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scott-mccall-the-hot-girl · 3 years

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my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

#this took me so long #please go read these or i’ll cry #fan fiction #fan fic recs #teen wolf fic recs #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic recs #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #theo x liam #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf gay #teen wolf #ao3 #fuck you fuck this & fuck it #thiam fanfic rec #thiam fanfic #thiam is endgame

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

“Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

“Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

“Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

“No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

“When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

Something hisses.

His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

“Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

“Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

Well, technically, the sprite found him.

“There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

“Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

“I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

“Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

“You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

“This? This what you want?”

The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

“That’s it? You done now?”

The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

“…you’re welcome.”

The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

“Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

“I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

“Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

Virgil just nods.

————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

“There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

The dog just barks. And changes color.

He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

“Alright, the book it—whoa.”

The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

“She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

“Sir, you’ll die!”

“She’s still��“

The top of the house crashes down as—

Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

“I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

“Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

“Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

“…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

“Ah, I see.”

And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

“Now breath on it.”

The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

“That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

“If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

Get it? Surefire?

Shut up, he’s hilarious.

————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

“Good season, Anbel?”

“Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

“Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

“Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

“No charge.”

“Come on.”

“No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume that I did something?”

Virgil just gives him a look.

“…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

“Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

“Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

“Have any others reported anything?”

“Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

“Where is it?”

“Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

…between them.

Virgil holds very, very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

“I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

The breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

The trunk shifts again.

“If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

There.

The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

“Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

“Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

“You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

“How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

His eyes widen.

About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

“That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

“It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

“It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

“I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

The growls get closer and his foot slips—

“No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Okay…okay.”

He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

A low hiss sounds in his ear.

He just manages to avoid a scream.

“Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

“Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

“So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

“No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

“Hey!”

Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

“That was rude.”

The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

Virgil’s chest tightens.

One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

“Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

“Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

Does it…want to play?

Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

“Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

The kraken chirps.

He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

“What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

“You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

The kraken insists.

Sure. Why not.

Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

He never was one for dragon hunts.

The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

He never promised to hurt anything.

Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

This feels like something else.

There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

The cave is right there.

He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

It’s quiet here.

He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

…wood, eggshells…

Okay, look.

Look.

Virgil’s tired, okay?

It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

He knows what he’s doing.

He does!

It’s fine.

This is fine.

This is so utterly fine right now.

But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

Whatever.

Virgil cracks an eye open.

“…hey, there, dragon.”

Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

“Um…fancy seeing you here?”

The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

“Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

Shit.

A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

“Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

“Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

He pauses.

Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

“I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

“Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

“You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

No response.

“We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

“Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

“Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

He yanks.

The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

“Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

“I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

“Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

It looks…wrong.

It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

He turns when the dragon starts to move.

It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

“Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

The dragon huffs.

With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

“…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

His fists clench.

“They hurt you.”

Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

“Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

“This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

“…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

“The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

“No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

“…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

It’s always the same.

Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

“I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

“Thank you.”

————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

This one’s a bad one.

Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

“….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

“Shh, the both of you.”

“This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

“Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

“Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

“We’re not scary, shut up.”

“You’re scary.”

“All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

“There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

“Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

“Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

“Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

“You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

“Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

“I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

“Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

Oh.

“…you’re the sprite.”

“I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

“…the mastiff elemental?”

“Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

“Can you guess who they are?”

One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

“Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

He smirks. “Janus.”

The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

“You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

“Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

“He took me out!”

“Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

“Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

“Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

“You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

“You’re the dragon.”

“I am. But you can call me Roman.”

“…does it still hurt?”

“Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

“I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

“You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

…shhh…

“I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

“Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

“…you could say that.”

“Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

“You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

“H-help?”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

“Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

“As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

“Did you—is that my—“

“I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

“What did you want?”

“We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

“You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

“You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

“Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

“Careful, dear.”

Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

“But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

“Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

“We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

“And me,” Remus says.

Patton nods. “And me.”

Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

“You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

“Help? With—with what?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

“But there must be something we can do.”

He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

“So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

“They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

“Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

“You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

Who protects the protector?

“…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

“Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

“F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

“Let us protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

…well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

“While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

“So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

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More bullet point fanfic by yours truly! - First kiss edition

I woke up at 4 am thinking of this and it's been stuck in my brain ever since. Watch me eventually write it as a whole ass fic

It's the weekend, a slow, hot day. Reki and Langa are in Reki's room, as usual, watching a mix between skating videos and dumb videos that make them laugh (and the occasional cute animal video they will inevitably come across). It's a slow, relaxing day, nothing out of the ordinary for them, except that they can't go out because it's just *too* hot

Langa's got his chin on Reki's shoulder, his eyes falling shut every so often. The heat makes him sluggish, but he refuses to go home where it's cooler or take a nap to sleep the heat away. He's adamant to continue watching what's playing on Reki's phone, even if the light is tiring his eyes

And Reki doesn't mind. He's never minded having Langa close, basically cuddled into his side. Reki likes it, actually. He likes having Langa close. He likes feeling Langa pressed into him, Langa's chin digging into his shoulder, Langa's hair tickling his cheek, Langa's bony elbow pressed into his side. Obviously it's because Reki is used to having people in his personal space. The twins when they cling to his leg, his mother when she hugs him, Koyomi when she's poking him.

So Reki doesn't mind having Langa close, falling asleep on his shoulder. At least, not until Langa is shifting, nose pressing against Reki's neck, the soft skin where no one ever touches him. And his warm breath is heating up Reki's face for a reason he can't tell. Or maybe he can, when Langa is mumble-asking if he can kiss Reki

Langa doesn't mean it. He can't mean it. Langa always mumbles out nonsense when he's half asleep. So Reki laughs it off awkwardly.

Except Langa's nuzzling closer, "please, Reki? Can I, please?"

Reki doesn't trust his voice, knowing it'll come out as a squeak, so he just nods. He has no idea what Langa is going to do, or what kind of kiss he wants, but Reki wants whatever it is, which is weird. Kissing the homies good night was just a saying, not an actual thing, right?

But when Langa's pressing a kiss to his cheek, everything fades away. It doesn't feel weird or wrong or anything. It actually feels nice. Reki likes it. Even if it's just a quick peck, Reki likes it. A lot.

Everything fades, everything goes hazy. Maybe it's from the heat, maybe it's from something else, but Reki's shifting, turning to Langa, Langa with his heavy lidded eyes, Langa with his pretty smile. Maybe it's the heat, maybe that's what's fogging Reki's everything, but something happens. Something happens for Langa to be kissing him, or maybe he's the one kissing Langa; he can't tell who started it. But they're kissing. And Reki feels like he's floating.

Reki is the first to pull away, gasping for air, but langa's chasing his mouth and Reki can't say no to that.

It's not Reki's first kiss - he had kissed a girl on a dare in 6th grade during one of those middle school parties - but it is the first time he was feeling someone's tongue against his lips. It is the first time he was gripping onto someone's shirt to hold them close as the kiss was deepened. It is the first time he was kissing a boy. And he.... Reki likes it. He likes kissing Langa.

When Langa finally pulls back, they're both flushed and panting. Maybe they had gotten a little carried away, but Reki doesn't care. He can't care, not when everything feels blissfully light

At least everything feels nice until Langa's eyes are blown wide open, scrambling to pick his stuff up, shoving them into his bag.

"shit, shit, fuck, I promises my mom I'd be home before dinner. Fuck, she's gonna be pissed. I'm so fucked-!"

And he's dashing off, Reki not even getting a chance to put in a single word. Something twists inside of Reki. Maybe Langa regretted kissing him, maybe that's why he was running away now. Maybe Langa didn't like it as much as Reki did.

They don't talk about the kiss(es). No one brings it up. Reki's too afraid to bring it up and Langa is acting like it never happened. They're both desperately trying to go back to how things were before, but Reki jumps every time Langa's hand brushes against his and Langa isn't leaning in as close as before when they watch videos during lunch at school. It's not horrible, but Reki can feel the tension, which can only mean one thing: Langa hated the kiss.

This goes on for a few days, the awkward no touching but still wanting to. It calms down a bit after a few days. Reki's a little less jumpy, Langa is starting to lean back in (not as much as before, but still always a little closer). They can sit shoulder to shoulder now, not quite touching yet, but getting there. That's how Reki finds himself staring at Langa, watching him eat, looking at his mouth. His mouth that had been pressed to Reki's only a few days ago. His lips so soft despite being chewed at on the daily.

Reki can't blame his actions on the heat this time. He can't blame anything or anyone except himself as he presses a quick kiss to the corner of Langa's mouth. He tries deflecting, finding excuses ("you had something and-!") but it's useless. There's nothing that can excuse his behavior

But Langa simply let's his head fall onto Reki's shoulder. He's not pushing Reki away. He's not telling him that it was wrong of him to do that. None of that.

"M'tired..." "It's the heat, dude" "wanna sleep" "wanna ditch and head back to your place? It's way cooler there" "only if you come"

Reki short circuits as soon as Langa's fingers are twisting with his, tracing the lines in his palm, not letting go.

"can we go? Not like we're actually going to listen to anything, even if we go back"

That's how Reki finds himself pulling Langa up, walking by his side until they're out in the yard and skating off towards Langa's place. That's how he finds himself coming to a halt in front of the apartment he's been in only a handful of times. They always go to his place, crashing in his room. They rarely ever go by the apartment.

Reki watches as Langa unlocks the door, kicking his shoes off as he set his board against the wall. And he follows his lead, though a little more careful, untying his shoes and setting them in a corner with his own board. It's a lot colder in here than it is in his room. The AC must be put to it's lowest.

"you want something? I think my mom bought cookies yesterday"

Reki watches as Langa pulls out more food - they just finished lunch, but Langa is a monster when it comes to snacks, no matter what time it is - before crashing into the couch. Reki follows, like a puppy. He isn't uncomfortable, but still. The environment feels new and he isn't sure how comfortable he should make himself

That is until he's sitting on the couch and Langa is putting his head on Reki's lap, a cookie in his mouth as his bright blue eyes are staring up at Reki. Blue like a clear sky, sun blazing down over the ocean

"I'm sorry," Langa says, holding up his half eaten cookie. "about the other day, I mean. I shouldn't have done that" "I'm sorry too. About- about earlier? It was dumb"

There's a beat of silence. Then Langa is shifting again, sitting up

"Look, Reki, I- I like you and I get it if you dont-!" "Really dude? Like, like like me?" Langa nods, though looking a little confused. "You can do that?" "Reki, you... You do know I'm gay, right?"

Reki did not know that. And when Reki is caught off guard, he acts dumb. That's why he's blurting out "you're gay???"

Langa's still staring at him in disbelief. "yes? I thought it was obvious?"

Apparently not enough for Reki to get the hint. "Oh my god. You like me. You like me. You actually like me."

"Look, you don't have to-" "I like you too! I mean," Reki rubs at his nose, laughing nervously, "i gotta, right? Since I kinda really wanna kiss you again?" "You do?"

And they're both laughing at each other, Langa's face buried in Reki's shoulder. Reki can feel the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, though he isn't sure if it's from the laughing or from how happy he is

Then Langa's shifting against him once again, look up at Reki with his beautiful blue eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

Reki doesn't answer him, only pressing their mouths together. Because of course Langa can kiss him. He's been thinking about it ever since it first happened

The kisses are slower this time. They're not rushed, not as needy. They take their time exploring each other, feeling what's comfortable, what feels good. It's new, the kissing, and they will have to find how to do it properly. But for the most part, there's more smiling than there is kissing

"Reki?" Reki hums against Langa's lips, not quite ready to pull back completely. "Reki, what does this make us? Does this make us boyfriends?"

The realization hits like a truck. He could be Langa's boyfriend. Never in a million years did Reki think that would happen

"yes? I think? I mean, I want to" "does that mean we aren't best friends anymore?"

Langa's eyes and big and wide and worried. He knows he shouldn't laugh, but Reki can't help it. He can't help but laugh, pressing a kiss Langa's cheek

"no, were still best friends, man. Nothing can change that. And I mean," Reki ducks his head, rubbing at his nose, "it's like what they say in all those Hollywood movies. You know, the cheesy romcoms? In those speeches when the main characters get married? That they're marrying their best friend? Not that were getting married! I didn't mean us-!"

Langa's kisses only got sweeter with time. A quick peck cutting Reki off before he fell into a panicked ramble. "I get what you mean. I just... I don't want to lose you. You're the only best friend I've ever had." "What about boyfriend?" "You'll be the last one."

Reki is satisfied with that. He's more than satisfied as Langa is pressing another kiss to his face, then to his mouth. How long had he wanted this? Reki has no idea, but now that he's got it, now that he's got Langa, he's happy.

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kimabutch · 3 years

Note

So I'm thinking about giving audio books a try since podcasts have turned out to work really well for me while I drive for work. As a fan of Gideon and generally woman-led queer sff are there any in particular you'd suggest?

Oh man, yes! Queer SFF audiobooks is most of what I listen to, and some of my favourite of those books that have women leads are:

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson: bi wlw protagonist, wlw & nonbinary side characters; features dimension-hopping, flirting with your coworker, and discussions of systemic racism & classism. Special shoutout for the audiobook narrator, Nicole Lewis, who does some amazing work here.

The Teixcalaan series (A Memory Called Empire, A Desolation Called Peace) by Arkady Martine: wlw protagonists & bi mlm major side character; features high-stakes space diplomacy, poetry & linguistics nerdery, and the aching pain of loving a culture that seeks to destroy yours.

The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood: lesbian protagonist, mlm & wlw side characters, both gay & bi; features gay orc assassins, the long-term effects of childhood religious trauma, and mlm/wlw hostility-or-is-it-actually-friendship. Another shoutout to the narrator Avita Jay for a fantastic performance.

The Tensorate series (The Black Tides of Heaven, The Red Threads of Fortune, The Descent of Monsters, The Ascent to Godhood) by Neon Yang: all but the first novella have a wlw protagonist, and there's literally too much other queer rep to name; features twin sibling relationships made complicated by the fact that one of you can prophecy and also you have a crush on the same man and you haven't heard of polyamory yet, a steampunk revolution against the magical empire, and wlw lovers to the most badass enemies you'll ever encounter.

The Unbroken by CL Clark: lesbian & bi wlw protagonists with other wlw side characters; features open thirsting over a butch sword lesbian's muscles, incredibly nuanced discussions of the generational trauma of colonialism and the difficulties of having been raised away from your own culture, and characters who make a lot of mistakes for reasons that totally make sense to them but you're still yelling at them to stop.

You can find more stuff in my #book adventures tag and my Goodreads page (where I note what the queer rep is for each book) but that should be good to get you started! I particularly recommend The Unspoken Name and The Unbroken if you're a big fan of the sword jock wlw/magic nerd wlw pairing of The Locked Tomb, The Space Between Worlds for brash and honest narration like Gideon's, and the Teixcalaan series if you really liked the space politics elements of TLT. That leaves the Tensorate series, which I'm just legally obligated to recommend cause it's so good.

#book adventures #the space between worlds #serpent gates #tensorate #teixcalaan #magic of the lost

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beetlegoose01 · 3 years

Text

Frostbite (Casetello)

AN: do these two have a ship name? Caseytello? eh whatever it’s casey x donnie and they’re gay

special thanks to cal for reading this for me and saying i should post it <3

There were quite a lot of things Casey Jones loved. Hockey, pizza, riding his motorcycle, video games, beating the crap out of his opponents. Normal teenage stuff. Lately he had been doing the latter, ever since he and April officially joined the 'Unofficial Turtles Team' , helping alongside the teen mutants on patrol. Goofing off with Mikey and Raph were the highlights, but he couldn't deny spending extra time with April was also a benefit. Even if they barely got a single word out- too busy fighting off random mutants scattering the city, it was still nice.

But what wasn't nice, downright unpleasant about patrol...was Donatello. There was an unspoken, mutual loathing that the pair shared that even quick glances at each other led to glaring and arguing. Leaving them together in the same room was never a good idea. Casey hasn't understood why the purple genius was so hostile towards him at first. But the reasons became obvious the first time he caught him staring helplessly at April, fumbling his words and blushing profusely. Not that Casey didn't feel similarly, heck, that was the problem. Both were attracted to April. Obviously Casey had the upper hand, being human. A turtle and a human girl in a relationship was built for disaster.

But their hatred didn't stop there. It wasn't just about April. Eventually, everything about Donatello annoyed him. His whiny voice, his love for using complicated words to sound superior, soon every little thing bugged him.

Things were easier if the two stayed as far apart as possible.

Of course, fate seemed to work in mysterious ways.

It was starting to get late, the moonlight illuminating the sky. The group stopped on a rooftop, perched by the edge. Leo halted them silently, then turned around.

"Why'd you stop, Fearless?" Raph asked.

"I think we should split up. We'll cover more ground. If you see any sign of trouble, use your T-Phones." said Leo.

"No way dudes!" Mikey squeaked. "I saw this scary movie last night where the team split up! And then..." He paused for dramatic effect. "They all got taken out one by one. Starting with the cute funny one!" He trembled, hiding behind Donnie, who rolled his eyes.

Raph smirked, always prepared for a sassy remark. "Which means, you'll be just fine since you're neither of those."

"Hey!"

"And you'll be in pairs." Leo crossed his arms. "I've got it all planned out. Raph and April. Mikey and me."

"Mikey and I." Donnie corrected under his breath. Casey fought the urge to whack the smart aleck turtle with his hockey stick.

Leo ignored him. "Donnie and Casey-"

Casey involuntary let out a loud groan. Just his luck.

Leo narrowed his blue eyes, unamused. "Something wrong, Jones?"

"Er..." His eyes darted to Donatello, who seemed stoic, but equally frustrated with this predicament. On one hand, he wanted to argue and beg to be with literally anyone else. On the other, he didn't want to deal with the leader in blue getting annoyed with him. "Nah Leo, that's fine by me. Right, D?"

Donnie huffed. "Yeah, that's alright."

"I think this will be good for you both." April grinned.

"Of course, April." Donnie agreed.

"No problem at all." Casey smiled through gritted teeth. When she turned away, they both shared an equally menacing glare.

"I knew I could count on you two." April smiled softly, though even she didn't look entirely convinced.

This was going to be a long night.

~•~

Turns out, Casey had underestimated the scrawny (ugh, svelte) turtle. In what Donnie lacked in muscle, he gained with his speed, mobility and of course, his mind. It was practically impossible to keep up once Donatello had leaped from the first building, tumbling and landing with ease, while Casey was coughing his lungs out as he ran desperately after the brainy terrapin.

"Okay, now you're just showing off." He panted irritably, nearly collapsing once he finally caught up with him.

"Are you coming or not?" Donnie gave his trademark gap tooth grin as he turned, slowing down.

"I am! You're just moving too fast!" Casey complained. "I thought turtles were supposed to be slow! I didn't even have time to get my grappling hook."

Donnie shrugged, ending the conversation with one simple movement.

They walked side by side, neither wanting to say anything. They both knew it would only end in arguing.

"Can I just say-" Casey started.

"No, you can't."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Exactly."

"Listen, Gap Tooth, I don't like this either!" He flicked a stone off the roof with his shoe. "But we have to ..." He swallowed. "work together, right?"

Donnie said nothing. He looked deep in thought.

"Is it because of April? Because it's not my fault she...y'know likes me more."

At the mention of April, Donnie turned away, eyes flashed with hurt, which only filled Casey with that annoying feeling of guilt.

"It isn't about her."

"Alright." Silence. "Sorry, let's just-" He cleared his throat. "Let's just work together, we don't need to be friends. Just get through the mission. After that, we can go back to hating each other."

"That was...surprisingly mature, Jones. Glad we can agree on something." Donnie quipped. "And for once, you're right. This mission is more important than our petty squabbles. No matter how insufferable you may be."

"Now you're just making up words."

Donnie fought the urge to roll his eyes. "So, that's two more hours of this."

Casey scoffed, but couldn't help but chuckle. Quietly of course. Last thing he wanted was for Donnie to think he was actually amusing.

"So...deal?"

"Deal." Donnie said, then added: "Cave Mouth." Which made Casey shove him lightly.

For a brief moment, they seemed to share a mutual understanding. The silence that followed wasn't awkward or forced, it was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as they could possibly be.

Donnie paused, startled by something. Lifting his bō carefully, he tried to follow whatever the sound was.

"What the-" Casey raised an eyebrow.

"Shh!" He hissed. "Do you hear that?"

"No?" Casey scrunched his nose, listening closely. It sounded like a...buzzing noise? Like a fly or mosquito. Irritating, but not dangerous. "Chill Don, it's just a bug or something."

"No, listen!" The turtle looked frantic and alert.

The buzzing became louder. Then, it was followed by the sound of snapping wood. Deliberate and exact. Casey gulped, taking his own weapon.

A massive shadow flew over their heads and landed in front of them. Donnie yelped in surprise, stumbling forward.

"Ah, shell." He swore, lifting his head to face the hideous insectoid mutant with acid green eyes. Scumbug spread his deformed wings, antenayes raised, prepared to strike.

"Well, I was right. That definitely is a bug. Scumbug! Wicked! This'll be fun!" Casey sneered.

"Which makes no sense, considering stag beetles aren't even bugs! They're insects!" Donnie spun his staff like a propeller, hitting the mutant face on.

"Not the time!" Casey tackled Scumbug, who roared, jostling him aside like a ragdoll. He smacked the floor with a sickening thud, directly on his arm. He fought back a scream of agony. "Do you- gah- seriously have to be such a know it all, all the time?" He looked at his arm, which currently looked seriously messed up.

Donnie looked affronted. "I am not a know it all!"

"Yes you are!" Another whack of his trusty hockey stick, followed by a knock to the ground, face first. He wiped his mouth from the metallic taste of blood.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you- Donnie, look out!" Casey shrieked, sounding less manly than he intended.

Scumbug, now furious, had efficiently used his enemies' bickering to his advantage. Before he could turn around, a spider web twirled from its appendages binding Donatello to the ground, who kicked and struggled furiously.

The mutant now crouched over the captured turtle, prepared to strike with his signature acid spit.

"Hang on, D! Casey Jones is here to save the day! GOONGALA!" He bellowed, racing towards Scumbug and latching onto him like a demented parasite. It was hardly the most graceful of moves, but it distracted him briefly.

He raised his hockey stick, poking him hard in the eye in an attempt to gouge them. Eyes were sensitive- he remembered Splinter telling him that.

With the extra time, Donnie reached for his bō, ripping the web apart with the extended naginata blade.

Scumbug, now looking more disheveled and horrifically disfigured than normal, retreated blindly into the misty air.

"I didn't need your help." Donnie said bitterly.

"Aw, is that any way to say thank you?" Casey retorted. "I just saved your shell." He poked his plastron roughly. "I think I deserve a little appreciation for my heroism."

"I had it handled."

"Did you? Because you looked just about ready to be eaten by Scumbug."

Donatello scowled, moving closer. "And he got away. So your heroism didn't exactly work, did it?"

"Would you rather have acid stuck to your face?" Casey growled. "You'd look even freakier than you do now. Next time you're a little 'turtle in distress' don't expect me to come save your-"

"I didn't need saving." Their foreheads pressed together, any moment ready to face each other on.

Casey gritted his teeth. "Sure, whatever you say. I didn't help because I actually cared about you or anything."

"Then why did you?" Donnie snapped, pulling away. "You could have left me."

"Because I- you- argh!" Casey felt his temper rising. "Because I'm not a monster, alright? We're a team, and we help each other. That's the deal." He wiped his chapped lips again, the disgusting taste of blood still lingering. He winced, clutching his arm.

"I can patch you up at the lair." Donnie said softly. "It just looks sprained."

"Mm." Casey grumbled, still pissed. Stubbornness was taking over any injury he had. He'd rather have his arm stay at this awkward angle than admit he was hurt in front of his rival. "I'll just wrap it up at home. I'll be fine."

Donnie sighed, raising his palm to his face. "Don't be so stubborn, I can help you."

Casey didn't look convinced.

"To repay the favor?" His warm brown eyes looked surprisingly sincere. "You did help me, after all. I'd probably be toast if you didn't."

Casey snorted. "You got that right."

A beat. Donnie looked unsure, as if he wanted to say something else. But whatever it was, it was holding him back.

"So...we should go back to the lair then?" Casey suggested, easing the awkwardness.

"Huh? Yes, of course. Totally. " Donnie nodded. "Naturally."

"Alright then."

"Jones?"

Casey turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say...thanks."

"Hey, no problem. But don't tell anyone I saved your ass."

"Deal."

~•~

Casey never expected to be sitting in Donnie's lab table, in between Timothy the blob-organ filled mutant and several bunsen burners, but life tended to be weird that way. He also didn’t expect to be pouting on said table like he was at some freaky doctor’s office. The rest of the team returned shortly after them, and seemed surprised that Donnie was actually willing to fix Casey's arm- and not begrudgingly.

Donnie returned with a first aid kit, setting it on the table. He hummed a familiar tune to himself, as if to fill the empty air of any more awkwardness.

"I've seen these before." Casey said, poking the bunsen burner tap, immediately then swatted away by Donatello. "At my school's science lab."

Donnie nodded, rolling up Casey's sleeve to examine his bare arm. Casey flinched, not comfortable with the random act of touching. "Hey don't!"

"Do you want your arm fixed or not?"

"...yeah."

"Then let me work my magic."

Casey frowned, staring at the bottle the turtle was holding. "Your magic looks like antibiotics and advil."

Donnie's lip twitched.

After his arm was treated somewhat, Donnie wrapped him up gently with a clean bandage. The slow movement made his heart race increase every time Donnie's fingertips brushed his arm, but he ignored it.

Don't be weird, Jones.

"That should be good. Don't put any pressure on it." said Donnie, passing him the advil. "And take this, it'll soothe the pain."

Casey pretended to look offended. "Here I thought you were gonna kiss it better."

Donnie rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Don't push it, Jones. We aren't there yet."

Casey laughed. "Yet. Thanks for fixin' my arm, D. You...aren't so bad, I guess. But let's go back to hating each other, alright?"

Donnie smirked. "Whatever you say."

#tmnt #teenage muant ninja turtles #donatello #casey jones #caseytello #casetello #do they even have a ship name #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #fanfic #tmnt 2012 #i miss them #author is sleep deprived #jonestello #is that their ship name?#they're gay your honor

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starlocked01 · 3 years

Text

Toddlers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 4- Parents

WC: 3k

Summary: Virgil is very surprised when he's brought home by a fascinating stranger at the bar. A kid wasn't exactly what he agreed to in a one-night stand. Nor did he expect a relationship.

Content Warnings: Alcohol Use, Talk of divorce, Swearing, Mild gory language

@dukexietyweek

(also thank you @suchaswearemads for their OC Teddy 🧡)

Virgil was mildly aware that he might regret this if he lived until morning. His roommate would probably have a statistic at the ready about criminals luring victims away from clubs with whispered promises of sex or drugs, and how often they target gay men. Virgil snorted a laugh to himself. Poor Lo would kill him himself if he knew what Virgil was up to. This guy even looked the part of an unhinged surprise organ donation scheduler, all covered in spikes and tattoos of anatomical cross-sections all over his visible skin. If Virgil were any drunker, he'd probably mistake him for a skeleton or half dissected cadaver.

He really didn't care. He was drunk and Remus said pretty words that made him feel wanted. He'd follow the cadaver man halfway around the world like this. Exactly proving Logan right that he shouldn't go out drinking alone. He giggled and stumbled and giggled because he stumbled and the ground was spinning under his feet.

"What’s so funny, Dr. Gloom 'n' Giggles?" Remus caught Virgil and pulled him back upright, even as his brain fought to stay closer to the ground and made the whole damn world lurch in protest.

"Hey! 'M fine. Yourrr gonna kill me, bad man mad man. Fuuuuuuuck I had way too- didya spike 'e?" Virgil struggled to form a single, coherent sentence, feeling the alcohol's effects acutely and in increasing measure with each step towards doom and destruction.

Remus laughed, "ya caught me. Why don't I call you a taxi home?"

"Nooo! I sssaaid I'd come home withya- ssooo I am," Virgil shook his head and tried to stand and remain upright. His attempt lasted all of a second before Remus had to catch him again.

"Look, I don’t need you trying to puke all over my dick or something. I'm calling you a fucking cab," Remus tried to reason but Virgil heard none of it as he yanked himself away to hurl in the bushes.

"'M fine. Commmmming down," Virgil panted, trying desperately to steady himself. After several deep breaths and false starts, he managed to stay upright and reach for a steadying hand. Whatever had knocked him on his ass so quickly was also fading just as fast, "shiitt, did you spike my drink?"

"Nah, man. Come on, we're almost there."

---

Remus stared at this drunk little catch from the bar and was glad he was the one who'd picked him up. Someone must have tried something funny with his drink. Bad enough news for everyone else still at the club but at least this one was safe.

Remus shook his head and checked his phone to call a cab only to find the phone dead already. Shit. No way to warn Roman now. Remus waited for Virgil to finish puking his guts out on the neighbor's lawn, pretty dead set on getting this guy help as soon as they got home and he convinced Ro he needed a favor.

Slowly, he helped Virgil towards his front door, surprised at how fast the intoxication seemed to be turning around as Virgil got steadier on his own feet. Remus winced when he couldn’t find his keys and cursed when Virgil reached out and rang the doorbell.

"Stop! It's way too late for that!" Remus hissed as the door quickly opened to a very pissed-off looking Roman.

"Are you crazy! Pat's asleep- oh… oh who the fuck is this?" Roman asked, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him, "Remus, you promised tonight!"

"Ro, calm down. This is Virgil. Yes, I promised, but do you think you could take-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed furiously, "I have work tomorrow! I can't take Pat. Send Virgil home and be a grown-up for once!" Roman grumbled and turned abruptly back inside.

"Roman! Someone tried to spike him-" Remus hissed, pulling Virgil inside with him "-and before it hit, he was the best guy I've met in my life."

"Oh you mean just like Mr. Wonderful?" Roman snarked back in a low voice as he gathered his belongings. Remus winced at the reminder.

"Don't be a dick, brother dearest. That's my job. Please, I promise this time will be the last-"

"I can't! Teddy is already worried that I'm out this late. We love Patton but we're not raising him for you. You're not a kid anymore, Rem. Learn to date like an adult because we're not babysitting while you go out clubbing like this again," Roman huffed and stormed toward the door, "sorry to meet you like this, Virgil. I hope you feel better soon."

Virgil barely lifted his hand to wave as Roman left and shut the door with a dreadful finality. Remus slumped and sat at the foot of the couch Virgil had sprawled on.

"Sorry about him. How ya doing, Virgie?" Remus asked quietly.

Virgil groaned, "head hurts. Still tipsy. What the fuck did you do to my drink?"

"I didn't do anything but save you from whoever did," Remus shook his head and stood, "I'll get you some water. Or gatorade. Or milk. Fuck what do I even-"

Remus was suddenly cut off by clattering dishes and a small whimpering coming from the kitchen. In a few swift steps, he entered the kitchen and flicked on the lights to find a plate toppled from the counter to the floor, the fridge cracked open, and a toddler trying very hard to hide behind the trash can.

"Pattycake! What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?" Remus slapped on a grin and swooped the child into his arms with a grunt, "oh big boy. Getting too old to pick up like this."

Patton squeaked in his father's arms as he was lifted up, "got loud, Papa. Unkie Ro promised me a second cookie before bed."

"He did now?" Remus asked, eyebrows raised in mock shock.

"Mhmm. Said Unkie Teddy'd bring it. Where's Unkie Teddy?"

"Oh no! Ro was gonna call the cookie monster himself to get ya?" Remus gasped as he shifted his hold on the child and nudged the plate under the sink to take care of in the morning, "Uncle Ro promised you a cookie monster and didn't show up? That fiend!" Remus giggled with Patton as he grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge, shutting the door with his hip.

"Unkie Monsta!" Patton giggled, clinging to Remus’s neck.

"Mhmm. It's really late buddy. You should get back to bed," Remus cooed as he dropped one of the water bottles on Virgil’s chest.

"What the hell-?" Virgil tried to sit up, utterly confused who Remus was talking to now.

"Hey! You don't get to cuss in front of my kid until date five!" Remus snapped, holding Patton close. Virgil blinked at the baby blue eyes, curly blonde hair and the overwhelming amount of freckles as the child stared back at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"Papa, who's that? He looks spiky," Patton whimpered, quickly hiding his face from Virgil.

"Baby, I'm spiky. I like spiky people," Remus carefully soothed, running a hand through soft curls, "he's one of Papa's new friends."

Virgil watched, unamused, "you didn't say that you have a kid. What, were you planning on bringing me back here with a toddler who could walk in and see anything?"

"Look, I was trying to ask my brother to babysit him overnight. You're hella cute but I didn't expect to make this introduction so quickly," Remus huffed, "Pattybear, be nice and say hi and then you best be headed back to bed, mister."

Patton peeked one eye out to appraise the stranger in his spot on the couch. After a long moment, he waved and barely audibly whispered a small, "hi."

Virgil smiled at the typical child response to his neon purple hair and uncountable piercings, but Remus laughed loudly, startling both the drunk man and the child, "oh Come on! That was weak shit, Pat-Pat. Say it like you mean it!"

"That's not necess-"

"HI!" the tiny voice bellowed over his protests. Father and son laughed together as Virgil sputtered.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, my little monster! Alright, enough fun. Back to bed, you rascal. Papa has to take care of the baby who drank too much apple juice," Remus beamed and set Patton down on the ground, waving as the child sped off back to his room.

"Cute kid. You didn’t mention a kid earlier," Virgil groaned and laid back down on the couch, head swimming.

"Yeah well, kids are chick magnets," Remus replied, not meeting Virgil’s eyes.

"Okay?"

"I'm into dudes…"

"And? It's not like a kid is gonna send good guys running," Virgil shrugged, very much regretting his choice of drinks that night.

"Yeah, you haven't run yet. But that was a very tired out and pacified little scamp you just met. You'll see in the morning- unless you wanted me to call you a cab now?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't wanna move," Virgil murmured, "but I would like kissesss."

"Direct. I like it," Remus smirked and slid down to kneel next to the couch, "but that would be taking advantage of your weakened defenses. Sleep it off and ask me in the morning."

Virgil whined and pouted at the denial, "please? I came all this way."

"Well, if you insist," Remus grinned and leaned in close. Virgil smirked and pulled Remus forward that last inch. Virgil tried hard to enjoy the kiss but the fact of the not yet sleeping child in another room tempered his desires greatly. After a minute, Remus pulled back and grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch.

"To be continued, Dr. Love."

"Fine. Good night," Virgil sighed and watched Remus stand and leave the living room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

---

Virgil awoke the next morning to a warm palm pressed against his cheek. He slowly blinked his eyes open to find bright blue eyes framed with thin black wire-rimmed glasses. Squinting out the light to protect himself from the impending headache, Virgil finally recognized the child from the night before.

"Hey, Patton-"

"Angels sing and demons cry, but we can't tell the difference," Patton stated sweetly, head tilted to one side.

"Hey Kiddo, breakfast time!" Remus called from the kitchen, "is Virgil up yet?"

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine as the child giggled, patted his face, and called back, "yes Papa! We're coming!"

Virgil groaned and sat up slowly, sore from sleeping on the couch with his piercings still in. How he'd managed to fall asleep in skinny jeans absolutely baffled him, almost as much as the peculiar little kid staring at him expectantly.

"What d'ya want, kid?"

"A kitty!"

"I don't have a kitty."

Patton’s eyes immediately brimmed with tears and his lip quivered before the child ran screaming back to the kitchen.

Virgil was sorely tempted to roll back over and hope he woke up somewhere quieter, but the smell of bacon and the temptation of seeing Remus in the daylight pushed him to his feet.

The guy he'd met in the bar had practically disappeared once Patton showed up. Remus had been flirty and suggestive and very interested in Virgil all night but nothing in his behavior would have ever led Virgil to suspect he had a kid and was capable of acting so.. fatherly. The man’s duality was almost unsettling.

Virgil walked over and stood in the door of the kitchen, silently watching Remus encouraging the weeping little boy to sit down and eat toast. He still wasn't sure why Patton had thought he would have a cat with him, but the disappointment had surely gotten to the little fella.

Remus looked up and gave Virgil a tired grin, "heya, sleeping beauty. How's your head?"

"Threatening to disown me. I didn’t touch him. He asked if I had a cat," Virgil nodded to Patton, hoping that Remus didn't think he'd purposefully hurt the kid.

"Oh don't worry. He asks everyone. His dad promised him one and well, do you see a litter box?" Remus rolled his eyes, standing and guiding Patton to the table, "you'd think after so many empty promises, the kid would know better, right?"

"Wait… you're his dad, right?" Virgil frowned.

"Nope!" Patton giggled, twirling his spoon between his fingers, "Dada lives in the big house!"

"Patton, eat your breakfast!" Remus barked, not unkindly before turning back to Virgil with a sigh, "no offense, but Patton’s dad is not exactly first date story material. Neither is Patton but well, that can't be helped now."

Virgil bit his lip, "right. None of my business… Except I shouldn't be here if you're married."

"I'm not married, sweetheart," Remus held up his hand to show off the lack of a ring.

"And this mystery father isn't… ya know," Virgil drew a finger across his throat in a wordless question.

"I fucking wish! Look, it's none of your damn business, Virgil. You want breakfast or the door?" Remus snapped, turning back to the food on the stove.

Virgil sighed and sat down next to Patton at the table, idly arranging shaped blocks in a haphazard pattern, "I'm sorry. I just don’t want to get in the middle of something complicated without knowing that's what's up. Yo, got another triangle for me, Pat?"

Patton grinned and grabbed a triangle from the table before shoving it somewhat painfully into Virgil’s palm. Remus watched the interaction and sighed overly dramatically.

"Hey, baby, why don't you go get dressed and pick out a movie?" Remus ruffled Patton’s hair, "no horror movies today though."

"Awwwww but I love the scary ones," Patton moped but obediently left the table.

Remus waited until Patton was out of sight before replying, "look, I don't have any secrets. I got nothing to hide. The only complicated thing right now is custody. My ex and I are separated and don't talk. Hell, I try to get him to pick Pattom up from Roman and Teddy's every chance I get. I love the little tyke but his dad pisses me off."

Virgil bit his lip, "that does not sound ideal."

Remus shook his head, "it's not. Like one day you're planning a wedding and processing an adoption, then before you know it you're divorced and fighting with the man you love for custody of the child he said made him sick to look at." Remus gritted his teeth, "Pat deserves so much better…"

Virgil nodded along with Remus’s story, "so why go out clubbing during your time with Patton? He doesn't need two absent fathers."

Remus chuckled, "don't freak out, but the first one of us who remarries has a huge advantage in getting full custody. Because neither of us is biologically related to Pat-Pat, it's become way too much of a battle.

"I'm sorry," Virgil whispered, studying the grain of the wood in the table.

"It's alright," Remus shrugged, "you're alright, Virge. Can I get that number now?"

Virgil laughed and took the offered phone, "yeah, call me when you've got some free time and Patton is with his dad."

Remus grinned and pocketed the phone, "oh you'll see how this works, sweetheart."

---

Patton was nearly a constant whenever Virgil met with Remus, but at least Roman had been mollified by Remus having a steady date so he and Teddy resumed babysitting during more adult dates. The Remus he'd met at the bar never quite resurfaced in the same way, sometimes the actual image of the tatted-up punk caring for a sweet little angelic-looking demon spawn of a kid took Virgil by surprise, and sometimes he was shocked with the things this man would say to his kid. Teddy constantly questioned Virgil why he had stayed even after learning more about the whole situation.

Virgil wasn't certain why. Patton had definitely tried to scare him off a few times. The kid was terrifying when he wanted to be.

But this little family was so very compelling, and Virgil was more and more certain with each date that he wanted a place in it.

"So, sugar…"

"Yeah, Rem?"

"I have a modest proposal for you-"

"Nope. Not gonna eat babies."

"Wha-?"

"Oh, shoot I thought for sure you were talking about the satirical essay. What's up, babe?" Virgil winced and turned to face Remus.

"How would you… like to start the process to become one of Patton’s legal guardians?"

"You're asking your boyfriend to adopt your kid who already has two dads?"

"Well yeah, because-"

"Because then the paperwork is ready to sign right after the wedding," Virgil interrupted with a grin, "you sneaky son of a biscuit!"

Remus laughed, "please, baby?"

"Not my call, sweetheart," Virgil smirked, "hey, Pattycake!"

Little feet pounded down the hallway, Patton skidding to a halt in the kitchen, "yeah? Prince Sparkles is in danger so this better be important!"

"You can save the Prince soon enough, kid. How would you feel-" Virgil suddenly felt very nervous as the gravity of the question finally hit him, "-how would you like… another dad?"

"Umm.. do I have to meet him?" Patton looked disappointed and confused.

"No, Pat-attack, Virgil is asking if he can be your dad too," Remus explained gently.

"You aren't already? I demand you be my dad this instant!" Patton bellowed at Virgil, pouting with the most betrayed expression he could muster.

Virgil laughed, "don't worry kid, this is just gonna be the paperwork that makes it official. You know I got you."

"Yay! New Dad! New Dad!" Patton beamed and ran around the table to dive into Virgil’s arms. Virgil caught him with a grunt and leaned into Remus.

"I think that's a yes from me," Virgil murmured

"Most excellent. Now I've got both my boys!" Remus grinned and wrapped both in a bear hug to seal the deal.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #kid!patton #familial dukeality #familial intruality

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world-of-horrors-au · 3 years

Text

Horrors AU - Bittersweet

Ben opens up a bit about his past. Briar doesn’t really understand, but she’ll support him no matter what.

1.2k words Teen and up rating Set within the Horrors AU, the dystopian/post-apocalyptic AU this blog is dedicated to. For more information, see the pinned post on this blog! Trans!Ben x female OC Briar the Batter [though it’s not heavy on the romance], mentioned EJ/Jeff. All mentioned characters are in their 20s Content Warnings: Discussions of 80s/90s homophobia/transphobia/LGBTphobia, and domestic violence. Implied religious abuse and dysphoria [though the latter is mostly read between the lines].

---

Her apartment was just as she left it that morning. With relief, Briar slid the heavy bag from her shoulders, and dropped it onto the wooden floor. The warm scent of the bread she’d made the day before still lingered, along with the wildflowers that graced her kitchen table. Briar kicked off her shoes and walked to the kitchen window. Wood scraped together as she opened it, letting in sunlight and the breeze of a future storm. With a groan, Briar pulled her hair free from its ponytail and massaged the back of her head. God, it was good to be home.

“Ben?” She called out.

The radio on the counter beeped.

“I’m in your bedroom,” his voice came.

Briar rolled her eyes. Oh, boy, that was fast.

“Playing a game,” he said, guessing what she was thinking. “The tv in the living room can’t connect to my Gamecube anymore.”

“Gotcha,” she said, a bit relieved. “I’m heading your way, I need to get out of my work clothes.”

“Copy that.”

Even before she opened the door, Briar heard his game, the cries of monsters and clicks of a menu pushing through the wood. Stepping into the empty room, she looked at the television perched on top of her old dresser.

“Pokemon again?”

“Yeah.” His voice came from her bed. Briar looked, and there he was where he wasn’t before, lying back with legs crossed on top of her comforter. One arm supported his blond head, the other rested in his lap. He didn’t need controllers to play games, being dead and all. “Got fifteen more of these bastards to purify.”

She shrugged. “Have fun with that.”

As she passed by him, Briar tapped his booted feet.

“No boots on the bed,” she said.

Ben made a face at her. “They’re not even real,” he said.

“Yeah, but you’ll teach Jeff bad habits.” Opening her closet door, Briar grabbed one of her thin shirts. “I already caught him trying to go to sleep with his jeans on.”

“How is that my fault?” Ben said. “I don’t even sleep.”

“You know damn well why,” Briar teased, and pulled off the top of her nurse’s uniform. She groaned in relief. “Feels great to get out of these scrubs,” She said as she pulled the pants off.

“Wouldn’t know, I don’t really take my clothes off.” Ben swore. “Damn it! You can’t kill my Espeon! He’s my baby!”

“You really get into those games.” She adjusted her bra before putting her new top on.

“Yeah, they relax me. Let me forget what reality is like for a few hours.” Ben flipped the NPC the bird as she heard him send out a new pokemon. “I always liked them, even when I had to hide them from…”

Briar looked over at him as she pulled the shorts over her legs. Ben’s face had clouded over with memories. She didn’t say anything, just let him be.

He swallowed. “From my husband.”

She adjusted the waistband of her shorts, looking at him. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“Right out of high school. Me and my high school sweetheart. Our entire graduating class came to our wedding - but that was like, 15 people, and most didn’t stay long. My friends told me I was making a mistake, but I didn’t care. I was in love. I wanted it all.”

Ben shook his head. Briar walked over and sat down next to him on the bed. In silence, she watched him go through the motions of his battle.

“Thought I did, at least. But being married to him didn’t make me happy. Having sex with him sucked. He went to college and made me stay home, then we fought about me playing video games. He smashed my GameBoy with a hammer, and told me he’d do that to my fingers if he caught me wasting his money on ‘nerd shit’ again. That was about three years in, when he started getting violent. Two years after that, he drowned me in the sink.”

“Jesus,” Briar said.

“I listened to my mother instead of my friends,” Ben said. “My friends told me to run, but she told me it was my responsibility to work things out with him, and if I divorced him, I’d go to hell with the - well, the AIDS victims. She was real big on conservative bullshit - that’s a different kind of conservative than you know, it’s kind of hard to explain -” He sighed. “She went hard on it because I knew I was trans as a kid and told her. Scared her shitless. She tried to snuff it out for my own good.”

“It didn’t work though,” Briar said.

“It did work, though.” Ben didn’t look away from the screen. “And it didn’t make me happy at all. But what does it matter, if you’re happy, so long as you’re not gay?”

Briar stared at the screen, twisted the fabric of her shirt between her fingers. She couldn’t really wrap her head around any of this.

“It was really like that?”

“It was worse than that - so much worse. But even gay people could go buy chocolate at the grocery store, you know?” The game paused. “It was getting better. That’s what pisses me off. Before the First Wave, things were getting better for us - for LGBT people - we were on a path to being accepted. And then, for fucking who knows why, we all completely lost it.” Ben shook his head and gestured with his free hand. “And now who knows what’ll happen? I don’t like humans, but thinking about them suffering because of who they are pisses me off - and you know those government bastards will try and ban ‘em all if they find out that Jeff and Eyeless were in a relationship during the War. Nothing’s off limits to those fucks.”

She looked down at the quilt below her, and frowned.

“Well,” Briar said. “I guess that means we can’t lose, then. They can’t find out if we take them down.”

Ben arched an eyebrow at her, then smiled wryly. “Look at you, our ray of hope.” His arms wrapped around her, and Briar stiffened in surprise as he placed his head on her shoulder. When did Ben ever show physical affection? Briar hugged him back.

“You know, I don’t know why you’re here, when it’s been so long since anybody was born,” he said. “But you’re good to have around. You know, for being a weak human-type.”

“Human-type?” She snorted. “What am I, a Pokemon?”

He pulled away. “You know what I mean.” Dropping back onto the bed, Ben resumed his game.

Briar shook her head, and started to stand, only for a hand to wrap around her wrist. She looked down at him. Without looking at her, he patted the spot next to him.

“You’re tired. Hang out with me a while.”

“Uh…” Briar thought about it, thinking about the dishes she needed to do, the laundry to take in from the line before the storm rolled in from the ocean… but he patted the bed again and she let herself give in. Briar laid down against him on her side, and closed her eyes. Ben wrapped an arm around her, and she allowed herself the pleasure of a nap.

#horrors au #creepypasta #creepypasta au #ben drowned #creepypasta ben drowned #briar the batter #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fic #homophobia tw #transphobia tw #lgbtphobia tw #domestic abuse tw #abuse tw

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 5

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Iruka/Mizuki ; Iruka & Naruto ; Iruka & Kakashi

WC: ~1900

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: A/B/O, pregnancy, abortion, abusive relationship, pack dynamics, lying

A/N: whooo two updates in one night now I'm only two days behind 🥳 this fic has a lot of my own a/b/o headcanons which I don't really explain, sorry. This is a scene of a story idea I've been stewing on for some time, but one which I do not think I will further develop.

This is also unbeta-ed. sorrynotsorry.

Tagging for Whumptober: @sweetysamaa, @atereal, @kelkage

Naruto runs ahead and turns the corner into the compound before Iruka can admonish him to be careful and watch where he’s going. He follows behind slower, weighed down by a grocery bag in each hand, and turns into the compound in a good mood. A day out with Naruto is always pleasant and makes him happy—even though the four-year-old isn’t his biological pup, Iruka knows he’s as good as imprinted on the kid. He’s so glad that Hatake-san had approached him to be a part of his pack. He likely never would have gotten this chance, otherwise.

He smiles softly. They’re only an embryo, barely the size of a sunflower seed now, but so very precious and already the whole pack is excited to have their second pup.

“I don’t care if it’s your home, Iruka’s my omega—”

“Our omega,” Hatake-san growls.

“But the pup is mine.”

Naruto creeps back to Iruka’s side at some point and takes his hand. Iruka’s other hand slips to his belly, resting protectively over where his new pup is growing. In the garden, Hatake-san is mostly calm, hands in his pockets and eye staring the other alpha down. Mizuki is… less calm. He’s posturing, pacing back and forth and swinging his arms around wildly.

“This pack wouldn’t exist without me,” Hatake-san growls. “The pup should be given the choice to be raised as Hatake.”

Around them are the pack betas. Anko is trying to put herself between Mizuki and Hatake-san, while Gai-sensei and Tenzō-san are also trying to physically deter the other alpha from starting a fight.

Naruto whines, soft and scared, pulling on Iruka’s uniform pants. “Why are they fighting?”

Iruka puts himself slightly in front of Naruto. “Let’s go inside. We don’t need to be here for all this, okay?”

They barely get to the door when Mizuki explodes. “Iruka is mine and that pup is mine,” he snarls. “I’ll take him and leave this pack without an omega, and then you’ll lose your precious monster-child. I hold the cards here, Kakashi; you’re the one with silly things like bonds.”

Iruka pushes Naruto inside and glares over his shoulder at Mizuki and Hatake-san, still posturing and snarling at each other. If he weren’t carrying, he’d put himself between them just like Anko is doing, but…

He looks over at Naruto, now playing in the corner of the kitchen with the collection of blocks Gai had bought him a few days ago. Mizuki could take Iruka out of the pack; he is right in his claim to be the pup’s sire, and can easily force a mating bite with little or no repercussions. If this were to happen, Hatake-san would lose his right to have Naruto as an adopted pup—Sandaime did say that this whole thing was contingent on Hatake having a pack, and without an omega the pack will fall apart. Naruto would end up back in the orphanage; Iruka’s not delusional enough to believe that Mizuki would let him keep Naruto, even if he has imprinted.

Iruka braces his lower back on the kitchen counter and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to have to make this choice.

He lays his hands over his belly and weeps.

“I need you to be very good today,” Iruka says, holding Naruto’s hand as they walk through the village.

“You always want me to be good, ka-chan! And I am!!”

Iruka smiles. “That’s true. I do love it when you’re good. But today more than usual, I really need you to be on your best behavior.”

He opens the doors to the hospital and herds Naruto inside. Mizuki is at the Academy, Anko at T&I, Gai is with Kakashi doing some odd training exercises, and Tenzō is… well, Iruka’s not supposed to know that Tenzō is ANBU, but he saw the beta’s mask a few days ago.

Everyone is occupied.

He takes Naruto to the elevator and together they ride up to the second floor. Just beyond the elevator doors is a small waiting room that smells of rich, pregnancy pheromones. Half of the chairs are taken.

Iruka goes up to the reception desk and says, “Hi, I’m Umino Iruka; I called last night?”

The receptionist looks up at him and nods. “I remember. You can have a seat.”

It doesn’t take long at all for his name to be called, and he collects Naruto from the play table and quietly follows the nurse into the exam rooms.

“How far along are you?” the nurse asks once they’re in the privacy of a closed room. The door shuts heavily under her palm.

“Seven weeks.”

“Any mating bites, courtings, packmates?”

“I have a pack—three betas and two alphas. No courting or mating bites though.”

“And the pup here?”

Iruka puts his hand on Naruto’s shoulder and gently squeezes. “He’s adopted. We’re imprinted.”

The nurse makes a note. “Congratulations,” she murmurs. “Do you want to disclose a reason for termination?”

“No, thank you.” He pauses, considering; then says, “but it is urgent, if I could get it done today.”

She looks up at him and sets her folder and pen aside. She takes her glasses off. “Umino-sensei, are you safe within your pack?”

Naruto looks up at him with a small head tilt.

Iruka reiterates, “It’s urgent, and I’d like to have it done today. If at all possible.”

The nurse purses her lips and says, “I’ll see what we can do for you, Umino-sensei. We’ll need to do a pelvic exam first, so if you could get undressed?” She pulls out a modesty blanket from a drawer behind her, and then leaves the room.

As soon as it’s back to just him and Naruto, Iruka falls apart. He leans against the edge of the exam table and hugs his middle, sniffing and crying. And then Naruto is right in front of him, reaching up to his face and patting his cheeks. “Ka-chan, why are you crying?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t—I’m okay, I promise. I will be okay.”

Naruto frowns and rests his temple against Iruka’s belly. “What does ‘terminate’ mean?”

Iruka cries harder, hugging Naruto tightly and tries to think about the best way to answer the question. He hasn’t had Naruto for more than half a year, but he knows he’ll do anything to keep him… even if it means aborting this growing pup before they can become a reason for Mizuki to take him away.

He has a responsibility to his pup—to Naruto. He has a responsibility to his pack—not just Mizuki.

“You… Naruto, you know I love you and wouldn’t trade you for anything?”

“Yeah?? Ka-chan, what—?”

“Your sibling,” Iruka sniffs, “they can’t… I can’t. Naruto, ‘terminate’ means ‘to stop’. We’re here today so that we can stop my pregnancy.”

Naruto looks up at him and asks, “Is this because of what Mizuki-nii was saying last night? Because Kaka-nii would never let him take you away, I know that!”

Iruka smiles thinly at Naruto, brushes back his bangs. “Mizuki has a right to the pup, as their sire. And if he wanted to bond and leave the pack to raise his pup, I can be compelled to go with him.”

Naruto hugs him tighter. “And so you want to stop being pregnant so Mizuki-nii can’t take you away?”

Iruka nods. “I have other reasons, but yes.”

“What’s going to happen to the baby?”

“They… They’re going to be removed from my body, and won’t become a part of our pack.”

“But if they’re removed, then… then, they’ll die?”

“Naruto, they’re not really alive right now. And something that’s not alive can’t die.”

“But—”

“Naruto, what we’re stopping is the eventuality of a new pup. It’s. It’s a hard choice, but one I’m very sure about making.”

“That’s not—” Naruto buries his face into Iruka’s belly and murmurs something, muffled against Iruka’s shirt.

“What?”

Naruto lifts his head and cries, “I don’t want my little sibling to grow up in a bad pack! You’re making the right choice; but can I get another chance at being a big brother someday??”

Iruka kneels down and kisses Naruto’s forehead. “Of course, Naruto. You’ll be the best big brother ever, when the pack is ready to give you one, okay?” Naruto nods rapidly, and Iruka hugs him closer still. “I just hope the rest of the pack will understand someday.”

“If they don’t,” Naruto frowns, “then we leave the pack and start our own. We don’t need people who don’t care about you, Ka-chan.”

A knock sounds at the door and Iruka clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m not ready yet.”

“That’s alright, Umino-sensei. I’ll come back in another few minutes,” the nurse says through the door without opening.

Iruka smiles at Naruto and brushes his hair aside. “I have to get ready. Could you go and sit on one of those chairs and be good and patient?”

Naruto nods and sits down. Iruka gets ready for termination.

Later that night, Iruka tells the pack that he and Naruto had been out shopping and he tripped over and landed poorly onto his stomach, resulting in a miscarriage. His betas all cry over him—Gai-sensei, in particular, soaks through the fabric on Iruka’s shoulder. Anko and Tenzo-san both scent him in comfort and solidarity. The two alphas… Hatake-san looks upset, but asks to scent Iruka to ensure he’s alright; that they can always try again for another pup, but they can’t replace Iruka. Iruka accepts the scenting, and breathes in the alpha’s deep woodsy scent in return.

Mizuki is livid. He storms away to their bedroom without offering to scent Iruka. Iruka’s worried about what’s going to happen later that night…

And then, when he’s alone cleaning up after dinner, Hatake-san approaches him and asks to speak to him privately. Iruka dries off his hands and follows the alpha to the library, where they close the door and then Hatake-san asks, “Why did you lie to the pack?”

“I didn’t—”

“Iruka-sensei. Please. I could smell the lie on you,” Hatake-san holds up his hands. “I just want to know the truth, please?”

Iruka folds his arms across his chest. He aches everywhere—the procedure was invasive; he hadn’t wanted to take the pills to force a miscarriage in case Mizuki found out and threw the second dose away. “I elected to abort the pregnancy,” he says.

Hatake-san nods. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

Iruka narrows his eyes. “You’re not… mad?”

“Why would I be? It’s your body. You know yourself better than I, and I trust your judgement. I wouldn’t have asked you to become my omega—my pack omega,” he quickly corrects himself, a light blush peeking over his mask, “if I didn’t trust you.”

He smiles softly. “Thank you,” Iruka says.

“Did you need a separate place to sleep tonight? I’ve heard that omegas tend to want to nest alone after a pregnancy loss, however it happens.”

“No, I’m alright.”

Hatake-san nods and takes a few steps closer. “Is it alright if I scent you again before you head to bed, then?”

“You’re one of my alphas,” Iruka says. “You don’t need to ask.”

“And yet, I’m asking.”

“I—” Iruka feels his own face heat up. Mizuki never asks to scent him… and neither do any of the betas. It’s… nice, to be asked. “Yes, please, Hatake-san.”

“We’re pack, Iruka-sensei. Please call me Kakashi.”

“Oh. Um, okay. Kakashi-san.” Iruka nods, holding out his wrists. “You may.”

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #i've got red in my ledger #naruto #fic #abortion #pregnancy #abusive relationship #a/b/o au #lying #umino iruka #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #mizuki #my writing

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

Watts

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY X READER (KINDA) RATING: SAD + SWEET

Writers notes: My brain today : Hu? I wonder what’s benny watt’s backstory? who knows... Lets make him one! that's sad and tragic and kinda adorable... lets do this.

I sat against the harsh plastic chair, my feet against the ice cold stones of the basement floor, the chill coming under the door spreading across the whole apartment, the windows dark rain battering them every so often thunder cracking across the sky, I sat up a little in my chair and moved a piece playing the toughest game I could play, Against myself. I pulled my shirt over me a little more but not wanting to do up another button, it wasn't that cold. I was lost in my own world a while my mind started to wander.

One of the first things I can recall, it was a bright sunny day, the sky blue, the warmth of mid July in full swing, The tall buildings around all shaken and half broken, all the windows taped up, many of them blacked out, The sweet sounds of the radio playing some nice tunes, I was hopping along the tall fence posts jumping from tall wooden post to tall wooden post down the long garden, trying not to fall. I saw the door to next door open, her hair up in a bun, her dress half torn and repaired, the washing basket on her hip, she was shocked but then her face softened as she smiled at me

"Benjamin watts? what are you doing up there?" she laughs

"Playing" I told her

"what are you playing?" she asks coming over

"Frogs"

"Well alright," she laughs putting her basket down by her washing line string, she got her little cloth out her apron pocket giving it a lick and cleaning some dirt off my nose "You be careful Little man"

"I will Mrs Linley" I smiled hopping to the next post

"why don't you go out and play with the other kiddos?"

"There not as fun as playing by myself"

"Why don't you go with little Lilly take her to the park for an ice cream"

"Lilly's boring"

"BENNY!" I heard the harsh male voice yell so I quickly jumped down from the fence seeing him stood looming over the backdoor of the house in his usual suit with his cane, his belt done tight with his knife sat there as usual "Dinner" He says so I nodded heading inside sitting at the table where he set down a bowl of gross smelling soup I instantly turned my nose up at it "Eat it. You're lucky I even feed you" He says muttering to himself as he usually did "Ungrateful little bastard, You know I don't have to. I could have sent you to the poor house with the other kids, not out the goodness of my heart I look after you"

"Then why do you Papa?"

"Because your mother asks it off me." he sighed sitting at the table with his own soup and some bread "We've been over this" He says "I want nothing to do with my daughter, never was my business, and if she wasn't so busy I wouldn't be the one taking care of you, You little bastard"

"What's a bastard Papa?"

"You are a bastard benny. By definition, Maybe you wouldn't be if your mother kept her legs shut and had some idea who your father was" He sighed "if your mother wasn't so busy, taking care of the soldiers I'd leave you with her," he explained "eat your dinner"

"Yes papa" I sighed "when will mummy be back?"

"When the war is over," he says "your mother as much as we have our differences, she does a good job, and an important job. Nurses are usually good girls, your mother… happens to be an exception, but nurses are good girls, you'll marry a nurse one day"

"Will I?"

"Course you will. You'll get a war at your age Benny, you'll meet a lovely nurse, get married and have your own little kiddos" he says "Watts always have nurses"

"What if I don't wanna be a soldier?"

"Then you and your mother are dead to me" he says before the sound of the warning erupted across the city, he stood up and grabbed the bag by the door pushing me out the seat I nodded and ran out the house And into the garden as the sun was setting, he slowing followed as he locked the house up, I ran down to the shelter jumping on my little bed, he followed and locked the door up behind him sitting on his own. It grew terrifyingly quiet as for moments the world sat on the edge “Benny, Play” He ordered clicking his fingers pointing to the little chess board he had set up on the table between the beds, I happily smiled going and playing against him. He would often try to trick me but I always beat him “Good game kid” He cracked a smile shaking my hand

“Can I papa? Can I?” I asked bouncing my on the bed

“Alright, until the raid’s over” he says taking his hat from the side and sitting it on my head “Again?”

“Again” I smiled excitedly setting the board up again,

“But not to many, you need to get to bed”

I sat at the table the chess board set, waiting. It was getting so late now I wonder what was happening, Someone had come to the door before we had began our game I didn’t know why, My grandpa just took them to the other room I could heard talking, arguing even if I tried not to listen.

“Why can’t his father take him?”

“There’s no mention of him anywhere we can’t find him” “Well he has to be somewhere” “Noel. If you don’t keep him. He’ll get swept up with the rest of the kids, There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of them, homeless, lost there families, you know if he goes into the system, he won’t get out till he’s eighteen.”

“I don’t see why I should keep him

“He’s your grandchild” “He’s a bastard! I never much wanted anything to do with my daughter why should I clean up after her mess”

“Because she’s not coming back. Not for him. Not for you. You’re all he has in the world.”

The door opened moments later the woman from the door came over to me touching my hair moving it out of my eyes for me “Hi Benny”

“Hello” I answered not sure what was going on

“Benny, I need you to answer something for me” she smiled moving to her knee

“Okay” I nodded seeing my grandpa stood leaning on the door to the other room

“Would you Like to stay here? In this little house with your grandpa? Or would you like me to take you to a nice place with lots of other children… lots of nice children who, Have lost their mommies too”

I looked to my grandpa and he seemed to be waiting for the answer too, I didn’t know what they wanted from me…

“I would like to stay here with papa”

“Okay sweetheart” she smiled “Then he stays with you”

“What if I said… you’d be better off there Benny?” He asks

“I’d still rather stay”

“Fine. But I hear a word of complaint out your little bastard mouth, one tantrum, one teenage rebellion. You’re going. You choose to stay here with me, and don’t you ever fucking forget it” He warned

“Yes Papa”

“Go to your room” He ordered and I nodded going out the house and out to the little shelter, our house had only ever had one bedroom and there wasn’t much space for me, even so he would rather I sleep out here said I was safer to always sleep in here, were I couldn’t get hurt, My boards sat along the other bed, my trophies lines along the little wall, I shut the little door and got cosy in the little dark shelter.

I sat in the old beaten up pick up listening to the radio on low, I was going over the games of the people I was to play against, running through it all in my head.

“You gonna win?” He asks

“I’m planning on it” “Don’t get cocky.” He warns “worst train in the world cockiness. Gets you into trouble. Don’t write checks with your mouth that your ass can’t cash benny”

“I know,”

“I know you know. Doesn't it mean you shouldn’t listen” He says “You're going out after?”

“No, home. Do some work” “You’ve never gonna met a girl at one of these things” “I know,”

“..... If there’s a boy-” “I’m not Gay Papa” I laughed

“Aren’t you? You're fourteen, how do you know?”

“Because I like girls”

“You’re fourteen. You don’t know what you like. I thought alot like what then I was your age”

“And?”

“And. You shouldn’t set yourself up to fail, I was married when I was not much older then you. Don’t… rush yourself with things is all I’m saying” “Is that why you didn’t wanna be with grandma anymore?”

“Somewhat, there was a lot of things between me and your grandma. Don’t worry about it” He says as he stopped at the little hotel doing the tournament “Hey,” He says stopping me from opening the door “Good luck you little bastard” He laughs putting his hat on my head

“I thought I don’t get it till I win?” I asked fiddling with it

“You’ll win. You’re a Watts, Go on you’ll be late” He says

“Thanks Papa” I smiled

“Go on run along you little bastard”

I tried to force it all away, I didn’t want to think about it. I folded the letter up and left it on the table, the cold chill of the apartment starting to get to me. This place was small, dirty, cold, and depressing but… I liked it. It felt like home, all the years of sitting playing chess in bomb shelters because he was too scared to let me come out, I wish I could have seen him again… I wish we hadn’t lost touch, then again he never liked how I went on from there, much less everything else, I had seen him a few times at key moments but he rarely spoke much, or phoned much, he kinda just… backed off. Knowing I had my own life and my own things, I don’t think he minded, but still. I would have liked to have seen him again.

“Benny?” I heard making me sit up a little seeing y/n stood at the bedroom door dressed for work already in her little blue and white dress, her hair done up in beautiful braids, minimal make up as it would get ruined on her shift anyway “Can you settle him? Else I’ll be late for work” she smiled

“Course I can” I laughed getting up and taking our little baby from her sitting him on my hip “Hey kiddo” I laughed giving his head a kiss trying to make him settle down.

“He won’t stop fussing” she laughs

“Boys do” I shrug

“Ummm… are all watts boys such fussy little monsters?” she laughs

“We are assholes” I sighed

“Umm Have to make sure I have a girl this time then” she smiled tapping her tiny little tummy she wasn’t even a full three months yet, “Are you okay benny?” she asks

“Yeah, I’m fine” I shrug

“Alright, don’t get wrapped up about it okay,” she smiled giving me a hug “Milks in the fridge, I’ll be home for dinner” she smiled giving me a kiss

“See you later darling” I told her

“Love you” she giggled

“Love you too” I laughed giving her an extra kiss, she smiled back and gave his head a kiss too before she got her bag

“You boys have fun” she laughed as she opened the door and hurried off to work, I smiled taking him sitting in his high chair by the table, he liked watching my play chess even if was only just about a year old. He kept making grabby hands towards the side of the table where my hat sat so I laughed picking it up and sitting it on his head even if it was miles too big for him

“It’s okay luke. You’ll grow into it” I laughed “But you're not having it properly, till you win. That's the rules, same for you as it was for me. Hey. You’re a watts. And that's the one thing no one can ever take away from you” I told him

#tbs #tbs fanfiction #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #benny #benny x reader #benny smut #benny imagine #benny watts #BENNYWATTS #bennywattssmut #benny watts imagine #benny watts smut

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teknicianwrites · 3 years

Note

Welcome to DADWC! How about "I’m tired…I’ll nap. Destroy the universe later" for Sera and Inky?

Thanks for the prompt! Here is some Sera/Adaar, with a small side of Adoribull. Had a lot of fun writing team Chaotic Gay. A little fluff, a little h/c.

@dadrunkwriting

Akeelah rolled out from beneath the falling dragon, the leather of her coat nearly catching in the monster's claws as it crashed into the ground. Hot blood sprayed across her vitaar as she let out a wild cry of triumph.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" Bull crowed, whooping out a deep laugh that Akeelah joined with a victorious shout to the sky. Bull bounded to her side and grabbed her shoulder. "Boss. Boss. That was incredible. Tell me we're going to do it again. You feel it too, right? It was amazing."

"That was- it- that-" she tried, utterly incapable of finding words in Common or Qunlat to express the absolute feral joy pumping through her veins.

"That was the hottest friggin' thing I've ever seen!" Sera leapt on her back, nearly making Akeelah overbalance as legs wrapped around her waist and hands gripped her shoulders. Bull steadied her with a knowing grin before stepping back to give them space. Sera gave a light tug at her horns, and Akeelah ignored the pulse of pain from the bruises she'd earned when she'd been too slow with a fade step. "Get that shit off your face so I can kiss you," Sera murmured in her ear.

"Yes, ma'am." Akeelah let Sera pull her head back, shivering at the command and the hungry look in Sera's eyes. She righted herself to search through the pack at her hip and pulled out a clean rag she soaked from her canteen.

Cleaning the poison from her face took an eternity as Sera whispered suggestions of all the things she wanted to do once they were alone at camp. Akeelah whined when Sera proposed sending the others back ahead of them and not waiting for a tent, and firmly reminded herself that Sera would not appreciate surprise hallucinations if she wasn't thorough and kissed her with deathroot on her lips.

"Savages, the lot of you," Dorian called as he picked his way carefully out of the treeline, regarding their display with amusement. Sera broke her litany of lurid fantasies to stick her tongue out at him, and Akeelah used the reprieve to dry her face with a clean cloth, satisfied when it came away with no lingering traces of vitaar.

Bull grinned and strode to Dorian, tugging him by the belt and resting a hand on his ass. "You love it."

"Hm, hardly," Dorian sniffed. Akeelah smiled when he rolled his eyes fondly as Bull pulled him closer. "Ah, no, Sera is quite right. Paint comes off before you get your mouth near me," he tutted, a firm hand to Bull's pauldron. Bull moved in a playful threat like he might try anyway, and chuckled as Dorian slipped free from his grasp.

It made Akeelah feel warm, watching them. She still wanted to beat Halward's face in for the shame he'd instilled in his son. It had taken long months before Dorian had stopped tensing anytime Bull expressed his affection publicly, and though Dorian was still cautious in unfamiliar company, it was gratifying that he felt comfortable around her.

Sera broke her train of thought when she swung around to Akeelah's front and pulled her in for a desperate kiss. Akeelah moaned into her mouth, tasting the bittersweet hint of elfroot that lingered on her lips. Sera gripped her horns for purchase and Akeelah winced.

She broke from the kiss, giving Sera a reassuring smile at her confusion. Normally Akeelah enjoyed Sera's fascination with her horns, which Sera had quickly learned to take advantage of. She tilted her head to the side so Sera could see the bruising above her ear and gently repositioned Sera's hands to her neck.

"You're getting quite skilled with that sword, dear Herald," Dorian said conversationally. Sera made a grumpy sound against her jaw when she turned to him to grimace at the title. He smiled winningly at the reaction to his teasing. Any other man might have looked awkward, standing in a clearing watching two women tangle together shamelessly while waiting for his own lover to finish washing up, but Dorian stood regal as ever. "Soon you'll be giving our Madame de Fer a run for her money."

Sera looked up from where she'd moved to Akeelah's throat. "Oh, piss on Vivvy," she sneered. "Coryphenus better be shaking in his knickers, Buckles can take the whole friggin' world."

Akeelah's vision swam as Sera's animated gestures moved too fast for her eyes to follow. She blinked, trying to focus, and gripped Sera tighter to keep her from falling as she completely let go of her neck to make rude gestures at an imaginary Vivienne.

"Aiming too low there, Sera," a deep voice said from behind her. Akeelah jumped, heart racing at finding a Qunari at her side… but it was Bull. Of course it was Bull. She knew Bull. Bull was her friend. Bull was safe. "With us at her side, I think she can take the universe."

"And destroy it as she does so, with you two at her back," Dorian quipped, twirling his staff lazily. It made Akeelah's stomach turn as it spun, sparking with idle lightning.

Akeelah didn't understand whatever Sera said back. It was too loud, right in her ear. She tried to step back, but Sera came with her. That's right. Sera was wrapped around her. Can't step away. Gotta put her down.

She glanced around for a spot free of dragon blood, and the sunlight glinting off the creature's scales hit her like daggers through her eyes. She snapped them shut and tried to breathe.

Everything was so bright. Everything was so loud. Everything was too much. It all made her dizzy. It was exhausting. She was exhausted.

"I’m tired," she whispered, trying to remember what they were talking about. "I'll nap. Destroy the universe later."

Hands suddenly gripped her coat tight. "Buckles? Hey, woah, Buckles!"

She whined at the voice and opened her eyes. Things looked different. Sera was taller than her. How had that happened?

Oh. Because she was kneeling. She remembered wanting to sit down. She wondered if she'd done it on purpose.

"Boss, you ok?" Bull crouched next to Sera in front of her, his good eye looking at her in concern.

Akeelah tensed at the Ben Hassrath being so close. She felt behind for her staff, panic mounting when she couldn't find it. How did she end up unarmed this close to him?

"M'fine," she lied, fighting back dizziness, unwilling to show weakness to a Qunari.

No. Not Qunari. Not Ben Hassrath. Tal Vashoth. Bull was Tal Vashoth. Why did she keep forgetting? She was fine. She was safe. "Sleepy," she slurred, lowering herself gracelessly into the grass.

"No, no, no, none of that." Warm hands were on her face and she whined when fingertips pulled her eyelids open. Dorian gazed intently into her eyes. "Well, hopefully the universe doesn't hit as hard as a dragon's tail. I do believe our Inquisitor has a concussion."

"Well, fix it!" Sera shouted. Why was she shouting? Shouting made her stomach turn. Akeelah tried to shush her and was ignored. "Wave your magic fingers or whatever and get rid of the concoction!"

Dorian snorted and cupped her cheeks. Warm hands got warmer, and she sighed contentedly at the feeling of his magic against her scalp.

Sera dropped to her knees and stared intently at Akeelah's face, ears twitching as Dorian's fingers prodded gently along her skull. She looked scared. Akeelah didn't want her to be scared.

"You make the best concoctions," Akeelah told her, brushing uneven golden hair from her eyes. "I like it when you throw bees."

Sera's face softened and she caught Akeelah's hand to press a kiss into her palm. "Hey, you're cute like this and all, but you're freaking me out," she said into her skin. "Come on, Dorian, do something!"

"Sera, this thing I'm doing right now?" he asked through gritted teeth. "This is me doing something. I am 'waving my magic fingers' as we speak. Head trauma is not my specialty."

Sera looked ready to yell at him. Akeelah pressed her hand more firmly on Sera's mouth to stop her. "Shhh. Head hurts. Quiet is nice."

Sera bit her lip and resumed her silent vigil, gripping her hand tight. Bull squeezed her shoulder. "It's ok, Sera. Concussions aren't that bad. I've had dozens."

"That explains so much about you," Dorian muttered as his fingers prodded near her left horn. Akeelah winced and he focused his magic there.

Something eased in her head, relieving a pounding tightness she hadn't fully processed until it was eased back. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

Gradually the pain faded to slight pressure. Nausea and dizziness receded, and when she opened her eyes the light no longer felt like an enemy combatant. She let out a breath of relief.

"Ok, I've done what I can," Dorian announced after a last sweep around her head. He stood, brushing leaves and dirt from his knees. "Varric's friend should still be at Skyhold, yes? We'll have him take a look at her when we get back, but I think she'll be fine."

"What do you mean, you think?" Sera demanded as Bull helped Akeelah to her feet.

"I'm a necromancer, not a spirit healer," Dorian explained impatiently. "I'll be of more use after she's dead."

Sera whirled on him, murder in her eyes, and Bull stepped between them.

"She's not going to die, Sera," he placated. "He's being facetious."

Sera halted her advance as her face scrunched in confusion. "There's fish?"

Bull chuckled, and Akeelah was gratified the deep rumble didn't set her ears ringing. "He thinks he's cute."

"Well, it's not! Her maybe dying isn't friggin' cute!" Sera glared at Dorian, who raised his arms in apology or surrender. Akeelah gently pulled her back against her chest.

"You're cute," she told her, kissing her hair. "The cutest. Prettiest woman I know."

Tension melted out of Sera as she leaned into her. "... you're not too bad yourself," she said, turning to wrap Akeelah's waist in a fierce hug. "Don't you die on me, yeah? I'll be real mad if you die on me," she mumbled into her shirt.

Akeelah smiled and bent to give her a proper kiss. "Ok. I won't. I promise. Still got the universe to fight, remember?"

Sera giggled and pulled back, quickly wiping at her eyes. "I'll hold you to that."

"I would advise not holding her horns until Hawke looks at her," Dorian called over. "She still has a head wound. Don't undo all my hard work in a fit of passion."

Akeelah grinned when color rose to Dorian's cheeks as Bull whispered something in his ear. She would put all her money on it being filthy and related to his own affinity for horns, judging by the flustered way Dorian smoothed out his tunic.

She smiled down at Sera and was surprised to see she looked stricken. "What's wrong?"

"I made you worse," Sera told the ground. "You were fine and then I just started grabbing your horns after you got hit in the head and then you fell-"

"Hey, no." Akeelah tilted her chin up and Sera met her gaze reluctantly. "I thought I was fine too. Now we know. No horns after a dragon to the face."

Sera huffed, the corner of her mouth quirking. Akeelah kissed her twitching lips until they stopped fighting to frown. She caressed her cheeks, and Sera grabbed her coat, and Dorian cleared his throat.

"I do hate to interrupt a good time, but I'm not comfortable leaving you behind until you've seen a proper healer, so unless you have a thing for exhibitionism…"

"Spoilsport," Bull laughed. "I wanted to see how long it took them to remember we're here."

Sera made a face. "Pfft, fine. Let's head back to camp," she said grumpily. Akeelah took her hand and Sera squeezed it as they started walking.

Bull put an arm over Dorian's shoulders and pulled him in; Dorian sighed and allowed it. "Come on, the sooner we get back, the sooner we can celebrate. And we've all got a lot of celebrating to do."

#Teknicianfic #dadwc #Adaar/sera #If the prompt doesn't call for whump you can always add your own #Thank you for the prompt!#I love this team

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

No Matter What

Notes: For the request by @ticklish-sidekick who requested a fic with Simon and his dad. Hope you enjoy! :)

Summary: Jack Spier takes his son rock-climbing in an attempt to bond with him. When Simon’s own insecurities get in the way of that, the former decides to take measures into his own hands to show his son how much he loves him.

Simon didn’t want to be here.

He hadn’t gone rock-climbing since he was ten, back when his dad had, for some reason, held the notion that he was even remotely athletic. He remembered hating it back then as well. Watching all the other dads with their sons, all of whom were bravely climbing up the wall and laughing over inside jokes. Meanwhile little, petrified Simon stood staring up at the expansive slope of hand holds and ropes and ran crying to the bathroom halfway through. It took his dad half an hour to coax him out of there and he never even got on the equipment.

When Simon’s dad suggested the idea again, seven years later, everything in Simon had inwardly rebelled at the idea. Still, he hadn’t wanted to seem like a pussy so he smiled and said yes. It wasn’t that he was scared of the prospect now that he was older, but the memories of that day couldn’t help but haunt him as they drove down to the Climbing Gym, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun,” his dad assured him. “Just like when you were little.”

His voice was a bit too cheery in that way it had been for the past couple months now. Simon hadn’t yet built up the confidence to tell his dad he was gay (see again, pussy), and even though he hadn’t said anything, he felt like his dad could sense his weakened masculinity. He’d been trying to get the two of them to “bond” for weeks now and this blast from the past was yet another flimsy attempt at connection.

“Sure, dad.” Simon flashed a fake smile of assurance at the other, wishing he could say what he really felt and not sound like the worst excuse for a man that ever was. “I’m sure it’s gonna be great.”

From the car ride there, every step of the process seemed to get worse and worse. As it turned out, that specific establishment didn’t take cards which meant an agonizing five minutes of his dad and him digging around in their collective wallets to sum up the measly thirty dollars for it. After that Simon had to use the bathroom, but there was a line of people leading up to it and they spent another ten minutes dealing with that mess. By the time they finally got around to hooking up the gear, they both came to the sad realization that Simon’s gear didn’t fit because they had ordered a size too small.

By this point, Simon was ready to give up and call it a day, but Jack Spier was determined to have a fun outing with his son.

“We’ll get a new one,” he promised him as the harness continued to not go around Simon’s waist. “Hello—” he waved one hand out, beckoning an employee over to assist them—“we need a new harness please!”

“Dad, it’s fine—” Simon protested, but the lady was already walking over, flashing them the same helpful grin that all the staff here seemed to wear. Simon sighed in exasperation, dropping his face in his hands.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, her gaze flicking down to the discarded harness and back up to Simon. He flushed, knowing she was probably taking in his slightly pudgy frame, not muscular by any means. It wasn’t that he was super self-conscious about his body, but it was moments like these that made him worry about it.

He had confided, once, in Leah about it, and she had merely laid her head on his stomach affectionately and replied, “I like your body. It’s soft—like a pillow.”

Simon did not want to be a pillow.

“Yes you can,” his dad continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “My son here needs a bigger harness, and we were wondering if you had anything—”

“It’s really alright,” Simon mumbled, his cheeks burning. “I’ll manage with this one, there’s no need to bother you—”

“Oh it’s perfectly alright,” the lady assured him, waving her hand as if to magically push the problem aside. “We get mix-ups like this all the time. I’ll take this off your hands and grab you something from the back.”

She disappeared to the supposed “back” with his mess of tangled gear while Simon stewed in his embarrassment and disappointment over another failed attempt to end their trip early.

Fifteen minutes later, gear on and harnesses attached, Simon was once more faced with the daunting wall of multicolored handholds. He swallowed audibly.

“It’s fairly simple,” his dad explained, hands in his pocket as he surveyed the sight with a satisfied grin. “If you go slow and watch your step, you should be fine. I have the rope to levy you back down right here, so don’t focus on falling. No matter what happens, you’ll be fine.”

“I know that,” Simon snapped irritably. His dad was talking to him like he was still that scared ten-year-old that was too afraid to go trick-or-treating alone. He was older now, and even though the thought of going hundreds of feet up in the air with only a rope to protect him was making his knees weak, he was going to prove that to his dad.

He grabbed onto the first handhold, resting a foot on another. So far so good. Now to pull himself up. He grunted, pushing off with one leg and flailing for another hold. He repeated the steps again, and again, and again, until his nervous smile started to become one of genuine enjoyment. He was doing it. He was actually doing it!

“You’re doing great,” his dad called up to him, and despite himself Simon felt almost bolstered by the comment.

Why had he ever been so scared of this as a kid? Simon kicked off once more, his hand already reaching for the next hold—

“Shit!”

All the breath in Simon’s body left him as his foot slipped and he fell backwards, all his attempts to save himself rendered useless by the sweat collected on his palms. The fall backwards lasted a mere second, and yet Simon’s entire life managed to flash before his eyes in that time. His blood rushed to his head and he was jerked back by the force of the fall.

He hung suspended upside down by the ropes tied around his waist, flailing around like a fish out of water but unable to right himself.

His dad rushed forward, concern written over his features. “Si, are you okay?”

The panic that had been spiraling through Simon moments before was quickly transformed into hurt at those words, spoken with such tenderness that it made him want to punch something. “I’m fine, alright? I’m not that delicate.”

His dad’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I know what you’ve been thinking,” Simon grumbled, crossing his arms with difficulty given his position. “ ‘Oh, take him rock-climbing, that’s sure to toughen him up’. But I can’t even do that right, can I? Can’t even climb a stupid wall with my dad. That’s Simon for you. Pathetic, weak, crybaby nonathletic Simon.” And gay, he filled in mentally though he didn’t say it out loud.

“Simon.”

His dad’s voice was firm in a way it wasn’t usually, the consonants shortened at the end. Simon forced his gaze to meet the other’s. “I don’t think you’re any of those things. This—” he pointed to Simon’s swaying body—“doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong. It means you were willing to try something and you failed.”

“Exactly—” Simon started, but the other interrupted him.

“You failed this time,” his dad corrected him. “You can only learn from your failures. And son, I don’t care if you climb some stupid wall. I don’t care if you never do anything athletic in your life. I don’t care if you sit around writing made-up stories about books you read with your friends.”

“You know about that?” Simon asked, flushing.

“Yes,” his dad confirmed. “And I don’t care. I didn’t ask you to come here with me today because I wanted you to prove yourself to me, or whatever other misconceptions you might have formed. I asked you to come with me because I wanted to spend time with you. Whether we’re climbing walls or writing about Harry Potter characters kissing. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Oh,” Simon said, softly, shame flushing through him at the way he had acted. All his fears, his insecurities, everything he had been building up in his head was crumbling around him as their structures proved to be shaky. Simon had never been so glad to be proven wrong in his life. “You really… you really don’t care?”

His dad shook his head.

“Even though I might still be a little scared of climbing up the wall?”

“Nope.”

“Even though my harness doesn’t fit because I’m not super buff and ripped like you?”

His dad chuckled in amusement, raising an eyebrow. “Not even then. Besides, if you were all ripped and buff, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He reached out and scribbled his fingers teasingly over the other’s stomach like he used to do when Simon was still a kid. Simon yelped, hands jumping down (up?) to protect himself, though it was difficult in his current position. “Dad!”

“What? I’m just trying to cheer you up.” His dad dug fingers gently into his sides, a spot that had always made Simon squeal, and giggles fell hopelessly from the other’s lips. “Is it working?”

“Noho, dahad, i-it’s ehembahaharrassing!” Simon protested, glancing around him, worried that someone might be looking. “Stahahap!”

“No can do,” his dad said, clucking his tongue. “I’m afraid I cannot. You see my body is no longer my own anymore.”

Simon’s eyes widened with realization as he realized where his dad was going with this. “Ohoho m-my gohod, dahahad, noho!”

“I’ve been possessed,” his dad continued, grinning as he squeezed rapidly up and down his sides. “By the spirit of the Tickle Monster. I can’t stop until I make my victim understand that I love him. No matter what,” he insisted, emphasizing each word with a poke to his stomach.

“Thihihis ihihis sohohoho stuhuhupid!” Simon shrieked, flailing around wildly as he attempted to somehow smack away the hands tormenting him. His shirt had ridden up due to the influence of gravity, and his dad took advantage of it to softly spider his nails over his bare stomach. “Ah! Wait, wait, wahahait, nohohoho, thahahahat’s nohohot fahahahair!”

“What’s not fair? That you’re still this ticklish after all these years?”

“I-I’m nahahahat—Ihihihi mehehean—ahaha—stahahap tihihickling mehehehe fohohor ahaha sehehecond! Ahahaha, fuhuhuhuck!”

“Simon Spier!” his dad exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “Language. That’s it—you’re gonna have to be punished for that.”

Catching both of his hands in his grasp, his dad moved the soft spider tickles down into his armpits. Simon squawked, writhing back away from him but ultimately unable to escape.

“Nohoho, nohoho, nohoho! Nahahahat thehehehere! Stahahahap!”

“Do you apologize for cursing?”

“B-Buhuhut yohohou cuhuhurse ahahall thehehe tihihime!” Simon pointed out, struggling to get his words out through the desperate laughter pouring out of him.

“Yes, but I’m your father,” his dad reminded him. “I’m allowed to.”

Simon knew his father didn’t truly care about the cursing, as he had done so a million times in front of his parents before. He used to do this when he was little too, chasing him around the house and making up fake crimes that he needed to be “punished for”. Simon would always protest, but he never truly minded. He knew it was just his dad’s way of making him happy.

Even now, choking over strangled giggles, Simon couldn’t help but feel nostalgia warm his chest, a grin forming on his features that had little to do with the tickling. Despite everything, this was helping.

His dad knew he had his limits however. After a couple more minutes he backed off, allowing the boy a moment to breathe, which Simon did, in grateful gulps. Leftover giggles spilled from his lips, and his nerves sang with phantom sensation.

“That was not nice,” he said, glaring up at him though there was no venom behind his gaze.

His dad smiled, and in that one gesture was the love collected over seventeen years of Simon’s life. “Do you wanna try again?”

Simon looked back at his dad, the man who loved him despite everything, despite his appearance, despite his habits, despite anything that the world could throw at him. Maybe he wouldn’t tell his dad he was gay now. But when he did, he knew he would be ready for it. And for the first time in a long time, Simon wasn’t scared.

He smiled back.

“Yeah. I think that would be alright.”

#tickle fic #love simon #simon spier #jack spier #tickling #fanfic #fanfiction #fic request #requests #simon vs thsa

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