood. To use him like his comrades were supposed to, to use him for the purpose he’d been created. Instead, you had just set about your task silently, independently.

“I could have built us a shelter, you know,” Yamato said, for the second time. The first time, you’d just shook your head and continued scrambling for branches, forgetting to mind your already mission-scraped hands and splintering yourself more on the way.

You finally looked up from your handiwork, meeting his gaze with the ghost of a smirk. Though your eyes were just as worn, as tired, as his, it belied an energy. Something playful, but simultaneously shrewd. “I know how exhausted you are, Yamato. It’s a warm, clear night. I’ll - we’ll - be fine.”

He didn’t know which was kinder. Your concern, unfamiliar though not unwelcome, or the fact that you didn’t repeat your question. And as gratitude for either, or both, he found himself answering it. The only way he knew how, anyway. “I’ve had a lot of names. Names are complicated for the ANBU, and that goes double for me.”

You just hummed, ruminating on his soft, matter-of-fact words as they settled into the liberated air around the two of you.

“That’s sad,” you said after a moment, bereft of judgement or pity. Matter-of-fact, just like him. “Your name and identity tied to your missions like that.”

“Not all the names I’ve had are like that. Some stick. Some feel right.”

“Oh yeah?” You brought one of your knees to your chest, hugging it in a casual, comfortable gesture as you listened to him with a contrasting intensity. Bringing a simplicity, a gentle breeze to this surprisingly intimate conversation that Yamato hadn’t felt in a long time. “How’s Yamato?”

“Yamato is pretty good. I like it. But it’s not the only one, nor my actual name.”

You smiled, just smiled, and Yamato felt the fatigue that weighed so heavily on his shoulders, dissipate, just a little. “Well, it would be nice if I learnt that other one someday. Maybe.”

He smiled back in turn, because, how could he not? “Maybe.”

The time where you’d hug his neck, calling him Tenzou behind closed doors, doors that you’d finally let him build for you, would still be a little while off. But nowhere near as long as Yamato would have thought, even in his wildest dreams.

Even though you only asked his name once.

**2回**

A plant.

It was the first gift he gave you. And the second, embarrassingly.

(But that wasn’t his fault, he’s sure; it’s still a point of contention between you even now.)

Of course it was going to be a plant, Yamato knew that, and he assumed you would too - but why shouldn’t he stick to his area of expertise, predictable as it was?

Somehow, Yamato didn’t think you would mind.

Even if you teased him first, for which he was certain you would, it would be worth it. In fact, that was exactly what he was counting on - he had come to learn, rather quickly, that what he looked forward to most, the closely guarded secret, was your laugh. Whether it was at his own expense was irrelevant; you both knew you didn’t mean it.

He settled on a succulent, after some careful deliberation, much like all his tasks. Not that this was an ordinary task, of course, because it was for you, but that only made him all the more determined to get this right. And finally, he was satisfied; succulents were notoriously hard to kill, perfect for novices (if your pitifully empty apartment was anything to go by), and an aloe plant in particular would be useful - every time he saw you, mission or not, you’d acquired some silly new bruise or cut with an even more silly story behind it. The last time, it had been something about falling into a rabbit burrow and dealing with the aftermath from its very angry inhabitants. And though you’d jabbed him in the shoulder when he pointed out the absurdity of a jounin being so clumsy, the fact that you let him apply some ointment to your scrapes told him you weren’t angry. Something about that uncharacteristically shy smile. Something about that ‘thank you’, something about that barely audible murmur.

And, as if he needed more, he could practically see that infuriating smirk, hear the lilt in your voice as you’d ask him ‘just what are you trying to say?!’ in your eternally playful tone, prodding him, just like you, all of you, prodded at his self-control each time he saw you. That thought - that you might end up depleting it one day, one day soon - it made his chest flare, not just with anxiety, but something striking, unfamiliar, intangible but definitely there. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that day coming faster.

Yes, Yamato thought, decisively. He’d chosen well.

Not even the confusion that graced your features when you opened your front door, something that ordinarily would have halted his enthusiasm and hastened his doubt, stopped him.

“Yamato,” you smiled.

It might have been optimistic, especially for a man like him, but Yamato was sure he could chart the moment your expression evolved from surprise to something akin to content, comfort, peace. It was even more optimistic, probably too optimistic, but he liked to think that he had something to do with it. It would only be fair, after all. God knows you had done that two-fold for him, and it came much more naturally, he was sure.

He realised he’d been watching your face a little too long when he saw your eyes dart to the plant in his hands, and a wry, bemused smile began to form on your lips. He had to pull himself away then, and back to the task at hand, because he was more than a little scared of what you would say - and what he would do, in turn - if you noticed just how distracted he was by your lips.

“I brought you something. A plant. An aloe vera plant.” He held it out to you, more awkwardly than he would like, but that smile changed once more anyway. Small, soft, touched. Just like that time he’d tended to your cuts.

“You know, I might not be a nature expert like you are, but that much I could tell,” you retorted, in a way that didn’t match your expression. “What’s the occasion?”

“None. I thought you might like it. It’s a gift.”

“A gift? I’m honoured.” The way you took it from his hands into your own - carefully, delicately, holding it close to your chest - told him you really were. It surprised him; he’d prepared himself for more teasing, more jokes. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was for you to look so… soft. So happy. It might have been what he wanted, the best possible outcome in fact, but he didn’t think you would honour him with it. He didn’t think he would be that lucky, and if he ever would be, it wouldn’t be so soon.

“I also thought you might find it useful. You can use the matured leaves as ointments for cuts.”

“In case I upset any more rabbits, right?”

“Or any other woodland creatures,” Yamato chuckled, with an ease he rarely felt. One he never felt, if he was completely honest, before you. And when you giggled in response, it only magnified that ease, and the ground beneath him felt light. He felt light. How miraculous you were.

“I really do appreciate the gift, Yamato. But unlike you, I don’t have much of a green thumb.”

“Don’t worry, they’re a relatively low-maintenance plant and good for beginners.”

“Hey… Just what are you trying to say?” you asked, laughing, just like he knew you would. Just like he had been counting on. But somehow it was better, greater. “Because if you’re saying I don’t know what I’m doing, you’d be right.”

When you leaned forward, encroaching on the ever-shrinking distance between you, somehow bold and vulnerable simultaneously, it sparked something in him. Something that had been there, for a long time, longer than he cared to admit.

“Well, I’d be happy to give you all the help you need,” he said emphatically, with an unexpected courage. Unexpected even to you, if your wide eyes were any indication. “Whenever you’d like.”

“I’d like that.” Your response was quick. So quick, that it seemed like something had been there for you too, and Yamato wanted to kick himself. Could he really have wasted so much time?

Yamato never made empty promises, as he would make sure you knew, when he showed up again at your apartment the next day.

“Herbie looks lonely,” you’d sighed wistfully, after enthusiastically showing off your beloved gift on the windowsill. Yamato did think that perhaps you were too proud, prematurely confident - it had only been a day, after all - but you were so damn adorable that he kept his mouth shut.

“Herbie?”

“That’s his name.”

“His?”

“Yes,” you said simply.

“He doesn’t have herbs, though. Leafy makes more sense.”

“Names don’t behold to reason, Tenzou,” you smiled, and when you moved to shove his chest, you stopped just as your palm pressed against his muscles. Yamato noticed. You must have been flustered - and it looked adorable on you - because you moved to change the subject. “But Herbie is lonely, though. I think he needs another friend.”

He would make a note of that, but it was a little too late. The atmosphere was different now. That name brought with it intimacy, just as your hand did just now.

So it became easier than Yamato ever thought it would be to close that distance. And when you didn’t stop him, replacing that hand and pressing your own chest flush against his broad one, it only ignited his courage once more. He brought himself closer, lips edging closer, closer, brushing against yours ever so tentatively.

And you didn’t stand for that. You tugged the fabric covering his chin, kissing him with more force than he had dared to. He smiled against your lips, strong hands pulling you even closer, returning your zeal with his own twofold.

He had been counting on that, too.

And when he showed up at your apartment again, with another aloe (what would you call this one? Leafy? Please?), when you responded with raucous laughter - he’d been counting on that too.

“You said Herbie was lonely!”

“That’s right, I did. But he’s not the only one,” you snorted, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He didn’t deny you, because, how the hell could he?

You would tell him, only a little while later, that you hoped he would do that, listen to you so earnestly, even if it was silly - because you’d been counting on that too.

And only a little while later, Yamato decided that maybe, just maybe, he might like to spend a lifetime like this. With you. Counting on each other. For laughter, for light. For love. That something he found so hard to name.

Even if that meant gifting the same plant twice in a row.

***3回***

The third time Yamato did this, it wouldn’t be a mere attempt.

No. Of that he was certain. Even if he had to use his mokuton to keep everything in its place and everybody away. Because he would absolutely not have three proposal attempts thwarted. Not by Kakashi, not by Naruto, and not by -

A bird squawked somewhere, again, Yamato was certain, but when he looked around, there was nothing to be seen. He’’d been hearing the damn thing all day. Some kind of crow, maybe even a magpie, he guessed, yelling, ringing in his ear. Mocking him. So clear that it even sounded like a word.

Caw. Caw. Caw. (Idiot). Caw. Caw. Caw.

Again!

He craned his neck with a reaction speed better suited to battle, but, unsurprisingly, nothing. Again.

Get a grip, he decided with an exhale. He was a shinobi for heaven’s sake; surely he couldn’t let himself get so stumped by some birds, real or imaginary. Never mind that - he had better return to the task at hand. It was probably his own nerves getting the better of him, and who could blame him? It was nerve-wracking - the act, not the decision - and it had failed twice already. But not thrice. Steeling himself, he turned on his heel. He would find you, and he would ask you that question, and you would be surprised.

Attempt #1 had seemed promising enough, at first. A midnight walk. Simple, but the end point would be what had become one of your favourite spots: on the outskirts of the village, in that maze of forest and woods, was a little enclave. It wasn’t the only one, but you had claimed it as your own. Something about this one was special, surrounded by all those trees, the way the moonlight trickled through the leaves and illuminated that clear ground. Safe, grounded, yet somehow magical too. You looked natural there. Yamato still remembered the way your face had looked when you marvelled at the stars the first time he brought you here, luminous, ethereal. A face that left him speechless. He thought he might want to see that face again, lit up for an entirely different reason.

But when he met you at your apartment door, and you popped out, looking, well, he never had the words - the one that was speechless was him. That was typical, but that didn’t make him any better at adjusting to it. Fortunately, you spoke to fill the silence, locking the door behind you and grabbing his arm swiftly.

“I’m excited. We haven’t been to our secret base in so long!”

Yamato smiled. Our secret base. How many more things could be ‘ours’, he wondered. Maybe it was greedy of him, to want so much of you, to want so much with you, but he couldn’t help it.

“The missions have been hectic lately,” you continued. Though he was the one technically ahead of you, it still somehow felt like you were the one pulling him along.

“You’re telling me. I half-expect Kakashi or Genma or someone to show up from around the corner and summon one of us.”

“Ugh, don’t put bad vibes out there. I think they do it on purpose.”

“Right. Sorry.”

The wooden box thudded against his leg the whole walk there, appropriately matching the sensation inside his chest. Fortunately, you hadn’t seemed to notice either, chattering happily about this and that. The walk went on, long but not long enough, but then, they never were. Affirming and reaffirming Yamato’s decision with each step you took. This was going well.

That is, until you almost reached your destination.

Just a few metres from your secret base - which perhaps wasn’t so secret anymore, if it ever was - a smooth, low voice stopped you in your tracks. A familiar voice.

“Hey, guys. You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve been looking for you. I-” Kakashi stopped, his one visible eye darting from Yamato to you. The mask was hiding it, but it was damn obvious the asshole was smirking. “By any chance - could I be interrupting something?”

Before Yamato could retort, and figure out how to answer his senpai’s question without floundering, you already did, gritting your teeth. “Yes.”

“That’s too bad. I’m sure you had something special planned. It is a beautiful night, after all-“

“What do you want, Hatake?” You folded your arms. It wasn’t that you disliked the silver-haired bastard, despite referring to him as such. You just had this uncanny ability to wade through his bullshit. Something at which Yamato both was astounded and envious.

“Ah, right. The Hokage has summoned you, Tenzou. We need you to fix something. The foundation of one of the buildings in town is a little shaky.”

“You’re not supposed to call me that! And right now? But-“ Yamato began, before you laid your hand on his wrist gently, glancing back at him with a warm smile he was familiar with, but wasn’t expecting.

“I warned you about putting out bad vibes.”

That you did.

Yamato sighed, and turned back towards Konoha. Again, he found himself grateful for your laugh, accompanying him back, and even while he rebuilt the foundations. Of course, they weren’t urgent.

And of course, Kakashi vanished as quickly as he appeared.

Attempt #2, just in case, would take place in the village. It was cherry blossom season, so, appropriately romantic, and space under the trees was already filled with the picnic blankets and lovingly packed bentos of so many couples that it would camouflage the two of you quite nicely. Even if Yamato would prefer to do this in isolation, right now, this was the same thing. No one would notice you in the crowd. Definitely not.

“You know, when you said you wanted to go flower-viewing, I didn’t think you’d go all out like this. I would have helped, you know. And I didn’t think you’d go when it was this… lively.” You tucked your ankles underneath you and to the side, getting comfortable on the blanket. Yamato watched the way you sighed in respite, wrists behind you as you leant back, just as mesmerised by you as you were by the cherry blossom petals. “Not that I mind. It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful - yes, yes you were. Yamato cleared his throat. “It is.”

He suspected you noticed his gaze, but you were gracious enough not to draw attention to it, for once. You just looked at the hanami bento with perfectly apt salted sakura onigiri, sushi, kamaboko and countless other intricate little delicacies. “I still can’t believe you put all this together.”

“It wasn’t so much work,” Yamato lied. Pointless, because he suspected you knew he was, too. He crossed his legs in an attempt to get comfortable, and when he did, the ring box damn near fell out of his pocket. He stammered, shoving it back in as inconspicuously as possible. “B-besides, before we get to the food, there’s something else.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. You see, for a while now-“

“Oh dear. Better make it quick,” you interrupted, sighing, collapsing from your wrists onto your side.

“Better- what?” Had he done something wrong already? That would be impressive, even by his standards. He hadn’t even started yet.

You didn’t respond, only pointing to something behind him in resignation with your eyes closed.

“Wow, all this food is gonna go to waste, Captain Yamato!”

“Don’t worry, we can help you with that!”

He shouldn’t have been surprised - why should he get anything he wanted? Why should anything go well? It was him, after all. He didn’t even turn around to look at Naruto and Sakura. And he didn’t have to, because they went ahead and joined you both on the blanket anyway. Lack of space was no obstacle, as nothing was. Sakura at least made a show of guilt, apologising when you sat up to make room for her, where as Naruto just planted himself next to Yamato himself, chuckling as he dug straight into the bento.

“So, what were the two of you doing?” Sakura asked knowingly, surreptitiously nibbling on one of the sakura onigiri. Yamato didn’t even feel like arguing; he had to admit it was picture perfect.

“Exactly what it looks like! Trying to have a hanami party without us,” Naruto said indignantly between mouthfuls.

“We almost got away with it too,” you murmured, giving in and taking an onigiri for yourself, but not before nudging Yamato’s foot with your own.

Next time.

Next time it would be, Yamato resigned, and resigned himself to the fact that his proposal had become a team picnic, funded by his truly. Because, why should their actual leader do it, right?

Next time, the third time would not be Attempt #3 of #?.

Next time, he would ask you ‘will you marry me?’ In no uncertain terms, and you would give him an answer, in no uncertain terms.

回

In hindsight, it’s an easy decision.

When he sees you standing there.

When you smile at him with that unwavering smile.

When you run to him, as if you’re even happier to see him than he is to see you (that’s impossible), when you giggle and his world is just a little brighter, lighter. Easier.

When he thinks about how you asked his name only once, and when you finally used it, he feels more like himself than anyone else.

When he thinks about how you graciously accepted his gift, and how it led to the kiss of which the memory still gives him goosebumps.

When he thinks about how you let him go back to his duties that night with a smile, and you didn’t leave his side the whole night.

When he thinks about how you let the kids ruin your picnic, and though you were probably disappointed, you shared the food and laughed with them for hours anyway.

When he reaches into his pocket, and you laugh.

“I wondered if you had something in there. I thought you were just very happy to see me.”

Yamato stops, shaking his head and smiling in disbelief. The blush doesn’t settle on his cheeks this time, because, well, of course. Maybe you weren’t completely unpredictable.

And he wasn’t completely predictable, as you would come to know in a few seconds.

It’s not like him to do something so impetuous, so unthought out, so unprepared - but then, then he hadn’t planned for you either. Not to mention, his thought out attempts were just that, attempts. Which is something he suspects the entirety of Team Kakashi now knows.

He holds the box in his hand. It had been hard to craft, which he’s sure you won’t believe, because, why would you? But it had.

When he sees you still staring at him, in your inquisitive, adorable way, in something that looks a little like bewilderment - it’s rare, but he very much likes it on you - he flicks the box open. He doesn’t have to think about it anymore.

“Will you marry me?” Yamato asks quietly but emphatically, matter-of-factly.

When you throw your arms around his neck, forgetting to mind where you are, he figures that’s a yes. Even if he wishes that you’d studied the ring at least a little - he’d worked hard on it - and even let him slip it onto your finger.

But it doesn’t really matter, he admits, and holds you closer.

There’ll be time for all that.

Because Yamato knows now, that simple, but all-consuming fact.

It’s an easy decision for you too.

#yamato x reader #yamato #naruto #naruto fanfiction #yamato imagines #yamato scenario #pfwrites #please say YES to this man he loves you SO MUCH #finding a yamato gif was so hard #he's always with someone #he seems to be only thought of because of his connection to kakashi :(#speaking of the kaka-man.... y'all want something spicy?#cuz the next request...#idk if it'll be the next one i work on there's just so much spice requested and like... loads of other writers do that way better than me

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feral-ella-flynn · 3 years

Text

Paying the Toll, pt 2: M Troll x F Human, SFW (for now)

Part 1

Male Troll + Female Human

still SFW (so far)

2.5K/6.5K word draft

tagging @feralprose @monster-bait @apocalypticromantic666 @pre-schoolervengance @bresilienne-ami @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @dont-call-me-a-faerie @kirmalight (comment to be tagged in updates!)

I bet no one expected this to be updated! Including me! This installment is definitely not as long as I intended, because I got really hung up on details--that’s why I’m posting anyway, to get some momentum so that hopefully the third part will be both longer and not so tardy.

Escaping a goblin raid on your village leads you to a bridge, but you have nothing to offer the troll who guards it for a toll...except yourself

You wake in darkness. At first you aren't sure you're awake at all--it's only by touching your own eyelids that you can feel sure they're open. It seems to make no difference between the thick, pressing dark around you either way.

“Mattie?” you whisper, your voice thin and hoarse.

There’s no answer, and understanding comes crashing down on you, like floodwater overwhelming a dam. You are not in your cramped room under the eaves of the big house, Mathilde is not sleeping on the narrow bed an armspan away–if she’s lucky, perhaps she was able to hide in the cellars or the attics, somewhere that was safe enough until the goblin raiders felt they had run out of things to raze and ravish and moved on. Or perhaps help would come, from the regiment billeted outside the market town, or from rangers who might have been near enought to see the smoke. If Mattie was unlucky….

A sob catches in your dry throat, then turns to choking dry heaves that leave you shuddering. Bile burns on your tongue. You huddle into the nest of furs, remembering now where you are and how you came to be here, naked and alone in the pitch black.

Not alone. There is the hush of leather brushing against stone, a faint musky scent.

“Brúsi?”

“Aye.” The troll’s gravel-rough voice is low and close–you almost reach out, ready to blunder once again into his arms rather than be alone with your fears.

The scrape of flint is loud enough in the silence to make you jump. Sparks illuminate the troll, kneeling at your side, and as he coaxes the tinder to unfurl into flame you hastily wrap a fur around your bare flesh. Whatever mood made you so bold before has been banished by your nightmares.

“Is it morning?”

The troll shrugs. “Near enough.”

“Shall I–shall I make breakfast for you?” Your fingers knead anxiously in the soft nap of the pelt that you clutch closed over your chest. “What do you like for breakfast?”

The troll–Brúsi–glances at you, his head tilted in the way that is already familiar. You think it means he’s just as bewildered by your contract, and by you, as you are yourself.

“Dried goat,” he says. “Morning meal, evening meal. Unless there is a new goat.”

“Oh. Where do the goats come from?”

He shrugs. “The bridge provides.”

Well. You take a deep breath, pushing the fear and panic of the last day, of the dark dreams, down into a tight ball at the bottom of your stomach, where you can ignore it for a little while. “Does the bridge ever provide eggs?”

And so you begin your month as housekeeper to a troll.

Your clothes are badly stained, and chilly from being spread out on the stone floor, but they're dry and you dress in them anyway, trying to ignore the scrutiny of Brúsi’s dark blue eyes as he watches you. He seems fascinated by the layers as you lace your stays over your shift, tie the strings of your petticoat, and your cheeks burn with a blush as you finally button your gown. You do your best with the tangles in your hair--letting it hide your face until your heart stops thumping in your ears before you twist it into a hasty braid.

There are no eggs. But you take a lantern the troll indicates and follow him into another cave that serves as a store room.

“There is goat,” he says, pointing at the considerable supply of dried meat, “and other goods, if tha wish them.” His gesture at the heaps of bags, crates, jars, casks, boxes–all jumbled together and shoved to one side–is dismissive, as if there is nothing of value to be found. You stare wide-eyed at a bolt of fine silk, at the glint of gold from a carelessly overturned casket with a broken lid.

“What is all this?”

“Payment for the toll, for when there were no goats.”

“You don’t do anything with the things paid for the toll? They just sit and rot?”

He shrugs. “I butcher the goats.”

You can only shake your head, but the practicality can’t be denied–gold and silk isn’t much use in a cave, and it’s with less wonder but more delight that you find flour, oil, and salt.

Breakfast is fried bread--and goat meat.

Once the meal is prepared and cleaned away, the troll vanishes up the dark tunnel. He takes no lantern with him. He also doesn't say a word to you before he leaves, and you stand in the cave for a while, expecting him to come back with instructions, or–well, something. But he doesn’t, and you can only twist your hands in the skirt of your gown for so long. Eventually you pick up the lantern and explore.

There is little enough to see. Other than what you noticed when you arrived, there is an alcove that must be where the troll sleeps, on piled furs that smell musky but not unpleasant. There is the storage cave, although it seems larger than it did at first, because you realize that you can’t see the far wall before the circle of light gives way to darkness.

And then there is the tunnel entrance, where your new employer disappeared, and which presumably leads out, to--your stomach lurches at the memory of being upside down from the sky–the underside of the bridge. But perhaps that had been an illusion, and the tunnel merely led out to an opening in the bank underneath the bridge? You had been half out of your mind with fear, after all. Maybe you dreamed that part.

Maybe…maybe you could simply walk out of this tunnel, out of the dark, and walk all the way home.

Except that you agreed to a contract. And the troll did say he wouldn’t eat you, wouldn’t even touch you, which was more than any of the men at the big house ever promised...none of them had touched you, but you knew that was because you had been careful, so careful, all the time, to be invisible.

It had helped that Mattie made it easy to fade into the background. She flaunted her pretty curls and winsome dimples, and when she sometimes crept into your shared attic room well after midnight she always had a new length of fine fabric for a dress or a necklace of amber beads to show for it. You asked once if she wasn’t afraid of falling pregnant, but she just shrugged.

“I know to be careful,” she said, and hid the coins she’d gotten for selling her latest bauble away beneath her bed.

Thinking of Mattie makes your eyes sting with tears, and reminds you that probably there was no home to walk back to–and if you tried, there would likely be nothing to be done there except burying the dead. You leave the tunnel entrance alone, and busy yourself with organizing the heaped goods in the storage cave.

When Brúsi returns, he brings you eggs, freshly laid and nested in a straw packed basket.

“They had no goat." He shrugs.

Other than struggling to invent new ways of preparing goat meat, most of your time is spent sorting. You find all manner of things in the storage cave, from precious jewels to plain linen fabric. The gems and gold you store in caskets, and then can’t shift on your own–Brúsi laughs at you, and picks them up with one hand, arranging them neatly along one wall as you direct him. You stack bolts of fabric, folding shorter lengths neatly into a another chest, you line up swords with gold wrapped hilts, swords with elaborately carved scabbards, swords that are short, swords that are nearly as long as you are tall, and then there are maces and axes and other things you can’t name. There’s even a pair of pistols in a tooled leather box, their handles gleaming mother of pearl. It’s more treasure than you ever imagined, and you feel that you’re in a dragon’s den instead of a troll’s cave--except that Brúsi shows little interest in the goods, except for the goat meat.

“If you don't have a use for these things, why accept them?” you asked, after the third day of sorting boxes and bundles and barrels, and still not finding the back wall of the cave. You’d found a crown, heavy and lumpy, like something out of an ancient grave, and under it a belt of bronze scales that linked together.

The troll just shrugged. “They are the toll, for the bridge. There must be a toll.”

“Then…" you bite your lip, but blurt "can I use some things?”

“If tha hast a use for them, then mayhap the bridge meant them for tha to use.”

“You make it sound like the bridge is alive,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bolts of fabric, already imagining yourself in a dress made of such soft material.

“The bridge is the bridge,” Brúsi says.

“What does that mean?”

He just shrugs.

You sigh, picking up a bolt of wool–practical, and still finer than anything you’ve ever worn. “If the bridge provides, can I give it a list? I need thread, needles, scissors, buttons…I can’t keep wearing this dress,” you gesture down at yourself. “Not without something else to wear while I wash it, at least, but I can’t make anything without supplies. And for that matter I need soap–”

Brúsi tilts his head. “Tha may always ask the bridge, but it works slowly. Simpler for tha to go to a market.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling open. “I can? I mean, is that allowed? I thought…”

He stares at you, the intense blue of his eyes unblinking, and you finally shrug. “I just thought I couldn’t leave the cave.”

“Not for long, but art not bound to the bridge as I am. Come.” He scoops a handful of coins into a pouch and leads you into the tunnel.

The ground slopes upward under your feet, and after a time there is a door before you, swinging outward. Brúsi ducks under its arch, his broad form filling the opening. When he doesn't move to let you through, you realize that he's blocking the way deliberately. Unease spikes through you.

"Is something wrong?"

"The bridge made tha sick before," he says. “Tha shouldst close thine eyes.” You squint suspiciously up at him–is he laughing at you?–but obey. You hear the rattle of his bone-decorated belt as he steps toward you, but then he stops. “I must touch tha,” he says. “Just to lift tha over the topside.”

“All right,” you whisper. You stifle a gasp as his enormous hands circle your waist, lifting you easily off of your feet, and then after a blur of motion you feel stone under you again.

When you open your eyes, you’re on the narrow stone arch of the bridge. Your lantern flame becomes suddenly pale compared to the warm sunlight that makes you blink and squint. There is no dark and shadowed forest hemming in the river. Instead there is a road, smooth hard dirt fringed with wildflowers on either side, and the rooftops of a village in the distance.

“Where…” You look down at the bridge under your bare feet.

“The bridge is all bridges,” Brúsi says. He holds out the leather bag of coins, and you take it, staggering a bit at the weight. “Buy whatever tha need.”

You hesitate, glancing from the troll to the road. What is there to stop you from walking away and never returning, from making a life somewhere? The bag in your hand holds more money than you had ever expected to earn in your life. There would be nothing to hold you to the bridge…except your promise.

“Tha canst not escape the bridge.” Brúsi seems to be reading your thoughts, although he’s not even looking at you. He’s gazing down at the water. “Every bridge tha sets foot on will be this bridge, until the toll is paid.”

“Of course.” The bag of coins drags at your arms, and you fumble it open, taking out a handful. “I should be able to get everything I need with these–it would be dangerous to carry all the rest of this.”

The troll frowns, glancing from you to the distant rooftops. “Danger from other humans?”

“Only if I seem to have more money than I should,” you assure him hastily. “It would get attention from the wrong kind of humans. I'll be careful.”

The coins bite into your palm as your fingers clench unconsciously. The frown creases his forehead, not smoothed away by your reassurances, and you half expect him to shake his head and pick you up under his arm again, ready to toss you back under the bridge.

“Please?”

You bite your lip too late to keep the word in, but there are lazy curls of smoke rising from the distant chimneys, and you can hear the lowing of cattle nearby, the friendly chime of chapel bells...and all you can think about is cheese. Cheese, and fruit to pair it with, or potatos, perhaps. Honeycakes. Your stomach rebels at the very thought of dried goat.

Brúsi jerks his chin toward the road. “Go, then. The bridge will be waiting for tha to return.”

You hand off the sack of coins–your shoulders more than grateful to be relieved of its weight–and the troll adds it to the other oddments that dangle from his belt among the bones. He folds his arms.

The handful of coins you kept are barely enough to make your pocket sag with their weight, but you can feel them as a reassuring lump under your skirts. You run anxious hands over your hair and stained gown, smoothing uselessly at wrinkles.

“I wish I had been able to bathe properly,” you mutter. “I look like a ragamuffin.”

But your hands and face are clean, your hair neatly tied back, and dusk is not far off, so perhaps your bare feet will not be noticed. You step from the cool stone of the bridge to the warm hardpacked dirt of the road.

"I'll be back s--" Your voice breaks off as you glance over your shoulder. The bridge behind you is a simple one of wooden logs, straddling a stream that a child could leap across. Gooseflesh prickles the back of your neck. You hurry down the road towards the village without looking back a second time.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #m monster x female reader #troll boyfriend #Brúsi the Bridge Troll #troll lover #Feral Flynn Fics #monster romance #fantasy romance

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willowdove · 2 years

Text

The historic figures borrowed for OFMD were not good people, now what?

@land-shark-is-here and @thiefnessman

I wrote a response to that OFMD post that tumblr lovingly vanished into the abyss (and that post is apparently unrebloggable now??), so I’ll write it again and just tag y’all I guess. I agree no show, no matter how progressive, is above criticism and analysis. And I also get some people are going to find the borrowing of historic figures who were terrible to be uncomfy no matter what. No shade if it genuinely ruins the show for you to know the real Steve Bonnet was a slave owner.

I was trying to make a distinction between Hamilton and OFMD (which I should point out I haven’t actually seen, this is what I’ve garnered through dashboard osmosis) that I’m not sure correctly came across. Hamilton is a historical drama meant to actually reenact the founding of the US and the life of Alexander Hamilton. Genre conventions dictate you should view it as mostly truthful, with some exaggeration. So I do think it brushing over slavery and repainting of historic figures as abolitionists (among other exaggerations, untruths, and plain old framing) has more potential to be misleading and damaging. Whereas OFMD is a period piece romantic comedy. It’s genre conventions dictate that most historical features are props more than anything, and that it should be viewed as mostly fictional. So while both pieces of media are comparable in erasing context, I was trying to say OFMD is a lesser offender, since it should be more apparent to audiences that it is a constructed fictional narrative.

Again, no shade if the premise of borrowing actual historical figures who were bad people as a prop for a romantic comedy bothers you in any case. That’s totally understandable. But, and forgive me if this is straw-manning your argument, I don’t think that should mean the media is completely unconsumable for everyone. Because others will be willing to parse the story from the reality.

Also I did take issue with the article suggesting that the way to fix glossing over the slavery element was to canonically lampshade the plantation or give Bonnet an arc about it. Because yes, it did pretty much argue for this, lamenting both the absence of acknowledgement and that the director’s hadn’t "challenged themselves to a different choice”. I don’t think such a different choice, to make fictional, sympathetic Bonnet a slave owner too, would have worked under any circumstances other than an irrevocable transformation into an antagonist... which is not what anyone is watching the show to see.

Anyway if y’all have any other thoughts (or want to chide me for digging a deeper hole for myself without realizing) feel free to respond.

Article link for reference: https://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/what-to-watch/ct-ent-our-flag-means-death-no-mention-of-slavery-review-20220407-grmr4dgqzjg7zo2hfushk7elqm-story.html

#sorry about the paywall #cant find the pictures #ofmd #hamilton #the discourse

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n00dl3gal · 3 years

Text

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click.

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper.

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.”

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper.

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.”

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian.

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t-

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English.

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.”

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa.

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.”

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off.

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.”

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-”

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.”

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.”

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.”

“Yeah, probably not…”

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians.

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually.

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.”

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them.

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed-

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time.

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him.

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.”

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered.

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said.

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-”

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right.

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!”

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.”

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?”

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased.

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained.

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.”

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly.

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered.

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies.

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room.

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all.

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life.

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket.

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over.

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant.

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest.

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!”

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.”

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy.

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.”

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.”

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.”

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren.

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor.

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering.

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?”

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key.

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother.

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.”

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.”

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.”

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?”

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony.

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though.

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly.

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming.

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close.

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time.

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas?

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…”

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.”

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!”

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time.

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel.

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested.

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.”

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.”

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.”

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.”

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!”

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?”

#father-son bonding au #Team Fortress 2 #team fortress 2 au #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 scout's mom #dad spy #thetriggeredhappy #spy x scout's ma #noodle writes

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

#death and an angel #my fic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #soulmate au #my writing

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wolfstar-supremacy-innit · 3 years

Text

"Tell who?"- Part 3

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 3 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy <3

I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I lie?! Why didn’t I disprove it? This was it. This was the end of the world. He knew Sirius wouldn’t react terribly badly. He wouldn’t express disgust or resentment, not after Remus confided in him about how sensitive he was on the question of his own sexuality. But it would be painfully awkward. Their connection would never be the same; it couldn’t. Remus dreaded losing his best friend. But it was done. Sirius’ best friend was James anyway. Remus buried his face in his hands as tears stung his eyes. He settled into his new hideout and slept there for the night. He couldn’t bear to face Sirius.

In the morning, Remus made an effort to arrive to Charms class as late as possible, right as Flitwick was commencing his lesson. He slid into the chair at the end of their usual table, next to James. Sirius was on the other end. “Where were you, mate? You scared us,” James whispered. Peter was gazing at Remus over his shoulder.

Remus cleared his throat. “Sorry, fell asleep in my spot,” he said. In his peripheral vision, Sirius was leaning far on the table, trying to catch his attention. But Remus took it upon himself to laser focus on the lesson, his nose buried so deep into his notes, it was nearly touching the parchment.

After the class, he bolted again. He just couldn’t face him. He couldn’t. He returned to his hiding place and waited out his free period and most of lunch. He had to repeat his breathing exercises more than ever. Suddenly, Remus paused. Determination was rising in his chest. Then he forced himself to pull it together. It wasn’t like Remus to run away from his problems. If being a werewolf had taught him anything, it was that neglecting and avoiding your issues doesn’t make them vanish. Makes them worse, even. Also, Remus didn’t have a lot. He had his parents, music, books, magic, and he had his friends. There wasn’t much he prised more than his friendships with James, Sirius and Peter. Sirius knowing about his crush was thoroughly embarrassing, yes, but it wasn’t worth completely losing his friends. Plus, he was due for a shower. So Remus took a few more deep breaths, dusted himself off, and headed for the dorm. When he got there, nobody was inside. He took his sweet time in the shower, allowing the warm water to drain out more of his nervous energy. I can handle this.

When Remus got out, Sirius was there, lying on his stomach, doing homework. He looked up. Remus put on a brave face and said: “Hi.” Sirius’ worried expression was exchanged with a slightly more relaxed one. “Hi.” Remus sat on his own bed looking in Sirius’ general direction, but not quite at him, cleared his throat, and said: “Um, sorry I bolted. That was childish.”

“That’s alright,” Sirius replied in the tiniest voice. It was very unlike his usual loud, assertive self.

Remus wanted the bed to swallow him whole, but he pushed through. “We don’t have to talk about the... thing. Or acknowledge it. It’s not a big deal, really.” A lie. But it needed to be done. Sirius didn’t say anything. Remus was certain he didn't know what to say. Reaching into his bag, Remus retrieved his Charms textbook and started on his own homework. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius still looking at him for another minute, then he went back to work. The silence was agonising and tense, but Remus had known it would be. They would just have to persevere. After a while, Sirius asked: “Hey, could you help me with this? It’s Arithmancy. I procrastinated, and now I have to hand it in in half an hour.” Remus snorted. Their next class was Arithmancy, and only he and Sirius took it. So, Sirius was choosing to act like nothing happened. That was okay with Remus. “Sure.”

Only, as it happens, Sirius didn’t ignore it. Throughout the next week, he started acting a little peculiar. He was still loud and fooling around, but he would also hold doors for Remus, for example. If anyone knew Sirius, they knew doors were either held for him, or he would just swing them open and let them slam behind him into the next person’s face. Even James noticed it and asked him if he had brain damage. Also, a couple times at meals, Sirius would scoot his seat closer to Remus’, making their arms brush while they ate. The first time it happened, Remus blushed so profusely, he could see giant pink splotches splattered all over his neck and cheeks in his reflection in one of the large silver bowls on the table. Sirius stopped calling him ‘mate’ too. Occasionally, he’d ask for help with his homework, even though he clearly didn’t need it. It all made Remus want to shoot himself in the face with a hex. It seemed like Sirius was pitying him, and he despised it. It was somehow worse than Sirius being awkward and distant around him.

January’s full moon fell on the 25th, and Remus’ transformation didn’t go particularly smoothly. It was likely one of the worst ones out of all those he spent with his friends as animagi. He was fairly confident it was because of the whole Sirius thing. Just because he decided to deal with it didn’t mean it wasn’t taking its toll. Remus was stressed all the time. Not just because of Sirius, of course, but that was a key factor. When he woke up in the hospital wing the following morning, his friends were there. James rambled on enthusiastically about an upcoming Quidditch match. Remus didn’t really comprehend half of it, but still tried to nod at appropriate times. Peter piped in once in a while to agree with James or add something. Sirius, however, was completely silent the whole visit. About an hour later, Madam Pomfrey chased James, Sirius and Peter out, but Remus didn’t mind too much. He was knackered. He drifted off to sleep before the boys were even out the door.

Later that day, at dusk, Remus sat in his hospital bed reading a muggle novel when Sirius popped in. Or rather sneaked in. He was alone this time. “Had a free period. Thought you might want some company,” he explained. Elation started brewing in Remus’ stomach.

“Oh, brilliant, thanks.”

“What are you up to, then?” Sirius sat on the bed.

Remus lifted his book. “Reading. Not much to do here, really.”

“Sweet. Will you read to me?”

“What?”

Sirius smiled. “Will you read out loud for me?” He turned around, plopped on the bed face-up with his boots propped up on the railing at the foot of the bed. He tucked his hands behind his head, half lying on Remus’ legs.

“Oh, okay.” Heat sneaked up Remus’ neck. He read to Sirius until it was almost time for him to leave for his next class.

“Transfiguration next. Think I’m gonna gouge out my eyes if we don’t move on from teacup to gerbil.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You mastered it two lessons ago.” Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. Sirius let out a soft laugh.

“Moony...” He was now sitting on the bed next to Remus. “I feel like this is my fault.” He reached out and gently touched the bandage on Remus’ arm. Sirius was referring to Remus’ beat-up state.

“What? Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Well, because of the... You know... I mean, you’re upset and-“ Remus’ heartbeat picked up swiftly. They hadn’t so much as mentioned the crush since that day in the dorm.

“I’m not upset. Really. I just have a lot on my mind.” He searched his brain for something more to say to make Sirius feel better. It wasn’t his fault at all. It was Remus’ for letting this bother him so much. “It’s not you.”

“You sure?” His eyes were so sad; it was painful.

“Yes, Sirius, really. It’s not you, okay?”

“Okay.” After a pause, Sirius continued: “Oh, I almost forgot. Brought you something.” He smiled, finally. After rummaging in his bag, Sirius emerged with a stack of chocolate bars and dropped them into Remus’ lap. They were Remus’ favourite. Warmth fluttered across his chest. Sirius had to have ordered these from Honeydukes. Now it was Remus’ time to smile.

“Oh, brilliant! Thanks, Sirius.”

“No problem. Right. I better clear off, then. I can’t handle another detention with Minnie for something as stupid as being late.”

“Right. See you in the dorm then.”

“See ya, Moony. Oh, loved the reading. We should definitely do that again!” Then he walked out the door. Remus’ cheeks flamed crimson. He sank deep into the covers, yanking them over his head. He’s gonna be the death of me.

***

After that visit at the hospital, another strange thing started happening. On several occasions, Remus caught Sirius staring at him, then quickly looking away when their eyes connected. In class, at meals, in the common room as the four of them sat in front of the fireplace doing homework. It made Remus very nervous and a little confused. Furthermore, with James’ upcoming match, Sirius and Remus found themselves alone more often than not. James either had practice or was in the library going over tactics for his team, and Peter loved tagging along. When Sirius and Remus were alone in the dorm, Sirius would usually suggest that Remus read to him. At first, they were in their respective beds, but then Sirius started sneaking onto Remus’ bed as he read. It made Remus’ heart thump every time, because Sirius Black in his bed, well. That was a sight to see. He would lounge on his back, one ankle over the other, hands behind his head, eyes shut, and listen. He never fell asleep. Occasionally, he would laugh or comment on an interesting segment.

One of those times, both of them were on Remus’ bed as Remus read “A Stranger in a Strange Land” by Robert A. Heinlein. Sirius liked the muggle books. He was in his usual disposition, with half of his hair loosely and messily pulled back with a hair tie. Remus adored that look on Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged in level with Sirius’ hips, with the book sprawled onto his lap.

“Hey, got a cig,” Sirius asked as Remus was turning the page.

“Yep.” He used Accio to fetch his rolling equipment from his bedside table, placed the contents on the rizla and performed his spell. It rolled smoothly, the tobacco and filter tucked tightly into the paper. He’d been practising.

“Hey, that’s one thing off your resolutions list,” Sirius said, smiling as he accepted the cigarette. Their fingers touched.

“Well, technically, it’s two, isn’t it...,” Remus trailed off, clearing his throat. Christ, why did I say that?! He could already feel the blood rushing in his ears. Maybe Sirius wouldn’t get the reference... But Sirius pushed himself onto his elbows and peered at him. Remus pretended to pack up his cigarette equipment with intense concentration. Sirius sat all the way up and leaned so close, Remus could feel his breath. Nervousness sparked off goosebumps all over Remus’ skin. He swallowed thickly. Sirius smelled of mint and expensive shampoo. “Moony,” he said, and Remus finally turned to face him. Their noses were less than two centimetres apart. Remus’ heart was hammering against his ribs.

Sirius glanced at his lips, then slowly leaned in and closed the distance. Remus fluttered his eyes shut as adrenaline set his insides ablaze. The kiss was warm and gentle. “Sirius..,” Remus started, but the other boy just connected their lips again, this time kissing him more eagerly, and Remus just gave over. Sirius was letting him know this wasn’t charity; he really wanted it. He licked into Remus’ mouth delicately, grasping the back of his neck to pull him closer. Remus had never had a real tongue kiss before, but Sirius was leading him, and it all came naturally. Without warning, he felt tears burning behind his closed eyes. Remus had never, not even for a moment, let himself get caught up in the idea of Sirius liking him back. He knew rejection would shatter his soul, and he couldn’t let himself be torn apart by his own fantasies. But it wasn’t a fantasy anymore, and Remus was overwhelmed with the relief of letting go. Of finally allowing himself to crave what he'd been pushing down for months. His favourite person wanting him back. He entwined his fingers into Sirius’ hair and kissed him back intensely. They were both breathing heavily, then Sirius placed his other palm on Remus’ upper thigh. A tingling sensation shot up his lower back as he inhaled a long breath through his nose. Sirius was remarkably skilled, Remus noted.

Remus lost all sense of time. He didn’t know how long they kissed, it simultaneously felt like minutes and hours. Suddenly, they leapt apart as steps and chatter echoed on the stairs leading to the dorm. Sirius stood up and hurriedly smoothed down his hair. Remus wiped his lips with the back of his hand and frantically covered his lap with the covers. He was tight in his trousers. Christ. He wondered whether Sirius noticed as the heat blazed his cheeks. Peter and James trudged into the room, still talking.

“Alright lads,” James said, sauntered to his bed and started taking off his Quidditch robes.

Sirius cleared his throat, then said: “Uh, yeah. Brilliant.” His voice came out lower that usual.

"Bloody amazing practice today!"

“Oh, you guys Should have seen them! I could barely keep track of the Quaffle! Ravenclaw hasn’t got a chance,” Peter prattled on, but Remus couldn’t focus. His brain was whirring a thousand miles a minute. Holy shit, was the only coherent sentence his mind could congregate. He could still feel the the ghost of Sirius’ kiss on his lips.

Minutes later, Sirius returned to his usual banter and mucking about with James. If something different was going on inside his head, it didn’t show. A sudden arrow of disappointment and yearning shot through Remus’ chest. Was this just a one-off? His excitement dwindled for a moment, but when he glanced over to Sirius again, he was already looking at him. They smiled at each other. It didn’t matter anyway. Remus felt like this kiss could power his brain for all eternity. It had been like something straight out of a dream.

Part 4 will probably take me a little longer, given that I basically had the first 3 parts drafted when I posted the first one. Also 4 will probs be the last one. Hope you like it so far! :) <3

Part 1 Part 2

53 notes · View notes

willgrahymn · 4 years

Text

Crushing Fear

wow can you believe I’m posting one of my fics on tumblr? me neither.

Tags: prinxiety, love confessions, some point close after FWSA, flower language, some swearing, and light angst but mostly fluff (oh and I throw shade at Janus).

Summary: Virgil didn't even remember how long he had spent repressing his dumb crush, but with Thomas falling in love, it felt harder to ignore the feelings welling up in his chest. All he knew was that he couldn't admit it out loud. Luckily for him, Roman was a romantic who couldn't stand to let a chance at love go uninvited, even if he didn't always feel deserving of it.

Word count: 3334

I’ll reblog with ao3 link since I know tumblr is dumb about it :)

There were a lot of things Virgil loved about Roman. He loved the way Roman would push back his hair whenever he caught a glimpse of himself or felt nervous and he loved the way it always fell in his face again. He loved the way his eyes lit up when Virgil asked about a show or a musical he knew the prince liked. To be honest, it was hard to think of something he didn't love. Even things he once thought were annoying had become endearing to him.

It didn’t matter. He had a reputation to at least try to maintain, he’d already gone so damn soft around the others since the light sides and Thomas came to get him back and Roman made that sweet little speech in the darkness of his room.

“You make us better.” It was like a song he played on repeat. At the time, Roman was the last person he expected to convince him that this could be his home – his family – but somehow he did. He may have been a jerk early on, but maybe, Virgil thought, he really was a knight in shining armor. Roman was more like him than he once thought; using fake confidence to cover up insecurities was nothing new.

And now, years later, here he was lying in bed like a yearning gay fool with music that wasn’t loud enough to block out his thoughts. He figured his little crush would be something that he could just hide away until it wasn’t even there. That plan was failing horribly though, especially when Roman could steal his breath by just looking at him. He didn't know how to handle feelings that felt bigger than himself.

Would it be smart to try something now? Probably not. What would he even do? Roman always talked of big, grand gestures that could literally and figuratively sweep one off their feet. Virgil didn’t consider himself good at plenty of things, and wooing someone like he was in a movie happened to be on the list. The farthest he'd gotten with confrontation was making Thomas talk to Nico, all because he couldn't stand to see Roman so heartbroken. He could feel the darkness below his eyes lighten to that embarrassingly glittery purple at the memory of how proud Roman was.

But Roman was Creativity and had his own little kingdom in the imagination. Virgil was sure that if he wanted a boyfriend he could just make the man of his dreams who would do anything and everything for him without the slightest hesitation. It seemed existence wasn’t fair like that.

He could just barely hear a knock sounding at the door, Virgil's eyes immediately darting over to where the sound had come. He debated whether or not he should respond. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like his friends, but his same old avoidant tendencies from before never went away.

“Virgil?” Roman asked. His voice making Virgil freeze and want to melt away at the same time. “Are you awake?”

Fuck, shit, some other words Patton would disapprove of. What time was it? 1:30? He couldn’t blame Roman for assuming he was still out, especially since it was the truth not too long ago. He almost felt sorry for his sleep schedule, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter how hard Logan tried to help he always found himself digging through the kitchen at 5 in the morning, and not because he was an early riser. He paused his music, hanging his headphones on his headboard. Listening to Sally’s Song for the 17th time could wait for later.

He heard Roman laugh, and it felt like roses.

“That’s alright. If anyone here knows anything about beauty sleep, it’s me. The glasses gays are insisting that I awaken the beast though, so you better at least have something on before I barge in.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if Roman was talking to himself or knew he was being heard. He just burrowed deeper under his covers. He didn't want Roman to find him awake and think he was ignoring him, even if it was kind of the truth.

The door creaked. It sounded like something from a shitty horror movie. The heavy footsteps didn’t make it any more calming either. Roman was never this quiet. He refused to open his eyes, even as his blanket was pulled away from his face. He couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as he felt cool air shock his skin.

“Awh, c’mon! I’m the actor here. Your eyes were closed too tight, for one thing,”

Virgil sighed, opening his eyes and squinting at the light. “I thought you were here to wake me up, not give me acting lessons.”

“Good morning to you too, Mourning Glory. It’s not my fault if you want to hide away all day, I’m just giving tips on being more realistic.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his lip to resist smiling. Wanting to stay calm as if he knew what he was doing.

“You’ve teased me about being a vampire before. Can’t I play the part?”

“Oh, trust me, you’re perfect for the role. Sadly for you, there are two very insistent Sides saying you have to be a real functioning part of the mind, so unless you want me to carry you out there and make a whole scene, you better come down on your own.”

Virgil sighed, rolling onto his back as his eyes adjusted to the light. The two stared at each other. Testing each other. Not getting out of bed never sounded more tempting.

He gave in, rambling. “Sure, okay, whatever.” He sighed, reaching out and taking hold of Roman’s hand, letting the prince pull him upright. Whether it was he or Roman who ended up bringing them so close was something he could stay up late thinking about later. Now wasn’t the time to focus on rough palms or scarred skin that he once bandaged up while cursing out the ever-so-reckless Roman for sneaking out on quests, leaving Virgil to hunt him down with nothing but adrenaline and a certain level of knowingness in his dread.

He tried to bite back a yawn. His eyes widening at the warm feeling of a hand pressed to his face, of a thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. It wasn’t unwelcome, to be honest, he could probably fall back asleep just like this. He’d be okay waking up every morning if they were like this. If the romantic side offered it. If Virgil would allow himself to accept and experience it.

“How long have you been up?”

“Anywhere between 20 minutes to 2 hours. I don’t really know.”

Roman smiled, betraying the worried look in his eyes. It was probably just the effect of his room, that’s what Virgil hoped it was anyway. He tried not to show any disappointment when Roman’s hand fell to the bed.

“I’ll be down in a few,” Virgil continued, “just let me take care of my makeup first.”

Roman’s eyes trailed him as he got up and moved over towards his desk in the corner of the room, flicking on the light as he went by. Why is he fucking staring?

“While I’m here, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a quest this evening? Or maybe we could throw a ball for the mind palace? I know it’s not your thing, but I thought it might be fun? Or y’know, something else more low-key.”

“Uh, yeah you know I’m not big on big things,” Virgil replied, looking over to the prince picking at a loose thread on the cuffs of his sleeves. “You know if you want to hang out you can just ask, you don't need some extravagant event going on to get me alone with you.”

Roman nodded, not seeming any calmer than before. Virgil's brows furrowed, worries flowed through him as if it were his blood. He didn't want to make Roman talk if he didn't want to, but god was it nerve-racking.

At the very least, it seemed like he wouldn't be putting on any more black eyeshadow to try and hide its changes.

Roman, on the other hand, decided not to question why the Side no longer seemed interested in putting his makeup on, and being grateful for the fact Virgil took advantage of the fact they could conjure themselves into different outfits rather than changing right then and there.

The two stayed there, an awkward silence taking over the room before a crash sounded from the living room.

“We should probably go.”

Virgil simply nodded, pulling his jacket tighter around as he followed Roman out of the room.

Luckily, the crash had only come from Patton knocking over a stack of DVDs, CDs, and a few other things. Another lost-glasses incident. It was a miracle nothing got broken.

The day itself would have felt completely normal if not for the fact Roman kept looking at him. Starting off as unsure as they did in his room, and slowly brightening like he had finally figured out a plothole in one of his stories. It was even more unsettling when he realized Roman was no longer there, vanished off to do god knows what.

So Virgil spent the next couple of hours trying to ignore the feeling of his fears eating him from the inside out like a moth to a sweater. He wouldn’t mind the holes if they didn’t leave him so uncomfortable. But then again, maybe that was fitting for his aesthetic. Torn-up shirts and jeans to pair with his torn-up emotions. At least he found solace in the darkness of his outfits.

It didn’t take long to get bored of the mundane mind palace.

Maybe I should take Roman up on that quest idea. He thought, his foot bounced, hanging over the side of the couch. Even if it wasn’t in his list of Shit Virgil Can Do Without Fucking Up, it was better than sitting around and waiting for nothing.

Virgil got up silently, giving a quick two-finger salute to Logan who had started reading some new detective novel before he sunk out. Appearing again before Roman’s door. Maybe he was just self-conscious, but it looked bigger than it was. Like behind it would be some hidden treasure that he finally reached.

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Roman was certainly someone to be treasured, even if he made mistakes. He just wished the other Sides would help him understand it.

He held his breath as he knocked, jolting back when it swung open almost instantly.

“You’re here!” Roman exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d take you up on your offer from earlier… if it’s still up, anyway.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally!” The prince tugged at his collar, not making eye contact. Virgil couldn’t help but smile slightly at the prince's giddiness. “I was just working on something if you’d care to see it?”

“You know I wanna see whatever you come up with, even if it’s some rewrite of Frozen.”

Roman bounced again, holding his hands out, palms up. He looked at Virgil with an emotion he couldn’t name, but it made him feel anxious in a good kind of way. Not anything like the dread he was used to. He placed his hands on Roman’s, and it wasn’t till they were sinking out and into the imagination that he realized it was the same kind of feeling from when Nico first texted Thomas about meeting up again. He held Roman’s hands a little tighter.

When he opened his eyes, they were surrounded by flowers.

“Woah…”

“Do you like it? I had to sneak into Logan’s room and borrow a few of his books.”

“I– yeah. It’s beautiful. And don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” He stepped away, wandering the circular little garden. He could only recognize so many. “Didn’t know you had a thing for landscaping.”

“I try my best. Honestly, I’m just happy neither of us has allergies.”

“Gosh, you’re such a dork.” Virgil laughed, petting the petals of a rose. Not paying attention to the way Roman watched him and shifted his weight every so often nor how warm his cheeks had become. “Do you know what any of them mean?”

“I do, but I think if I tell you, you’ll realize how predictable I am.”

“Go for it.”

“Well, roses are pretty well known. The red ones are anyway. Love, passion, romance, and courage. Things like that.” Roman said, walking closer. His boots clicking against the walkway’s pavement.

He stood close by yet just far enough for Virgil not to feel like he was being dissected under his gaze. It was an unreasonable thing to think after all the time they had spent becoming friends, he knew that. Yet part of him continued to scream that one day Roman would look at him and find out how horrible he thought himself to be and never want to be around him again. Maybe that was why he refused to confess just how much he liked Roman. It was a weight that crushed his chest every day yet made him feel dizzyingly light.

It was all too complicated.

“What about the purple ones?”

“It kind of varies by shade, but most of the time it’s about love at first sight or enchantment. A lot of the flowers here have to do with that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, should’ve been able to figure that one out myself.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s no matter, I just want to make sure you understand what they mean.” He looked to Virgil, again with that unnamed emotion. “You do get what I’m trying to say, right?”

For a moment, he hoped he did.

“Uh, yeah? Princey, I get it, you’re a hopeless romantic. You don’t have to spell it out for me.” He bit the inside of his lip, then asked. “What are they for?”

Roman looked at him with what he could only see as sympathy.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I really do think you need it spelled out.”

Virgil scoffed, going to argue before he was cut off.

“First,” Roman began, reaching for Virgil’s hand, “You take him by the hand. That’s as far as you got before we both started screaming, anyway. So I suppose I’ll just have to wing it from here. I know I haven’t always been the best to you. I know I still make mistakes, and I really don’t want this to be one of them.”

“Roman–”

“I’m not finished. Virgil, out of all the other’s, you’re always the one who notices when I’m upset. You’re always the one who lets me bitch about Deceit without saying I was wrong for trusting him and then wrong for not. Really, you’re the only one I can bitch about the dark sides to, period. Logan is so reserved about it, and Patton is, well, he’s Patton. He tries to see the good in everyone.”

Roman paused, catching his breath. Virgil thought it best not to speak. He didn’t think he’d even be able to if he wanted.

“What I’m getting is that I trust you. I trust you because you’re my best friend and you listen to what I say even if it’s dumb. Because when I don’t feel like talking you're always down to just watch classic Disney movies and fill in coloring books. I know you don't realize it, but you do a hell of a lot more good than you believe, and I love you for that. You don’t have to say it back or even feel the same, I know you’re pretty reluctant about it. I just need you to know.”

Virgil stared at him, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of love. Roman had said ‘I love you’ before, but not like this. What the fuck do you even do when your crush confesses they like you, more so, that you aren’t obligated to like them back? Complicated, and now surreal.

“You really mean it? All of it??”

“Of course I do, my Columbine Cutie! I could never lie to someone about love, I hope you know that.” Roman replied. Waving his hand as he conjured a mix of red and purple columbines, tucking them gently behind Virgil’s ear. Both knowing it was the truth, that Roman wouldn’t subject someone to such a thing because he knew how it felt.

But he still trusted Virgil with his love all the same. Trusted that it wouldn’t be taken advantage of or used against him.

“How long have you known?”

“You know, I think I fell for you far before I knew it.”

Virgil huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I uh… I think it was the same for me. Falling for you, that is.” God, it felt so weird to say it. Good, too. “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d end up here. I care about you too. I love you, I mean.”

And Roman… Roman just started to beam, shining like the sun as Virgil tripped over his words. He bounced, hands waving as he did. Despite his lingering fear, Virgil couldn’t stop the excitement Roman radiated and the wonder of it all from seeping in under his skin, a feeling like vibrations that he could only try to shake out. And there were hands cupping his face and there were words he didn’t hear. He still knew what they asked. “Fucking yes.” was all he could bring himself to give as a response before Roman’s lips were on his.

Strawberry chapstick and the faint scent of cherry blossom perfume were all that went through his head, it was the only thing that really could. He held onto Roman’s uniform like if he let go it would all disappear. Another dream reminding him of what he thought he couldn’t have.

When Roman pulled away and Virgil opened his eyes, he was still there.

He was real. Everything that had happened was real. He couldn’t help but giggle at how fantastical it was.

Roman brushed his bangs away, just enough to fully show his eyes. “Your eyeshadow changed again,” he announced, bouncing on his heels once again. Virgil groaned, turning away. “It’s a good look for you. Especially with how much you blush, my Lavender Love.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable.”

Virgil knew from the grin on Roman’s face that it had only intensified.

“Whatever. I just– for what it’s worth– I appreciate it. All of this. I’d probably die never telling you shit about how I felt if you didn’t do it first.”

Roman softened, “Maybe, or maybe you’d end up pushing yourself like you did to Thomas. Either way, I’m happy with it if you are.”

Virgil nodded, the two going silent. Roman rocked back and forth still quietly bouncing, probably thinking of what to say next.

Slowly, Virgil opened his arms, smiling nervously to his crush– lover– whatever they were. He wasn’t all that open to touch, but Roman was so far off from everything else it didn’t matter. The prince smiled, pulling Virgil close to him and pressing a kiss to his magenta-colored hair.

“I’m happy to be your knight as long as you want me to be. Whatever it is that gets thrown our way, I’ll fight for you as you have for me. You deserve to shine every day like you are now.”

“Jesus, Princey. You already made your dramatic love declaration, but... thank you. I want you to be happy too.”

The two held each other, and for the moment, everything was okay. No dark sides, no fear, no challenging life debates. It was unescapable, of course, but it didn’t matter. They could survive and fight this hell of a world. They could make the other realize how lovable they were. Because they had each other.

#Sanders Sides #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #prinxiety fic #your validation. hand it over SDLCVFH #ugh bye im gonna cry about this #Virgil's Volumes

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Uncharacteristically happy (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How we holding up, fam? I really hope you are all okay and taking care of yourselves <3 The idea for this fic came up after the last fic I posted, so I started playing with it and this is what came out of it :D

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808175

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

----------

It’s three in the morning when the darkness is annihilated by his bedside lamp. He should still be sleeping, but the turmoil in his mind kept him awake for the better half of the past hours. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

After his father went to his room, Ethan practically threw himself towards his phone. He was greeted with her voice, making his pulse jump. She would tease him if she knew just how strong her hold on him was, so he was glad that she couldn’t see him in that moment.

“How was the chicken?” Claire asked, letting out a sigh he heard multiple of times when she finally relaxed after a long day.

“You’ll see for yourself tomorrow. I managed to save you a serving, Dad ate most of it.” he laughed, thinking about how much crap he would get from Alan if he heard him admitting that to her.

“Stop talking about food, it’s too late for me to sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack. Change the subject.” She laughed, scolding him the same amount as she was scolding herself for even bringing it up in the first place.

“What were you up to this evening?”

“Sienna baked cookies- dammit! We’re walking in circles.” Her laugh put a smile on his face, her words ringing in his mind, as they were about more than their conversation topics and they both knew it. “I will steal a couple and bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Those cookies of hers must be stellar if there are legends about them, circling around the hospital… and I know that from Naveen.” He rushed to explain, unsure how he felt about her being aware he knew a rumor or two.

Claire giggled shortly. “I’m sure you do. Anyway, it’s getting late and we both have an early shift in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan.” Her voice wrapped around his name, a tender caress that made his heart skip a beat, as cliché as that sounded.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep well, Claire.”

He tried to occupy himself with something, anything to not think about her. The way her eyes sparkled when they moved around his kitchen with an ease of two people who were familiar with each other. The way she fit into his arms like she was made for him to hold her. How her lips moved against his, wiping his mind blank and leaving only the feeling of her. How she pulled him back inside and they made out against the wall like a pair of teenagers.

Yeah, she was definitely a good influence on him.

So that’s how he got to where he was now. Dead of the night, wide awake and getting out of bed. Sure, we went to work around 4.30 in the morning quite often, but it didn’t require him to wake up that early.

However, preparing a lunchbox for Claire, purely because he was an overachiever and he made his point to see a smile on her face, apparently required him to wake up at the break of dawn and move around his apartment as quietly as he could, because if his dad woke up and saw him putting so much effort into preparing food for her, he would not hear the end of it.

He rummaged through his cabinet, taking out a container for food, then took out the leftover chicken and placed it on the counter. Taking the knife into his hand, he proceeded to chop and transfer neatly cut pieces into the box, trying to make as little noise as he could. But even that turned out to be impossible.

“Ethan, is everything okay? It’s so early, you don’t have to leave for work for another hour, so why are you- oh.” Alan’s tired voice shattered the tranquility of the early morning, then the sleepy figure of an older man appeared in the doorway. He was about to ask further questions but was stopped when he saw what exactly it was that got his son out of the bed so early. “Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I’m just-“

“You’re just preparing food for her, because she is important to you. Because you care about her. We’ve been over this, Ethan.” The doctor sighed deeply, shaking his head at the easy smile that pulled on his lips.

“Okay, yes. I woke up an hour early to prepare food for her. Because I want to see her smile. There, happy?”

“Immensely.”

--------------

Ethan used to be one of a few doctors that started his work this early. It was not the case, at least not anymore. He parked his car by the employee’s entrance and turned the engine off, taking a deep breath. He then reached for his bag, lunch box inside, and grabbed the door handle when he heard soft knocking on the window.

At first, all he heard was incoherent mumble; once he got out of the car, he could hear her clearly. “Good morning, Dr. Ramsey.” Claire greeted him lightly, leaning against the hood of his car with a cheeky grin.

“You are uncharacteristically happy this morning, Dr. Herondale. Did something happen?” he kept up their teasing banter, allowing himself to let his guard down just a little. She nodded her head from side to side, scrunching her nose as she pretended to think. Then her face lit up like she just remembered what happened between them the previous evening, and her cheeks flushed.

“I seem to remember a man walking me out of his apartment and some… activities that took place afterwards. He did also promise me we would talk about it… just didn’t say when.” She tapped her finger on her chin, then took a step towards him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “So… got any suggestions?”

His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he composed himself, clearing his throat. “Maybe… after work… it’s a rather long and personal conversation that he wants to have with you.”

Claire nudged his arm with her hand, smiling at him brightly. “Sounds like a plan.” Her eyes ran to the bag in his hand. “What do you have in there?”

“Your lunch.” He reached for the lunch box and handed it to her, smiling shyly. That prompted her to dig through her own bad, taking out a neatly folded pouch and placing it in his hand.

“And here are your cookies. Sienna will be amused to say the least when she wakes up and finds a few missing, but I’m willing to shoulder that burden.” She winked at him, then began walking backwards. “Come on, we have a new patient coming in today, Baz got their file yesterday.”

---------

Throughout the day, he would see her in the corridors or walking out of the patient’s rooms. Each time, an effortless smile made its way onto his lips, despite his best efforts to disguise it. It made him think about the reasons that made him decide to push her away in the first place. He remembered, very vividly, the moment he said to himself that they would be a distraction to each other, that any relationship between them other than that of being coworkers would put their jobs, their patients in jeopardy. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessarily a case, and he was being proven wrong every single day since he put distance between them.

Trying to stay away only made him notice her more. It’s a classic case of ‘the more you say you can’t do something, the more you want to do it anyway’. His eyes followed her around the room, his mind stopped for a moment every time she was near him, his focus was on every word she said. His whole being was tuned to her and her only, and while the quality of his work didn’t suffer, most of his energy was spent on him focusing on her, then him realizing that he was doing it and trying his best to stop himself from doing it. Needless to say, it became clear pretty much immediately that it was a futile effort, but Ethan Ramsey was a stubborn man who was convinced that with enough time and practice, he could learn to ignore her.

He couldn’t. And he didn’t.

Now, he had another point of view to consider. His meticulously crafted self-control broke like a fragile twig in one moment, and in the next, he had her in his arms, and he was kissing her, exactly like he wanted to do so many times. She didn’t push him away, he didn’t go back on his decision, and the air was lighter once more.

There was the creeping feeling of dread that followed him for the first few hours of his shift; the feeling of unease as to what their work together would look like, now that they stepped on the line he drew for them, and were one move away from leaving it behind them. All the insecurities he had, had vanished in the instant when they were diagnosing a patient and he realized that it has never been easier to do his job before. He knew that if they chose to start a relationship, they would have difficult moment, disagreements and full-blown arguments, so not that different than what they were doing now. The most important difference was that there would be much more at stakes, and that is what terrified him.

Claire’s steps seemed lighter, her demeanor brighter and her smile wider. She was working more efficiently, putting all of her focus on the patient when it was required of her, and crossed the boundaries with teasing him only slightly.

Before he knew it, lunch time rolled around, and he was alone in his office. His contemplation on what to eat was interrupted by an incoming message. Claire’s name flashed on the screen and there was a photo of her lunch attached to the message.

“Want some? I’ll trade you for one of the cookies.”

He looked at the pack of treats, sitting on his table, and replied, smirking.

“I’ll get the coffee started.”

Not even five minutes later, Claire walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She had already reheated the chicken and was now holding the box with one hand, two forks with the other. Sitting down on the couch, she waited for him to join her with two cups of coffee.

“I admire your willpower to not eat the cookies right away.” She said, handing him the fork. Ethan scoffed, shaking his head.

“Some of us can control themselves, Claire. It’s called willpower.”

“Sure they do.” Claire mused, taking her first bite. Her eyes grew wide, looking over to him quickly. “This is ridiculously good.” A wide grin grew on her face and he smiled triumphally, having achieved his goal.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure if you understand, Ethan. Now that I know you can cook, I’m not sure if I can survive without it.” She leaned towards him, nudging his arm with hers.

“Oh really.”

“I would have to be stupid to not use the knowledge of you being a genius in the kitchen somehow.” Shrugging her shoulders, she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

They ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. She stole one last piece of chicken, right from underneath his fork, and ate it while looking straight at him with a satisfied grin.

“How did the talk with your dad go?”

“You were right, I really needed to talk to him. Avoiding him was the worst decision.” Ethan wrapped his hands around the cup, the glass almost burning his skin. Claire took a bite out of her cookie, deep in her thoughts. “We’re not out of the woods yet, but we’re getting there.”

“You have no idea how happy for you I am.”

She finished her cookie and subconsciously started eyeing the one he was eating. He noticed her staring, cocking his eyebrow in a silent question.

“Wouldn’t you like to have another one, huh?” he teased her, trying to resist the playfully pleading look in her eyes. When she batted her eyelashes, he sighed, extending his hand towards her, offering her his cookie. She took a bite, their gazes firmly on one another. Nodding her head in a silent ‘thank you’, she finished eating. Ethan’s eyes dropped to her lips, like he was hypnotized. “You’ve got, uh… here…”

His thumb brushed the crumbs away from her skin, his touch lingering on her chin; he was now staring blatantly at her. The intensity of his gaze caused a shiver to run through her. She didn’t have time to ask him what he was thinking, though.

Ethan dove forward, grabbing her face with his both hands and pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her with wild abandonment, forgetting where they were, who they were and what they were supposed to be doing. She responded after a moment, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other one on his side, keeping her touch light.

He leaned away suddenly, realizing what was happening. His eyes were wide, a sliver of panic crossing his features. Claire moved away from him, then looked towards the door, checking to see if anyone was watching them, but the corridor was empty.

“Claire?” his voice was deep and hoarse. When she looked back at him, she noticed how dark his irises had gotten.

“Yes?”

“Come back here.” He pleaded, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her onto him, tilting her back against the couch slightly. This time round, she was kissing him back with just as much passion as he had for her, her fingers tangling into his hair and pulling with gentle force, drawing out a long moan from him.

He moved one hand beneath her coat, smoothing the material of her shirt with his hand. Claire lowered herself entirely onto the couch, pulling him on top of her. A giggle slipped past her lips when her fingers glided down the column of his neck and he broke the kiss, fidgeting away from her tickling. His laughter mixed with hers, ringing around them.

He was breathing heavily, allowing himself a moment to just stop everything and look at her. Her pupils were wide, cheeks flushed. Lips bruised from assaulting his repeatedly. He held himself up with one arm, tracing the lines of her face with his fingers. Memorizing her, imprinting the in his mind. He outlined her lips, his breath catching in his throat when she bit his fingertip playfully.

“My god, you’re addictive.” Ethan growled lowly, pulling her back to him. Her hold on him tightened, their kisses turning from slow and unhurried to rushed and hard, every touch fleeting, sending a hot flame through their bodies.

Claire moved her lips along the line of his jaw, traveling to his pulse point and staying there for a long while, slowly driving him crazy. Ethan’s hand, that up until this point was running up and down her side delicately, has now stopped at her thigh, gripping it tightly, a last-ditch effort to hold in a desperate sound that threatened to escape him. To contain the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him whole, right there and then, on the couch in his office, where they were in a very public eye.

She brought her lips to his ear, breathing hotly against it as she whispered. “Maybe it’s not the best time and place for that kind of a conversation.” His kiss on the skin of her collarbone interrupted her trail of thought, a small moan slipping past her open lips. “Don’t you think?”

Ethan sighed heavily, sitting upright, pulling her up along with him. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders, caressing the skin on her cheek tenderly. Smiling seemed easier to him, now that he wasn’t carrying the heavy burden of his choice with him everywhere.

“You’re right. How about we try the dinner again?” he murmured, twisting a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers. Claire scrunched her nose, pretending to think about his offer.

“Are we going to get interrupted again?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “No surprise visits this time, I promise.”

She nodded slowly, looking at him for a long moment. Her hand rested on his thigh and her lips touched his in a soft kiss. Leaning away for just an inch, she whispered. “Okay.”

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey

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writeroutoftime · 3 years

Text

lost in love and time - chapter four

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: haunted mansion au - new information begins to unravel about the mansion, and why you have been summoned there.

warnings: none

words: 1.6k

a/n: I know it’s been a while, but here we go again! The action is starting to pick up, and I’m super excited to posts more chapters! I’ve had a burst of inspiration, so get ready lol! Anyway, for this chapter, I hope that you enjoy and I hope that it makes sense! I love feedback so please let me know what you think, and have a lovely day!

oOoOo

“Okay, what the hell is going on, and why does that portrait look exactly like y/n?”

Peggy and Steve shared a sorrowful look before Steve rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder and looked back at Natasha. “That’s really none of your business. Now if you-“

“Her name was y/n!” Peggy suddenly shouted; her eyes squeezed shut as though it pained her to speak. Steve turned to glare at his wife’s slip up, but Peggy glared right back, hands on her hips, eyes challenging Steve to contradict her. “What? They have a right to know, don’t you agree?”

Before Steve could offer a retort, there was yet another creak of the floorboards that caused all four sets of eyes to widen and their bodies to freeze. Steve quickly ushered for Peggy to hide and he pushed Sam and Natasha in a similar direction. The three found a stack of chests to hide behind and held their breaths as they heard the footsteps stop in front of Steve.

“Were you not told that I needed to speak with you?” Pierce’s harsh voice sounded throughout the room.

“Apologies.” Steve said, his eyes trained towards the floor.

“Would you like to explain what Miss. y/l/n and those idiots following her around are doing here?”

Sam nearly let out a loud scoff and a snarky remark at Pierce’s insult but was quickly silenced by Nat’s hand over his both, accompanied by both her and Peggy rolling their eyes. If they couldn’t stay quiet, Pierce would surly discover them, and who knew what those consequences would bring.

“Uh, I am not sure, sir. They must have stumbled across the mansion.” Steve stuttered as he fumbled for any story that would draw suspicion away from him.

“How odd that would be, Steven, but for your sake, let us hope that is the case. Don’t you forget that there are worse things than purgatory, and you wouldn’t dear Peggy to be the one to find out, would you?”

Steve’s fists were clenched so hard and he had to bite his tongue to keep from responding.

“And to make matters worse, that girl has been snooping around, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Pierce growled, a deep and fierce hatred evident in his eyes.

Without warning, Natasha lost her footing and knocked on object from on top of the chest, crashing to the ground. The three of them behind the trunks winced and held their breaths, waiting for their inevitable demise. Pierce’s eyes snapped in the direction where the three were hiding and he took slow steps to investigate. Nervously, Steve threw himself in Pierce’s path. “Maybe they should just leave in the morning.”

The distraction was successful, seeing that Pierce immediately forget of the noise. “That would make this situation go away, though it wouldn’t be quite permanent.” Pierce said, almost thoughtful. “If you see any of them, you will bring them to me. Understood?”

Steve nodded, his eyes kept low once more, and he waited for Pierce’s retreating footsteps to vanish. Once they did, he quickly looked behind the trunks and offered Peggy a hand up while Sam and Nat looked shocked and somewhat terrified. This had not been the weekend away they were expecting.

Before a silence could settle over the group, Natasha decided she had had enough and was ready to start demanding answers. “Okay, now you really need to tell us what is going on. What was he talking about worse things than purgatory?”

Both Peggy and Steve spoke at the same time.

“We really can’t tell you.” Steve said, sternly, while Peggy blurted out “It’s the curse!”

“Really Peg?” Steve questioned.

“Well, they should know, it involves them!” Peggy argued, while he and Steve turned to face each other, seemingly having a silent argument that Peggy seemed to be winning.

“What involves us?” Nat shouted.

“The curse,” Peggy began than rolled her eyes at her husband’s reluctant look. “We can’t tell you, but I know who can.” she said. “See loophole?” she added with a joyful smile that she aimed towards Steve.

“Wait,” Natasha spoke. “So, all that stuff about ‘are ghosts real’ and purgatory, that’s true?”

Sam scoffed as he listened to the conversation. “Come on, ghosts aren’t real.”

“On your left.” Steve spoke over Sam’s shoulder after he materialized from standing directly in front of Sam to directly behind him.

“Not cool man! Not cool!” Sam cried out, trying to downplay how freaked out he actually was.

“Follow me.” Peggy said and quickly lead the group out of the attic and back through the haunting corridors of the mansion.

oOoOo

The heavy rain accompanied by the continuous thunder and lightning normally would have made the mansion appear eerie, but as you walked, arms linked, with Bucky, you felt calm and almost at home. After he led you out of the library, you couldn’t help but be in awe of everything you passed. From the design of the house to the décor that had been immaculately placed, you fell in love with the manor despite its rough, outward appearance.

“It is her story that fills these walls.” Bucky spoke fondly, his eyes far off in a dreamlike state.

“Who?” you whispered, curious, but not wanting to disturb his trance.

Bucky looked at you for a moment. “The woman my great-grandfather loved. She brought love and life to this manor. I know it does not look like much now, but this mansion used to be full of parties and laughter, and above all else, hope.”

For a few moments, you stood silently as Bucky guided you from room to room, mentioning little details here and there about where a particular piece of décor had come from, or a fond memory of his ancestors that must have been passed down. You noticed tears glisten in Bucky’s eyes, but he never let them fall, and you squeezed his arm gently to remind him that you were there. Even though the two of you had met only hours before, his pain and sadness caused the same reaction within you.

“The two were so in love.” Bucky eventually whispered, referring to the woman from earlier that had made an impression on his ‘great-grandfather.’ “So in love, but it was not meant to be, and she was stolen from him.” he said, his voice growing a bit harsher towards the end.

“How did she die, Bucky?” you asked carefully, not wanting to pry into information that didn’t concern you or cause Bucky any more heartbreak.

“Poison. She took her own life.” Bucky responded with a shaky breath. There was a pause in the story as Bucky stared out into the dark and stormy night, almost as if he were preparing himself to continue. “And without her, his Pixie, the light in his life – he hung himself.”

A gasp left your lips at the revelation, though something didn’t sit right with you. Of course, you had never known the couple in question, but it seemed unlikely that a woman so in love with a man would willingly remove herself from his life.

“And so, it’s said that his soul wanders through this mansion, waiting to be reunited with his lover.” Bucky whispered as he now faced you, holding onto your hands ever so gently.

There was such a strong pull towards Bucky, and you felt yourself drawing closer to him until both of your lips were mere centimeters apart. Just before either of you could connect them and end this feeling of longing, the grandfather clock chimed, announcing the new hour, and you pulled away startled.

Along with the chimes from the clock, came the ever-present figure of Pierce. He sent a glare in your direction that made your heart clench, and no words needed to be spoken to know he was not happy that you were still wondering around. Although you were still unsure as to what you had done that caused the butler to dislike you so much, you didn’t stick around to find out. With one last glance at Bucky, you offered a tiny smile before you scurried off in the general direction of your room.

“She really is something, isn’t she Pierce? Even after all these years.” Bucky sighed, dreamily once you were out of earshot.

Pierce’s eyes narrowed at the spot you had walked off to and then he relaxed his face to a neutral expression. “As much as she may look like Miss. y/l/n, do not let this temptress deceive you. I know that your emotions may cloud your judgment, but when have I ever steered you wrong?” he advised and walked away, leaving Bucky torn between his heart and his mind.

oOoOo

That evening, when you had finally calmed your mind and succeed to sleep, you dream of Bucky. It was fuzzy, but still clearer than the dreams you had in the past. Finally, you were able to identify the man with you as the familiar, melodic tune also found its way into your subconscious.

In your dream, you danced with Bucky and he looked at you with all the care and love in the world as he twirled you around a magnificent ball room. Glancing down, you could make out that you were not dressed in your usual attire, instead something closer to that of the dress you had seen Peggy wear earlier. The music grew louder and faster as did the spinning of your dream. You felt overwhelmed and confused, and just as you woke up with a gasp, you were left with the image of Bucky on one knee.

What was going on?

oOoOo

tag list: @readermia, @mgk-rooklover1997, @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons, @dabooks23, @loser-alert, @themeanestlittlewitch, @peaches-roses-sins, @tiffanynguyen03 @t33n-tw4t @tinymalscoffee @diana-24-world, @ducky1901

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes imagines #haunted mansion au

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pauleonotis · 4 years

Text

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you want to get to know better.

I was tagged by @rosabella1315, thank you!! <3

1. Nicknames?

Pau (and various others as Paul, Lina, Paula, Pauli... idc you choose lmao but I like to introduce myself as Pau)

2. Name?

Paulina

3. Zodiac

Virgo

4. Favorite musician or groups?

Bastille, Coldplay, Owl City, Fall Out Boy, Nickelback, Evanescence, Simple Plan, Santiano, etc... idk, I listen to a lot of music actually so there’s no particular group or musician that I‘d prefer so these are some examples of groups- or bands (...I feel so stupid to ask but is there a difference between bands and groups?)

5. Favorite sports teams?

I’m not a big fan of sports I have to admit, so I don’t know any teams lmao.

6. Other blogs?

I don’t have any other blogs but I am on other sites so ima just link my Instagram, Twitter (there’s nsfw art tho!), and Ao3.

7. Do you get asks?

Yes I do sometimes. I want to thank everyone who takes their time to leave an ask, I really appreciate it! (As long as it isn’t anon hate lmao but in case anyone who does that sees this right now, I delete these kind of asks so you‘re basically wasting your time by leaving negative comments but thanks for your time anyway I guess.)

8. How many blogs do you follow?

About 550 or so.

9. Tumblr crushes?

I don’t have crushes as in... really crushing on them— but uh... I do have crushes as in... I absolutely adore their blogs/posts/art/writing and the person behind it seems really nice and I love them (AS A FRIEND OR FELLOW MUTUAL OR FOLLOWER-) and admire their work and would try to be there for them always. Am I making sense? I hope I do.

10. Lucky numbers?

4885. Lmao no, I actually don’t have one. This number is just the current word count of the first chapter of a fic I‘m currently working on (still need to finish that chapter and then I‘ll have to look for a beta reader but I‘m kinda scared to ask for one on discord LMFAO)

11. What are you wearing right now?

My pyjamas.

12. Dream vacation?

I wanna go to London someday with my best friend. Aaaand I really want to travel to Pompeji someday.

13. Dream car?

Nothing really, just gimme something comfortable and with enough space for more than 2 people and enough room for maybe 2-3 suitcases or big bags in the trunk and I‘ll love it.

14. Favorite food?

Atm apples probably. Apples and bananas.

15. Drink of choice?

Water.

16. Instruments?

Triangle.

17. Languages?

German, English, bad French, worse Spanish... and I can understand a little bit of Dutch.

18. Celebrity crushes?

Don’t really have one.

19. Random fact?

I sometimes realize I totally forgot to answer people and then I’m scared to just... slide back into the dm‘s. And then I get sad because I wanna write with those people and I miss them horribly but I was the one to randomly vanish for a whole month and I actually feel really bad for it but somehow it happens again and again. ;-;

20. Favorite ecosystem?

Uhhhh... forests probably. And grasslands, if I‘d have a horse... I don’t have one but I recently had this dream of me having a horse—

21. Favorite cat species?

I love cats in general. Idk what species exactly Ivory was (I actually think something mixed-?) but she was a gorgeous cat with really long and elegant legs. She was really clumsy tho. But still adorable, calm, sometimes playful and overall really gentle.

Tagging @rockmarina @samyistrying @drarryruinedme7 @april-thelightfury115 @aceveria @ohheavenlylord @parkkate @triggerlil @keyflight790 @practicefortheheart @xx-thedarklord-xx @qmortentia @nourix-png @jackofallplagues @fictional @teruyo @mslyramalfoy @sirene312 @big-draco-energy @cibeewastaken @latibaris (well, I tagged some blogs I normally wouldn’t tag because I‘m hella afraid of annoying anyone so in case someone wants their tag removed please tell me and I‘ll do that or feel free to just ignore this. I’m so sorry in advance!

And of course it’s up to everyone if you wanna do this or not, no pressure. <3)

#hey i managed to come up with 21 people #but im actually so anxious about that lmaooo #but ima just click on post before i decide to delete the tags #btw these are all amazing people so check them out i absolutely adore their blogs

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halfgclden · 3 years

Audio

EPISODE 32: A MAJOR OCCURANCE

The sound of spooky intro music plays and fades out. As the microphone clicks on, faint sounds of water and traffic can be heard in the background.

JADE: Hello cryptwizzlers, cryptrackers, but never cryptormentors because we’re all friends here. Welcome to a very special episode of Cryptwins in which we are not actually researching a cryptid. But! Before you shut this off and call us hacks, we are instead researching the recent disappearance of social media fitness guru; Edison Major.

More spooky music plays. There is also the sound of fingers tapping a rhythm. It's typical Joel, unable to contain his energy as he taps the dashboard in time with their intro music.

JOEL: Weeeeeeeell...Maybe we are hacks. —a pause as he laughs— Nah, just kidding. This is the real deal. I'm not sure you're ready for this. This is some spooky, and excuse my French, spooky shit. Tell us more about this Major disappearance? —another laugh— Get it?

JADE: [A short laugh-sigh is let out at Joel’s joke.] Okay, before we begin, two things. One, get ready for the barrage of major and minor jokes, courtesy of Joel here.

JOEL: Got a whole list, be ready! He lets Jade finish, but listeners can still hear the tapping sound while she speaks.

JADE: Secondly, we’re still on the road here, so if the audio is bad or choppy... deal with it? —another small laugh— Anyyyyway. Spooky is right. This all began in September of last year, when @majored posted a picture of himself in a dark basement wearing a weird costume and then immediately went off the grid. And, you know, I’m all for a social media cleanse, people do it all the time. Buuut, what really brought this to our attention was a month later, on Halloween Eve of all nights, when a video popped up of him getting his ass kicked by someone in a Kakashi Hatake costume.

JOEL: Now, I know y'all are asking yourselves "Isn't he a fitness guru? Why was some weeb kickin' his ass?" And to that I say hey! Some weebs are strong, some are Super Saiyan, and others are Kakashi Hatake, the most talented ninja in Konohagukure.

JADE: lets out a laughing wheeze.

JOEL: We don't endorse fighting here. But I digress —a laugh— back on topic. So this guy just up and disappears out of nowhere? And there's not a peep of him until we see Kakashi givin’ him the business. What does this all mean?

JADE: Okay, so, let’s get the full story. @majored goes off the grid, comes back to get his ass kicked by a Naruto character, disappears again, comes back to spit on someone and call them a see you next Tuesday, and then disappears again. And he hasn’t come back online. So what’s up with that? Well... we did a little digging.

Another spooky noise plays over the sound of Jade organizing a stack of papers.

JOEL: Daaaaaaang. I’d say those are some fightin' words, especially from someone who keeps pulling a vanishing act, don’t ya think?

JADE: They really are! I mean, he is from New Zealand, but even so, I think you don’t use that word unless you want to attract some attention. -She clicks her tongue as she gets back on topic- The video was originally posted the night before Halloween of last year, by @ime.are on Twitter. Obviously they got a lot of hate and questions after posting this, but all of them were left unanswered. The only person in the video that was tagged was Major, but upon further examination, this Ime seems to follow and have pictures with someone who happened to be dressed as Kakashi that same night, which has led many to speculate that these ninjas are the same person.

JOEL: So we all know Halloween's a spooooky season. Perfect for parties and all that jazz. But all those costumes make it a perfect time for disguises. Was that even the real Major? Was the person who spit the real Major? Who is this Ime and how do they fit into the story? And who— a pause for dramatic effect and muffled laughter as he tries to stay serious— is this mystery ninja? Tell us more!

JADE: Alright, alright. So this mystery ninja goes by Abel, or @_kllledbycain on the Gram. At first glance, they look pretty much like every other TikTok e-boy; black and white photos, pet snake, the insinuation that they’re dead, whole nine yards.

JOEL: snorts when Jade announces their handle, and again at her eboy comment, wheezing. It's true, it's true!

JADE: And this stuff is so common right now, so nothing really raises any eyebrows, right? Right? Well, tell me, why would a Tik Tok goth go around beating the crap out of a random influencer? Stay tuned for the theory. First, we’re gonna take a step back and look at the whole situation, because, of course, it doesn’t end there.

JOEL: Ohhhh snap! I'm on the edge of my seat, and I bet our listeners are too.

JADE: [clears her throat] So if we go back to the original poster of the video, @ime.are, and we take a look at their Insta, who is on it but... @devinitely? Okay, so @devinitely is in the same place as @majored, clearly, and, for anyone that doesn’t know, she’s been doing a bunch of collabs with @loganvance. This places not one, not two, but three influencers all together in this place where weebs are running around assaulting people.

JOEL: Okay. Okay, I need to know! Where are they? What's bringing all these influencers together? Are @devinitely and @loganvance part of something much more sinister than it seems? [He makes a funny face at Jade and wiggles his fingers, before dropping his voice to a stage-whisper.] Is it some kind of twisted influencer cult?

JADE: Shhhh, Joel, spoilers.

JOEL: [He laughs.] Sorry, sorry!

JADE: [muffled laughter over the sound of more papers rustling.] So, any skeptics out there might say, oh, well, this Ime Are is just a lucky person who happens to be in the presence of more than one social media personality. However, Devin follows the weeb that may or may not have kicked Major's ass. And, according to a cast photo of Rocky Horror, on her boyfriend's Instagram, both the weeb in question and the hot man that tore the two apart were part of the cast. This would be a great time to mention that a link to the video is in the description, as are all the pictures from social media that I'm referencing.

JOEL: [to Jade but loud enough for the mic to pick it up at regular volume] Oh snap, you got everything together in a link? Like, I could click the link to check it out right now? — A pause as he does just that.— Woah, cryptwizzlers, she's not kidding. Click the link in bio, you won't be disappointed. Okay, Jade...hear me out. Given that it was Halloween, the night of nights. Do you think that...maybe it was all an elaborate event? Was it staged? Is any of this real?

JADE: Oh, my dear brother, always the skeptic. Don’t you think that it’s a bit much for him to stop posting entirely in order to get publicity? And we mustn’t forget the spitting on someone in South Dakota, that’s not exactly his brand. Unless he’s trying out something like Taylor Swift and Reputation but... I digress. No, I don’t think any of this is staged, and I’ll tell you why. Let’s go back to the weird cow print basement post. You know who also happened to post something about some cowboy party? Oh, um, Devin’s boyfriend? A picture of him, Devin, and Logan? Which... puts them and Major in the same place on the night that he disappeared.

JOEL: Not a skeptic! Just trying to get all these questions answered. —A laugh— You're right, that's 180 from the online presence he used to have. All theories aside, —a pause— I'd love to go to a cowboy party. Get me a glow-in-the-dark cowboy hat. You know they make 'em. —He laughs again, mouthing 'what?' to Jade.—

JADE: Oh, def. We're getting matching hats. Check out our merch in a few weeks —she laughs— Glow in the dark mothman themed cowboy hats, talk about a niche.

JOEL: Snap, we have to do that now, 'cause I want one real bad. But okay, back on track. This cowboy party. The origin of this theory, yeah? Oh snap...what were those three doing in the same place as Major? And all in cow print too? That's....majorly suspicious! [He trails off into laughter, his voice doing that wheezy thing when someone's trying to finish their sentence before cracking up. Recovering, he adds the following.] Wait, wait, wait. What about—

JADE: Yes, yes, yes. —she cuts Joel off as though he's finished his sentence, chuckling at his joke— Patience, my dear twin, we will get there. —the smile is evident in her voice—

JOEL: I feel like somehow, I ended up as your Padawan for this episode. — he laughs—

JADE: You heard it here, I'm absolutely schooling Joel this episode. — she laughs— First, we're going to backtrack all the way to the original poster again. You know we snooped their whole page, and they're pretty regularly posting pictures with this person, @rengaaay, who isn't an influencer but she makes some of those sick ass roller skating videos... this isn't sus, just cool, link in the description. —a slight pause as she tries to get back to her train of thought— Anyway, what is sus is that she tags two people in her photos all the time... But no joke guys check out their Insta profiles they look different in like every other picture. Which, uh, could just be editing but also could be something.... more sinister? Hold onto that thought.

JOEL: That's such a good handle, dang! Better than @lumberjoel, honestly. I have to say I'm jelly. We should get branded rollerskates, maybe @rengaaay can advertise for us if we ship them. JK...unless? —more laughter as he waits for Jade to get back on the train and pulls up the profiles in question to take a look for himself— Huh...is it editing? Are they masters of disguise? Makeup professionals? —He starts to say something else but is pretty sure he's figured out where Jade's going with this.— What could be more sinister than human chameleons?

JADE: [The sound of papers shuffling can be heard] Oh, yeah, so, it's weird but I think every time the siblings are in a pic together they look more like each other? I dunno if this really makes sense but seriously dudes check the post with this episode because it has a bunch of photos side by side and... yeah. You pull a photo of them by themself and it's like okay, I know what this dude looks like and then you put them side by side and... I dunno, makeup? Contacts? Cloning, mayhaps? And, just so that I'm not just holding on to one thing too much... check their post from August 12th, linked below. Their brother... doesn't have a shadow. Why would you edit that out of a photo? No way are they going that hard to be memelords.

JOEL: Okay, let me look at this. Wha— That's weird as hell. How much hair dye do these two use? Hm. Could be clones? —snaps his fingers—Definitely clones. —he snorts loudly, laughing before clearing his throat— Ahem, uh. No shadow? That's dedication! I dunno, maybe it's some new challenge for the 'gram. Oh...but wait. I found a video. Look, Jade. No shadow. In a video. What the—

JADE: A video, guys. —A moment of muffled laughter before her mic cuts out, but the sound of it clicking on again is followed almost immediately— This is a big family, guys, and a big weird one because their other brother @sleepyfinch... Okay, wait, he himself is pretty normal, super cute, shout out, but guys, ghouls, you know who he has tagged in a recent post? Yet another influencer. Except this one is from Italy? @gaborealis; essentially, he’s a medium, so if you didn’t believe that the supernatural were at play beforehand... buckle up.

JOEL: Wait, wait, I'm still on the video thing. Who has time to edit a video? —his voice cracks when he says video and he covers his laughter as he focuses—

JADE: [wheezing] Shut up —there is no malice in her voice, and she’s laughing too.—

JOEL: So weird, I love it. Oh snap— the @gaborealis? It's time to get ghosty! —echoes "ghosty" and hums the Cha Cha Slide tune for a couple seconds— Okay, so wait. Does this mean everyone's favorite medium is also in the same place as...three? Three other influencers and this weird family of....maybe shapeshifters? No? Too crazy a theory?

JADE: You know what they say, cryptoddlers; no theory is too crazy. Everything Einstein came up with? Theory.

JOEL: Bringing Einstein into it, huh?

JADE: Oh you know it. —a snort— Anyway, according to Devin’s boyfriend’s Instagram, it doesn’t end there. @spencerkeahi, a youtuber and disability rights advocate who comes from Hawaii is also there with that gaggle. Shout out to @elidrising for tagging people and location. So what are these influencers from all corners of the globe gathering together for? Well, let’s take a look at the original poster again. You go on their Twitter, and a few months back it’s all just videos of people... fighting? In some sort of underground place. Mayhaps... the same creepy basement that Major posted his last photo? —a small gasp, as though she’s surprised by this— No, that must be a coincidence... or is it?

Another spooky sound plays

JOEL: @elidrising is the man, dang! Are you tellin' me there's a...—he lowers his voice to a whisper— secret influencers-only Fight Club? I wouldn't put it past @devinitely TBH. Honestly, I'd join one...even though I guess I've broken the first rule but talking about it, huh? Actually— Jay, do you think we'd even be allowed to join? Are podcasters influencers? Poll in my story right now, let us know what y'all think.

JADE: Right now? Joel, this isn’t going up for another week, at least. —She’s obviously trying to sound less amused than she’s coming off— Once we get the blue check we’re influencers, so we’ve got a few million followers to go, I think.

JOEL: Yeah, right now! They'll hear that when the episode goes up and respond in real ti— Oh, no. You're right. Oops. No poll in my story, y'all. False alarm. Blue check, huh? You heard it here, cryptwizzlers, we're gonna get that blue check. Tell your friends, tell your family. Heck, tell that cute barista at your coffee shop to listen to our podcast! We might just do a giveaway when we get that lil' blue swoosh.

JADE: [clears her throat.] You know what’s a great way to get us that blue check, though?

A different, light sort of spooky music begins playing in the background, meaning that it’s time for the ad break

JOEL: Take it away!

JADE: Checking out a little app called Creature Comforts. Alright guys, not that this show isn’t one hundred percent real as it is, but for real, I love this app. A dating sim that features everyone’s favorite... for lack of a better term, monsters. Did you watch the Shape of Water and go, “Damn, I’d tap that”? Do you want to snuggle with a Sasquatch? Do you just wish you could find yourself a GF with more eyes? Well, have we got the app for you. Creature Comforts lets you do all this and more. A choose-your-own-adventure game where you can smooch beasts, marry Mothman, and ignore the outside world. It’s seriously all I want. And, if you enter the code cryptwins— that’s the name of the podcast you’re listening to, no capital letters, when you download the app, then it’s only 99 cents to play without ads. Which, trust me ghouls, is worth it. I don’t want anything interrupting my cut scene with the most stunning eyes in West Virginia.

JOEL: Don't forget that scuba diving date with Nessie! Or, or...that half-day hike with Bigfoot. —he's laughing again smh— There's a reason Jade does the ad reads and not me. But, I can tell you that Mothman is sure to sweep you off your feet. And it's not just because he can fly.

JADE: It’s the —a pause for finger snapping— alliteration for me. But that’s Creature Comforts, exactly how you think you’d spell it, don’t ask us ‘cause we’re dyslexic, and cryptwins, like the name of this podcast. Tweet us @cryptwins to let us know how far along you are, who you’re pursuing, and what mysteries you unlock about their backstories. Now... I think it’s time for a timeline, just to get us sorted out, what do you think, Joel?

JOEL: Personally, I'm still tryin' to land a date with the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I guess we'll see what happens. Aw heck yeah! Give us a timeline, give us the dirt. — a laugh — Give the people what they want!

JADE: Okay — the shuffling of paper is heard once more — We start in September: @majored goes off the grid after posting a creepy picture of himself in a weird outfit in a spooky basement. This is around the same time that the Scarlet Surfer was in NYC for fashion week, which @majored accompanied him to, meaning that it isn’t entirely out of the question for him to still be in New York. Also on social media at this time is @devinitely and @loganvance also both is cowboy outfits, though the creepy basement is absent from both of them.

JOEL: I guess September isn't too early for weird Halloween stuff to start? What with the spooky basement and everything. Right? And everyone loves a cowboy moment— or have cowboys become the new clown? I heard there was a clown renaissance and people like them now? I don't really know where we stand on the whole clown— what?

JADE: I see our next hot debate. Cowboys: Hot or not? Personally, I liked cow print, but I can see cowboys going out soon. Once they reach killer clown status is when it’ll be ideal for me.

JOEL: Personally, I vote hot. And uhhh, not to kinkshame you Jay, but killer clowns are a no from me.

JADE: [tsks] Kinkshamed, by my own brother no less.

JOEL: [a loud laugh] You know I'm just kidding. No kinkshaking, ya heard? I'd literally let the Jersey Devil step on me so. To each their own.

JADE: [snorting] Um, gross.

JADE: Now to October: There is a production of Rocky Horror, a cast photo is uploaded to @elidrising, the account of @devinitely’s boyfriend. This places not only @devinitely and @loganvance in Montauk, but it also places @crispyboiz and @_kllledbycain in Montauk too. These are two of the people that are suspected to belong in the video by @ime.are, in which (suspected) @_kllledbycain, dressed as Kakashi Hatake attacked @majored, only to be torn apart by good citizen @crispyboiz. This video is the first that we’ve seen of @majored since his last post, and he offers nothing in response to it.

JOEL: Okay. Okay. Now, you know I love a good shadow-cast of Rocky Horror. I've always wanted to play Frank. I would rock that part. Am I wrong? —he laughs— But okay, that's - count 'em - three influencers in one place? If @elidrising is there, we can assume @devinitely is too because she was in the same location as, uh, whatshername? Logan? And that's the same location as @ime.are. Who took the video of Kakashi kicking @majored's ass. @_kllledbycain— more like killedbyKakashi, eh? Seriously why are all these people together?

JOEL: [as an afterthought] It's gotta be a cult.

JADE: November to December: Nothing happens with @majored, @ime.are also offers nothing except for quote unquote “#teamkakashi”, which is funny because they never tagged Kakashi, but anyways. Upon deeper inspection, there are videos on their Twitter from last May, of people in a fighting ring. And then people fighting on a lake? But the fighting ring looks super dangerous and I dunno, like you said, cult-y? Fight-club-y? Call it what you will. In any case, we are led to believe that this fighting has been going on for some time in the background.

JOEL: Okay, come on. That’s definitely a cult. I’ve seen the movie, can confirm. — he groans— Literally what is an Italian astrologer doing there? Wait, wait, wait. Montauk? You said Montauk. Montauk, as in on Long Island. As in like —he drops his voice to a stage-whisper— the part of Long Island that peeps believe to be the site of a government cover-up involving kidnapping, mind control, and time travel? The part that inspired Stranger Things? That Montauk? Snap. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together sooner. Jade, Jade. What if this is, I don’t know, like, MKUltra 2.0?

JADE: Yes, yes that Montauk, I’m glad you picked up on that. Look, I’m not saying that it’s an influencer’s-only thing, but I am saying that some might be in the area, and maybe involved. At the same time throughout all of this, we have a culmination of more influencers seeming to know this network of people. @gaborealis, an Italian astrologer, is seen in pictures of @sleepyfinch, who was also in the production of Rocky Horror, and has pictures with @crispyboiz and, god, this name is a freaking nightmare, @_kllledbycain. Not to mention this guy has many pictures of weird… family members? Who sometimes look alike? Okay, but seriously, @kodakola and @sonofpeter, how is your hair not straw at this point? Is it wigs? I think my hair would simply fall out. And y’all using Insta filters or what, cause… I’m not gonna get into it, let’s keep going.

JOEL: Maybe they're makeup vloggers or something. Gotta change up the look for views, right? Don't forget to like, comment, subscribe and uhhhh, smash that follow button— or whatever YouTubers say. —he laughs— Okay but seriously, yeah. @sonofpeter, @kodakola, whatever you two are doing to your hair, let me know because I'm trying to bleach my hair and dye it bright purple without it falling out. And since we're doing it at our next stop, well, your advice will probably be too late. But still, what are your secrets? Is it...clones?

JADE: Joel! —she’s laughing again.— Timeline and then theories. —she clears her throat— After that long silence, a Tweet emerges. January 8th. "Can’t believe @majored SPAT on me and called me a C-Blank-Blank-T when he checked into @SDFamilyMotel last night”. This places Major across the country from where we believed him to be, but acting so strangely that one must wonder… was that really him? Or was it someone that just looked like him? Or was it a cry for help? Nothing’s been heard since from @majored, which I guess… leads us to our theories. —a pause— You were saying… clones, Joel?

JOEL: Sheeeeesh, this is not @majored's year. I gotta say, this sounds totally different from the vibe that this guy used to put out on his social media. Obviously Instagram is fake blah blah blah, you know the spiel, but like. Damn. He spit on them? —a pause as he considers what his sibling has said— You know....I think that's a really good point. Was that even the real him? Will the real Ed Major please stand up?

JADE: I know. It just seems out of character, and terrible for a reputation, but it also would make sense if... One, this is a fake @majored, meant to stir up controversy before he goes underground again. And with an action like spitting on someone and calling them a name like that? Who cares what the dude does after that? Unfollowed, cancelled, whatever. And why would this guy want to go underground, well, I'm glad you're so interested. Well, the official Cryptwins theory is that maybe... just maybe, the crazy, government cover-up Montauk that we all know and love isn't that far from truth. We see that they have means of covering up shadows —she lets out a laugh— and people whose faces just change? And who else is there, @spencerkeahi, someone who explains rehabilitation, maybe someone who has experience helping people get used to being a clone? @ime.are, a nurse who enjoys taking videos of people fighting? It all adds up, people!

JOEL: Yeah, seriously. With the real @majored MIA, there would be no one to combat the backlash from this supposed...clone? Imposter? And maybe that’s what they want. Looks like Montauk isn’t the ideal vacation spot anymore, huh? Even if their seaside cabins are super chill and homey. But I digress. Something sinister is going on. Something bigger than we can even imagine. A secret underground facility that’s...cloning influencers? Training them? Your guess is as good as mine. And that’s why we’re on this road trip, isn’t that right Jade? To get some answers?

JADE: Exactly. —it sounds as though she is holding back a laugh or a cough.— Cross country roadtrip in which we explore different topics like this one, and on the way, we'll document our progress and any spooky encounters. Check out our insta, @cryptwins to get all the updates, and consider hitting us up on Patreon if you want us to be able to afford the gas to get all the way to the east coast.

JOEL: I’ll be posting behind the scenes content in the “ROADTRIP” highlight on my Insta throughout the trip so be sure to check my stories. You might get lucky and find some special codes for Creature Comforts but, hey. You didn’t hear it from me. -he laughs and there’s the distinct sound of a bag of chips being opened- What Jade meant to say is gas and snack money. So yeah, go go go! Check out the Patreon! We might even do a giveaway at the end of our trip, get you guys some cool souvenirs we pick up on our travels. Not a bad idea, eh?

JADE: Joel, my ears are literally bleeding right now. Thanks. Anyway, our second theory will also be exclusive to our Patrons, so be sure to get the full video there. Cryptwins... out...

Her voice fades out and the music from the beginning fades in, takes over, and plays until the end of the track.

#c: jade #c: jadejoel #a major occurance

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shadowtrooper1414 · 4 years

Text

Ricochet

Hey, guys! I know I don’t post my own stuff often, but I wanted to share this over here for people that may or may not be keeping an eye out for it. This fic was inspired by this post, asked by @rosytheribbiter over on @delimeful‘s page. I’m not entirely sure how I did, so please be nice to me. (Also, if enough people want me to, I’ll make an angstier follow-up that is all from Virgil’s POV)

Ao3 link for those of you who prefer that

Ships: Platonic DRLAMP (but can be read as vaguely romantic) tw: blood, injury, minor swearing, talk of dueling, gross mention of eyeballs (because Remus), sympathetic Remus and Janus - let me know if anything else needs to be tagged!

-----

Being a figment of the mind was a unique thing. Roman, Logan, and Patton had never had long-lasting injuries. Any wounds they did get would vanish sooner rather than later. Most of the time, it didn't even hurt. It made sense for them - they weren't real, after all. Even with eating and drinking water, it was unnecessary. Uncomfortable, if one doesn't do it for a while, yes, but it wasn't required to live. Obviously, at first, the other sides had assumed Virgil was the same as them. However, they noticed certain things about the anxious side, the closer he got to them.

Virgil always took a sharp breath when someone stubbed their toe, or he winced when one of the others grazed the stove. He would hide away when Roman came back from the Imagination with injuries. He kept his hands in his pockets the morning Logan spilled some scalding coffee on himself in a half-asleep state. No amount of coercing could get Virgil to remove his jacket the day after Patton ran his arm into a doorframe, despite the hundred-degree weather.

On top of that, Virgil had always been wary of injury, even when they were kids. It was assumed that it was an Anxiety thing - a Paranoia thing, at the time, really - but the Light Sides were unsure if that was really the case.

It took an unexpected turn one evening. Virgil was busy helping Patton with dinner while Roman was in the Imagination with Remus. Logan had been sitting in the community room reading when he heard a loud crash and a surprised gasp from Patton.

Logan stood quickly, book forgotten, and made his way to the kitchen. When he entered, Patton had corralled an exasperated-looking Virgil into a chair and pulled his jacket off. One sleeve of his purple long-sleeve shirt was slowly turning a dark reddish color, along with a patch on his back.

"Patton, really, I'm fine," Virgil said with an eye-roll.

"Kiddo, you're bleeding!" Patton exclaimed. "You are certainly not 'fine.'"

"What appears to be the problem?" Logan asked, announcing his presence. He eyed Virgil for a few moments. "Do you need any medical attention, Virgil?"

Virgil swore under his breath before pushing himself up, grabbing his jacket from the table. One hand was pressed firmly to his stomach. "I'll be fine. Just... I need some space."

Logan gently grabbed Virgil's arm as he tried to brush past. "Are you sure you are alright, Virgil?"

Virgil seemed to not process Logan for a second, as if he hadn't even noticed him before, then shot him a smirk. "Sure am, L." He carefully pulled his arm away before continuing to the stairs, which he half-stumbled up.

Logan looked to Patton with a raised eyebrow. Patton furrowed his brow, exceedingly concerned.

"Should we check on him?" Patton asked.

Logan paused for a few moments. "I'm... unsure."

-----

Later that evening, Roman came back from the Imagination, Remus in tow. Both were boasting about the "epic" duel they'd had with each other. It took a few minutes of no questions from Patton, and no statements about the event's absurdities from Logan before either twin realized something was wrong.

"What's up, Padre, nothing to congratulate us on?" Roman asked, vaguely teasing.

Patton blinked, then shot Roman a half-grin. "Sorry, just thinking about this dueling day!"

Logan let out a groan while Roman furrowed his brow. "Dueling - like... grueling?"

"Yeah, not my best, but..." Patton trailed off to shrug. He shook his head. "Anyway, who won in your duel?"

"I got impaled, so technically, Romano Cheesy over here won," Remus said, shouldering Roman a bit roughly. Roman winced a bit.

"Yeesh, careful with that shoulder," Roman half-whined. "You can't even remember that you mercilessly slammed your mace on it."

"Whoopsie, my bad," Remus said unapologetically.

Throughout the exchange, Logan shot Patton a careful look. Patton furrowed his brow, then looked to the twins.

"You two... got hurt?"

"Yeah, but it was no big deal," Roman said. "They're already gone."

"Can't say the same for ol' Virgie, though," Remus said, sounding a bit unhinged. A heavy silence fell over the room before Remus said. "Hey Calculator Watch, pass me those eyes. I want to put them in my pasta."

"Eyes..?" Logan asked, gazing at the table where there were, indeed, eyes. An entire jar of them. Unperturbed, Logan slid the container across the table. "Remus, what did you mean by 'can't say the same for Virgil?'"

Remus hummed distractedly, pouring the eyes all over his spaghetti. "What? Oh, it's nothin'. Don't mind me."

Roman shot Logan a puzzled glance. Logan shook his head and mouthed, "Later." Roman shrugged, seemingly satisfied with that. Logan, however, was starting to string together the pieces of this worrying picture.

When Virgil came down, his shoulders tense and back slouched, Logan very carefully kept his questions and thoughts to himself.

-----

Logan decided to confront Janus about it at a later date. It took a while before he could get the tricky side alone, and the answers he got... weren't exactly straight - pun completely unintended, Patton.

"I was wondering about Virgil," Logan had started one early morning - it was before even Patton got up.

"Do not go on," Janus had replied, putting together a hot cup of tea. "I just hate sharing things about people."

Logan waited a few moments, cataloging every strange event involving injuries and Virgil. "You noticed it too, have you not? The way he hides after one of us gets hurt, or when he covers up his reaction to a minor cut or burn. Even in the way he is wary about injuries, it is... strange. And I feel like it means something."

Janus hummed softly, sipping his tea. "Well, it is not the first thing he has hidden from you three, I will give him that." He side-eyed Logan. "Why do you ask?"

"The other day, during dinner preparations, he fled the kitchen after suffering from two large wounds that could not have come from anything in the kitchen."

"And why do you think I would know what is wrong?" Janus asked.

Logan hesitated. "You... knew Virgil. Before he came to us. He had to have trusted you at some point - more than he trusts us, at least."

"Well, he's definitely not doing it because he's concerned about you," Janus deflected. "I would most certainly ask, he'd love that."

Logan sighed. "I suppose you are right, Janus. I am simply... worried about him."

Janus let out a slow breath through his nose. "Logan, let Virgil come to you. He will, in time."

Logan nodded despite his frustration with that answer. There was some shuffling from the hall before Virgil entered. He looked halfway between bewildered and exhausted. He gently bumped Logan's shoulder before resting his chin over it.

Virgil gazed at Janus carefully before closing his eyes. "Hey, L. Jan. What're you two talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the sky, space, the ozone layer," Janus said. He looked at Logan. "This was definitely not a pleasant chat, Logan, I most certainly did not enjoy it. I would hate to have another one sometime." With that, he half-sashayed out of the room. Logan watched him go, contemplating his non-answers.

"Did he bug you about anything, Lo?" Virgil asked sleepily.

"Not at all," Logan said. "I had been the one to seek him out. I had some questions for him, is all."

Virgil hummed, leaning further into Logan. "As long as he didn't bother you."

Logan smiled softly at Virgil. "Of course." He continued about his morning with Virgil literally half-asleep on his shoulder the whole time. He supposed he could postpone his investigation for a little while.

-----

The next couple of weeks passed, and Logan cataloged every out-of-place behavior Virgil exhibited when one of the others were injured. A burn here and there from Patton, some bruises from the twins adventuring in the Imagination. There was even a paper cut from Logan at some point - Logan had only seen it for a few moments, and it could have easily been dismissed. However, it had been too similar to the one he had gotten.

The next time Logan was able to document a significant injury, however, was an average Sunday afternoon. Roman and Virgil were cuddled close on the couch, debating about something or another when Remus and Janus entered, the latter limping.

Patton immediately jumped up from his place on the floor, concern on his face. "Janus is everything alright?!"

"Everything is just fine," Janus drawled, face set in a grimace. "Absolutely nothing happened."

"He fell down the stairs in the Subconscious while we were checking on the Other," Remus noted cheerfully. He plopped himself down next to Virgil. "Twisted an ankle. It'll fade eventually but probably hurts like a bitch."

Logan noticed Virgil glance down at his own ankle and wince. The anxious side cleared his throat and made to stand.

"It's getting kind of late, I should go to bed," Virgil said conspicuously.

"It's 2 PM," Janus deadpanned, moving to the couch. He gently pushed Virgil back onto the sofa, to which Virgil glared at him. "You will be going to your room."

Remus leaned into Virgil, grinning when Virgil grimaced. "Awe, c'mon, Virgie! It'll be like old times!"

"Yeah, sure," Virgil said, rolling his eyes.

Logan gently cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the three not-quite-bickering sides and the confused Light Sides. "Virgil, if I may..?" He carefully gestured to Virgil's ankle.

Virgil tensed, going pale, before looking to Janus. When Janus nodded and moved to sit on the couch armrest, Virgil sighed and rolled up his pant leg. The ankle was slowly swelling to a dark purple color.

Roman furrowed his brow. "Virgil, did you get hurt?"

"Not... exactly?" Virgil asked more than answered. He heaved a breath, fisting his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie. "More like... I took Janus's injury? I'm used to it, though. It's been happening since Thomas was a kid, so it's really no big deal. When any of you get hurt, it... ricochets to me." His voice had gotten tight and quiet near the end, and Virgil was hunching into himself. "I can deal with it myself - I usually do. Well, I did." He shot Janus and Remus a meaningful look.

Logan hummed. "So it is as I thought, then." At Virgil's surprised look, he continued. "Those few weeks ago, when you were seemingly injured out of nowhere, I decided to... try looking into it. As best as I could, anyway. I did my best not to pry into anything personal."

"Virgil, why didn't you tell us?" Patton said, seeming to just now find his voice.

"I... didn't want to make you worry," Virgil mumbled.

"You very much did not succeed," Roman said, tone gentle despite his words.

Logan stood. "If you would allow us to assist you, I will go get the first aid kit from the bathroom."

Virgil hesitated before sighing with a nod.

"Oh, I'll go bake some cookies while Logan patches you up, kiddo!" Patton exclaimed, quickly racing to the kitchen.

"Hey, RoRo, let's build an epic blanket fort," Remus said, jumping up from the couch. Roman quickly followed him, setting up the furniture so the fort would have good structural integrity.

Still perched on the couch's armrest, Janus shot Virgil a smirk. "Totally didn't tell you so."

Virgil ducked his head, face flushing. "Shuddup." And maybe lowering his head also allowed him to hide the soft smile on his face.

And that's how Virgil ended up in the middle of a cuddle pile, ankle bandaged and iced, with a Disney movie marathon running for the night.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #sympathetic remus #sympathetic janus #tw: injury #tw: blood #platonic all the way #fake-title inspired #fluff #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tiny bit of angst #might come back to this later

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