#I hope he comes with his sword strap too so you can have his sword on his back and take off his jacket

[meownotgood]

figzero aki is so cuteeee 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 aaaah!!!

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Babysitting Little Nero With Dante

Dante X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, steam, cuteness overload, fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

(A/N:) Finally got time to write today! Life has been so busy that it has been hard to sit down and write. But I made time today cause this needed to see the light of day! It's been swimming around my brain for like two weeks now and it was just too cute not to write! I'm still on my DMC/Dante kick! So enjoy this imagine that turned into this monster! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Naps in his chair at his desk were special to Dante. His office was his home and it was the place he could be himself more than anywhere else. So when jobs were few and far between you could find him in the Devil May Cry office napping, playing pool, or jamming to his favorite tunes. At this very moment with his feet kicked up and a magazine covering his face, Dante was sleeping his life away. Well he was until the phone started ringing startling him from sleep. Dante sat up with a snort, the magazine falling to the floor before he reached for the handset and rubbing at his sleep filled eye.

"Devil may cry," he mumbled with a yawn.

"Caught you napping didn't I," you teased from the other end. "What kind of business you running Dante."

"Babe," Dante yawned again, "I thought you were still here with me. Why are you calling?"

"Can't a girl go out on the town and have some fun while her lazy husband sleeps his life away," you giggled.

"You could have woken me up if you wanted to go somewhere," Dante replied.

"It's okay. You do have a tough job and you looked so cute sleeping in your chair I couldn't bear to wake you up. But I called you to tell you that I'm bringing home a surprise."

"Strawberry ice cream?"

You had to laugh at Dante's hopeful tone and you hated to disappoint him, "No not ice cream and not pizza either."

Dante deflated in his chair and pout pulling at his lips as he continued to press the receiver to his ear. "Then what's the point of you coming home?"

"Okay now that was just rude," you scolded. "No I wanted to let you know that I have a guest coming back with me. So I need you to put all your pointy and shooty things away. It's too dangerous leaving them in reach of our guest. So if you would be a dear, anything that can kill or maim needs to be put away. I won't be long so I'll see you in a little bit Dante."

"Babe wait," Dante scrambled to get you to answer him. "What are you...."

The other line went dead and Dante was left with the dial tone buzzing in his ear. He set the handset back in the cradle and rubbed a hand down his face. Everyone thought that he was the spontaneous one (which he was) but you had your moments, leaving Dante stunned. He rose to go do as you ask but he couldn't help but run around in circles trying to figure out what you had cooked up while he had been sleeping. Removing Rebellion from it's spot on the wall and strapping Ebony and Ivory to his back Dante set them in the bedroom before going back for the Sparda sword. He was just closing the bedroom door when he heard the office door open.

"Dante I'm home," you called as you removed your coat.

Dante couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he rounded the corner and what he saw was the last thing he ever expected. You were bent over trying to help Nero out of his coat, the little boy pouting a little bit as he took in the drabby surroundings.

"So this is the surprise," Dante asked as he stood before you before turning his gaze down to his brother's son.

"Surprise," you took Nero's hand and pressed a kiss to Dante's cheek. "Vergil called while you were asleep. I answered and he asked for help watching Nero. I agreed immediately cause Vergil sounded like he was in a little distress."

"You mean to tell me that my brother doesn't have a babysitter for his only spawn?"

You glared and Dante knew immediately that he messed up, "Excuse me? He is our nephew and I know how you feel about your brother but think for one second if we needed help with any of your kids would Vergil help."

"No," Dante retorted, "and I wouldn't ask him in the first place!"

You sighed tightening your grip on Nero's little hand. His blue eyes going back and forth as you and Dante argued.

"It's okay Nero your uncle loves you. He's just stupid," you yelled behind your shoulder and Dante replied by sticking his tongue out at you. Which you returned the gesture but you added a disappointed glare to the mix. Dante stood there for a moment interlacing his fingers together behind his head as he contemplated what just happened. Guilt began to gnaw at him as he thought back to the confused look Nero had given him. Sure Dante's relationship with Vergil was rocky at best but he shouldn't compare the kid to his father. Dante sighed and rubbed at this neck before walking where you had disappeared with Nero.

He hadn't seen Nero in awhile and Dante knew that in this moment of life was crucial for them to have a good bond later. And he didn't want to make you mad either and he could tell that you had been disappointed in him when he had said such things. So he knew that he had to do the right thing and that was apologize to both you and Nero. Stepping through the kitchen Dante noticed that you had made an improvised booster seat out of old phone books for Nero at the small kitchen table. You sat right beside him as you had laid out different coloring books, crayons, cards, and board games for you both to play. Nero focused intently on his coloring page before you asked him for a particular crayon only for him to give you one that you didn't ask for.

"Nero this isn't purple," you spoke gently not wanting to upset the boy. "This is blue."

"I know," Nero replied. "I think it would look better colored in blue."

You laughed and shook your head at the Sparda genes making themselves known, "Fair enough."

Dante cleared his throat causing two sets of eyes to stare in his direction. He scuffed his boot on the floor, "I'm sorry for the way I acted. Can I color too?"

You looked back towards Nero, "What do you think? Should we let Uncle Dante join in on all the fun?"

Nero seemed to contemplate the choice before he nodded in agreement. Dante pulled up a chair sitting on the other side of Nero at the table. You ripped out a sheet in the coloring book you were working in and handed it to Dante before tossing him a box of crayons.

"Best coloring gets to pick the movie tonight," you challenged and Nero came alive. His focus intensified and you winked to Dante who chuckled.

"So Nero," Dante finally spoke after a few seconds had passed. "How old are you now?"

"Six," Nero replied not looking up from his coloring.

"Wow! Big man huh? Do you like playing cards?"

Nero shrugged.

"Know how to play poker," Dante asked next.

"Dante," you scolded.

"What?! I was just asking," Dante pouted and you sighed.

Nero won the coloring contest so tonight he could pick out the movie you all would watch. Then you, Nero, and Dante played a few rounds of Go Fish with the deck of cards you had bought. But it was becoming apparent that the Sparda men were starting to become restless. While Nero had Vergil's DNA you could tell that he had some Dante as they both had a lot of energy to burn. A trip to the park was the perfect solution for both boys you had apparently volunteered to babysit.

"Nero would you like to go to the park," you asked after you had tidied up the mess you all had made of the kitchen table.

"I wanna go to the park," Dante shouted peeking back into the kitchen.

You laughed, "I was asking Nero. But I will take your vote under consideration."

"Yes," Nero answered nodding his head excitedly.

"To the park then," you announced before trying to keep both Nero and Dante from running out the front door.

Walking the streets of Redgrave made you wary as you weren't ignorant of the things that lived in it's shadows. You held onto Nero's hand tightly while Dante held the other hand. With Nero between you both, you wanted to keep him safe and secure. You knew how the demons felt about Sparda just from the times you had seen Dante fight against them. With Nero just being a child he was innocent and helpless against the creatures of evil. Dante seemed to sense your thoughts as he had Ebony and Ivory strapped under his coat and his blue gaze held yours. He nodded in agreement that nothing would harm either of you. But you didn't want to think about anything horrifying happening as you wanted to focus on Nero having a good time with both you and Dante.

The park wasn't overly crowded at this time of day and it made you feel better because with less bustle you could keep a better eye on Nero. It made you feel better too that Dante was on the playground with Nero. Going down the slide and helping his nephew with the monkey bars. You laughed at all the antics especially when Dante launched himself off the swings only to not stick the landing as his boots had slipped in the loose rocks. His pride more wounded than his rear, Dante sulked back to sit beside you on the bench.

"Did baby get a boo boo," you cooed ruffling his long silver hair.

"Just my pride," Dante answered. "You can kiss my boo boos better though at a later time and in private." He smirked causing your cheeks to flush.

"Naughty boy," you retorted before going back to keeping an eye on Nero.

"Hey Nero when we're done we'll go for pizza and ice cream," Dante shouted causing you to shake your head at his nephew's enthusiastic celebration. There was definitely some Dante floating around in Nero's DNA.

"And earlier you didn't wany any part of taking care of him," you glared.

"I'm looking at this with the grandparents' philosophy," Dante answered haughtily.

"And what is that philosophy oh wise Dante?"

"Load 'em up with sugar and send 'em back home," Dante grinned.

"No wonder Vergil barely tolerates you. You're not his grandpa Dante, you're Nero's uncle," you glanced away for one second to shoot at glare at your husband.

"Yeah I am," he nodded. "his one and only. Congratulations kid! Besides it's the ultimate form of telling my brother screw you than a sugar overloaded kid that refuses to go to sleep."

You shook your head, completely exasperated with your husband.

A couple play filled hours later and Nero was completely tuckered out. Dante went and got pizza and ice cream to go while you carried Nero back home. His soft breathing stirring your hair as he cuddled into the side of your neck. Your heart melted as you stroked his silver hair. So much like his father and uncle but still so different. You couldn't help but wonder what having a child with Dante would be like. He never seemed interested though. You couldn't help but wonder if the incident that had happened in his childhood had to do with it. You figured it was the main reason, but you never pushed Dante and you respected his wishes. He did the same for you as well, that's why your marriage worked so well.

Back at the Devil May Cry office, you laid Nero on the couch as you waited for Dante to get home with the food. You set up an area so Nero could eat at the coffee table in front of the TV and there would be enough room for the pizza boxes and drinks. Dante strolled in a few minutes later and you took the tubs of ice cream and showed him where to put everything else. Once he sat them down he knelt beside the sleeping Nero and starting to try to get him to wake up.

"Hey buddy," Dante shook him gently. "Foods here. It's time for you to pick a movie."

Nero stirred and you made your way back into the room with them. Nero chose Monsters Inc. and as Dante started the movie, you made Nero's plate and poured him some soda. Before the movie was over the food had been annihilated and Nero was once again passed out on the couch, though this time sporting a stylish strawberry ice cream mustache. While Dante switched off the TV you took a wet rag and cleaned Nero's face. Just as you were finishing up a knock came from the front door.

"Gotta be Verg," Dante walked to the door. "He's the only one that would knock."

Vergil was standing on the other side of the door and he looked more weary than when you had saw him earlier when you picked up Nero from him.

"Thank you for watching him," Vergil nodded at you, completely ignoring his brother.

"What? No hello kiss for your little brother," Dante teased.

"Dante," you scolded. "Don't torture your brother." You turned to Vergil after scooping Nero in your arms. "It was no trouble I enjoy having Nero around. Dante does too though he probably won't admit it."

Dante rolled his eyes while you passed the sleeping Nero to his father. Vergil nodded before he started to leave.

"Wait," Dante's voice stopped his twin cold. Dante took in his sleeping nephew's form before kissing his little forehead. "Be good kid."

With a nod from Vergil, Dante shut the door after Vergil had left. He seemed to deflate before yawning and stretching.

"Well that was fun," he bounced back quickly.

"You exhaust me," you groaned. "I'm going to bed."

Dante chased after you, scooping you up and causing you to yell.

"You promised me that you would make my boo boos feel better," Dante wiggled his brows.

"Not in a million years Sparda spawn," you pinched his cheeks before Dante deposited you onto the bed. He slammed the door shut and pounced causing you to squeal.

You squished his cheeks while forcing him away from your sensitive neck, "I love you."

Dante grinned, "I love you too. Let's take care of the little Vergil spawn more often."

"Nero," you corrected though you couldn't help but giggle. "And yes lets."

[dandylovesturtles]

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 1 (here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part A |

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter one - we're not in Kansas anymore

Pairing: eventual poly! Chain x reader, platonic Wind & Reader

Rating: T (cursing)

Summary: You find yourself in a strange world with a familiar set of men that have some ridiculous names. You are left wondering why they are all so... strange towards you. Between a strange dream and the chain's own angst, there's a lot happening.

Warnings: cursing,

Other: I'm so excited to get this story rolling! If I missed anything, please let me know.

Series masterpost | next chapter

You come to awareness while a man hovers over you, which is pretty concerning since you were locking your front door.

Everything in your head feels weird, like it's coated in cotton candy.

You blinked, and then you were sprawled on the ground with a man hovering over you!

The man has dirty blond hair and a kind face.

He has pointed ears?!

Why does he have pointy ears?

They don't look clipped they look like natural elf ears.

You yelp, scrambling back in a horrible crab walk.

"What the fuck?!" You demand breathlessly.

Your heart is beating in your ears as you try to make sense of things. Your mind keeps focusing on the pointy ears.

"Easy, it's okay. You're safe." The man says, hands up so you can see he's not a threat. (His voice strains a little, but you don't really latch onto it.)

The gesture with his hands held up would work better if you knew where you were, and he didn't have a sword strapped to his back.

"Who are you?" You ask, hand landing on a small rock.

You grip the rock, deciding it can be a weapon if you need it to be. Hopefully.

"I'm Sky." The man introduces with a soft tone.

You stare at him, breathing slowly as you try to calm down. Finally, you ask, "Where am I?"

He gives a sympathetic smile. "We're not sure. You fell out of a portal not too long after we did."

"We?"

Sky gestures to the right.

You look, finding eight more males all looking armed to at least the waist if not the teeth.

"I'm dreaming." You decide out loud.

Sky chuckles, "I don't think you are."

"I really hope I am. Otherwise, I'm in trouble." You groan.

"Well, either way, how about we get some foo in you? Wild made some stew."

You sigh, letting go of the rock and getting to your feet. You brush yourself off as well.

"Thank you." You say.

He nods, "Of course. Come on, let's go introduce you to the others."

Sky leads you to the group he motioned to earlier. He moves with an earned confidence that seems out of place without a suit of armor, but that's not important.

You immediately feel uneasy.

It's not anything the group does it's just the fact that there are eight of them. (Nine including Sky.) They are all pretty well armed. There is one if you and you are- not well armed.

You are in a graphic t-shirt, and the closest thing to a weapon you have is your fists.

They all look a little familiar, but that isn't too important. Not now.

The youngest is actually kind of cute in a pirate gremlin kid way. Wavy blond hair and a blue shit (tunic?) And if course pointy ears.

You take in the rest of the group, noticing that they are all blond exceptions for one, and two of them have face markings. (Possibly face tattoos?)

Two have obvious armor and. A few more seem to have on chain mail.

Wow, okay.

Who needs chain mail in this day and age?

"Hey, good to see you awake!" The youngest grins at you.

"Thanks?" You manage.

He almost makes you think of Wind Waker Link.

Wait!

They all look like different Links!

Are you in Hyrule?!

Also, what are they all doing together?

What is going on?

"I made stew if you want some." Says the one that looks like Breath of the Wild Link. He isn't looking at you, actively staring into a pot instead.

You fix a polite smile in place. "Thank you."

"Are you okay? You fell out of the sky." The brown haired man that might be from the first two Zelda titles asks. He looks at you like you have two heads, but if you really fell from the sky... that makes sense. (Right?)

"I what?!" You gasp.

How could you fall out of the sky?

"Do you have a concussion?" Asks the man with the scarf cape thing. He looks at you with pinched brows.

"I hope not?"

Sky pats your shoulder. "I'm sure you're okay. The first portal is the most disorienting."

Someone hands you a bowl of stew.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I feel like you're probably stuck with us for a little bit since you fell through a portal." The most heavily armored says.

Is that... the Hero's Shade?

This is officially either some weird dream, a hallucination, or you are the least favorite of some deity somewhere.

"Well... Nice to meet you?" You say weakly before you introduce yourself.

At the sound of your name, the entire group goes still for a moment. Well, all of them but Wind, who smiles.

They look pained for a second, but they recover quickly. Though the one with a blue hat and no pants looks annoyed at everything.

"I'm Wind." The youngest offers first with a smile.

The shortest looks over next. "I'm Four."

"I'm Twilight." Says the man in the pelt.

The man with the scarf gives a charming and pained smile. "I'm Warriors."

"I'm Hyrule." The man with the brown hair says, looking away from you.

These are the most bizarre names you've heard in a while. Who names their kid Four? Or Warriors?

That just seems cruel.

"I'm Time." The tallest says, his gaze weighty as it lingers on your face.

"I'm Wild." The man with long hair says. He still won't look at you.

The last one, the man with the blue hat, sighs heavily, "Legend."

"Nice to meet you all?" You offer.

Silently, you promise yourself that if you're ever responsible for naming a child you won't stick them with a number or a job title as a name.

Sky smiles at you weakly. "You weren't prepared for an adventure were you?"

"No." You say.

Not prepared is a kind way to put it.

You just count yourself lucky you aren't in pajamas right now.

This is going to be a long day.

-------

Legend is ready to scream. He doesn't care if it's rational either. He deserves to be able to scream after literally everything he's gone through.

First of all, they watch someone fall out of a portal in the sky. Great. Perfect even.

Then, the person happens to look uncannily like the love of his life that died soon after his many adventures. (Soon after an argument where he had been so snappish with them.)

That's just his luck. Par for the course even.

But then, of course, you sound like the lost love.

You have the same name.

This is either a cruel trick or an uncanny coincidence.

Legend hopes it's the second one.

Knowing his luck, though, it's the first. This is almost certainly some cruel trick, because Hylia is a bitch.

He watches you the whole day, from his spot by the impromptu fire. They set up camp after meeting you to try to get you settled into the group.

You are... woefully unprepared.

He feels a little pity for you, everything else aside. He remembers the way that starting with nothing feels.

He remembers how disorienting it can be to get thrown to the deep end of adventure.

You sit by Sky, seemingly a little more comfortable with the man.

The chilly air has earned you one of Wild's extra cloaks, which had been a fight on it's own. You had to be talked into even accepting the damn thing.

It was a strange interaction since Wild wouldn't look at you.

Legend watches you, the way you try to make sense of things. It's familiar.

He looks away, turning instead to look at Warriors who's trying to get Wild and Wind to come down from the trees.

"What of your Hyrule?" Sky asks.

You frown, your voice drawing Legend's eyes.

"I'm not from Hyrule." You say, sounding like the notion is absurd.

Sky nods thoughtfully. "You must be from somewhere else, like me. Where are you from?"

You tell them, naming a place they've never heard of.

Legend dosen’t know where that is... but it sounds nice in your achingly familiar voice.

He's tempted to pretend that you are the reincarnation of his lover. He really is.

He won't, though. That's unfair to you and his lost lover both.

He can't help the glare he sends you. It isn't your fault, but the pain makes him want to glare.

Legend watches you in stilted moments. Wondering how you can so closely resemble his lost love and yet not be them?

If you were... If you were his lover, you would be here at his side, telling him sweet nothings instead of allowing stilted converstions with Sky and Wind.

Legend is sure this is a punishment.

What he wouldn't give to speak to his lover one last time. (To make up that argument to them. To hold them-)

He turns his gaze to Hyrule beside him, who is also watching you with knit brows and thin lips.

"Hyrule?" Legend asks.

Hyrule turns his eyes to his predecessor, gaze glassy with unshed tears. "They look just like my lover... Legend... You see it, right?"

The knowledge of a lover that reincarnates with every cycle of the triforce is taught to children. The part that isn't taught is that the lover never lives long enough.

Every hero is the same soul reincarnated. Every version of the lover is lost too soon.

Legend knows Wind hasn't lost his version of the lover because he isn't looking at you the way the others do.

"I see it." Legend says weakly.

Hyrule swallows. "When does it stop hurting?"

"Never." The veteran manages. "We never stop missing them."

"They look the same every time..."

"I know."

Hyrule takes a shaky breath. "Wind dosen’t know what he's in for... does he?"

Legend shakes his head. "No."

"Should... we tell him?"

"No. That will just ruin the time he has left with them.

Hyrule nods. "Okay."

Legend takes a slow breath. For all that the heroes share the same soul, they feel more like brothers to each other than copies of a person.

There are similarities.

To see any of his brothers hurt is a shot to Legend's heart.

To see Hyrule, his direct successor, hurt? It's cruel.

Hyrule gives a wet, shaking laugh as he leans against Legend. "I miss them, Legend. I miss them every day."

"I know... I miss them too."

Hyrule sighs softly. "I see them in my dreams."

"Me too."

"They'd be telling us we shouldn't live our lives missing them."

"Easier said, then done."

"Tell me about it."

Legend wraps an arm about Hyrule's shoulders. He pulls the traveler closer, silent in his comforting of the other.

Hyrule just leans into it.

They close their eyes, trying to focus on the evening air instead of you.

-------

You settle into the older bedroll you were given after convincing Wild to keep his new one and let you use the old one instead of the other way around. Your mind is loud and busy at the moment.

You are decidedly in Hyrule. You are in the world of the Legend of Zelda.

This is absolutely insane.

You would think this is all some weird dream, but it feels entirely too real.real.

The others have all gone to he'd except for Time, the oldest being on watch first tonight.

You lay near Sky for tonight, the least intimidated by him simply by virtue of having talked to him the most so far.

Sky has his back to you, curling up into a ball.

Time is by the fire, scanning over the group every so often.

You can see Wind sprawled across Wild and Twilight. It's a little funny. The sailor has a blanket thrown across him.

The fire crackles gently. A beacon to draw your attention over and over.

You can't make sense of any of this.

Meeting the character of a whole franchise you've always loved is... rather surreal.

You would even go so far as to say it's a dream come true? Maybe?

It's something you doubt you can ever forget at the very least.

Life will certainly never be the same.

You close your eyes with the intention to sleep.

-------

You're ready to scream. This is the fifth time Link has run off because of some hero bullshit without even saying bye.

You aren't mad he's doing his (unfair) job. You're mad he never lets you know!

The problem is that you never know when he will leave. You don't know if he's out to visit someone or if you should be waiting for him to return in a box.

Living like this is exhausting.

All you want is for him to do better about telling you. He could leave a note, and that would be enough!

Nights full of pacing and worry leave a lot to be desired.

You glance to the table, spotting the red carnations and sighing. The flowers you were given last week are wilting.

Link is still gone. It's been a week, and you haven't heard anything.

The door opens, and you turn, eyes landing on Link. His red tunic has certainly seen better days.

He looks- rough. Bruises, scrapes, dirt, mud, and who knows what else scatter across him.

For a moment, there is only relief.

"Link!" You gasp.

Link looks at you, eyes as beautiful as they are resigned. "Angel."

"Where have you been?! I was so worried!" You cry, crossing the room to check on him.

You move to cradle his face, running your thumbs over his cheek bones. His skin is cold in your hands.

"I've been doing hero shit." Link huffs, pushing your hands away. "Just- leave me alone."

You choke, stepping back. "You just got home."

"Yeah." Link says tightly.

"Can you at least tell me if you're okay? I've been worried sick!"

"You don't need to worry! Leave me alone!"

"I- What the hell Link? All I'm asking is if you're injured?!"

Link storms off with a growl.

You grit your teeth. You know he has bad days. Everyone does. You know he gets grumpy even towards you sometimes. But this is too much

You need some air. You need a walk.

You leave your home, rain pouring. It dosen’t matter. You just need to think.

Rain pours and thunder cracks with lightning.

Worries from the last several days loosen and tighten in quick secession.

Nothing matters.

You just need to focus on breathing.

Calmer heads and all that.

Link will calm down, you know this. He always calms down.

That dosen’t make it easier to deal with the way he snaps at you.

Honestly, you probably should have left him alone the first time he asked. He set a boundary, but in all honesty, your worry made it hard to see that.

You will have to apologize and work on doing better.

For now, though, you're going to focus on centering yourself and giving him the space he needs.

Hopefully, he forgives you.

You hear the monster before you see them. Low sounds.

Terror bolts up your spine -

-------

You jolt awake, breathless as you whip your head around. Blurry vision latching onto the low fire that is almost all embers.

You swallow hard.

Breathing. You need to do that.

Deep breath in.

Slow breath out.

You focus on slowing your breathing as you try to come back from whatever that dream was.

It's wild what brains can do.

It's strange you had a dream about Legend.

Weirder is that it feels... like a memory.

Nightmares can be so bizarre.

"Hey," Wind says from the fire.

You look over, blinking a few times. "Hi?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah... just- rough dreams." You say.

It's strange to admit that. It's strange to be asked anything by Wind.

Why is he even up?

Watch.

You remember now.

He's up for watch.

Wind nods, "That sucks. You gonna be okay to sleep?"

"I think so." You say without thinking about it.

There is no reason to possibly burden the kid.

Laying back down, you stare up at the stars and try to settle down enough to sleep. There's something in your mind saying you will need it.

-----

Next chapter

[hermusicpersona]

COULD YOU PLEASEEE WRITE SMTH CUTE AND FLUFFY FOR GENYA I LOVE UR WRITING

YES I CAN, AND THANK U !

• meeting Genya Shinazugawa •

Focused on his target, Genya breathes in, then out, hitting the perfect point with his gun balanced on the blade of his sword. It was his usual stance, that he was training every day, deep in the forest at the base of Gyomei's mountain. He was getting better and better with his stability, combining his gun and sword perfectly. Smirking to himself, he loads his weapon again, stopping only for a moment because he felt... watched.

Was it instinct or was it just a hunch ?

The girl watching him, who also had a Nichirin sword strapped to her waist, tilted her head behind a tree, wondering who he was. Hearing his sound of frustration, she looked closely at his angry glare when he turned around suddenly and finally met her eyes.

Genya Shinazugawa was brave and determined, and strong like his brother. But he was shy.

And making unexpected eye-contact with such a beautiful girl caught him completely off-guard, and he widened his eyes, fixed on hers. For a moment, they only looked at each other, him surprised and her curious, until Genya cleared his throat while sheathing his sword with his head turned away. She is so beautiful.

-I m sorry. I disturbed you, she spoke softly, getting out from behind the tree.

God, even her voice is sweet, Genya thought, trying to find his words. If she was anyone else, he would have already yelled at them, but no words could come out now that he looked at her. She s so pretty... Damn it, say something !

-It-.. is fine. It s alright, don't worry. he managed to get out, making the effort to look into her eyes for more than 5 seconds in a row. All while she smiled sweetly up at him, too sweet, with her head tilted in a curious manner. Have-... Have you been watching for long ?

-Just for a bit, she shrugged, still smiling, you use an interesting tehnique. What s your name ?

-Genya. Uh... Genya Shinazugawa.

-Are you angry with me for watching, Genya ? she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Genya looked as if he was stabbed. Straight to the first-name basis... Quit looking at me like that... his mind was going overboard.

-No, of course not. I m not angry. I-...

-Good ! I m glad ! she grinned excitedly, making Genya smile too without even realizing. His blush remaining only slightly on his cheeks, he smiled down at her, noticing how big he was next to her. So small, and so, so pretty. How was i so lucky to be discovered by her of all people ?

-Uh, would-.. would you like to train together ? I mean-.. if you want to, i would-.. it would be nice, you know- ?

Chuckling sweetly, she stepped closer to him, making the difference in height even more clear. Catching the sunlight in her eyes, Genya's chest warmed up completely when she looked up at him, speaking in her soft voice,

-I would like to. After all, you seem like a very talented slayer.

His nervousness almost gone, Genya looked at her like a lovestruck puppy, his heart coming up to his throat at her compliment and gentle gaze. His lips curled in a genuine smile, as he followed her deeper into the forest so they could train, and he caught himself hoping that every day she could find him again.

[sircantus]

Techno had been exploring a cave system with Phil when he felt it.

A rumbling vibration traveling through the rock too deep for humans and several types hybrids to sense.

It took Techno a moment to realize what it meant. And when he did…

“Move!” Techno roared. “Back to the surface! Now!”

Phil startled at the unexpected shout, but they’d known each other for too long to hesitate even if the danger was unknown.

Phil sprinted back the way they had come, Techno only a few paces behind him.

Phil held a torch aloft, and Techno a sword. Techno banished the sword to his inventory as he ran, but had no time to do the same for the pickaxe strapped to his belt.

As they ran, the rumbling increased in volume and intensity, there was no way anyone could miss it now.

How far was it to the exit? How deep had they been?

The cave had started to show deep slate, so perhaps sixty blocks below the surface.

That didn’t account for how far they’d travelled in any other direction, though.

They had entered the cave from a deep fissure in the earth, traveling into the cave network from there.

They were near halfway back when Techno heard the rock breaking above their heads. Diving forwards, Techno shoved Phil as far as he could.

A flash of pain in Techno’s abdomen as he hit the ground was quickly buried by the stone that slammed into his back, crushing force pinning him to the floor in a shower of dust and smaller rocks. The impact knocked the breath out of him and Techno wheezed, gasping at the stone dust filled air for breath.

The cave had collapsed, blocking off the direction the pair had just run from completely, catching Techno on the edge of the newly formed barrier.

“Techno?” Phil must have come to check on him while Techno was still regaining his breath. Phil had set his torch down near Techno as he checked his pulse.

“Mate, can you hear me?”

Techno’s response was a wheezing cough.

“Okay, okay, can’t talk?” Phil had grabbed the torch again, and lifted Techno’s chin, holding it close to one of Techno’s eyes, then the other before settling the torch aside.

Next Philza grabbed one of Techno’s hands.

“Can you squeeze my hand?”

Techno squeezed it.

“Squeeze once for yes, twice for no.”

Techno squeezed Phil’s hand again.

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Can you tell?”

Phil must not be able to see most of Techno what with him being covered in stone at the moment.

One squeeze. Yes.

The pickaxe attached to Techno’s belt felt like it had decided to introduce itself to his intestines, so he was most definitely bleeding from it.

“Alright don’t worry mate, we’ll get you out. If I move enough of this we should be able to get you walking.”

Two squeezes. No.

Philza frowned. “Why no? Wait, are your legs hurt?”

Techno- couldn’t actually feel his legs. Or his hips. And he really hoped that wasn’t a spine injury, but it probably was. He wasn’t sure how to tell Phil that, though, so-

Yes. One squeeze.

There was no way Phil would be able to get Techno out of here on his own. Cave-ins like this were dangerous enough on their own, but the first one had been caused by an earthquake, and there could still be aftershocks.

Here with Techno was just about the most dangerous place Phil could be right now. Techno had to convince him to leave.

He gathered his breath.

“Go.”

“What? Techno, no- I can’t leave you!”

Techno tried again.

“Go. H’lp.”

“Oh.” Phil said, looking to study the stone above Techno, “This is definitely a two person job, maybe three. I can ask Niki or Ranboo-“

A pause.

“Promise me you won’t leave me.”

Techno couldn’t suppress a snort of amusement.

Techno couldn’t go anywhere, he was trapped under a literal ton of stone.

But he knew what Phil meant.

“Pr’mse.” Techno managed to get out, knowing it was probably a lie as he said it.

But Techno needed Phil to leave, to be safe.

Techno gave Phil’s hand one last squeeze, and he hoped Phil knew what it meant.

For you, the world.

And then Phil was running towards the cave entrance on his way to get help.

~~~

It was only a few minutes after Phil left that Techno felt the rumbling start again.

The aftershock caused a second collapse, sending rocks falling down on Techno’s shoulders, arms and head. At least one rock must have made its mark against his skull, because Techno’s awareness missed the rest of the rockfall.

When he came back to consciousness, it was with the weight of stone pushing in all around him, pressing him to the floor. It was oddly comfortable. Techno could still feel the pickaxe in his belly, shifting slightly every time he breathed, but now the feeling was only strange, not painful.

Part of him was aware that it probably wasn’t a good sign to be devoid of any pain, but he already knew how things would end when he sent Phil away, so really the lack of pain was a nice bonus.

The torch Phil had left with Techno must have gone out in the second collapse, because Techno couldn’t see anything.

There was nothing for Techno to do except think. Had Phil made it out? He should have had enough time if the rest of the tunnel was unobstructed, and he could probably fly out of the fissure that was the entrance.

Techno really hoped Phil made it out.

It felt like the debris on top of Techno was slowly increasing in weight, or maybe Techno’s strength was failing. Either way, it was getting harder and harder to draw a full breath.

Techno concentrated on that now, on getting from one shallow breath to the next. How much time had passed? He didn’t know. Everything seemed muddled and far away.

“Thank you.” A voice said, cutting through the nothingness that surrounded Techno and filling it. “You kept my husband safe.”

Techno had never heard the voice before, but he knew who it must belong to. Knew even in his soul as surely all things did. Kristin. And if she was here that meant-

Techno hadn’t noticed before, but he now realized that he wasn’t breathing, and he couldn’t feel his heartbeat inside his chest. He didn’t think he had a body anymore, but he could feel Kristin holding him.

“Do you want to watch over my husband with me?”

Techno did. Phil had no sense of self preservation and could use all the help he could get. And Techno had told Phil that he wouldn’t leave him just yet.

“Well then, let’s be off.”

OH MY GOD?? (DEVESTATED) OH MY GOD!! (Delighted)

I adore this. Its painful but i adore it, especially since theres Kristin showing up ten out of ten im absolutely thrilled to have had read this

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 119

Part 1 Part 118

“We’ve still got five days,” Eddie whines.

Steve looks up from where he’s sprawled in the little space between the coffee table and couch, lifting himself by the elbows to peer over its surface. Eddie’s got the front door swung wide. Steve can barely spot Barbara’s red hair past Eddie’s raised arm, the curve of her shoulder, the strap of her backpack.

“It’s Wednesday,” Barbara replies, ducking under Eddie’s arm. Carol follows her lead, finger-waving tauntingly as she comes in. She’s so short that she doesn’t even have to bend down to make it through.

Eddie stomps his foot, but closes the door, leaning his head against it to whine into the cheap wood.

“The sword of Damocles swings ever downward,” Eddie says, knocking his forehead into the wood three times.

Steve watches helplessly charmed by the dramatic display. Steve of a year ago would kick his ass for smiling at such a nerdy display, and the Carol of a year ago would be in the ass-kicking line right behind him.

The carol of now, though just laughs and drops her purse onto Steve’s stomach, knocking him back down under its weight.

“Okay, drama queen,” she says, not even looking over at Steve at his pained groan, far too busy rolling her eyes at Eddie.

“Good morning, Carol,” Steve grumbles, grabbing her purse to curl around it and placing his head on it. It’s a little lumpy but works serviceably as a pillow.

“Let’s get to work.”

Steve groans and buries his face into Carol’s bag, hoping something will slither out and strangle him. Nothing does, so he sits down and gets to work, a reluctant Eddie leaning into his side.

This, it turns out, is only the start.

Wednesday’s weekly study group becomes a bi-weekly, much to Eddie’s chagrin. He still shows up every Monday in the library, feet dragging, and homework undone. Steve’s fine settling in with some of his favorite people every week and having them hammer details into his head. He wants to pass, and he wants Eddie with him. Always.

Steve falls headfirst into normalcy. He grabs it with both fists and clings.

But, sometimes, the hair on the back of his neck stands on end and won’t settle no matter how hard he tries to pat it back down. He can feel something behind him, just out of view, watching, as it drifts ever closer.

There’s never anything there when he turns around.

So, he studies, and he works, and he lives.

Whatever it is will catch up to him eventually; they always do. But for now, he’s got a paper to revise, Nancy’s red pen bleeding through all the pages. He’s got math problems to stumble through, and finals looming just around the corner.

“You know, Will would totally teach us morse code,” Eddie says, as they pass a joint back and forth, cuddled together in bed.

Steve coughs, the high hitting his throat first, then ballooning into his head until it feels three sizes too big. “What the fuck?” Steve croaks out, passing the spliff back to Eddie for him to finish off and stub out. “You think he knows it?”

Steve rubs his cheek against the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s worn down with numerous washes, buttery-soft against his skin. Steve wants to swaddle his whole body in it, wants to hug Eddie so tightly that their two bodies become one and they can both were the shirt at the same time.

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, bringing his wash day ever closer as he spreads the oils from his palms into Steve’s scalp. It’s worth it for the way his nails scratch against his skin.

“Totally, Angel,” Eddie says, blowing the last of the smoke out of his lungs and depositing the remnants of the joint into the waiting ashtray at his bedside. “I bet all those nerds know it.”

Steve can’t help the little laugh that rumbles through him at Eddie of all people calling someone else a nerd. Eddie whacks the back of Steve’s head in retaliation and then keeps petting him.

“But why do we want it?” Steve asks, continuing when Eddie hums questioningly. “Morse code.”

Instead of answering, Eddie pulls on the ties that bind repeatedly. Quick, then long, then quick again. Eddie tugs at his hair until Steve’s neck is craned back enough to meet his eyes. His eyebrow’s raised, and his bangs are all fucked up. Steve stares into his eyes and tries to meld their minds because he's got no idea what this pointed silence is supposed to be telling him.

Seeming to catch onto this, Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes Steve’s head back into him to continue stroking him like a cat. “That was morse code, babe.” Steve closes his eyes, trying to think while Eddie begins repetitively tugging on Steve again. “It’s a call for help.”

Steve hums. “In case something goes wrong?”

Eddie’s fingers still momentarily before picking back up their gentle stroking. “I was thinking more like cheating on finals.” He doesn’t repeat the company line all the adults have been reiterating like they’re getting paid for it – the Upside-Down is gone. You’re all safe now. They know better. “Might get us out of a few of these study groups.” He says, ‘study groups’ like what he really means is ‘torture sessions.’

Steve rubs his face against the shirt again, wiping away a little of the drool that had gathered in the corner of his mouth. “You don’t think we’re smart enough to graduate high school, but we’re supposed to learn a whole language in a matter of months.”

Eddie groans, wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in tight. “We could learn simple things,” he whines. “Yes, no, better luck next time?” He rocks Steve back and forth until Steve braces his hands against the mattress, feeling seasick. “Then we can make homoerotic eye contact from across the classroom and cheat to our heart’s content!”

Steve snorts, rolling off of Eddie and onto his side of the bed. “We don’t share any classes.”

“Stop picking holes in my plan!” Eddie whines, shoving Steve hard enough that he tumbles off the side of the bed. Eddie’s worried face peers over the edge of the bed a few seconds later. “You okay, Stevie?” he asks, as if he wasn’t the one to shove him off.

Steve glares up at him, rubbing the back of his head. “I can see into the future,” he replies, looking deeply into Eddie’s excited, gullible eyes.

“Three seconds again?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Three months, this time, and do you know what I see?” he asks, not waiting long enough to receive a reply before continuing. “One of us having to repeat Senior Year for a third time because they were too lazy to study.”

Eddie’s dimples pop. Steve’s fingers itch to touch, so he does, unwieldy limbs stretching until he’s got both pointer finger stuck directly into both the little divots. It’s a perfect fit, like Eddie’s the glass slipper and Steve’s fingers are fucking Cinderella’s stupid feet.

“How many guesses do I get?” Eddie asks, smile only growing.

Steve, having lost the plot of the conversation three miles back, squeezes Eddie’s face until his cheeks balloon out enough to force his lips into a pucker. He looks so squashed and stupid that Steve has no choice but to use every one of us flagging abdominal muscles to hoist himself up and plant a wet kiss onto Eddie’s mouth.

“Just one,” he murmurs, lips still pressed together.

The high from the weed and the high from kissing Eddie Munson senseless meld together and last long into the night.

No one ever gets around to learning Morse code.

Part 120

[onepiecestarry]

A Different Kind of Pirate - Part 5

Zoro X Reader

tw, future mdni/nsfw

Masterlist

Part 5: Not alone

You hear the quiet drops of water hitting stone, reverberating through the room. As you slowly blink the blur in your eyes away you look around to see a stone jail cell. Damp and dark you can tell this is underground somewhere. Quickly you realize what happened and look around for Zoro. You spot him lying up against a wall, passed out. You scramble to get up and run to him, slipping on the wet floor. 

Once you get to him you look to feel his pulse, it's there but faint. You quickly lay him down, placing your ripped shawl under his head. You rip the rest of his shirt off to get a look at the wound. Blood crusted and continued to drip around it. You hadn’t been passed out for too long thank god. You rip your skirt and start to clean it the best you can. Taking the rest of the fabric and tying it tightly around his torso to try to stop the bleeding. 

You lift his head gently taking the shawl and placing his head in your lap. You start, without realizing it, playing with his hair gently. The creak of a door and a slam takes your attention. You hear footsteps slowly make their way over, one by one. Someone then walks in front of the cell you’re in. 

“Getting comfortable?” They ask mockingly.

“Who are you? Why did you take us here?” You say with a growl.

“Oh don’t worry about that, you’ll find out soon enough.” They laugh deeply. 

“You won’t get away with this, Zoro is the first mate of the Strawhat Pirates, they will be coming for him!” You say.

“It's not him I want.” They laugh again. 

They turn to walk back to the door, and you hear another creak and slam, telling you that whoever that was is gone. You can’t help but think what they meant, they don’t want Zoro? That means you both got taken because of you. What could it be for, who could that be? You ask yourself. You turn your attention back to Zoro who grumbles and adjusts a bit. 

“Zoro!?” You exclaim. “Are you okay?” You start to cry, dripping tears onto him. 

“It’ll be okay princess, Luffy is coming don’t worry.” He says rubbing your cheek before passing out again. 

You lean back on the wall silently crying, hoping Luffy gets here soon.

-- 

It feels as if hours have passed, you worry Zoro is running out of time. He needs medical attention as soon as possible. You’ve searched the cell over 20 times at this point. Unable to find anything that could get you out of here. As you sit ready to give up another search you think of Zoro. How his swords would be so helpful right now, as you stare at them across the hall from your cell. You then think of how Zoro always has them on him, he is never unprepared. You think about what he would do if he was awake. You realize he might have a small knife on him in case of scenarios like this, you quickly get up and run over to him and start searching his pockets. You eventually find a Swiss army knife, perfect. 

You run over to the bars and observe how they are attached to the cell door. You can see it's a roll pin and hole, you undo the set screw in it and run over to grab the one piece of furniture in the cell, a long bench. You prop the bench so it's upside-down hooked onto the bottom of the door. You use all of your body weight to push it down, you continue to jump and push the bench down, each push lifting the door more. Eventually, you fall onto the bench and hear a loud crash, showing the door has come down. You go over to Zoro and start to try to lift him. ‘Why is this man so huge’ you ask yourself. He wakes up weakly and tries his best to help. 

You and Zoro hobble out of the cell, grabbing his and your swords as you hobble to the door. You strap both to your hips the best you can and continue walking. You, as quietly as possible, open the creaky door and look down the hallway each way, it looks clear so you and Zoro start to hobble down one of the hallways. Checking every corner, you start to hear yelling. You internally curse knowing you’re about to get caught. With your one free hand, you draw one of Zoro’s swords, him still leaning on you. You prepare to encounter someone. 

Then loud running starts down the corner a few feet away from you, you brace yourself for a fight with someone. But then Luffy turns the corner, and as soon as he sees you a big smile comes across his face. 

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere! Oh no, he doesn’t look too good.” Luffy says.

“No, we need to get him to Chopper immediately, it's been too long, I did my best but I’m not a doctor.” You say solemnly. 

Luffy goes under Zoro’s other arm and you both start walking the way he just came, twisting and turning through the hallways you eventually see light at the end of one of them. You both pick up the pace making it out of the dark cave you were in. You take a look around and have no clue where you are. 

“Luffy, where are we? How do we get to the ship?” You ask worriedly.

“Don’t worry, Nami is coming to us.” He says with a smile.

“What do you mea-” You are cut off by a large truck smashing some rubble and stopping in front of you.

“There she is!” Luffy exclaims. 

You all pile into the truck, Nami looking serious seeing Zoro’s state. She then floors it towards what you assume to be the docks. A few minutes later you make it there and the rest of the crew helps you out. You all then carefully unload Zoro and bring him to Chopper's office, laying him on one of the beds in there. Chopper quickly gets to work and asks you all to leave. You start to cry seeing Zoro’s state. You all walk out and everyone starts to question you about what happened. You start crying even harder than you were. You begin to explain everything to the shocked crew in front of you. From the bullet wound to you blacking out, to getting kidnapped and escaping. You explain what your kidnapper said and how it means whoever they are, is after you and only you. 

After you calm down a little you make your way towards the crow’s nest.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?! Chopper still needs to examine you!” Nami yells and everyone nods in agreement.

“I’m going to pack my stuff, I need to get out of here and far from you all. Whoever is after me doesn’t care who suffers to get to me, and Zoro has already been through enough. I’m going to leave so you all are safe.” You say turning to walk away again. You then feel a hand grab your wrist.

“You are a part of this crew now, I don’t care what you say, you are a straw hat. And we protect our crew. Whoever this is, is going to have to go through every single one of us before they can get to you.” Luffy says with a serious face, the look he only ever gets when he’s about to fight someone serious. 

You start to cry and fall to the floor, but before you can Luffy grabs you and helps slowly lower you to not get hurt. Everyone quickly surrounds you both and pulls you into a hug. 

“You aren’t going anywhere girly” Frankie says.

“You are one of us now” Robin says after.

-- 

After a lot of crying and hugging you all get up to move to the kitchen to get some food, but when you get up you start to feel lightheaded. Ignoring it you try to take a step and your vision quickly goes black as you feel yourself start to fall. Sanji seeing this quickly grabs you and lifts you off your feet starting to run towards Chopper’s office. 

-- 

Days later you wake up in Chopper’s office. You sit up and wince in pain. Looking over you don’t see Zoro, panic starts to set in and your mind swirls with the worst thoughts of what could’ve happened. Suddenly Chopper walks in and sees you’re awake.

“Y/n! You’re awake! Finally! How are you feeling?” Chopper says happily walking over to you.

“Where is Zoro? Is he okay?” You ask ignoring what Chopper had said.

“Hah! You two are exactly the same, that was the first thing he said when he woke up too.” Chopper laughs. “You two are clearly close.” Chopper says while getting some medication for you. 

“So, he's okay?” You ask.

“Yes, he woke up yesterday, and honestly you just missed him. He’s been in here since he woke up, not leaving your side, even when I tell him to lay down and rest. To be honest we didn’t know when you were going to wake up, he was extremely worried and stayed here to watch over you. We finally got him to leave and go ‘carefully’ take a shower to clean himself.” Chopper explains. 

“Oh, okay… What happened?” You finally ask.

“I think you initially passed out because of your adrenaline wearing off causing all the pain your body had been through to catch up to you, which caused you to black out. Now for the coma, the only thing that could explain that, is that your body was so hurt that it put you into a coma so it could heal. You were in a pretty bad condition y/n. It's amazing you got back here alive let alone awake. I truly don’t know how you did it.” Chopper says. 

You move to get out of bed and Chopper quickly tries to stop you. “Please Chopper, I just want to get up.” You say softly.

“Okay but be careful.” He says.

You get up slowly, wincing in pain at each step. You make your way to the door and open it to the bright sun, you close your eyes and open them again trying to adjust to the brightness. Before you can see you hear someone run up to you and encase you in a hug. But you don’t need to see to know who it was, you could tell by their scent, their body, their breathing. You knew it was Zoro without needing to open your eyes. You melted into the hug and began crying. 

“I was so worried about you” You say between sobs.

“Me?! I wasn’t the one in a fucking coma!” He exclaims, “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He says softly, holding your head to his chest tightly.

“Says you! You took a bullet for me, idiot! Don’t ever do that again!” You exclaim back to him.

“Deal.” He says still holding you.

You both stand there for a minute holding each other before Chopper clears his throat and you both separate with quiet apologies. 

“Both of you need to be careful, especially you Zoro.” Chopper says, “Now go get some food and sleep.” 

You both nod and walk towards the kitchen, opening the door to see the crew. They all jumped up seeing the both of you in the door, you getting a barrage of hugs and worried comments. Eventually, you both sit down and Sanji gets some food for you both. 

You start to eat and look up at everyone having a serious face, you look to Zoro who looks just as clueless as you. 

“Y/n we need to talk about your kidnapper” Nami says in a serious tone.

“You were kidnapped?!?” Zoro yells looking at you.

“You both were dumbass.” Nami says looking at him.

“Oh. huh.” he says in response, going back to eating. Nami annoyingly grunts at his response. 

“Who could be after you y/n?” Robin asks. You freeze and start to panic but before it gets too bad, Zoro grabs your leg under the table, grounding you back to reality. 

“I- um… I-” You start to nervously say. Zoro quickly slams his hand on the table and says, 

“ I’m done! Where’s the alcohol? We are celebrating being alive, no?” He says loudly taking everyone’s attention off of you. Everyone starts to argue with him, and you decide to quietly slip away to your room. 

A little while later, you sit on the balcony watching the sunset. You hear footsteps behind you, knowing it's Zoro you open your blanket for him to join you. As he sits he hands you a cup of tea, your favorite, you take a sip, and it's exactly how you like it. How does he know? Beyond your knowledge. You smile at him and thank him for the tea. You both sit quietly watching the sunset for a while before Zoro clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Thank you for saving me y/n,” He says nervously.

“It's the least I could do after you saved me.” You laugh and nudge him.

“No but really, not just treating the wound, you got us both out of the cell. And you risked your life carrying me out of there… Thank you.” He says seriously. You look at him making eye contact and say, 

“I would never leave you.”

You both sit in silence again, this time you lean your head onto Zoro’s shoulder. Now comfortable he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. 

“I get it.” He says quietly. “You’re going to have to explain to the crew soon though. They aren’t as patient as I am.”

“I know, I just have never told anyone, and now that someone is after me, I feel like I have to face this alone.” You say sadly. 

“You aren’t facing shit alone, I won’t let you.” He aggressively says. You laugh at his response.

“I know.” You smile. A few seconds later you get the courage to tell him about who you think is after you. 

“I was born into slavery.” You say quietly, Zoro rubs your hand as a silent comfort to keep going. “I grew up serving a Celestial Dragon. It was horrible, but one day they realized I was different. I was born with devil fruit powers, the first child to inherit their mother’s powers. I one day as a child made the mistake of using them, and that was the day they realized who I was. They decided they were going to sell me to the world government to research and test me, in exchange they would have access to all the results they got. When I heard that this was going to happen I escaped, barely. I ran from their palace and disguised myself as a guard. Eventually, I was able to make it out of the city before morning fell and they would realize I would be gone. I ran to the next city, not stopping for two days for anything. When I made it, some kind people took me in, cleaning and feeding me. I didn’t dare tell them who I was or else they may turn me back in. As kind as they were, a lifetime fortune is a lifetime fortune. So once I was strong enough I packed some food and moved on to the next city, there I got a job and started saving for a ship. That’s how I escaped and became a pirate. They’ve been after me since then.” 

You lift your head from Zoro’s shoulder and start to cry, he quickly absorbs you into a hug.

“You are so much stronger than anyone knows.” He whispers. “It's okay, you don’t need to run anymore. I won’t let them take you.” You sob more at his promise.

You both stay like that late into the night, you crying into his chest, and him whispering sweet promises in your ear. You eventually get so exhausted you fall asleep in his arms. Zoro picks you up and takes you to the bed, laying you down. Seeing as you won’t let go of him, he lays down with you and falls asleep.

[caffieneaddictt18]

Life, Death, and Destiny

Prompt: Witch!Reader keeps giving Geralt weird little trinkets and crystal necklaces saying that this one protects you and this one keeps the bad feelings away and this one will call good spirits and wisdom upon him, and he doesn't believe her until one time he's fighting this monster and somehow, he keeps dodging this monster perfectly without even needing to drink his elixir. He kills the beast, and goes back to Witch!Reader, demanding her to explain how this works when he knows for a fact, she doesn't have magic like a mage or a druid. She simply winks and leaves him curious, so he stays with her and figures out how she is somehow unintentionally magical.

I'm not gonna lie, I did not stick to this prompt. It went a little sideways and flopped. So, my apologies! It is not false advertising, I swear.

As Geralt was walking to Roach, his mare, he heard his name called... It was faint but grew louder as the person shouting his name got closer.

"Geralt!"

Geralt rolled his eyes, thinking it was another townsfolk wanting him to go kill something.

"Geralt, wait!"

But then he recognized that voice...

"Geralt! Would you stop for a minute?"

He stopped. The Witcher slowly turned around and saw you. You were panting, keeled over.

"Before you leave, take this." You reach out and in your hand is a little charm that can be added to the strap of leather that keeps his hair up. "It's for battle wisdom. Knowing you, you'll need it. I hope it keeps you safe on your travels." You stand up, and compose yourself.

"Well, I can see you are wandering towards Roach... where will you go next?"

Geralt took the charm slowly. He didn't trust anything magical. Especially when it came from someone that he had never heard was magical beforehand. Nevertheless, he took the charm and clamped it around the leather holding his hair back.

"There was a monster sighting near Waterwood. The locals regularly use the water for business, so they need me to come clear out whatever monster lies in the river." He gruffly divulged the details of his departure.

"Well... if you ever wish to come back, you know where I am." You skip off down the stone path to the cottage that sits on the edge of the wood, surrounded in wildflowers and other magical plants.

Geralt grunted before stalking back to Roach, mounting her, and taking off into the night.

______________________________________________________________

You wake to a banging on the wooden front door. The type of banging on hollow wood that gave you chills. Especially after being chased from town for giving Geralt a charm. This specific town doesn't necessarily take too kindly to witches and magic.

The banging lessened to a knock. You quickly extinguish all the candles before slowly opening the door and hiding in the nook between the wall and the door. Waiting for anyone...

someone...

The person walks in slowly, sword in hand, and eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. The stock build of his shoulder balancing out the slender legs of pure muscle. His footsteps silent, but hers are gone.

You make no noise as you scamper across the floor of grass and behind a chair. A chair made of engraved wood and hide from a monster, if you can believe it. Absolutely beautiful.

You gently whistle a tune... a tune used when Geralt and you went on a small stroll through the woods. You insisted that it would help Geralt ground himself before the hunt he was about to embark on.

Immediately, he stopped and put the sword away before casting Igni on a candle near him. He carried it to the chair and saw a head of hair peeking out from behind the arm of it. "Y/N?"

"Geralt!" You stand from the crouched position on the ground and go around to hug Geralt. He accepts it before lighting the fireplace filled with charcoal and adding new wood to keep the old burning.

"Why did you hide? Monsters don't knock. Mages don't bother people in their homes anymore." Geralt was ticking things off a list that might make them be wary of anything.

"Were you... were you scared of me?" He sounds almost disheartened. He never wished for you to be scared of him.

You, who was first scared that Geralt might go on a rage like the one in Blaviken, was now flustered. "Oh no! Oh goodness, no!"

"So why were you skittering around like a mouse, trying to find warmth?"

"I... I was chased out of town..." You can see Geralt tensing, becoming physically angry, "Don't worry about it though! It allows me to become one with nature. I forage all my food now and the butcher is kind, giving slices of meat no one else would want. I have deepened my relationship with magic and peace. I am happy. Don't worry about me."

Geralt was trying to slow his breathing and be rational, staring into the fire. How could they do this to you? You had done nothing but help them, and they turned on you. You had provided them with medicines that don't poison and trinkets that you can only find in the forest. You helped deliver their kin and heal them when they didn't know how to heal themselves.

"Why?"

A simple question that held so much power. The power to anger or calm. The power to cause action or stop it. The power of chaos or peace.

And so, you chose peace.

"I assume they finally decided they didn't like me anymore," You smile.

"That's a lie. You provided them with medicine. Small villages don't just abandon their healers." Geralt moved, gently pinning you to the monster-leather seat.

"So tell me... why did they do it?"

You look into his eyes, marveling at how they reflect the flames to look like pools of lava themselves. You know that your response was too late when he furrowed his brow. You look down.

"They... they saw me give you that charm..." Geralt quickly got up and leaned against the stone mantle that looked like it had been there forever, made by Gaia herself. A sanctuary for the weak, weary and, what others would call, weird.

"They don't take kindly to magic folk around here, Geralt. It's why I have placed wards around the cottage."

Geralt was surprised. An actual ward? He knew that you liked to do everything yourself, if you could. Wards required mages and you were not a mage.

"A ward?" You nodded, "And who did these wards?"

"I did!"

To him, you sound childish. A person with no real magic was somehow placing wards around their home...

But somehow, the house seems untouched by the outside world. The hurtful one of torches and pitchforks.

"Alright... well, I have a monster hunt nearby. I'll stay here. Just for some extra protection." Geralt announced. There was no turning back or denying him this.

______________________________________________________________

As Geralt was walking out of the cottage that was surprisingly not attacked by townspeople the entire time he was there, you call to him.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nope!" You hold out a small necklace with a complicated charm strung onto it. "Just wanted to give you this."

Geralt gently took it into his hands. "And what does this one do?"

"It's a protection necklace. I know you will inevitably find danger, so this should help keep you on your toes and safe for your also inevitable return," You proudly announce to Geralt as he kept a straight face. He had no real belief this would do anything for him, but he put it into a pouch near his chest.

"Alright. Stay saf."

"You as well, Geralt. Blessed be, my friend."

______________________________________________________________

Geralt rode upon the cottage that had a plume of smoke exiting the stone chimney and candlelight coming from the kitchen. It was an exhausting monster hunt and all he wanted to do was rest.

Once he had tied Roach to the small stables that you kept up, he walked to the home. Before Geralt could knock, the door swung open.

"Geralt!" was all that was said before a flurry of greens and browns flooded his sight. He was encompassed with the warmth only you could provide. A hug... something he hasn't felt in a while.

You slide off of him and out of his arms. "How are you, my friend? Why don't you come in?" You open the door for him to enter and beckon the large man inside your cozy home.

The smell of rosemary and chicken flood his nose. The warm glow of the fire in the living room flickered across the walls and seeped into every crack, spreading the softness that only you seemed to carry. Geralt walked slowly into the home and sat down on one of the chairs you have. It was soft, like from a castle, but not quite as tall or luxurious looking. He wondered where you got it from.

Over the fire, a soup of chicken, carrots, potatoes, and herbs brewed in a cauldron that seemed to magically hang from the ceiling, even though it was directly under the chimney stack.

"So... how are you, my friend?" Your gentle voice enters Geralt's ears and mind. It's like you were allowing him space to take in the home as he wishes instead of flooding his senses with everything all at once. A nice change of pace for the monster hunter, the White Wolf.

"I am... good. I was surprisingly not hurt on my last hunt. This striga seemed... slower than normal, though..." Geralt contemplated on his latest hunt, mulling it over in his mind, "Must not have been at full strength."

"Would you like some mead?" You offer the Witcher some of your honey wine. A delicacy was not often seen in common households, but you have never been part of the common folk. Plus, you tended to a honey bee hive in a tree near the cottage.

"Why not?" Geralt takes the mug of mead from you as you walk to the cauldron where your stew was done cooking. You ladle the chicken soup into wooden bowls you once bought from a traveling merchant and add a slice of bread to it. It had not been the first time you opened up your home to the infamous White Wolf... and it certainly won't be the last.

"Well, eat up. You are welcome to stay as long as you like." You offer a safe night's sleep before finishing your bowl of soup and putting the bowl in a basket of other dirty plates and bowls. You take the cauldron of soup and take it outside, where you can feed the hungry children of the village. The only people who dare to come near...

Before you can lug the pot of wonderful healing stew outside, Geralt notices. "What are you doing?"

You stop, setting the cauldron on the floor for a rest. "Well... the children of the village have not been eating as much and I feel bad... their parents cast me out, not them. Why should they have to suffer for a decision they had no choice in?" You look at Geralt in confusion before shaking your head and picking up the cauldron again.

Geralt stands and before you can walk with the heavy pot, he takes it from you. "If they catch you doing this... you could be killed."

"I would rather die doing something good than nothing at all." You skip happily besides Geralt as he carries the pot with way less effort than you have to.

As you approach your normal spot to feed the children, you can see the dozens of eyes that hide in the woods. They are scared...

"You have nothing to fear, children. The Witcher will never hurt you."

First, nothing happens, but after a minute, a thin girl walks to you. You kneel, handing her a bowl of the chicken stock. You know this one. This girl has been sick since she came from the womb of her mother, who died during childbirth.

A boy, a bit stockier than he was a month ago, came up to you, slightly avoiding the Witcher's gaze as he also grabbed a bowl from you and started drinking the contents of the soup. You gave him bits of chicken and vegetables, knowing that he won't be full unless the boy has them. He has grown since you first saw him.

One by one, the children gained confidence in you and lost their fear in the monster hunter who was leaning on a tree behind you.

Eventually, you ran out of mouths to feed and food to give, so you grabbed the bowls the children used, put them in the cauldron, and walked home with the pot in hand.

"Well, Geralt, what brings you around this time?"

"Just a reprieve. I needed some... how do you say it... grounding."

You drop the cauldron by the door & clap, "Perfect! I'm going to the well now to grab water. It is chore day tomorrow. What would you prefer to do?"

As Geralt looked around, he noticed the various plants that were hanging in your window and drying in the window. And then he noticed the weeds that had begun to grow in your garden.

"Let me grab the water and prepare the pot for another meal," Geralt wanted to take the heaviest thing off you. It would not be too hot weeding the garden considering the time and season.

"I can weed the garden and wash the bowls & cutlery. Fantastic! Make sure to rub the inside of the pot with tallow before hanging it up to dry."

Geralt grunts and walks inside, preapring for chore day tomorrow.

This is going to be the longest day in a while...

______________________________________________________________

You prep Roach before Geralt is scheduled to take off into the horizon once more.

As you finish getting the saddle tied down, you look around for any peering eyes. Not finding any, you pull out a rune for speed and chant a small & simple spell before tying said rune to the inside of the saddlebag.

You hurriedly make yourself seem busy by packing his saddlebag with all the necessities, including a jug for water and a fresh loaf of sourdough bread wrapped in some parchment that you covered in beeswax.

Geralt exits the cottage, strapping the last bit of armor down to himself, walking towards you and Roach. Before he can reach you, you walk to Roach's front and say a quick prayer and chant for speed and health. That they may get to wherever they must be, right when they must be there and not a moment too late.

As Geralt approaches, you give him one last hug. And a warning...

"Save the apple bread for when you need it most."

Geralt, understandably confused, watches as you skip towards your cozy home. Before you make it even halfway, the White Wolf shakes his head as a method of clearing it before mounting Roach and taking off into the distance.

______________________________________________________________

You are calmly knitting while waiting for the loaf of bread in the fire to cook when a banging erupts from your door. You are immediately apprehensive, as banging is not usually a good sign anymore.

Before you were chased out of the town banging meant someone was hurt. Also not good, but treatable.

Banging now... that's nothing good.

"Open your door or I will kick it down!" Geralt's gruff voice was muffled by the door, but you could tell he was yelling.

You hurriedly put down your knitting project and let Geralt in. He walks in and turns rather smoothly however quick, effectively shutting the door and trapping you between him and the thick wood the door offered.

"What are you? Are you a sorceress?!" Geralt questioned you with intense yellow eyes. The type of eyes he saved for people who have used him and lied to him.

"No, Geralt... I am not a sorceress. Why do you ask?" You gently take one of his arms down from its tense position leaning against the door to massage his hand in between your fingers. You gently guide him to a chair and sit him down before asking once more...

"What has made you think that I am a sorceress, Geralt?"

He grunts and looks into the dancing flames of the fire that licked the stone and left black soot marks.

"I was faster, stronger... more insightful... Roach rode like the wind and we got exactly where we needed to be just in time, even early. This didn't start happening until you started giving me things. And don't think I didn't notice the rune in my saddlebag. You may be a witch, but you are no sneak. So, what are you?"

A pregnant pause filled the space and time had eaten away at it.

You needed to tell him eventually. Now was as good a time as ever.

"I... You're right. I am a witch. But I am not a sorceress or a mage! I do not dabble in chaos. I am an omnist. I believe in the existence of every god. I also bend and use energy at my will. The thing people call 'Destiny' can be written, but then erased & rewritten. That's what I do. A 'narrow miss' suddenly becomes an 'easy dodge.' I take Destiny... and I manipulate her for my desired outcome. And if my desired outcome just so happens to be a few kids fed and the Savior of the people of the Continent to be safe, so be it."

It felt as though the energy had moved from this feeling where something was violently poking and stabbing to try and get out, to absolute stillness.

An eerie calm after a storm.

The sort of calm you feel right before a bomb goes off...

Except...

No bomb went off.

No storm flooded the room.

Geralt could only feel awe.

Not at just your power but how you chose to wield it.

You had the power of Destiny at your disposal, and you chose to help a few kids whose parents banished you from their town.

You had the power of Destiny... eating out of your hands... and you chose to help him...

The last time he felt this... loved... was Yennefer. But even Yennefer's love wasn't baselining love. She was lust. A poor foundation of love.

What is Geralt even thinking?! Love? He couldn't love. No... His path was a lonely, treacherous one.

But it was one many others have joined him on...

Maybe it wasn't as bad as he is thinking...

Maybe...

Just maybe....

A little bit of love is okay.

The White Wolf doesn't howl his praises or paw for attention. All he does is kneel.

Kneel in front of the most powerful, lovely, deadly person he has ever known... and hold them.

"Thank you... for protecting me..."

"Anytime, Geralt."

______________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. If you have any requests, please feel free to ask me. Also, I know I made this one non-binary after editing, and I know what I said before I posted anything. Have a great night! Bye!

Edit: I actually went through and made it ambiguous! Someone slap me for thinking Y/N was a suitable choice *shaking head*

[p-artsypants]

The Pale Rider (7) Using the Old Boot Straps

The Isle of Berk is cursed. Like, extremely cursed. It has been for generations. The extent of the curse has been forgotten over time, but no descendants of the original village are able to leave the island, lest they suffer a gruesome fate. Three years ago, the Blacksmith invited the Pale Rider to town. He’s a creature that’s haunted the forest and childhood campfire stories for centuries. Now, he arrives every day at noon. One day, Astrid Hofferson decides to be brave and talk to him. He’s actually really nice…for an eldritch abomination. A Beauty and the Beast AU.

Ao3

Even after a week, Astrid still had bruises. Her side hurt, but she could get around. 

It didn’t mean much. She had no cart to sell flowers from. Luckily, she had a handful of orders come in. Anniversaries, well wishes, congratulations, these tried and true events could be planned for. She was just missing out on the spontaneous purchases. On people walking by and seeing the beautiful blooms and thinking, ‘oh I want some of those.’ 

As Astrid was out in the garden, assembling a bouquet for an older couple, a friendly voice greeted, “getting right back into it, huh?” 

Astrid looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Snotlout. What brings you to this side of the village?” Oddly, he wasn’t wearing his guard uniform either. Just a green tunic and leggings. The Rider’s gifted sword was still on his hip though, along with a satchel. “And where’s your armor?” 

His smile turned sordid. “I guess I forgot to tell you, huh? I had been meaning to, but uh…well, Dagur got me. I was relieved of duty.” 

Astrid’s heart sank. “Oh no!” 

“But it’s okay!” He put his hands up. “‘Cause honestly, I didn’t wanna do that job anymore anyways. The guards are all stooges for Oswald and Dagur.” 

“So what are you going to do now?” 

“I’m a pioneer, you know. I’ve made my own niche in the village, and it’s going very well.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! Mailman! Mailman! Oi Oi Oi!” He cheered, pumping his fists. 

“Mailman, hmm? I can see it.” 

“Viola!” He handed her a piece of paper. “My going rates. And I’m here to offer my services to you, for say…delivering bouquets to clients, or perhaps saucy love notes to your spooky boyfriend in a certain haunted castle on a certain forbidden mountain?” 

Astrid decided to ignore the ‘boyfriend’ part. “You’d go up there?” 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Maybe not a month ago, but now I know the Rider’s a total teddy bear. Nothing to worry about! Just a little hike!” 

Astrid bit her lip. She really hated the way things ended the last time she had seen the Rider. Even just a letter would help. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that!” 

“Yes!” He pumped his fist again. 

She quickly picked a few flowers and finished the bouquet. “Okay, these are for the Sorenson household. They’ve already paid me for them.” 

“That would be 5 copper fee.” 

“Okay, and for the letter to the mountain?” 

“That’s another five copper.” 

“Really? Even with that hike?” 

“Yep! Because I know he’ll want to respond and I can charge him as much as I want!” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“I can still decline your delivery, missy!” 

She laughed. “Okay okay, why don’t you take the bouquet and then come back? Then I’ll have the letter and the silver piece for you.” 

“Done!” 

—-

Rider,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I can only imagine how lonely you’ve been. It hasn’t been the same around here without you. 

Heather says Dagur has gone completely out of control. There’s chaos in the village. As much as I hate to admit it, I believe it is best you stay away for now, for your own safety. I want to keep in contact with you, and I will let you know when it’s safe to return. Hopefully that will come soon, as Oswald is bound to get Dagur under control once he feels better.

I can’t help but feel this is my fault. I pushed you too quickly, pushed the village too quickly. We should have taken things slower. Maybe then Dagur wouldn’t have been so emboldened. I don’t know, I just feel awful about all of this. You didn’t deserve any of this treatment. 

I hope you bear no ill feelings towards us, or me specifically. We all miss you.

I miss you. 

I hope to hear from you soon.

Love, 

Astrid. 

—

True to his promise, Gobber went ahead and got to work on building Astrid a new cart. This one would be financed by the Rider, and would solely belong to Astrid. She wouldn’t need to pay anyone back. 

Though, she had yet to receive the invoice from Oswald for the cart that Dagur burned. She hoped that when the old man felt better, he’d make Dagur pay for it instead. 

Astrid visited the forge, eager to see what Gobber had come up with. 

It was a beautiful dark wood, picked specifically to enhance the beauty of the bright flowers put on it. The surface was smoothly lacquered, almost feeling like glass. 

“Like it so far?” Gobber smirked. 

“It’s so beautiful! It’s perfect!” 

“I still have to add the awning, and I want to put a rack with holes around the sides so you can display more bouquets! I’m pretty happy with the turn out.” 

Astrid fondly ran her fingers over the surface. “You…put a lot of time into this.” 

“Sure! I wanted to make it good for one of my favorite customers!” 

She smiled, albeit sadly. “Is business down?” 

He waved her off. “Sure, but it won’t be forever! Dagur’s threatening people, but sooner or later, someone’s going to have a toothache!” 

“Or need a blade sharpened, or a deer cut.” 

“That too!” 

“I’m sorry, Gobber.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Lass.” 

“I am, though. If I hadn’t jumped on Dagur’s back…” she rubbed her arm.

“Aye, maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing you could have done—”

Her shoulders sank further. 

“But the Rider needed to see someone fight for him.” 

Was it really worth it? People were being punished for her actions. 

She checked in on the others. At Fishlegs’ bookstore, things were the same. Business was down, but neither Ingerman were worried about it at the moment. Fishlegs assured that the book that the Rider had brought would be plenty to keep them a float for a while. The Twins were similarly optimistic. They had even joked about going up to the castle to ask for retirement funds. 

Though, knowing the Twins, it was hard to tell if it was a joke. 

Heather was a different matter, however. She hadn’t been seen since the Rider was banished, and there was a ‘permanently closed’ sign nailed to the front door of the cafe. 

How Dagur could be so cruel to his own sister, Astrid couldn’t imagine. 

—-

Two days went by before Snotlout returned with a reply. He knocked on the cottage door, grinning mischievously. 

“Afternoon,” she greeted, cautious because of the smile. 

“He wrote back!” He sang, waving the black envelope at her. Even from here, she could see it was open. 

“You little snoop!” She scolded. “And how much did you charge him?!” 

“Enough that he wouldn’t mind me snooping,” he drawled. 

“That’s not how it works, Snotlout!” 

“Okay okay…I just wanted to see what kind of writer he was. You know, if he was literate.” 

“And is he?” 

He chuckled, “is he ever!” 

She snatched the envelope away from him, but didn’t want to seem too eager to read the reply. Instead, she asked, “what’s the castle like?” 

“Boy, I’d tell you all about it, but my feet are killing me.” 

She sighed. “Would you like to come in for tea?” 

“Oh Astrid, that is so sweet, of course I’ll have some tea.” 

She fondly rolled her eyes and let him in. 

“Afternoon, Mrs. H!” He called upstairs. 

“Good afternoon, Snotlout!” She called back. 

He flopped into a chair, kicking his feet up on the hearth. “Ahhh…much better.” 

Astrid put the kettle on. “So…the castle?” 

“Oh! Right! Well, first of all, I didn’t see that much. Just the foyer. But let me start from the beginning.” He sat up and gestured with his hands like he was surveying a canvas. “The path there is actually a lot more clear than I thought. It’s not a hard walk, but it is long. It kinda spirals around the mountain. Then there's these huge iron gates and as I approached, they slid open, and these two huge cauldrons of fire ignited at the top!”  

“Just by walking up?”

“Yep! Super creepy, but super cool! Then, there’s this long bridge you have to cross, and it goes over a giant gorge with a river at the bottom.” 

Astrid leaned over the counter, chin resting on her hands as she got lost in the picture he was painting. 

“And the castle…wow! And I mean wow! Like, we can kinda see it from down here, but that’s only the tip of it. It’s huge with probably a hundred spires! And I swear, some of them were twisted!” 

She narrowed her eyes in skepticism, but didn’t stop him. 

“So, I go over the bridge, and there’s another iron gate, right? Same deal, it opens on its own, big flames at the top, yada yada, inside that gate is a courtyard. And, you know I don’t care about flowers, right?” 

She nodded. 

“The courtyard is beautiful. Roses, vines, big trees, plants that you could probably identify immediately and I’m not doing it justice, at all. And in the center, a big huge stone fountain in the shape of a dragon!” 

“Sounds fantastic,” she hummed. At least the Rider wasn’t living in squalor. 

“Okay, so then I get to the front door, right? I knock using this huge iron knocker, which, by the way, is still in the shape of a dragon. Then a few minutes pass by and our friend opens the door and greets me. He was pretty confused why I was there, but then I handed him your letter and he thanked me and asked me to come back so he could reply.” 

“And that was the first trip?”

“Yep! Second trip, I arrived and he let me in, but had me wait in the foyer. Astrid, I have never been in a room this big. You think the Grand Hall is big? No way. That’s a closet compared to this room! It had arches! And chandeliers! And two winding staircases! And huge black and red curtains everywhere! Actually, next time I go there, I might ask him about the decor choices because there was some unpleasant artwork in that room.” 

“Like what?”  

“Like, right front and center when you walk in, there’s a painting of a guy who’s been stabbed and he’s bleeding all over the place.” 

Astrid felt her lips tighten. 

“Then he came back with the letter, and I left.” He shrugged. “I may have stayed longer, but I wanted to give you that letter…and I got a weird vibe from the place.” 

She leaned forward more, crossing her arms. “What kind of vibe?”

“Call me crazy…but I’m pretty sure the castle is alive.” 

Her eyes widened. “What?” 

“Yeah. I was looking around while I waited, and I swear the walls were moving, and I could feel a deep thud every once in a while.” He wiggled his fingers. “Like a heartbeat.” 

“Now you’re just messing with me.” 

“I’m not! I swear!” He held up two fingers. “You’ll just have to go up there yourself.” 

Astrid had thought about it a few times over the week. Figuring that once her ribs felt better, she could probably make the climb. But she had a fear of leaving her mother for long periods of time. It was one thing to work outside all day, but to be away from the village?

“At any rate, thank you for bringing this to me.” She held up the letter. 

“Your friendly neighborhood mailman, at your service.” 

He stayed for a little while longer after that, drinking tea and talking about how his service was going. He seemed happier than she’d seen in a while, and deep down, she was proud of him.

Though she’d never tell him.

She waited until after he left to read the Rider’s letter. Even though he had already read it, she wanted some privacy. 

The paper was black as well, but the ink was white. His handwriting was elegant, with clean, even runes. 

He evidently still knew how to write, even with his too-long fingers.

—

My Dearest Friend, 

Words cannot describe the joy in my heart I felt when I saw Snotlout standing at my door, with a letter from you. Though I have been lonely, thinking of my reply to you has made my day go by swiftly. 

As much as it pains me, I will stay away from the village as you suggest. I would never forgive myself if you were hurt on my behalf. 

Dagur’s words hurt, yes, but what truly hurt more was seeing him hurt you and not knowing what to do to help. I chose then to leave, hoping in my absence, his rage would subside. Was it successful? Are you still tormented? What more can I do?

Astrid, does the moon hate the sun for casting light upon its face? Does it hate that it is brought from the shadows and made known to the Earth? So why then would I hold any ill will towards you? You’ve only shown me kindness. You have given me what I asked for, and more. 

We will see each other again, I promise. 

Please tell the others I said hello. 

I miss you too.

Your humble servant, 

The Pale Rider.

[slasherslittlesimp]

When Tomorrow Comes (TWD X M!Reader)

Series Masterlist

PART TWO

Glenn watches from the rooftop as a man comes trotting around the corner on a horse, unknowingly walking straight into a horde of walkers. He watches with bated breath as the horse rears back in fear, the man struggling to stay on the horse. Movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he turns his focus towards whatever is moving. To his surprise, it's you. You're sprinting down the street, swiftly dodging the grasps of walkers as you make your way towards the man. As the man is bucked off the horse, you grab him and shove him towards the tank, forcing him to crawl under it while you kill off any walkers that get too close before following after him. As the two of you disappear under the tank, Glenn's view is cut off.

Inside the tank, the man is quite clearly panicking while you focus on making sure that the hatch you both came through is secure. The man dressed in sheriff's clothing shuffles across the tanks floor until he ends up next to a corpse. He looks towards the corpse, choosing to take the gun strapped to it's vest which makes it wake up from it's previous lifeless state. In a panic, he lifts his gun, only to jump slightly when a hand grasps onto it, shoving it away before the tip of a blade enters the dead mans skull.

"I don't suggest firing that in here unless you want to lose your hearing." You warn him, pulling his gaze towards your own. He breathes heavily as he stares at you for a moment before whispering a breathless 'thanks' in reply. You simply nod at him, releasing your hold on his gun before shuffling away to search the tank for anything useful.

The tanks radio crackles to life, pulling the mans attention towards it while you keep searching the tank. Glenn's familiar voice comes through, and you find yourself rather thankful that he watched the entire thing, allowing you to have eyes on the outside. "Hey, are you alive in there?"

"Hello? Hello?" The man answers, still quite panicked over the current situation.

"There you are. You had me wondering."

"Where are you? Outside? Can you see us right now?"

On the other side of the radio, Glenn practically sags in relief hearing that you safely made it into the tank as well. "Yeah, I can see you. You're surrounded by walkers, that's the bad news."

"There's good news?"

Glenn lets out a short chuckle. "Well, you're not alone."

The man glances over at you, finding you to be searching the corpse for anything else that could be useful. Just a quick glance and the sheriff can tell that the only weapon you have on you is your sword, which doesn't give him high hopes. "Listen, whoever you are, I don't mind telling you I'm a little concerned in here."

"Oh man. You should see it from over here." Glenn stares at the horde of walkers still feasting on the poor horse. "You'd be having a major freak out."

"Got any advice for me?"

"Yeah, I'd say make a run for it."

The man pauses as if waiting for more only to be met with silence. "That's it? Make a run for it?"

"My ways not as dumb as it sounds. You've got eyes on the outside here, and help in there. There's one geek still up on the tank but the others have climbed down and joined the feeding frenzy where the horse went down. With me so far?"

"So far."

"Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they're distracted, you stand a chance. Got ammo?" Glenn questions, knowing that despite having you with him the man will still need to defend himself. In all honesty, Glenn has no idea how well you'll be at fighting walkers. He's never seen you in action before as this is his first time seeing you outside of the camp. He can only hope that the sword that's almost permanently attached to your hip isn't just for show. Though, with your display of running through the horde without problem earlier, he has a feeling that it isn't.

"In that duffel bag I dropped out there, and guns. Can I get to it?"

"Forget the bag, okay? It's not an option. What do you have on you?"

The man grabs the gun he pulled off of the soldier, checking it for ammo before turning to look to you. You hand over the only thing you found that would be remotely useful- a grenade. He takes it, checking it out for a second before pocketing it and returning to the radio to inform Glenn of what he has. "I've got a beretta with one clip, fifteen rounds."

"Make 'em count. Jump off the right side of the tank, keep going in that direction. There's an alley up the street, maybe fifty yards. Be there."

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Have you been listening? You're running out of time." The man drops the radio as he grabs a shovel from hanging on the wall of the tank. You allow him to go to the top hatch of the tank first, following behind him so you can watch his back. Right before he opens the hatch, you hear the radio crackle to life once more, drawing your attention to it. "And (Y/N)? Stay safe out there."

And despite him not being able to see you, you nod in response, a silent promise to get back to the group safely.

With that the man finally opens the hatch and pops out to look around. He spins around, slamming the shovel across the face of the only walker still left on the tank, not killing it but simply knocking it off. With that he jumps fully out of the tank, beginning to run down the front of it without really checking to make sure that you're following after him. You're only a few feet behind him, clearing out any walker that stumble too close for comfort while he shoots down any in front of him- popping off eleven shots before turning into the alley where Glenn waits for the both of you.

The three of you quickly climb the fire escape, you going last since you're the only one with a weapon as the man had shot off his last few bullets while running through the alley. Thankfully you all make it up the ladder before the horde makes it to you all. Reaching a landing at about the midway point, the two of them stop to catch their breaths while you look over the edge at the crowd of walkers. On the bright side, with so many grouping up in the alley that means there's less out on the streets which should make leaving a bit easier. Hopefully.

"Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood. You the new sheriff come riding in to clean up the town?"

"It wasn't my intention."

"Yeah, whatever. Yeehaw. You're still a dumbass."

The man stands up straight, turning towards Glenn as he holds out a hand. "Rick. Thanks."

"Glenn." He shakes his hand, nodding his head towards you in the process. "And you should be thanking (Y/N). He's the one that went down there and saved your ass."

Rick turns towards you, holding his hand out for you. You look at it for a second before grasping it in your own, giving it a firm shake before pulling away, simply nodding at him when he gives his thanks. After that the three of you climb the rest of the way up the ladder all the way to the roof. Glenn leads the way, him and Rick chatting the entire way as you cross rooftops, climb down yet another ladder, cross through the room, and down a flight of stairs just outside of the building everyone else was left in.

"I'm back." Glenn speaks into his radio, alerting the others of his return. "Got a guest. Plus four geeks in the alley."

You all stop on the steps, you behind the other two as you look at the four stumbling walkers in the alley. A part of you wants to question why you can't just take care of them, but you instead remain silent, watching as two of the others come out of the door wearing gear as they beat down the walkers with bats. The three of you run past them into the building, the door shutting once the two of them follow you all inside.

The second you enter the room the others are in, Andrea shoves Rick aside as she points her gun straight into his face. You stand back, knowing that despite her anger she would never actually pull the trigger on him. Instead of interfering, Glenn turns towards you, taking in the fact that you don't look exhausted at all despite all of the sprinting and fighting you just did.

"That was crazy, huh?" He questions, deciding that talking to you is better than watching the others fight. "What were you doing out there anyway?"

"Keeping watch." Your answer is short and simple like always. He simply huffs in disbelief, shaking his head at your answer before finally directing his attention towards the others just in time to watch them all walk off into the next room. You all watch as the glass outer doors between to crack, moving back away from them knowing that if they break then there's only one more set before they get through. And despite being confident in your skills, you're unsure as to whether you would be able to protect so many people.

Especially when you have never believed in your skills, even before the world went to shit.

[yaralulus-secret-santa]

a sweet treat to carry you to the end of time

a tamlin & lucien halloween ficlet for @yaralulu

(Read on AO3.)

The trees on the borders are a traitorous bunch. For the first half of the year, they sport their brightest greens and share their full-bodied dances in the breeze. In the second half, when the Autumn Solstice passes, they suddenly wilt, like scowling adolescents who have dimmed their own light in favour of browns, reds and golds. They exist both in Spring and Autumn, but belong to neither. When the colours at the border change, Tamlin knows it’s time.

The Seven Courts of Prythian each have their Great Rites—celebrations that are rooted within their lands, but that are celebrated across their peoples. For the Spring Court, the little sprout is very familiar with the Calanmai, a ceremony in which his whole family participates. He’s still too little to join the festivities, which is why the Thinning of the Veil is Tamlin’s most favourite holiday of the year.

He squirms in his mother’s lap as they ride atop a giant white doe. She’s dressed as a naga queen, and the blues of her dress are a perfect match to his father’s deep violet robes. His father, the High Lord of the Spring Court, is dressed as a vampire of the Night Court who looks eerily like the Lord. 

It’s a calculated costume. When the Veil thins, spirits and deities from another world come spilling into theirs for better or for worse. Benevolent beings may leave blessings, looking for testaments of good will, but the tricksters? The tricksters look for prey—for those who overstep invisible boundaries or unspoken expectations to haunt for the next year with mischief. Hence the costumes. A mistake made tonight will have consequences, and to save a year’s worth of irritation, the denizens of Prythian disguise themselves. 

Last year, Tamlin refused to share his pastry with a trickster, but since he was dressed as a rock, he spent the rest of the year giggling when he’d see the trickster exacting petty vengeance on a big old real rock.

This year, he wants to be bold like the rest of his family. He didn’t pick an inanimate object or an animal who are more than capable of dealing with tricksters; he went as his big brother. With his darker blonde hair and play sword strapped to his back, Tamlin looks like a mini-version of him. The only thing ruining his image is having to ride with his mother.

“Mama, I can ride. I’m big now!”

“I know you are, that’s why I’m riding with you.”

“Oh?” This whole time, Tamlin thought he was riding with his mother because she was afraid he would fall. He stops wriggling, straightening upon their great mount. He pets the deer’s flank and encourages her to carry on (despite her already doing that). “I will get you there safely.”

“I am in your debt, Tamlin,” she says kissing the top of his head. 

“I’m not Tamlin today!”

“Oh, yes, you are right. How could I be so blind?”

The royal party enters Autumn territory for the celebrations. Tamlin refuses to be helped down, and he nearly lands on his bum, catching himself. He holds his hands out to help his mother down, despite being too short to reach her. He just looks up and hopes for the best. 

Formal introductions are made, Tamlin’s family presenting themselves with offerings to the Autumn Court. This year, his mother cooked up candy corn with the faeries in their kitchens. As soon as the formalities are over, he pitter-patters across the Forest House’s grounds looking for his best friend. Higher and Lesser Faeries are already out, tempting the Veil by demanding ‘tricks or treats’, daring the fates to dish out their best.

“Look at what we have here!”

“What are you supposed to be? A sentry?”

Auburn haired twins look down at Tamlin, plucking his wooden sword from his back. They toss it between one another.

“Give it back! I’m ‘posed to be my big brother!”

“Hah! Which one?”

“Well, you’re not sniffing at your father’s feet like a bitch in heat, so it can’t be Eachann.”

“You must be Iosaph, then! So useless he might as well be dead!”

“Don’t talk about my brothers like that!”

Tamlin charges them, but they’re bigger and meaner than he is. They break his sword, and pull at his clothes until they tear. They push him in the dirt, but he manages to bite one of them really hard, which only makes them get meaner. One of the twins smacks Tamlin’s face hard enough to draw blood. The little Spring fae doesn’t give up, getting up every time.

“Hey! Leave my friend alone, you ugly worts!” A smaller red-haired boy comes charging at them, and kicks one of his older brothers in the shins. “I’m gonna tell Eris! The other Eris!” He makes sure to clarify, just in case his costume is far too accurate.

Twins make kissy sounds, mocking Lucien for being such a kiss-ass. Lucien doesn’t care, as long as they go away, which they do. He runs to Tamlin’s side and gives him a big, big hug.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Tamlin sniffles, blood on his lip from a cut and his nose red from definitely-not-almost-crying. “My costume’s ruined.”

Lucien looks over the torn Spring finery and the splinters of his training sword. 

“You can be Eris with me!” The two of them had planned to match costumes; their older brothers are always together, anyway. “We can get one of his coats and sit on each other’s shoulders! Then, it will be really realistic.” They’ll be so tall together!

“No,” Tamlin frowns. “That’s your costume. It’s not gonna be the same.”

“It’s not gonna be the same if we don’t do it together,” Lucien frowns.

They’re the best of friends, and best friends support each other until the end of time. An idea pops into Lucien’s clever little mind. He grins and takes Tamlin’s hand, pulling him to the separate little house where the Forest House staff cleans their linens. He finds his most favourite servant, and politely asks for a white sheet, but not a good one. An old raggedy one would be best!

“What are you doing?” Tamlin asks curiously.

“I’m playing the best trick of all time!”

Lucien gets the sheet and pulls it over them. He rubs his hands until they get really warm, and then pokes four holes, one for each of their eyes so they can see.

“Look! We’re best friend ghosts. The tricksters won’t get us because we’re stronger together!”

Tamlin’s eyes get wide as saucers, like a happy and amazed kitten. He never fails to be in complete awe of his best friend’s cleverness. “Whoa!”

A gentle flush colours his features as Lucien takes his hand and pulls him along. Their shared costume is bound to earn them many treats.

“We’re gonna be best friends forever, okay?” Lucien grins at Tamlin. Under the sheet, they’re in their private little world, just like in their treehouse or their fort.

“For ever and ever!”

And that’s a promise.

[bigball-thefrog]

The Mighty Sand Dragon And The Maiden:Crocodile X Reader pt3

______________________________

Pt1 Pt2

The third and final part of the dragon Crocodile series. This was probably one of my favorite things to write. I hope everyone enjoys it and I'll be back again next week

Warnings/Tags:

Fluff

Mentions of blood and injuries

Mentions of cauterization

Fantasy AU

______________________________

Reader POV

It had been a year since I first fought Crocodile and I have been training hard to finally take him down. I have been thinking about our previous fights to try and think of what his weakness could be and I think I might have figured it out. It must be water! Because of his powers as the sand dragon, he can turn into sand, and water makes sand clump together and makes it harder for the sand to move around so freely like it does when the wind blows! It must be he weakness as well. So for my journey I packed my usual supplies but this time I also kept a secret bottle of water under my clothes so I could catch him off guard.

I made it to the entrance of his cave and put my bags down, gripping my sword and keeping the bottle of water strapped to my leg I walked closer. I was about to call out for him when I heard sounds of a struggle coming from inside the cave. I put away my sword and walked inside. Not too far from the entrance I saw Crocodile on the ground, bloodied and bruised, and a knight standing in front of him. I walked closer and spoke up, "What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted at the knight. He was startled with my sudden presence behind him but spoke, "Ah, young maiden. I am just slaying this dragon that has put you under his spell!" "Spell?! What spell??" "Oh, you poor thing. Everyone in town has noticed your disappearances every couple of months and everyone has noticed that you always leave in the direction of the Sand Dragons cave. So you must've been put under his evil spell and for he past year, have been forced to do his evil bidding!" "BULLSHIT!!! I'VE BEEN COMING HERE TO DEFEAT THE DRAGON MYSELF BECAUSE I WANT TO CHANGE MY OWN DESTINY OF BEING A POOR HELPLESS MAIDEN!!!" The knight was shocked at my reason for coming here. He then started laughing right in my face, "That is hilarious! See, you are clearly under the dragons spell, no maiden has the strength to defeat a dragon!~ Worry not maiden, I shall defeat the dragon and escorts you back home safely, maybe you can even reward this handsome knight by being my little bride~" The knight winked at me and held up his sword to deliver the final blow to Crocodile. Quickly taking out my sword, I got in front of him and blocked his attack. The knight looked shocked again and became frustrated, "Stand down maiden, stop defending this evil creature and let me kill it!" "No! This is my destiny and I am not going to let you take it away from me!" "This behavior is traitorous! I'll have you executed with this dragon!"

Crocodile POV:

I layed on the ground, holding my wounds as I watched the maiden take on the knight. They are a brave one for risking being a traitor to their kingdom just to kill me. Something in me felt uneasy seeing them in a serious battle this time, all the times I fought them I just did it to amuse myself, but now this was an actual battle, one that could end in their death. I didn't like the fact they could die but the pain from my own injuries prevented me from getting up and helping. But then that damm knight raised his sword and slashed them across the face, and that made me see red...

Seeing the maiden fall to the ground and crying out as they held their bleeding face gave me a burst of rage fueld adrenaline, I got up and growled. Sand surrounded me and I transformed back into my dragon form. Once the sand disappeared I roared loudly and caused the ground to shake, the knight fell and looked up at me in fear. He didn't even have time to gain his confidence back before I stood on him and crushed the lower half of his body. He screamed in pain but I didn't move, I began to use my powers to suck every last drop of moisture out of his body. His body slowly began to shrivel up, all the moisture in his body gone like rain on the dessert sand. Within a matter of seconds his body was nothing but a husk and armor, I stood over him and this time I completely crushed him, when I moved my hand there was nothing but dust, I bent down and huffed and the knight was gone...

I looked back at the maiden, still bleeding and my face softened a little and I turned to them. I transformed back to my human form and knelt down next to them, I used my hand to hold them up and wiped their little tears away with my thumb. I looked down at the injury and smirked a little, a scar right across the face, just like mine.... Hearing their soft cries of pain snapped me out of my thoughts and made me start to think of how I could help, I looked at my hook and got an idea. I brought the hook up to my face and gently began to blow fire on it to heat it up. Once it was red I looked back at the maiden, "I'm gonna help, but it's going to hurt like hell, do you promise to try and keep still while I stop the bleeding?" the maiden nodded and gripped onto my arm for support. I carefully placed the tip of the red hot hook on the cut and started to cauterize the cut. They screamed and cried more but thankfully didn't move much as I continued to stop the bleeding. I managed to stop the bleeding on her face and removed the hook. They stopped crying and was just breathing heavily now. Seeing them no longer injured I let out a sigh of exaust and collapsed next to them.

Reader POV

My eyes widened when I saw Crocodile collapse next to me, they look exhausted and were still injured as well, if he didn't receive any medical attention soon he might die. Remembering my supplies I brought I quickly ran out the cave to grab my bag. I kneeled back down next to him and got out all the medical supplies I brought. I took the water bottle out from under my clothes and used a towel to clean him, ironic that I brought this extra water to kill him and am now using it to save his life. After cleaning him I took out a needle and thread, disinfecting ointment and began stitching up what I could. He grunted, feeling the needle piercing his skin and looked up at me, "What on earth are you doing? Isn't this what you wanted? For me to die.." "Well yes but I wanted to kill you myself remember? I didn't want some stupid knight to do it... So I'm saving you know so I can kill you properly later.." He chuckled and leaned his head back to try and relax while I stitched him up. "Thank you... For rescuing me from that knight." "No problem. He had no right to injure a maiden such as yourself.." I smiled a little and spoke again, "Kind of ironic that it was the dragon that saved me and not the knight." we both chuckled and went quiet again. After patching him up he sat up again and we just stared at each other, eventually I got the courage to ask a question I've always wanted to ask, "Why is it that dragons always kidnap maidens? And they usually come back unharmed, even after days of being with the dragon, why is that?" Crocodile pondered for a second then sighed, "Truthfully, we're lonely. Creatures are scared of us in our dragon form, and in our human form we're still fear because of the wings and tail. Other dragons are assholes and we don't get along with each other.. We're usually just looking for a companion that won't leave us... That's why we go after maidens because they're usually described as kind and loving creatures..." my heart went soft and I got closer to him, "How come you haven't taken a maiden? Aren't you lonely?" He scowled, "I don't need a companion. I've learned to not let people come close to my heart..." I frowned and looked down, "How about I stay with you?" He looked at me confused and was about to say something but I cut him off, "I stay here and train to fight you and you don't have to worry about getting close to someone because you already have a heads up that we're going to fight. That way you know not to get attached and you have some company!" Crocodile looked at me still skeptical so I added in, "Also, if I go back home without the knight, I'll probably be executed so you're stuck with me." He rolled his eyes and sighed before muttering out, "fine..." I raised my hand to shake his and he gripped my hand tightly and shook it, "You have now officially been taken by the dragon, it is now your duty to set yourself free from my clutches or else you'll be mine for the rest of your life, deal?" He asked. I nodded, "Deal!"

And so started my new life with the dragon I was going to kill..

______________________________

I'll post next week and to those that have made requests I'll get you next week probably but I promise you I will write your request and post it, it just may be a week or two before I get to it. I love you all and see you next week

Kelly🐸

[inkedmoth]

Favourite Weather

For Anon, who requested a one-shot of an innkeeper's daughter unwilling to let Boromir continue through the storm. But oops! There's only one room left... Hers. I spent far too long dithering on how far to push the spice, so we have a fade to black to be safe! Hope you enjoy it!

Torrential rain was Eathril’s favourite weather, not only did the steady drumming of rain upon the roof tiles drown out any rowdiness from the common room, but it also covered the sounds from the rooms of the inn, be it snoring or other noises. Rain was calming, it was soothing, and it meant that the inn was utterly filled to capacity, therefore the lockbox would also be full, and they’d be able to eat come winter.

But a storm like this, meant the Silver Stallion Tavern wasn’t just full, but fit to burst.

Already every room in the building had been sold off, the summer traders having gotten in quick and some even doubling up, then the following travellers and merchants had to make do with bedding down in any free corner of the common room or the leaky stables. This late at night, there was scarcely any room to walk, let alone sleep.

Which meant when the room to the inn was flung open as a gust of wind and a figure bullied their way inside, more than a few disgruntled voices rose in protest.

Thankfully the door didn’t remain open for long.

Having almost been finished cleaning up behind the bar, Eathril bit back a sigh of frustration at the sight of water being dripped all over the floor, as the rather tall figure carefully made their way towards her. But she stood up straight, set aside her cleaning rags, and fixed a pleasant if forced smile upon her face.

It was late, she wanted to sleep, and then this hulking great brick outhouse of a man just let half a river and several trees worth of leaves into the common room. The common room she’d only just finished sweeping. Ugh.

“Can I help you?” she asked, through slightly gritted teeth.

“Apologies for the mess.”

Eathril blinked. Those weren’t the words she’d expected to hear, let alone what followed next.

“If you have a brush, I’ll clear it up.” The cloaked and hooded figure was saying, looking back over their shoulder towards the wet trail of dirt and muck. “Since it’s my fault I’ve dirtied your floors, the weather is rather vicious out there…”

She was staring. It wasn’t polite.

He –judging by the voice she was fairly certain it was a he– was tall, having to mind his head least he get clipped by a rafter. Broad too, with a heavy pack on one shoulder, a great round shield strapped to it that looked Rohirric in design, and a long sword at his belt. But beyond that, she couldn’t make out much.

He didn’t seem to be wearing armour like a solider, was he a mercenary? They often meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing she and her father needed with a crowded inn and irritable patrons having to kip on the floor.

Whoever he was, he turned to her, reaching up, and pulling his hood back. Dark hair plastered to his face, a short well-kept beard, and grey eyes with laughter lines at their corners. A gloved hand dragged through his hair, slicking it back out of his face.

He was, admittedly, rather handsome for a mercenary…

“Miss?”

Oh shit she’d been staring she should say something.

“No.” Well that was eloquent. “I mean I’ll clear it up in the morning,” she hastened to add. And then braced for what she had to say next. “But if you’re here for rooms we’re all sold out.”

Judging by the way his broad shoulders dropped in defeat, it had come out a little blunt.

“Ah, I should have guessed,” he said, with a rueful smile that made his grey eyes crinkle pleasantly, “the roads are empty from here to Gondor, as are the streets. I’m not surprised everyone has sought out shelter.”

He… he wasn’t pissed? Annoyed? Upset that there was no room left?

Eathril reassessed her earlier thought of him being a mercenary. He was armed, but so were most men in this region. Was he just a traveller? Although… now his hood was down she could see the collar of his tunic, a rich red satin with gold embroidery. Not a mercenary, or a solider… maybe a lord?

“Is there any chance of a hot meal? Or just a hot drink?” he was asking.

Good grief she needed to stop staring.

“The chefs finished up for the night, but we’ve got some cider warming and I can see about finding some cold cuts if you’d like?” she offered cautiously.

“That would be wonderful, thank you…?”

“Eathril.”

“Thank you, Miss Eathril.”

Gesturing to a barstool for him to settle, she passed him a dry cloth for his hair and face, before setting about finding a mug and plate for him. If he’d been a dick, she’d have quickly turned him away. But no, this possible Lord was surprisingly polite, so since he wasn’t able to stay, the least she could do was feed him and get him something warm to drink. She didn’t know many Lords that would be willing to sweep the floor…

Then again she didn’t know many Lords at all.

“Here you go,” she said upon her return, a tankard of steaming cider, and a plate with the last rolls of bread, several slices of chicken, a few cold roast potatoes, a hunk of cheese, and a slightly bruised apple. “I’m sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s more than enough, thank you Eathril.”

Oh well now she was feeling guilty.

Especially as he tucked into the scant meal as though it was the first food he’d eaten in days. Maybe it was, it had been raining near constantly for the past three, if he’d been caught in the deluge then perhaps he had ridden through it in a bid to find shelter.

Only to find that the inn was full.

And not complained.

Well shit now she really felt guilty…

“Is it just you running this place?” he asked, apparently having noted her watchful gaze.

“No, my da owns it, while I do the accounts and help run the bar,” she replied, moving closer to lean upon the countertop while he ate. “Have you travelled far?”

“From Minas Tirith.”

That was a solid four-day ride east, which meant he probably had ridden through the storm.

“Do you live there?” She already knew the answer to that, could tell by the finery of his clothing, but it was politer to ask than assume. “Are you a lord?”

“I do and I am,” he replied with an amused smile, and then held out a hand to her. “Lord Boromir, at your service.”

Amused, Eathril set her hand in his to shake, and then blinked owlishly as he bowed over her hand. It looked a little ridiculous, considering he was sat down and still had a good foot of height on her, but the intention was there regardless.

She wasn’t a doe-eyed teenager, but she could feel her cheeks burning at that simple gesture.

“You’re more polite than most the Gondorian Lords we get round here.”

The words were blurted in a bid to cover up her flustered reaction, but it was too late to take it back, as Lord Boromir’s brows shot towards his hairline. For a heart-stopping moment, Eathril feared she’d just insulted the man, but then he grinned, a smile so broad and bright it shifted his face from noble to almost… boyish.

“Well I’m both glad and disappointed to hear that,” he replied, finishing his meal and neatly stacking the knife and fork to one side, before wrapping his hands about the warm mug of cider. “Any names you can think of? I can always punish them once I’m back home.”

Alarmed noise rose in her throat, eyes flying wide at the thought.

But then Boromir chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had Eathril’s stomach flipping. “I jest my Lady—”

“Lady?” she interrupted incredulously.

Ladies of Gondor were tall, elegant, beautiful, sophisticated, with stunning dresses, polite airs and graces, and skilled in conversation, dance, and the arts. She, on the other hand, was a barmaid, too stocky and well-built for her own tastes, and more than a little scuffed up and sweaty from the life of labour, wearing homespun clothing that had been patched one too many times. The one thing she was proud of, her long black hair, was nearly always dragged into a tight bun for practicality’s sakes. No, she wasn’t a Lady, no matter what he might say.

“What part of me makes you think I’m a Lady?”

“All of you.”

The sincerity of his words had Eathril’s mind going blank, staring at him in outright surprise and no small amount of doubt. Another blush was rising to her cheeks, unable to prevent her confused stare at the Lord sat at her bar.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable, forgive me,” Boromir apologised, taking an awkward sip of the warmed cider, as though he needed to give his hands and mouth something to do.

She wasn’t uncomfortable, not really. But watching his hands absently turn the mug, tracing the old engraving across its surface, Eathril found herself wondering what they were like without the gloves. Calloused from years of battle? Scared? Warm? Cold? She wasn’t uncomfortable… and she wouldn’t be complaining if he flirted some more.

 “It’s fine,” she managed to say, voice slightly more breathless than intended. Clearing her throat, Eathril straightened up, gathering his empty plate, intending to return it to the kitchen. “I’m just not used to… compliments.”

“Really?”

Lord Boromir sounded so perplexed by that, that she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at him from the kitchen door. It wasn’t just his words, even his expression was confused, as though she’d posed him a riddle and demanded an answer. With an amused huff, she’d left him to it, let him wonder, let him puzzle it out.

Stepping into the kitchen, the door swung shut behind her, and Eathril let out a pent-up breath.

Maybe he had an ulterior motive, maybe he was just trying to get into her bed, maybe he was trying to get a free meal and drinks. It didn’t matter, she might not be accustomed to compliments, but that didn’t mean she was oblivious to the manipulation tactics of men. Especially soggy men who were hoping for a soft bed and possibly some company too.

Scraping the remains of food into the waste bucket, she left the plate alongside the sink, she’d see if he needed a refill, and then clean up and turn in for the night.

Stepping back out into the common room, Eathril froze.

The barstool was empty.

Except for two gold set alongside the now empty tankard. Enough for a room, and certainly far more than the meal and drink had been worth.

Had he left?

Shit. He thought she was uncomfortable with his flirting and had decided a fucking rainstorm was the better option? Was he going to sleep in the stables or was he going to keep riding and brave the elements? Was he insane?

Probably.

Which made Eathril utterly batshit crazy when she snatched up a cloak and bolted after him.

The full force of the storm slammed into her the second she made it outside, and the cloak hastily flung about her shoulders was rendered pointless immediately. Rain sleeted into her face, soaking her hair, her clothes, her skin. It felt like she was drowning on dry land.

One hand thrown up to try and shield her eyes, Eathril staggered to the stables, and ducked inside. It was noisy, it was leaking, but at least she could open her eyes, even if she couldn’t hear that well.

“Eathril?”

Thank the Valar he’d not left yet.

“I lied,” she blurted, earning an utterly bewildered look from the Lord in the midst of saddling his horse. Yes apparently the lunatic was planning to keep riding. “There is a room, we, we keep one in reserve for visiting dignitaries.”

A slight lie, since if she knew her Gondorian Lords, Boromir was that dignitary.

For a moment he didn’t move, remaining alongside his large mare, one hand on its mane the other on the leather saddle. But his eyes were very much on her. What must she look like? Shivering, soaked through, stood in the middle of the stables all but begging him not to ride out in the storm.

“You can’t ride out in this, the storm’ll kill you off,” she tried instead.

“It would take more than some rain to kill m—”

As though answering the challenge in his voice, a crack of thunder sounded, rattling the walls of the stable. Eathril jumped, a startled noise leaving her throat, and even Lord Boromir cursed, his horse tossing its head in alarm.

“Please, just, come back inside!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, “one moment.”

It didn’t take long for him to unsaddle the mare, and even less time to lead her back into the stall and fling a blanket across her back. That done, he gathered up his pack, and joined Eathril at the entrance to the stables. For a moment, the pair watched as the rain moved in clear ripples and waves, the path between the stables and the inn turned into a quagmire. It was a miracle she’d made it to the stables without slipping and breaking her neck.

With a glance up at him, Eathril dragged her cloak tighter about her shoulders, and lead the way.

For all of two steps.

The wind and rain slammed into her, forcing her back a step, almost losing her balance. It was only the broad arm of Boromir hooking about her shoulders that prevented Eathril from taking a nasty tumble. He said something, voice snatched away by the wind, but she found herself tucked against his side, and the pair made it back towards the inn.

It was shockingly quiet once the door shut.

“T-this way,” she chattered, leading him towards a corridor.

On route, she snatched a pair of rough blankets from the storage cupboard, blindly passing one to the Lord following in her footsteps, and wiping at her own face. The spare room wasn’t upstairs with those of the other patrons, but tucked behind the kitchens, utilising the lingering warmth of the hearth. It was smaller, cosy, but the bed was comfortable and there were thick blankets.

Stepping inside, Eathril was quick to move across the room and pull the little lead paned window closed, and the sound of the thunderstorm dropped from a loud roar to a dull hum.

“It-it’s not much, but it’s a room,” she managed to say, beginning to sort the blankets heaped upon the bed, and trying not to drip too much water as she did so.

“This is your room, isn’t it?”

The quiet comment had Eathril pausing in surprise, looking over from where she was turning down the bed, and finding the tall Lord inspecting the shelves by the door. A couple of books, a few nicknacks, gifts from family and friends, dried flowers, and even a few trinkets from traders of distant lands. Boromir was careful to look, but not touch, which she appreciated.

But he’d caught her lie, knew that this room wasn’t reserved for dignitaries.

“It is,” she admitted, turning back to the bed, “w-we’re out of regular rooms, father’s already given up his to a horse trader from Rohan, so now it’s my turn.”

“And where will you sleep…?”

“The kitchens hearth will still be warm,” Eathril answered, turning away from the bed.

“No, no, you remain here, my Lady,” he countered, and picked up the bag he’d set down. “I must insist that you take the bed, I’ll take the kitchens.”

“You’ve already paid good gold for the room, and the bed.”

“I’d rather lose the gold than sleep in your bed while knowing you were uncomfortable.”

Oh.

Oh he was good.

Eathril breathed a laugh shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“I’m insisting you t-take the bed, you’re insisting I take the bed,” she murmured, “both of us are too stubborn to consider the ra-rather obvious solution.”

“And what would that be, my Lady?” he asked, pack now resting on his shoulder, looking fully prepared to head back out into the storm once again, no matter how dangerous it would be. “As far as I’m concerned the answer is clear, you’ll take the bed and I’ll—”

“Join me.”

Whatever Lord Boromir had been intending to say was silenced instantly with a click of teeth. Staring at her once more in confusion and shock, like she was a foe or opponent, he scanned her face for any misgivings, sought out any signs of distrust, of unwillingness.

Arms wrapped about herself to stave of the chill, she met his gaze levelly, watching as he blinked and then gave a low huff of surprise, shaking his head ruefully. Had she crossed a line? She wasn’t quite throwing herself at him, but it made sense to share if they were both so insistent.

“Are you sure, Lady Eathril?”

“I am.”

Apparently the fact she didn’t hesitate or have to reconsider, was surprising, as his brows rose briefly, but was quickly schooled. His head tilted, as though considering her anew, eyes roving across her face before dropping to her soaked clothing.

“Then I’ll see if any of my clothing survived the storm,” Lord Boromir relented, and unbuckled his pack. “And give you a moment to get changed.”

It didn’t take long for him to pull free a shirt and pair of breeches which were mostly dry, at which point he stepped from the room.

And Eathril tried not to exhale explosively.

Valar what had gotten into her, offering a Lord her own room and then suggesting they shared. Good grief was she really deluding herself that he had been flirting?

No, no if he’d been flirting, he’d have not resisted so strongly to sharing her bed, nor would he have stepped out of the room while she changed, or any number of things that he could have used to get closer to her or approach her or, or, or…

Okay maybe she was deluding herself.

Or he was being polite.

Shoving any more salacious thoughts from her mind, Eathril was quick to dry off the best she could. Her hair was damp against her back, but she’d need to leave it loose to dry quicker, and while a braid would have been more appropriate, her scalp felt tight after wearing a bun all day. Changed into one of her nightgowns, she threw a thick shawl about her shoulders in a bid to stave off the chill air, with minimal success.

A light knock at the door had her stomach flipping.

Squashing down that reaction, Eathril opened the door and immediately struggled to keep her eyes on his face.

Lord Boromir was tall, he was broad, he was well built, and that white undershirt was leaving very little to the imagination. Her scandalous thoughts became considerably harder to ignore when his chest was on a level with her eyes, and the dampness of his hair and body had it sticking to his skin in the most interesting of ways.

As the Lord stepped into the room her bed chamber abruptly felt cramped, not cosy. Like there wasn’t enough room, there wasn’t enough space between them. The bed shoved into the corner beneath the window didn’t look large enough anymore. Lord Boromir was tall, his feet were bound to hang off the end of the bed, Valar why did she think this was a good idea.

“I’ll take the window side, if that’s amenable to you?” Boromir offered, lifting a hand to slick his still damp hair back from his face.

The motion drew her eyes to the shift of his muscles.

With a thick swallow, Eathril dragged her eyes to his face, considering his offer. It would mean she’d take the side of the bed closest to the door, which meant she’d be able to leave without having to clamber across the bed, which meant she wasn’t trapped between the wall and this brick outhouse of a man. A surprisingly touching gesture.

“Th-that would be g-good.”

At her stammering, Boromir’s attention landed squarely on her face, brows furrowing in concern.

“You’re shivering,” his voice sounded shockingly loud in the quiet of her room, even with the rain pelting against the glass window.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking, I can see it,” he repeated, “I’ll bring you some cider.”

He turned towards the door and Eathril moved, putting a hand up to stop him, her palm landing squarely against his chest. There was a sharp inhale from him, but she applied pressure, and he stilled, staring down at her.

“I’m fine,” she repeated stubbornly. “T-the bed’ll warm up soon enough.”

He was the guest, if she needed a warming drink, she could get it herself, but right now the bed was far warmer than her room and her room was far warmer than the corridor. She had little intention of leaving it. She would warm up. It would be fine. She just had to wait for the shivers to subside. It would be fine.

A broad hand landed on hers, and with a jolt Eathril realised she’d not removed her hand from his chest.

Valar he was warm. The sheer heat radiating from his chest, from his hand, from his body, was enviable. Apparently noticing how cold her hand was, Boromir took her hands between his and lightly rubbing, breathing into his cupped palms, the heat of his breath tingling across her skin.

It was a kind gesture, but also incredibly… intimate.

A shaky exhale left her lips, and Boromir’s deep grey eyes glanced to her in concern.

“Come here.”

“What?” Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper. “Why?”

“Come, here,” he ordered, and gently pulled her hand.

It was far too easy to obey, too easy to step towards him, too easy to allow herself to be drawn into his warmth. One moment Eathril was trying to keep her distance, the next she’d all but plastered herself to his chest. Head tucking under his chin, face pressed against his collarbones, hands bundling into fists and gripping his shirt.

It was soothing, he was warm, it felt… safe.

Which was ridiculous really, considering he was a total stranger she’d invited into her bedroom on a whim, but at this point she didn’t care.

It would have been embarrassing how she clung to him, if it wasn’t for the fact his own arms had wrapped about her, gently running through her long black hair and moving the damp lengths from her back. His hands smoothed across her shoulder blades, skating up and down her back, gently rubbing warmth into her, the rough skin of his hands snagging lightly on her nightgown.

What would his hands feel like on her skin?

The thought was so unexpected, that a slight jolt ran through Eathril’s body.

Immediately Boromir froze, hands still resting on her back, but ceasing in their path. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want his hands to leave her back, didn’t want him to move away or put distance between them.

“Are you alright?” he asked, breath ghosting across the crown of her head.

“Y-eah.”

Fuck, that wasn’t convincing.

“Just cold, but th-this helps,” she forced herself to add, in the hopes his hands would resume their path. To her relief, they swept down her spine again, the motion was enough to have Eathril sighing.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more to warm you.”

“You could.”

The words slipped out without conscious thought, and once again Boromir’s hands froze, as did his breathing, it was only the drumming of his heart against her cheek that told her he was still alive. That was a little concerning.

“Do you want me to get the cider?”

The hoarse offer suggested he was oblivious, or perhaps polite, although Eathril was willing to bet a hefty sum of gold on the later.

“No.”

“Then what do you need?” he asked, voice dropping to a low rumble that made her own body buzz in delight. “What do you want, Eathril? Tell me…”

Nervously licking her lips, Eathril splayed her hands across his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, how his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, how the heat warmed her skin even through his undershirt. She lifted her head, so close to his own face, that their noses grazed, the dark grey of his eyes all but filling her vision.

“You,” she breathed.

There was a surprised inhale, and then shaky exhale, his breath feathering across her skin, scented with the cider she’d given him. Would she be able to taste it if she kissed him?

“Eathril.” Her name was little more than a whisper against her skin. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to.”

Her hands skated over the planes of his torso, fingertips dragging across the stubble at his throat, as she closed the gap between them. His lips were soft and warm beneath her own, hesitant and restrained, gently brushing, cautious and careful.

There was a low groan in his throat.

And then his hands resting against her back increased in pressure, fingers all but digging into her softness, pulling her flush to his chest. Lips moving against his, a thrill running through her body as she felt how eagerly he responded. One of his hands was in her hair, gently tilting her head to a better angle, the other digging into the soft curves of her waist.

There was a soft brush of his tongue across her lower lip, but Eathril didn’t hesitate to respond in parting them. The heat of his mouth was almost overwhelming, the teasing flicks and caresses of his tongue against hers, encouraging her to join, coaxing her to play. She could taste the cider, she could taste him, she wanted more. Hands sliding into his hair, she dragged her short nails across his scalp, and was rewarded with the most delicious groan against her tongue.

He stepped back, and she more than willingly followed, another step, a third, on the fourth, his legs hit something, and the man in her grasp toppled backwards.

Pulled along with his fall, a surprised yelp was pulled from her throat, which became a startled whoof of air as she landed on his chest. Pushing herself up slightly, Eathril found herself… straddling his hips, hands planted in her mattress, staring down at Lord Boromir sprawled on her bed.

That was a little unexpected.

But not unwelcome.

Boromir was panting heavily against her lips, his hands kneading at her flesh, his body pressed against hers. Eathril wanted more, wanted him, needed him. Why did he stop, did he want to stop, why was he stopping—

“Eathril,” Boromir panted, “Eathril, are you sure? You don’t, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

The eagerness of her response wasn’t lost on him, she caught a brief glimpse of a smile pulling at his lips, before his mouth claimed hers once again.

What she didn’t expect, was for his broad hand to drag lower, fingers kneading at her waist, her hip, her ass, her thigh. Each curl of his fingers, each possessive grip dragging a quiet gasp, a whine, a huff from her.

His hand hooked behind her knee and then he rolled towards her.

A startled gasp left her lips, but was quickly soothed away by a myriad of fleeting kisses. The weight of his chest against hers, the feeling of his hips settled between her thighs, the instinctive need to hook her ankles about his waist. It felt like she was burning up, any lingering shivers and chills chased away by the Lord between her legs.

“Valar, you’re stunning.” It felt like she was underwater, his voice muffled as his lips pressed to the soft skin just beneath her ear. “Beautiful.”

“Y-you don’t, have to say that,” she protested, all but panting against him. “You don’t have to lie.”

Lord Boromir froze, growing tense against her, his head lifted from her throat, staring at her with such a heated look, that something tightened about her chest. Pupils blown wide, lips bruised, hair dishevelled from her hands running through it, he looked wild.

He also looked utterly bewildered.

“Lie?” The word was said so incredulously that Eathril winced. “Why would I lie?”

It already felt like her body was burning up, which meant the embarrassment that flooded her face would easily be missed. It became imperative that she not meet the rather intense look in Boromir’s eye, instead finding a great deal of interest in the rafters of her room.

“I’m, I’m not a lady I’m not elegant.” That wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, but it was close enough. “I’m…I’m stocky, I’m strong, well-built, I’m not—”

“And I’m a soldier, not a poet,” Boromir said, making her blink at his words. “I can’t sing your praises, or write sonnets about how your eyes look like starlight, or that your hair looks like the darkest night, or how your skin is sun kissed and golden—”

“I thought you weren’t a poet.”

There was a low chuckle in his chest, head shaking.

“But I can say that you’re beautiful,” he said, and kissed her brow. “Stunning.” A kiss to her cheek. “Gorgeous.” A kiss to her lips. “Lovely.” A kiss to her jaw. “Glorious.” A kiss to her throat. “Divine.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Do you not believe me?” he growled, head lifting just enough to meet her gaze, her stomach flipping pleasantly at the look in his eye.

“No.”

“Hm, then I’ll have to try harder.”

Boromir’s teeth grazed her pulse, making her groan softly, only to be replaced by burning open mouth lathing, his beard brushing across her skin, lips mouth tongue teeth, tracing the precarious neckline of her nightgown.

Eathril was all but panting beneath him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other finding the hem of his shirt, sliding across bare skin, raking her nails through the hair of his chest.

A satisfied growl that rumbled from him, was only reinforced by the nips and sucks along her collarbone. Leaning on one forearm, his free hand had found the bare skin of her calf, and was slowly creeping upwards, rough fingers caressing the back of her knee and earning a shiver, before tracing further.

The hem of her nightgown slid up, exposing her thigh to the cold night air. It should have been cold, but with Lord Boromir kneading at her skin and worshiping her body –worshiping her– with his mouth and tongue and hands and body, Eathril was more than warm enough.

Rumbles of thunder rattled the windows, rain drummed steadily upon the rooftiles, and Eathril’s favourite weather drowned out the sounds of the tavern perfectly.

*

Sunlight slanted through the lead paned windows of her room, spilling across the bed and managing to shine directly into Eathril’s eyes. Squinting against the disturbance, it took a groggy couple of minutes to realise what was wrong.

Maybe not wrong, just… unexpected.

She was warm, tucked beneath the covers and blankets of her bed, and unless she was very much mistaken, naked. That was a little alarming, but with wakefulness came more awareness, and the memory as to why she wasn’t wearing her nightgown.

Oh.

Oh.

A girlish giggle bubbled up in her chest, but didn’t escape past her clamped lips, unwilling to disturb Lord Boromir’s sleep. His muscular arm was slung over her hips, pulling her back against his broad chest, warm breaths brushing the skin of her neck with gently rumbling snores.

He was so warm it took a concentrated effort not to wiggle deeper into his embrace, because as pleasant as this was, it was morning, and that meant there was work to be done. With any luck the chef had gotten in and started on breakfast, which meant she could at least wake Lord Boromir with a hot meal.

Shifting her weight, Eathril started to extricate herself from his arms, only to squeak in surprise as his grip tightened. Dragging backwards, her back pressed against his bare chest as Boromir gave a low grumble in his sleep, fingers curling into the plumpness of her hip, unwilling to let go. His face tucked into the back of her neck, beard grazing her shoulder as he inhaled and sighed heavily.

Maybe she could stay a little longer…

But no, there was the sound of patrons rising for the day, and she really needed to pee.

Another shift of weight had his arm tightening once more, so she changed tack.

“Boromir,” Eathril murmured, “Boromir wake up.”

“Hmmno.”

His voice was so thick was sleep it was a miracle he’d even managed that.

This time, she shifted towards him, and Boromir’s arm loosened just enough for her to roll over. Now face to face, his arm tightened once more until her breasts were flush to his chest, and their legs were tangled. She smoothed her hands across his face and jaw, earning a sleepy grumble.

“Do you want breakfast in bed?” she whispered.

And just as she knew it would, one eye cracked open to peer at her.

“Br’kfst?”

“Mm hm, bacon, eggs, toast, fried tomatoes, mushroo—”

“You?”

A surprised snort left her throat, but she grinned as he smirked at her, starting to actually wake up.

“Only if you let me up to get breakfast first,” she suggested with a cheeky grin.

“Y’drive a hard bargain,” he grumbled.

His mouth found hers, and Eathril almost forgot her plan at the taste of his lips and caress of his tongue. Or would have, if not for the pressure in her bladder.

“Let me up,” she chided, breaking off the kiss, “breakfast first.”

There was a sigh, but the arms about her loosened, and against her own wishes, Eathril rose, finding her nightgown abandoned on the floor, pulling it on and tossing a shawl about her shoulders.

“I won’t be long,” she reassured, looking over to him.

It was an effort to drag her eyes away from the exposed lines of Boromir’s chest, from the sleepy smile on his face, from his dark eyes locked on her. The sunlight streaming through the little window throwing every detail of him, of the Lord in her bed, into stark relief. But Eathril forced herself to go in search of breakfast.

She’d been right, the chef had gotten started, customers were already eating and beginning to get ready to go about their days, and barely anyone’s eyes turned to her as she weaved through the people bare foot and wrapped in a shawl.

With a large plate loaded up for two, she slunk back towards her bedchamber and drew up short at the familiar face leaving the next room down. Her father also paused, eyeing her, and her half-dressed state, eyes dropping to the hefty plate, and then to the door of her room.

A brow raised in silent question.

“A late arrival,” she answered, keeping her voice down, “a lord from Minas Tirith.”

“A lord?” her father asked sceptically.

Two could play at that game, she wasn’t the only one that had sacrificed her chamber for a guest, only to remain with the guest.

“A horse trader?” she countered in challenge.

He was quick to capitulate, hands raised, and palms shown in surrender. “You’re alright though?”

“I am,” she relented, not wanting him to worry, “now shoo, the patrons are leaving.”

Her father rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest as she slipped back into her chambers.

It was nice, eating breakfast with Lord Boromir, settled cross legged on her bed like she’d used to do with the other girls of the village. Talking quietly, stealing glances at one another. Her cheeks ached with how much she was smiling, a near constant blush staining her cheeks at his attention.

But it wouldn’t last, and his next words confirmed it.

“I… need to leave today,” he said quietly, “I have a long road ahead of me.”

She knew that, she truly did, but still Eathril’s stomach sank.

“Will you be travelling back this way?” she managed to ask around the lump in her throat.

“With any luck, yes.”

“Ah, good.” Eathril floundered for the words she wanted to say, but it didn’t take long to find, smile broadening as she said them. “Then I’ll make sure we keep a room set aside for you.”

“Reserved for visiting dignitaries?”

“That’s the one.”

Lord Boromir grinned. “Then I look forwards to it.”

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: What Kind of Drunks They Are

In honor (?) of New Year's Eve, here's what I think Cosmere characters are like when they get really drunk.

1. Adolin: An Affectionate Drunk

I think Adolin's Evi-side comes out way more when he's drunk, and that he allows himself to be way more touchy-feely than Alethi sensibilities usually allow.

Adolin: And a hug for YOU and a hug for YOU and an extra big hug for YOU and--oh! no hug for you? Okay! Air hug for YOU and then a hug for YOU... Kaladin: Does he really have to do this EVERY time it's time to leave the bar? Shallan: He just doesn't want anyone to feel left out.

2. Elhokar: A Weepy Drunk

I mean...this one is lowkey canon, right?

Elhokar: And THEN after beating me up to PROVE that all of my guards love HIM more, he told me he was DATING my MOTHER Elhokar: [sobbing into his wine] Bartender, definitely not getting paid enough: That, uh, rough, buddy?

3. Siri: A Silly Drunk

I believe that the more Siri drinks, the sillier she gets.

Siri: Vivenna, Vivenna, look! Look! Siri: I'm wearing this napkin as a HAT! Vivenna (expressionless): How zany and fun. Siri: Ha, ha, I know, right?!

4. Vivenna: A Sensible Drunk

I like to think Vivenna DOES relax if she's drunk, but not once does she lose her sense of responsibility.

Vivenna: Ah, ah, ahh! No more wine for you until you drink this glass of water, mister! Vivenna (leaning in, whispering to the bartender): Maybe make this next vodka soda a little light, eh? Siri definitely won't notice. Vivenna: Everybody has enough snacks, right?

5. Kelsier: A Jolly Drunk

When sober, Kelsier forces himself to smile so that the Lord Ruler doesn't win. When drunk, I think he works extra hard to make sure he is smiling, and the result is a sort of unhinged jocularity.

Kelsier: Marsh, lighten up! It's a party and you're scowling into your whiskey like it stole your horse! Marsh: I have to balance out your increasingly unhinged rictus smile, brother. Kelsier: ... Marsh: ... Kelsier: Think our expressions are way nobody is coming near us? Marsh: Are we bad at parties?

6. Yumi: A Wild Drunk

Yumi is so bottled up all the time, that if she let herself go, I think she'd go wild. But, like, "wild" as she would define it.

Yumi: [giggling to herself] Painter: What's so funny? Yumi: Nikaro! I just made myself this drink, and guess what? Guess what?? Yumi: I only stirred it with FOUR of the ceremonial spoons, not five! Yumi: I'm totally out of control! Painter: There are ceremonial spoons?!

7. Veil: A Competitive Drunk

I know we see what Veil is like when drinking in canon. But this is canon in my heart.

Veil: Rock! Get over here! I wanna beat you at arm wrestling!

8. Szeth: A Creepy Drunk

The big talking sword strapped to his back probably doesn't help.

Adolin: Hey, Kaladin, any idea why my father's bodyguard is sitting in the corner staring unblinking into the crowd? Adolin: Is he, like, choosing someone to kill? Kaladin: Don't worry. I have my eye on him. Kaladin: Syl is ready, just in case. Szeth (in his head): Dalinar will be so proud of me for making consistent eye contact at this party, just like he told me too. Szeth: (in his head): I hope nobody can tell I'm drunk.

[anime-chick]

YYH live action - disappointments and highlights!

disappointments:

off the bat - it's five episodes and the pacing and storylines are squished, but you just have to accept these limitations and embrace this for what it is - MOVING ON

the music - it was generic and had some weird choices and overall didn't feel very cohesive?

hiei's zoomies - the sound effect when he's going fast is a bit cartoony in a bad way

3 times the cgi was noticeably iffy: genkai's younger face, when yusuke and kurama went into the mirror of forlorn hope, the blooms coming out of karasu

skipping over hiei and kurama's backgrounds - this is what made me think this series is more for yyh fan than anyone else, at the very least i would think there would be some exposition about youko kurama or hiei being a thief

bui - he was flat and really just there for hiei to show off his dragon (which isnt a bad reason! but in comparison to karasu, he didn't have much of a personality, even after taking off his armor)

highlights:

fucking everything i loved it askldjhsdfg

SMILE BOMB!!!!

but really - kuwabara's introduction, yusuke's flying drop kick, it perfectly captured their dynamic

kuwabara in general, he was everything i hoped he'd be

the costuming: while there wasn't as much variety in what yusuke and co. wore, there were lots of details that made everyone's clothes stand out (the chains and lining on kuwabara's uniform, yusuke's cropped uniform top, everything hiei wore to the buckled strap for his sword in the back, kurama's magenta uniform with the gold lining that IS NOT his school uniform but just - something he wears i guess?? which makes it even more insane and i love that)

THE FIGHT SCENES, they put so much effort into each fight and you can tell and it makes the show stand out SO MUCH in comparison to other live action adaptations

the way they, despite having to condense so much of the story, managed to tell a very interesting and entertaining twist to the story without losing too much

hiei and kuwabara arguing - hiei going out of his way to tell kuwabara to get away from yukina <- i'm still laughing

speaking of - THE HUMOR, it was serious! it was funny! it did a great job of balancing out the two

the dynamic of the group is just like in the anime/manga (though we didn't get as much of them interacting as i'd like, we got some and i enjoyed every bit of it!)

karasu. he was creepy. he was gay. his eyeliner was sharp. his attacks looked awesome. his fight lived up to his anime counterpart

the toguro brothers. while we didn't get as much of a lead up, they were perfect. older toguro was straight out of a horror movie. younger toguro managed to be complex and not just a big muscular villain. there was depth to him that felt very authentic.

hiei diving off the tower, i really enjoyed seeing his demonic abilities on display (though where were his fire powers???)

YOUKO KURAMA. i was so worried he'd look terrible in live action but he was just pretty and fluffy and aslkdjhsdfg

hiei and yukina's reunion. awkward. sincere. sweet. sad. the fact that hiei was surprised yukina even spoke to him. i wanna squish the two of them

everyone was beat to hell, their clothes were crunchy and gritty and i like that no one was left 'pristine' like in so many other shows - these boys got nasty

everything honestly just everything i watched the entire five episodes grinning and having a blast

controversial opinion:

i like kurama's wig. i said it. yeah. i do.