#I think story bits are putting themselves together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mollyrealized · 1 year ago

Text

How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.” I mean, this is … what … '88? '88, '89. So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No." And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.” You know, “This is eel. This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"

We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be – it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course." I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.” But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”. I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sushi #whale #the cove #oscars 2010 #coraline #mini secret compartments #howneilmetmichael #howmichaelmetneil

5K notes · View notes

alice-angel12x · 2 months ago

Text

The complicated heart

I want some Angst so here is some Pure Vanilla x Y/n knight cookie. Also pt.1 of overall fanfic story.... I guess. (Blue Knight)

Part 2 -> this way

This is the last thing Y/n Cookie wants to wake up to? Especially on the first night when the two of them share a bed together. They could only silently stare at Pure Vanilla's sleeping form. He is a bit of a sleep talker.

That one sentence fills Y/n's mind with so many questions. From "Is that what he really feels? If he still feels that way, why is he with me? I can never measure up to someone like her."

Suddenly, sharing this space didn't feel right. Y/n slowly tries to wiggle out of the entanglement of Pure vanilla's arms. Only for him to cuddle closer to them, clinging onto them. With a sigh, they twist and turn, eventually escaping Pure Vanilla's grip. Y/n quickly replaced themselves with a pillow in his arms.

Y/n could feel their heart twist in their chest as they decided to sleep on the couch in Pure Vanilla's chambers. As emotions run high inside Y/n, they do their best to suppress them with logic.

'Of course. Those two have been friends since the beginning. '

Y/n thought to themselves, but it did little to hold back tears and the ache in their chests. They shut their eyes and tried to sleep it off. Thankfully, morning couldn't come any quicker.

Pure vanilla woke up with a yawn as he slowly opened his eyes. Which widden in shock when he found himself alone on the bed. Jolting up his eyes search around his room, soon landing on a lone figure by the window.

"Y/n? Good morning." Pure vanilla smile as he walks over to them. "You're up early."

"Yeah," Y/n says, trying to put on their best smile. It's very weak.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" Pure vanilla asked as he gently wrapped his arms around them. Giving a light peck on their shoulder

Y/n was silent for a bit, contemplating what to say. They turned to face Pure Vanila and gently returned the hug.

"Can I be completely transparent with you?" They asked the ancient healer.

"Of course, love," Pure vanilla welcomes as he guides them to a chair.

So Y/n would tell Pure Vanilla what he said at night, and how it makes them nervous about where his heart truly lies. Eventually, the two sat in an awkward silence.

“So where does White Lily cookie place in your heart?" Y/n asked with a calm sorrow.

Pure vanilla opened his mouth to say something, but there was no sound. Y/n could already see the conflict in Vanilla's expression. Their heart wanted to shatter than and there, but sucking in a deep breath they put on a brave face.

"Seems you need some time to search your heart," Y/n sighs as they stand to leave.

"Y/n... Im sorry. After all this time, I thought I would be past this," Pure Vanilla apologized, gripping his knee in, shame? Sorrow perhaps.

"I mean... You two have been through almost everything together for hundreds of years. Childhood friends, schoolmates, and a close team of heroes, and you lived long lives together. Something like that won't be washed away with-," Y/n stops themselves. "I've only been with you for a year or two now.

"Don't say that. I loved the times we shared together," Pure Vanilla said as he stands to stop Y/n with a hug. "I don't know why the thought of White Lily came rushing to me like this. It's been happening for a few nights now."

"It's a sign prehaps. That you might see her soon," Y/n says with a sad smile.

"Do you think so? White Lily Cookie... Changed and became Dark entress Cookie. How would that be possible?" Pure vanilla asked with surprise.

"If she is like how you describe her, then I wouldn't put it past her to actually seek out the witches. And we have no idea which one she met, meaning anything could have happened," Y/n said, thinking deeply. "Tell me, along with your dream. Did anything else stand out to you?"

"Yes, a voice. It was calling out to me, to go to beast yeast," Pure vanilla said as he recalled his dream.

"Then you have your path. And if I'm not mistaken, Entranchress cookie has a strong hold there," Y/n said when suddenly images flash in their mind.

A Map, a shattered soul jam, fairy wings, a giant tree, and a bright light over beast yeast.

"Y/n? Y/n, did you think of something?" Pure vanilla asked.

"You... You might actually are being called. You must go quickly," Y/n said suddenly.

"Wha- Why so suddenly?" Pure vanilla asked in surprise.

"You might find who you're looking for there. I believe that white lily cookie might be there," Y/n said. " White Lily's soul is still out there."

As Y/n held his hands, they could see it. Hope and a bit of something else flash in Pure Vanilla's eyes.

"Thank You Y/n! I shall depart to Beast yeast," Pure Vanilla cookie thanked with a bright smile. "Wait for me, White Lily cookie."

Pure vanilla quickly leaves to prepare everything for this dangerous journey. Y/n stood there, trying to hold back tears.

'Don't cry, Y/n. He thought he had lost his friend and might see her again. Don't be selfish,' Y/n silently scolded themselves.

Days passed as Pure Vanilla spent all his time gathering all that he would need for such a journey. One day, from morning to noon, Y/n mindlessly wandered the streets when a familiar voice calls out to them.

"Y/n Knight Cookie!" Gingerbrave called out.

"Ah, Gingerbrave, strawberry Cookie, and wizard Cookie. How can I help you?" Y/n smiles warmly at the young cookies.

"Pure Vanilla cookie has asked us to accompany him to beast yeast, and we wanted to ask for you to come with us," Gingerbrave said.

"What?! Why Me?" Y/n asked nervesly.

"Beast yeast is a big unknown to us, so we need as many strong cookies to help," Wizard cookie explained.

"And we've seen you fight waffle bots by yourself. Your help would be appreciated," Strawberry Cookie said.

Y/n wanted to say no, but the three younger ones looked up to them with baby doll eyes. Crumbling their resolve to turn them down. The three practically dragged them to the airship.

"Gingerbrave! Everything is ready. did you find what you-" Pure vanilla pauses, surprised to see Y/n before him.

Another awkward silence falls between them. The ancient hero was a bit embarrassed after remembering how their last conversation went. Pure vanilla wanted to say something, but Y/n raised their hand.

"We have a friend to save, and that is more important right now," Y/n Cookie said a bit strenly.

Gingerbrave and co, could feel the strange tension. So they hurried onto the ship.

"Y/n cookie," Pure vanilla said softly.

"I am your knight and am ready to serve," Y/n kneeled, stoic.

They get up to walk onto the ship.

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

Part 2 out

#cookie run kingdom #my art #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #crk #cookie run fanart #cookie run #crk x y/n #cookie run kingdom x you #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie my beloved #Blue Knight Au

848 notes · View notes

diminuel · 10 months ago

Text

One Piece AU Comics Masterpost

Some of my AUs are somewhat interwoven as they borrow headcanons from each other. I'm doing my best to sort them into their respective AUs.

They're mostly Dragon/Crocodile and Crocodad comics. Since this post is getting long, there's now a read more!

Stinky Child AU

A canon divergent AU where Dragon and Crocodile decided to raise Luffy in Windmill Village while still being a revolutionary leader and a warlord. They adopt Ace and Sabo.

Crocodile meets Ace // Crocodile is taking Ace home // Stinky Child gets a bath (Illustration) // Ace gets a new outfit // Ace meets Baby Luffy // Dragon meets Ace // Ace's first words // Baby Luffy has never been fed before // (little time skip) // Sabo interacting with Crocodile // Dragon has nightmares // Dragon gets Crocodile a new hand // Swooning over Criminals // The benefit of Logia powers ~ Big Timeskip~ // Logue Town // Impel Down // Luffy and Crocodile reunite on Amazon Lily // Mother's Day // After Marineford // Ace and Crocodile are reunited on Momoiro Island // Post Timeskip // Long Distance Relationship // Mistakes were made // Momoiro Island Dress Code // Cross Guild // Cross Guild puts a bounty on Garp

Captain No Brows

A potential first meeting between a young criminal and a marine and their encounters over the years.

First meeting // Unexpected call // Taking care of two orphans //Doffy has questions // Dragon cleaning up messes // Doffy is fantasizing // Dragon leaves the Marines

Potentially set in the same universe: Crocodile meets Portgas D. Rouge // Crocodile takes his shirt off // Unexpected revelations

Surprise Baby

Dragon and Crocodile find themselves with a child and have to figure out what to do. I have not yet decided to which AU this belongs.

Late Realization (Illustration) // Crocodile tells Dragon about the baby // Bit coat hides big secrets

Former Kuja Empress

AU where Crocodile is a Kuja who got ship wrecked and saved by Dragon's small group of revolutionaries. (Crocodile presents female.)

First Meeting and misheard names // Haircut

After the Divorce

Canon compliant AU in which Dragon and Crocodile get back together after the events of Marineford and end up having another baby.

Crocodile's mysterious client // Too late for protection (Illustration) // They're having another baby (Illustration) // Suspicious Coworkers (Illustration) // Luffy finds out he's going to be a big brother // Luffy meets his baby sister // Luffy brings his sister to his ship // Another one

Little Dragon's (Mis) Adventures

Bringing up never to be answered questions: did Garp and Roger have sex (see this comic) and is Dragon maybe Roger's son?

Dragon ends up on Roger's ship // Dragon has no choice but to stay with the Roger Pirates // They get to know Dragon // Pirate Flag // Diverging Priorities // Treasure Chest Baby // Dragon is babysitting Roger's cabin boys // Shanks thinks about his babysitter

Mini Mingo and Grumpy Verse

An AU in which Dragon and Crocodile had more biological kids after Luffy: "Grumpy" (Kite) and "Mini Mingo" (Dulcinea). Mini Mingo is suspiciously blond but it might mean nothing. Grumpy also exists as the fifth baby in the After the Divorce AU.

Second Pregnancy // Dragon helps feed the baby?? // New blonde baby // Kite signs up for the Marines // Sengoku isn't sure about another No Brows recruit // Kite and Luffy meet again after Enies Lobby // Marines shouldn't find Luffy cool // (Timeskip, Kite gets the Iva treatment) // Mini-Mingo is visiting Cross Guild // Mini Mingo has a crisis // Asking Grumpy for advice // Doflamingo has a crisis // Doflamingo does not take hugs well // Kite came home late // Sister dropping from the sky

Misc.

These are stand alone comics that could apply to multiple AU story lines.

Big Parents, Tiny Baby

Luffy's Birth // Tiny thing fitting into Crocodile's big hand

The No Brows Multiverse

Dragon is tired of people telling him he looks just like Garp. // Dragon shaves his eyebrows for his first wanted poster.

Chaotic Family Time (Various family related comics)

Toys for Luffy // Everybody wants to be a girl // The return of Captain No Brows // Sabo feels left out // The kids are meeting Pops // Alabasta Trip + Follow up

AU where Croc learns who Luffy is during Alabasta

The truth // Crocodile tries to get Luffy to go home

Rocks' Era (Various Comics about the Rocks Pirates as well as Rocks being thrown into the future.)

Pregnancy // No Doubts // Achieving Dreams // Short tempered // Big Baby // But tiny to Whitebeard // Baby Crimes

Spaghetti // Learning more about the timeline // Rumours // Facing Whitebeard // Grandpa Mug // Impel Down

What if: Rocks finds out that Shanks is his son

#One Piece #Dragodile #Crocodad

1K notes · View notes

sageivyreads · 4 months ago

Text

cornered dogs

Ghoap/street kitty hybrid!fem!reader

introduction: hello! ok i lied i have no idea when the smut is happening because i can’t figure out how to integrate it into the story yet so this might just become a slow burn if i decide to continue it. also i have no idea how to write scottish accents please spare me!! part one and masterlist

contains/warnings: 4.4k words, brief description of a dog attack, reader is drugged, morally gray ghoap, mention of wounds, slightest of angst and mildest of comforts(ghost is a little mean), kinda unreliable narrator reader, r is forced into a bath but it’s for her own good, r is nicknamed ‘Kitty’ since they don’t know her name, 18+, no smut.

reader description: reader is an adult woman. no mention of race or size. her hair is briefly mentioned as ‘messy’ and fur ‘matted’. no mention of hair color or length. she also has scars. able bodied and doesn’t talk, but she will eventually.

It’s misty and wet when the boys (only Soap, Ghost never went to bed) wake in the morning. Furniture is strewn across porches, newspaper soggy on driveways, windshield wipers are propped up in piles of snow atop the car. The storm last night was not even near the calmest. It seemed to have a goal to ruin everyone’s day.

Ghost and Soap have their separate thoughts of worry about you. Soap, when he saw the harsh wind out the bathroom window when he was brushing his teeth. Ghost, when he stepped out of his apartment building for his morning jog and saw the mess the storm had left. It rains and snows frequently where they live, you should be fine, they try to reason with themselves.

And you were doing fine. You’d found sheets of metal in the trash to place over your temporary home for protection from the rain. Which was a few old cardboard boxes smushed together with ripped blankets and tattered rags. You had a full belly for the first time in months the night before, so you’d be okay without food for a bit.

But it’s not like you had someone telling you the weather, and you were underprepared. The wind is so harsh it causes the metal sheets to entirely crush your little home. You just narrowly throw yourself out when it comes crashing down, your knees scraping against the pavement.

You’re heartbroken. Devastated, as you stare at everything you once had been destroyed. But you can’t even feel it, can you? Not when the frost is biting at your nose, warning you of the need for shelter immediately.

You stand from the gravelly road on shaky legs, hugging your arms tight to your chest. The black hoodie is your thickest layer, and you put it on top while hoping it’d absorb some of the rain. Hail is beating at your face as you start to wander, looking for anything you might be able to use for shelter.

Boxes, piles of garbage, trash bags, anything. You come across a dumpster and you think you could slip in the gap between it and the concrete wall. You’ll still be cold, but it’ll protect you from the wind and rain. It fucking stinks. Hopefully you’ll be able to stand the smell.

You proceed, crouching to shift some trash bags stacked against the wall to hopefully slip between. The sound of a low rumble, different from the thunder, makes you stand once more. You turn, and your heart turns cold at the sight you’re met with.

There’s a snarling dog in front of you, hackles raised and legs bent low to the ground as it takes slow steps toward you. Saliva drips from its mouth and mixes with the rain and oil on the street.

The footsteps of the mutt mix with the tip taps of the rain, but your screams don’t.

Your escape is not swift nor scarless. It’s messy, but even after being attacked, you understand the animal. When cornered, everyone is an enemy. You think yourself more alike a pathetic dog than whatever part of you is hybrid.

There’s a nasty chunk taken out of your upper arm, but it’s not too deep. You’ll live.

This whole situation has left you unbelievably startled. You’re soaking wet and shaking, but not from the cold. Your tears are warm against the skin of your cheeks. You can feel scrapes and smears of warm blood on various spots of your body, but you can’t see any injuries other than the bite on your bicep you were currently pressing on with your opposite hand.

Your teeth dig into the split on your lower lip, nose bridge scrunched up from the pain. You’re tired. So tired. Now that the life-saving adrenaline has worn off, and you’re cold, alone, and wet, you only think of one place to go. The only familiar place you have left, really.

It’s a struggle up the stairs of the fire escape with how severely your legs are shaking. You’re worried it’s too late to be wandering so close to people. The storm had started around three in the morning, and after losing your home, searching for a new one, and being attacked, you’d now guess it was around five.

The men in the apartment woke up early, you knew that. But you couldn’t think too hard right now, not when you were so scared.

Your hands shake and slip on the slick surface of the window ledge. On the fourth try, you finally pry it open. You climb inside as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and sinking straight to the floor.

You leave smears of bloody fingertips on the edges of the window and drywall. Your back is against the wall, head slumped on your knees where you hug them to your chest. You wish your mind allowed you to sleep.

It’s only maybe an hour later when you see a light turn on in the other room. But you don’t- can’t fucking move. You’re paralyzed. Even as footsteps approach, even as the kitchen light turns on.

One of the men, the one you hadn’t had encounters with yet, sleepily steps into the kitchen. He’s tanner than the other one, shorter too. He’s got a funky, overgrown hairstyle. Maybe a mohawk in desperate need of a haircut?

He reminds you of the sun. If it were a rowdy, messy guy who had a guilty pleasure in reality TV.

He makes it to the cabinets, the coffee machine, and the fridge before he notices you. Or, the fingerprints. There’s a mug currently being filled by an automatic machine by the time he catches red on his window. His feet stutter to a stop, a frown starting as his lips before his eyes lower to you.

His expression softens, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of you. Bloody, clutching your injured bicep, shaking, and soaking wet. Your eyes are wet and surrounded by puffy, pink skin. Your hair clings to your face, the way your clothes do with your body.

“Hi there, sweet thing.” he coos, stepping a few feet away to pull his coffee out of the beeping machine. “Looks like someone’s had a rough night, huh?” He places the mug on the counter before he slowly sinks to sit against the cabinet across from you.

You stare. He’s got weird hair and an even weirder accent. He’s weird. It takes so much energy to even blink, you can’t believe you’re still conscious. You’re terrified, your heart pounding in your chest and ears, but all you can do is stare.

He slowly nods, “Yeah, figured. You must be cold. Mind if I grab ya a blanket? ‘ah can turn the heat up, too.”

All he gets is a blink in response. He stands, slow and measured even as his knees click. “Sit tight,” he urges. You don’t move. He walks out of your sight for a few moments, coming back with a blue wool blanket.

He approaches until he’s a few feet away, spreading out the blanket like wings and tossing it over you as best he can with the distance. It lands on your knees, not nearly high enough for your liking. Your icy fingers twitch. You slowly grip the end of the fabric to pull up to your collarbones.

His lips twitch into a frown at the sight. He wants to swaddle you, surround you in soft blankets and shiny things like a crow would with its mate. Wants to run you a warm bath, and give you another meal. Hot, this time.

But he can be patient. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Do ye want somethin’ to eat? Are you here because you’re hungry?” he asks, crouching to sit on the floor against the opposite counter once more. He sighs as he gets nothing in response besides a twitch of your eyebrow and the movement of your throat swallowing.

“Maybe I could get ya something for that arm? If y’let me see, I can help.” he tries to assure you the best he can, but he doesn’t exactly want to be attacked for trying to help. This is his first interaction with you, and it’s already not going great. He gives you a sad smile, and you notice a muscle twitch near his forehead. The crinkle in his skin leads to a star-shaped scar on his temple. You wonder where it’s from.

Soap’s head turns as he hears a clinking noise from the apartment hallway before the door opens. It’s the man you’ve seen before, dressed in joggers and a dark black hoodie, which you think might’ve been grey before it got soaked from the rain.

He locks the door behind him, slips off his shoes, and steps further into the home. He doesn’t notice you immediately either, but much quicker than Soap did. His steps slow once he reaches the kitchen counter, eyes flickering over Soap on the floor, to the bloody window, to you.

His eyes scan you, flicking up to the fingerprints on the window, and the bloody hand clutching your upper arm. Your wet skin and clothes. The way you tremble, the blanket Soap must’ve placed over you.

Soap stands to join him where he’s staring at you. “I found her like this when I came out for coffee this morning. She hasnae moved or talked.” Soap informs, giving you a concerned glance before refocusing on the other man.

All you do is observe as they talk about you. It feels like the cold has settled into your bones at this point, and you have a permanent brain freeze. You haven’t moved in so long, that you think you might actually turn into a statue if you don’t die from infection.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“She can’t stay like tha’. Gonna get hypothermia if she stays wet for any longer.” He digs into the pocket of his hoodie to drop his keys in some weird, wicker woven bowl before he starts towards you. You stiffen, fingers turning into fists against the blankets.

“Woah, woah, what’re ye doin’?” Soap quickly steps up with him, a hand on his arm and expression concerned.

Ghost’s face is blank as Soap stops him, but you notice a twitch on his lip. “I’m going to help her. What, you think she’s got fleas or somethin’?”

Soap scoffs, “How? ‘Cause she’s just gonna let ya touch her? She’s never even let any o’ us willingly see her, much less talk or touch.”

Ghost gives him a long look you can’t decipher, and huffs before he shrugs his hand off his arm and walks up to you. “What d’you think she came ‘ere for? She wants help and that’s wha’ she’s gonna get.”

He reaches down to grab you by your uninjured bicep and elbow, pulling you up to stand. He’s not the most gentle, but he’s not too rough. You stumble, legs shaky and stiff. You feel like rigor mortis is already settling into your muscles, even if you’re still alive.

“Simon,” Soap hisses, and you learn one of the men’s names. You try to step back toward the window, feet fumbling, but Simon nabs you back with a hand on your nape.

He doesn’t respond to Soap, one hand on your shoulder and another on the back of your neck as he guides you to walk in front of him.

The steps are forced and heavy like you’re some newborn calf who was learning how to walk. He guides you to the bathroom where he opens the door and walks you inside. You think your brain might’ve turned offline briefly, and came back on once you realized you were in danger (you aren’t). You don’t know what’s going on, and don’t remember how exactly you got here. What are you missing?

“You’ll be alright, love. We’ll take good care of you.” Soap tries to soothe, keeping up with the hulking man holding you. You glance at him, expression a little pinched. You’re still by the door and can see the living room through the hallway. You could still run. You’re faster than they are. Why are you trying to leave, again?

“Over ‘ere, Kitty.” the man you now know as Simon, says. He leans over the tub to start the faucet. Your eyes flick back to him but you barely blink. He sighs heavily and stands back to his full height. He takes a step and you take two backward, but he just grabs you by the arm and yanks you towards the bath.

His hand goes to the back of your neck again, forcibly shifting your gaze to look up at him. “Did ya freeze up there in tha’ little head of yours, too?” he huffs, lightly flicking your forehead with his free hand. You scrunch your nose, trying to pull away from him.

“No. You need a bath. You’re filthy and freezing.” he grumbled, pulling you to stand at the edge of the tub.

“Do y’need me to undress you?” he asks, keeping his face level with yours. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Why you aren’t running when they are practically in your face and telling you they’re going to strip your clothes off.

“Si, fuckin’ ease up a bit, alright? She’s clearly startled. Let’s leave her to get undressed.” Soap butts in, stepping further into the bathroom and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Is tha’ what you want? Do y’need me to leave? I’ll leave if I know you’re going to get in.”

You sniffle, the only noise you’d made during this entire time. Your lower lip wobbles. You refuse to make eye contact. The blood on your arm has mostly dried at this point but your hand is still clutching it. Your other hand is fisting the blanket around your shoulders, feet like stone on the ground. If they both left, you think you probably would’ve looked for the nearest window so you don’t have a response to that.

“Alright,” he huffs, straightening next to you. He grabs your cold hands, pressing them to his shoulders and shaping them into a grip. The blanket falls and you shiver. “I’m going to undress you. You can squeeze if I touch somethin’ you don’t like, or I hurt ya. Understand? Squeeze if you understand me.”

Your gaze flicks up to him momentarily, but you can’t read anything behind his eyes. Your fingers flex to the best of your ability, and you think you’re squeezing, but your hand is too numb for you to be sure.

The blood on your hands transfers to the black fabric of his hoodie, but doesn’t show.

“Good,” he nods, kicking the blanket out of the way from where it gathered at your feet. His fingers slip under the hem of your layers, bringing your- his, ripped hoodie above your head, as well as your thinner layers, gaze only briefly wandering over your body. He seems to focus more on the scars than your chest.

He only shifts your grip briefly to let the articles of clothing fall to the floor before putting them back. He continues with your shirt, pants, and undergarments until you’re bare. Your eyes have fixed themselves on a wet patch on his shoulders, afraid that if you move he might go further than you’d like.

“In the bath now,” he confirms, and Soap reenters the conversation to help when Simon gestures for it. They move you like a doll. Simon moves your grip to the side of the tub, Soap moving one leg at a time into the bath. He guides you to sit, and you shiver violently at the temperature change.

Your teeth start clattering. Or maybe they had always been. Your hands hug your arms, crossed across your chest to give you some kind of modesty. It’s not much.

“Johnny. The door.”

Johnny, you learn, stands from his crouched position to close the bathroom door. Something he’d forgotten to in his rush to help. There’s something wet dripping down your face, and it takes you a moment to differentiate whether it’s tears or water dripping from your hair. You think it’s both.

You can vaguely hear some sort of conversation, but your mind seems to blur it out. When Johnny reenters your sight, he’s only in his boxers. You’d probably be taken aback by the amount of skin discoloration- scars, that were on his body if you didn’t have more important things to focus on. Like why he’s nearly naked and getting into the bath with you.

Whatever train of thought you had started conjuring immediately splutters to a stop. He steps into the bath behind you, and you cringe slightly at the thought of your previous wet clothes sticking to your skin.

One of your hands grips the side of the tub, looking to prepare for an easy escape. Johnny’s arm comes around you to grab your wrist and slip it from the edge, gathering both of them to press against your diaphragm in one of his larger ones.

You start to squirm, feet slipping against the tub in your search for momentum as he pulls you back against him. “Easy, lovely. You’re alright.” he coaxes into your ear, wrapping his free forearm around your collarbones and holding you in a loose chokehold as he leans against the back of the tub and takes you with him.

You don’t necessarily fight it, but by the way, your fingers curl into your palms and your breath hitches and stutters, you know they know you’re uncomfortable. Your throat chokes around a whimper as Simon steps around the tub back into your sight.

“Shhhh,” Johnny hushes, settling his chin in the crook of your shoulder. Simon had abandoned his hoodie, now in a black, athletic, tight-fitting shirt. The long sleeves were pushed up to his biceps, a wet clicking noise drawing your attention to his hands.

He was rubbing a plain bar of soap between his palms, slicking his hands before his attention turned towards you. He sets the bar on the side of the tub, reaching for your left foot first. He lifts it out of the water and holds it steady as his hands rub the filth off of you.

You’re already warming up by the time he finishes one leg and starts on the other, only wincing every once in a while when he brushes a scrape. The problem is, you think the cold was numbing your pain. Your temperature is rising and with it your pain.

Your bicep burns now, and tingles in some weird way. The only time you’re adjusted is for Simon to have a better angle to wash you. Johnny keeps you still, mumbling sweet things to you every once in a while. You think you’ve blocked him out at this point.

You’d winced and squirmed a little when he rinsed your wound with water. You didn’t have much of a choice. Your shoulders relax slightly as he finishes and steps away. He hasn’t touched your hair, tail, or ears yet, which only made you worried more for what’s to come. After a moment he returns with a black plastic bottle you can’t catch a good enough look to read.

You watch, wary as he uncaps the lid and holds your upper with his free hand. His hand tilts, spilling the clear liquid over your wound where it bubbles and turns white. You scream, throwing your head back and feeling Johnny flinch as your skull knocks against his chin.

“Fuckin’- easy, easy. We’re not trying to hurt you, calm down.” Johnny tries to soothe you while your squirming increases tenfold.

Johnny never releases you, only tightens his grip and throws a hairy, muscled leg over your hips when your kicking becomes a problem. You squeeze your eyes shut, fresh tears slipping down your newly clean cheeks as your lips part on a sob. It stings, it fucking stings. Why did they do that? What’s wrong with them?

You think you get lost in the white, tight pressure of your eyelids for a moment because when you come back, there’s white gauze and bandages wrapped around your upper arm. You’ve stopped moving. Your lips are parted to let out panicked pants and the whites of your eyes feel irritated.

“Kitty,” Simon speaks so suddenly that your eyes flick up to meet his. A few strands of hair fall in front of your face and you flinch when he smoothes them back. “Relax. We’re not tryin’ to hurt you. You need to cooperate. You hear me? Don’t bite.”

He uses a rough thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks before he uses that same hand to pry your jaw open, watching as your eyelashes flutter rapidly. He holds your mouth open and uses his free hand to drip a few drops of water into your mouth from a glass cup you have no idea where or when he got.

You stiffen, confused, watery eyes locked on his. He then puts the cup on the bathroom counter and places two small pills on your tongue. You have ample time to bite him. You don’t, reason unknown to you.

He then closes your mouth and watches you closely as he tells you, “Swallow.” You do and can see the way he stares to see if your throat bobs. “Open,” he urges, and this time you do it on your own. When he finds nothing, he praises you with a quiet “good girl.”

“Pain meds. They’ll help ya feel better,” he adds before you even think to ask. You think your brain has been put on a backtrack or something since you stepped into their house. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the pain. But now all you can think about is how they could help you every day. Maybe not. They’re too overbearing. Right.

Simon leans over to reach for a bottle labeled ‘shampoo’, but stops when Johnny speaks up. “Si, maybe let’s leave that for another day. Today has already been a lot.” He pauses, and stares, which he seems to do a lot. He grunts in response, leaning over to unplug the tub.

‘Another day’ completely goes over your head.

Your hair is.. well, it’s a mess. You’ve tried to keep it somewhat short so it doesn’t have so much upkeep, but it’s not like there’s a free barber at every corner. the matted fur on your tail and ears you… don’t even want to talk about it.

“I’m gonna let go now, alright?” Johnny says next to your ear, tone soft enough it doesn’t make you jump this time. You nod hesitantly, the first type of communication you’ve ever given to them. He slowly releases you and Simon reaches his hands out for you to grab. You do, slowly, letting him help you stand and step out of the tub.

Johnny lugs himself out of the tub, grabs a towel, and excuses himself from the room. Simon wraps you up in a fluffy, gray towel, rubbing and patting at your face and shoulders until you’re mostly dry. And you kind of just.. stand there. Johnny comes back a few moments later, clothed and dry now, holding a few articles of clothing in his hands.

“Got some clothes for ya,”

Your gaze turns towards him, and you shiver and cross your arms across your breasts once Simon lets the towel drop. He holds a few things up to your body to see what fits best. He dresses you in boxers, one layers of pants, a short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a long-sleeved shirt.

You almost wish they had something warmer. Or a raincoat, maybe? But beggars can’t be choosers, can they? At least the socks they tug onto your feet are warm and fuzzy.

You let them move you around like a puppet on strings. One man slipping your arms into the sleeves, one man pulling boxers up your hips. Once they finish, Simon heads over to your clothes.

You watch as Simon picks them from the floor, Johnny adjusting your new outfit to fit you more comfortably, and shoves them right in the bathroom trash.

Johnny watches the way your expression drops as you look at him and shoots Simon a look. “Sorry, lovely. These clothes are yours now.” He tries to placate, his eyes soft as he looks at you. You frown.

“Right,” Simon grunts, “Hoodie got all ripped up. The rest are beyond saving. You’ll wear this now.”

Johnny places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you out to the connected living room and kitchen. You’re disappointed, but you don’t think you can be mad when they’ve done all this for you. You have nothing from before. Maybe that’s okay.

“Ye ready to leave?” he asks, riffling through a cabinet in the kitchen. It takes a moment before you nod. “Think the storm is dying down. You can stay until it’s over, f’you want.”

You shake your head, subtly, instinctively, stepping towards the window. “That’s alrigh’, won’t make ya.” he smiles, showing you his palms up before he takes a step back.

They don’t say anything. They seem to go back to whatever they were doing before you. Soap grabs his cold coffee off the counter and pops it in the microwave, a few beeps sounding out as it turns on. Simon has carried his hoodie back out from the bathroom and placed it on the coat rack by the door.

It almost seems too natural. Practiced.

Your feet feel cold and heavy when you take another step towards the window. You swear they were warm just a moment ago.

While you blink away some blurriness from your vision, you’re hyper-aware of the excess saliva gathering in your mouth. Fuck, please don’t throw up, you urge.

When your gaze refocuses on the window, the rain looks like a watercolor painting. The muscles behind your eyes ache. Your foot is taking another step before you permit it.

Your newly socked feet cause you to slip slightly, one hand snapping out and you just barely have enough time to grip the cedge of the kitchen counter. Your head pounds.

“Och, easy, Kitty.” Johnny gentles, coming up behind you and placing his now cold hands on your shoulders. You don’t know when you got so hot. Feverish.

“Let’s go sit ya down with Simon, yeah?” he asks, but it’s not really a question as he already starts to guide you towards the couch where Simon is sat. You don’t remember seeing him walk that way.

Johnny sits you on the couch next to him, who lifts an arm to coax your head into his lap. He pets his hand over your head, his fingertips feeling the heat of your skin as he brushes against your cheeks.

He pushes your hair back from your face and you let your eyes fall shut solely because of the intense nausea taking over you. Your lips part to let out slow, harsh breaths.

“I don’t feel so good,” you moan, voice slurring, fingers curling into a fist against the fabric of Simon’s pants. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“I know, love.”

notes: sorry for the abrupt ending! also i don’t mind tagging people so go ahead and ask if u want!

tag: @pagesfalling

738 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 5 months ago

Text

A CASE OF YOU

➻ under the mistletoe

a/n: i fear i am obsessed with this pairing before i've fully put out the series. all i want is to be trapped in a cabin with them during winter. this was posted once before but was getting lost in the tags/for some reason i couldn't see it. so i am retrying. there is another winter fic of them coming hopefully this week! i got this idea and wrote it in one go, but i am thoroughly in love. enjoy something spicy and sweet my loves! divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics.

summary: simple acts of love at the end of the world draw the string tight around the three of you. even if all it takes is some mistletoe and kisses on a cold winter's night.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x old man!logan howlett

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, romance, love, fluff, logan is a little shit, filthy makeout sessions, squirting, dirty talk, spit, explicit activities, threesome.

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Don’t drop me okay?”

The scoff echoed louder than he intended, fingers digging sharply into the meat of your thighs. “Not gonna drop ya bub.”

“I’d believe you if I didn’t have proof from the Halloween party-” A smack to your leg shut you up quicker than expected, your mouth open and heart fluttering at the feel of your thigh rippling. “Logan!”

“You were takin’ too long,” he muttered, soothing the spot with a soft brush of his thumb.

Tradition didn’t happen often in your stolen time together. Winter called for the swirl of frost to build on the outside of the cabin, snow packing along wooden walls and a doorway hung with a wreath of greens and reds. The world stilled—time an inconceivable factor—in order to get the three of you to find your way back to one another in a cabin you claimed as your own. Home felt different on the outskirts of a town stuck at the end of the world.

Holidays were sparse. Scattered amidst the tragedy that became an everyday story told over and over again. Each ending wrapped up the same way—a death sentence signed the second the world fell to pieces overnight. Nightmares were tinged in golds and greens, the soft feel of flannel wrapped around your naked body—heat pouring off two bodies littered with scrapes and scars.

They clung to what normalcy remained. The tree pushed into the corner of a small living room, a record player discovered in Logan’s basement two months before. The first time you hummed along to an old fading tune about mistletoe they nearly tripped over themselves to find you—each enraptured by the echo of joy after they were buried in pain.

Two days ago you found a small bunch of mistletoe wrapped neatly in a red ribbon on the kitchen table. A small token of their affection in a time where even that was difficult to give.

“Is it straight?” you asked, adjusting the bow with a huff. “Can you see it?”

The rumbling emanated from his chest when your head ducked down to catch a glimpse of his face. Only to find his eyes latched onto the swell of your breasts beneath the soft green sweater dug up in an old store years ago. You cherished the luxury of its cashmere feel; even if a hole gaped at the very bottom hem now stitched over with black thread.

Where Logan stood mere seconds ago—a smirk plastered across lips you bit this morning—you found a man transfixed at the thought of bare skin and nipples that begged for the searing heat of his mouth. Slick pooled in your cotton panties, his nose flaring at the heady scent—fingers harshly carving their way into your skin. He was voracious for you—hungry enough to take what you so often gave.

“I think you lost him darlin’.”

“Fuck off Miller,” Logan barked, reluctantly dragging his gaze from the shape of you to glare at the man propped against the doorway.

Snow gathered in his unruly curls, gloves discarded at the side table and jacket draped over a hook near the back door. Joel Miller never failed to steal your breath with a single look. With brown eyes that once were darkened with pain, he watched you with a gleam of joy—his lips curled into a crooked smile you felt practically press to the skin of your throat.

He changed as the years went by.

There was no doubt that the grief he harbored would outweigh yours and Logan’s. The sinister curl of anguish still tugged sharply at his heart during the winter holidays. His memories vivid and bright with the image of Sarah, of time spent in the warmth of his old home in Texas.

You could remember your first year here—his failed attempts to participate even as his heart screamed for that familiar numbing sensation he knew well. The nights spent wrapped in his by a dying fire—a separate body pressed to your back. Christmas was drenched in poison until you gathered him with your touch and poured the antidote down his throat.

“It looks perfect,” Joel said with ease, ignoring how you were still propped on the larger man’s shoulders.

Smiling, you curling a hand into Logan’s hair—tapping his temple to let you down. “Thank you for it.”

“Don’t look at me sweetheart.” His gaze shifted to a silent Logan who helped you slip back down to the floor, an arm wrapped tight around your waist. “It was all his idea.”

The rapid pace in which he averted his gaze confirmed Joel’s words before you could ask the question. Logan Howlett wasn’t a soft man when you met him. In fact, he came off as a brute who raised a daughter more feral than him. Falling for him didn’t come without its struggles; the fight he put up to beat Joel at his own game nearly turned you away from him.

But beneath the layer of armor, entwined with bones coated in metal and agony, you could see a man who longed to be held with the reverence of forever. He didn’t prefer being alone. He settled for it.

When you arrived in his life—enticing and as sweet as biting into a fresh summer nectarine—he understood that his past would never be a deal breaker for you. He was the man who clawed his way through an apocalypse, protecting a young girl tied to his hip. Someone weary and withered with age, yet longing for a place to belong.

Cupping his scruffy cheek, you turned his gaze back to your soft smile. “Is that true Logan?”

The tough exterior crumbled to the ground—hazel eyes softening at the utterance of his name. “‘S a tradition,” he mumbled, curling a hand around your wrist. “I don’t want you to lose your traditions.”

So that’s what this feeling burning a hole in your chest was.

Practically unbearable the longer you tried to come up with a name. Only to find its definition staring you straight in the face.

Love.

You loved him. You love them both.

You couldn’t think of a time where you didn’t love them—where your paths hadn’t crossed yet—and found that wasn’t a past you wished to reside in. They were your home, your future wrapped in flannel and tied with a shitty red fading bow.

“Fuck. Come here please,” you breathed, tugging him down with a gasping breath.

Kissing him felt endless. His lips were rough on your soft ones, hands quick to grab your hips and haul you to his chest. Blood rushed to your head, fingers twisting into his hair as he met your intensity with a wave of his own. Mind numbing, blissful, and everything you never thought you’d have.

He licked into you with a harsh groan, teeth scraping your bottom lip as the mistletoe hung above your heads—taunting Joel to come closer. To see how Logan’s tongue looked smearing his own spit along your teeth.

The shuffle of boots fell on deafened ears attuned only to the soft grunt you pulled from the man before you. Becoming lost to his touch felt like its own gift. How he gripped your ass to press you close, yet his lips softened in their relentless need to consume you in whatever way he could. You didn’t become aware of Joel standing behind you until his own hands slid up your ribs, curling to cup your breasts through the cashmere fabric.

A string of saliva connected Logan’s lips to yours as you pulled away to breathe. The gentle touch of Joel’s calloused fingers pinching your nipples drew a soft breathy moan from your throat. His lips latched to your neck—teeth scraping the sensitive skin with a sound of his own.

More often than you intended you found yourself trapped between them and their insatiable cravings. Logan would fuck you for hours, nestled between sore thighs and chafed skin. Joel would one up him with his mouth, sucking your clit hard enough to have your legs clamped around his neck. A cry of his name bouncing off the walls of your shared home.

“Go on bub,” Logan mumbled, nose brushing yours as he stole another chaste kiss. “Give him a kiss.”

You were turned before you could comprehend his words, Joel’s hands finding purchase where Logan’s once sat. A soft game of tug and war between men who would drop to their knees if you asked. Men who killed to keep you safe—their fiery natures subdued by the oxygen you stole from their lungs.

“Gonna gimme a kiss darlin’?” Joel asked, lips sliding along yours.

The answer was obvious but you were too dazed to respond with words brimming in snark. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Tenderness poured out of his kiss and filled your chest with a warmth you knew well. He didn’t take as often as Logan. Far more interested in what he could give. Yet both ached to be given purpose, to be put to use. Even if you got tired of them at the end—a conclusion that would never come to pass. How could you ever choose to let them go? You’d never be able to live without them.

He sucked on your tongue with a hoarse moan, Logan’s hands pushing up under your bra to toy with your hard nipples. The shiver that wracked your body made him chuckle into your ear—the hot trail of his tongue dragging down your neck as Joel languished in the feel of your tongue. It drove you mad how easy they managed to rip you apart. How fast you fell into their touch with a burning need of your own.

“How’s he taste?” Logan breathed, sucking at your earlobe.

You pull away, dragging in a lungful of air. “Like coffee.”

“Gotta be better than that,” he mused. “You were eatin’ him alive.”

The mewl slipped off swollen lips. “Logan.”

“Bet you taste better. Ain’t that right Miller?”

Joel’s chuckle echoed in your other ear, a rasp that had your toes curling on the hardwood floor. “Taste’s like fuckin’ heaven.”

Your eyes slid up to the mistletoe that taunted them further, a gasp torn from the base of your chest as Joel’s hand tugged at your shorts. Cold fingers pushing your panties to the side with a soft bitten out fuck. Surviving them was never an option. Not when they drew every nerve in your body tight with endless pleasure—setting a fire beneath your already hot skin.

Two fingers slid through your wet folds, a punched out groan drawing your attention back to Joel’s crimson face. He watched himself touch you. Stuck on the sight of how you parted for him, how your thighs unconsciously opened to let him explore the familiar expanse of your body. He would spend eons worshiping you and never tire of the way you reacted.

“Looks like it too,” he said more to himself.

Logan heard him loud and clear. “Tell me baby. Do you like the mistletoe?”

Nodding slowly, you felt two thick fingers plunge into your sopping pussy before any words could form in your hazed mind. Your head fell back onto Logan’s shoulder, hips canting into Joel’s touch with a breathy whine that made him grin.

“There ya go,” Logan cooed. “Open up for your old men. Let us have some fun.”

It was only a matter of time before you unraveled. They could see it in the way you struggled to breathe properly, your mouth parted in a silent cry of their names permanently lodged in the back of your throat. Nothing prettier had ever graced their lives before you. Their reason to live, to keep finding their way home—discarding boots by the door and jackets on hooks.

You were forever when the prospect of it seemed impossible to have.

“She’s so fuckin’ wet,” Joel grunted, curling his fingers until they struck right where you needed. A sob wrenched from your mouth, thighs trembling around his hand. “Drenchin’ my hand.”

“Yeah?”

“You hear that darlin’?” Joel’s voice dragged you back with its lilting tease. “That’s it huh? Right there?”

“Y-Yes!”

Logan’s hand dropped from your waist, his fingers prodding at your entrance where Joel’s currently ripped you to pieces. Dragging out sounds you didn’t know you could make. Hooking two fingers into you from behind, Logan swallowed your shout with a searing kiss. His broad hand cupping your chin to angle you closer—each noise muffled by the wet heat of his tongue finding yours.

They worked in tandem to drag you towards the edge. Where Joel pulled, Logan pushed. Two men finding their rhythm in the confines of your writhing body. You’d been stretched before, but this felt different. As if each of them were intent on striking that soft spot along your fluttering walls. Slick pouring out and coating their hands as the loud squelching echo bounced off the walls.

If you weren’t pressed between them you would have collapsed. Your knees giving out and body curling in on itself as they pounded into you with biting groans and harsh breaths.

“C’mon bub. I can feel ya achin’ for it.”

And you were. You were screaming in your head to finally be thrown into the depths of ecstasy. But your voice only existed in cries and garbled words that sounded eerily similar to their names.

“Be a good girl and cum,” Joel growled, grinding his palm into your throbbing clit.

The release ripped from your body with a broken sob. Your legs kicked out and your body arched as they broke you even further. Pleasure strangled the air from your lungs, tearing through you like a fire without end. A bliss that threatened to break you beyond any type of repair they could offer. You were a ball of nerves completely and utterly gone for them as you struggled to keep your head above water.

“There it is,” Logan hummed, smiling against your cheek at how you gushed over their fingers. A splash of your release hitting the hardwood floor. “Made such a pretty fuckin’ mess for us baby.”

A soft whimper was all you could muster, your eyes slipping shut as Logan wrapped you in his arms. Joel releasing you with a soft huff.

“Gonna grab a towel.”

You tracked his shuffling as the breath returned to your lungs. Logan’s nose a soft press against your temple—his lips warm enough to pull you back to the present. Time seemed to fall away in their presence. A limited escape within this haven the three of you created—a place you could fall in love all over again.

“How are you?” he murmured, thumbs curling along your waist.

You hummed, brimming with contentment. “Good. Even if I can’t feel my legs.”

The laugh you got in response was all you could have hoped for. His hold grew tight as he shifted to settle you in his lap on the floor. This is what you longed for, what you dreamed of in the early stages of your relationship. When friendly gestures were all you could give and the idea of love felt so far away.

“How’s that? Better?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, curling into his chest. “Perfect.”

“‘Course you chose the fuckin’ floor.” Joel’s voice once again had you wrenching your eyes open with a grin. “Not like my knees are shot to hell.”

“We can move to the couch you old fucker,” Logan snipped, gathering you close as he clambered to his feet.

Finding Joel’s hand you tugged him to fall in step with your trembling legs. “Baby.”

He lit up at the sound of your voice. “He’s gotten enough of your time darlin’.”

Logan scoffed, draping himself on the couch. “And you’re one to talk. What with all those late night conversations in here.”

“Not my fault you sleep like you’re already dead.”

You giggled, falling delightedly into Joel’s chest as he settled with a grunt. “Always fighting.”

“I’m not fighting,” Logan remarked. “I’m explaining.”

“Is that what you tell Laura?” you asked, quirking your lips at the sight of him scooting closer. With a huff he dragged your legs into his lap. “Or does she do that to you?”

“Ellie does it too,” Joel muttered. “Never not fightin’ with me.”

You smiled, the simmering ache of love igniting anew in the base of your chest. “I can see where she gets it from.”

Logan’s laughter filled the space, yours soon joining as Joel bit at your shoulder to keep you in check. Even in the midst of tragedy—stuck at the end of the world—you understood that your path would always curve towards them. A destined fate that carved itself into your ribs long before you were born. They were your permanent space in this horror story.

Your forever even as you ran out of time.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #old man logan #my writing

440 notes · View notes

ceilidho · 1 year ago

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come.

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence.

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips.

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east.

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive.

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest.

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks.

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest.

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection.

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers.

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing.

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.”

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back.

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?”

That gets you to zip your lips.

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away.

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him.

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating.

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse.

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you.

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out.

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either.

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing.

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it.

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.”

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.”

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you.

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit.

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance.

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls.

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase.

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do.

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in.

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom.

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back.

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls.

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself.

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise.

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you.

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out.

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly.

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot.

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache.

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out.

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world.

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though.

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question.

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town.

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze.

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be.

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs.

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does.

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now.

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy.

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection.

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears.

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel.

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap.

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good.

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden.

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste.

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in.

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn.

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now.

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden.

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly.

You nod instead of answering.

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely.

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold.

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.”

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips.

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out.

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much.

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was.

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word.

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it.

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same.

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words.

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again.

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself.

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house.

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface.

You understand. It sits under your skin too.

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x you #price x y/n #price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price

1K notes · View notes

sam-keeper · 1 month ago

Text

Hey Look At This Comic: Calvin and Hobbes

I liked the idea of putting some more daily strip comics into my rss reader, and gocomics DOES post old strips in sequence every day (keeping archival materials in lively circulation 👍), and there IS a site that generates an rss feed for gocomics (they don't provide rss feeds themselves because they want you to subscribe 👎) so, I added the current Nancy run to my feed, alongside Peanuts and Calvin and Hobbes. a few days later it paid off big time with this strip:

I love this strip, but it's a bit weird, isn't it? I'm sure some people read the way you're "supposed to" move panel to panel in a typical comic: left to right across the top strip, then the middle, then the bottom. Easy. I didn't, though. My eyes darted across the page, circled around the upper left hand panels, before zipping to the big point of interest on the page: that big panel of Calvin's teacher as a great pink alien monster! the second panel in strip two, the view through the spaceship porthole of the alien landscape, got orphaned, turned into something I glanced at after the fact as I pieced the sequence back together.

which might just be how comics reading actually goes, in practice. more recent theories of comics, particularly ones coming out of the Franco-Belgian tradition, suggest we take in the page as a whole first before diving in panel by panel. that bottom left corner is also kind of a privileged position on the page, with a beautifully lumpy and toothy monster filling up almost the whole frame. no wonder my eye was drawn there "ahead of sequence"!

is that a mistake? one of my friends, when I posed the question, thought so, that the strip means to build up to that point but the page composition encourages you to read ahead. She also, intriguingly, suggested to me that even though we enter the strip seeing the whole page, we induce a kind of forgetfulness in ourselves so that we don't get spoiled. when we see the monster, do we already know it's there while experiencing it for the first time? (hypnosis, she suggested to me, is "merely a set of circumstances to help the mind do a set of things that it already does every day".)

others corroborated the weird reading orders but suggested it was deliberate. for Sarah, the whole left side of the page draws your eye down compositionally, from Spaceman Spiff's (Calvin's alter ego) gloved hands on the wheel, down to the Z shaped mesa, to the monster. this cuts out almost two thirds of the comic! but for her and a few other friends, that made sense: Calvin is daydreaming in class, and the point where his teacher pops up in front of him to demand his attention is a moment of concrete interest in a hazy sea of nonlinear sensation. another friend drew a diagram of an even weirder reading pattern:

actually, I think this makes some sense. theorist Thierry Groensteen's notion of "braiding" in comics suggests that we're constantly recomposing comics in our brains, not just panel by panel, but over the whole corpus of panels, looking for rhymes and resonances and ways the story relates to itself. it feels a little like panels 2 and 3 rhyme, to me. the frames are long and thin more than any of the others, they both have this prominent horizon line, and they both sit on top of panels 4 and 5. they relate to each other, to the point where I see how you could jump from one to the other, then back up the page and over! if I understand Groensteen right, he's not suggesting we necessarily jump around the page this way, I don't want to put words in his mouth, but I do think one of the implications of braiding and of taking in the whole page is that we might get off track and start wandering through time and space... which is exactly what Calvin is doing, after all.

I love that the actual joke of the strip hinges on these two little panels buried at the bottom of the page: the only shot not from Calvin's point of view, of him looking frazzled after Mrs Wormwood's dressing down, and then a little panel of him holding the book. that's braiding too: we understand the previous and future panels because we draw an analogy between all the perspectives we've seen elsewhere of hands (or claws) and get that Calvin is drifting into a daydream again, taking on a new role. the scenario shifts, and the color scheme changes to a complimentary one (red to green), but both daydreams are much more powerful, on the page, than the interruption by reality.

how do you read the page?

you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon.

#hey look at this comic #comics #calvin and hobbes #comic review #comic strip #comic analysis #comic recommendations

251 notes · View notes

misssilversunny · 5 months ago

Text

Ok so I've been on a bit of a Yandere batfam binge tbh. One thing I saw was someone saying that there should be a yandere batfam that's too interested in Reader's life, as opposed to the multitude of neglected Readers.

I would like to build on that and say, a Spoiled!Reader. Maybe around grade school age for some of the story, the rest being them as an adult realizing that their family's "interest" in every aspect of their life was nowhere near healthy. Or it could be a crack fic where Reader is guarded like the president of the world.

For example, as a child, they applied themselves to everything, wanting to be as smart as their older siblings, and followed Alfred around all the time when they found out that he was a spy in his early days.

Every award was put on a shelf, every drawing was fridge worthy, to the point where they got a corkboard to put all their drawings, and whenever they wanted something, they got it. Bullies never got more than a week of fun before an injury befell their parents or some other misfortune. Bruce was almost constantly seen with them.

Timeskip to maybe their 20s, they're trying to hold down a long term relationship after so many ended up with their partners becoming distant before either they broke things off or Reader left them. Every batchild is using their own connections to try and keep possible suitors away.

Reader laments their lack of freedom and privacy to their friends, leading to the common "Tells people about a funny memory. Why are they looking at me like that"

Apparently, while it's normal for a brother to offer if their younger sibling has noone to take to the dance, saying that they should go instead of a proper date is not. Family members should not be dressing you like a doll past age 6 (The girls + Alfred + Dick all love putting outfits together for reader, saying that they're just made to be dressed up.).

Your parents shouldn't be physically intimidating and scaring off every partner, and definitely shouldn't be saying that you shouldn't look for a partner as long as you have them. Your family shouldn't "joke" about how friends are fine since "they're seldom as permanent as family".

Reader slowly realizes that they need to get out, fast. But instead of it being a struggle for the Batfam to find them because they know next to nothing, it's a fight to do something they couldn't predict because they've all been watching them like hawks since they set foot inside the manor.

Most, if not all of their friends outside of the group that convinced them to run are friends with at least one family member, so 60-90% of their social net has been gutted. They can't use their legal name while they live in Gotham, but they need a job to get the money to leave.

I think Damien being the biggest yandere would be really funny, especially if you read it like Lance Crown is with his sister. Bro has multiple lockets with photos of them throughout the years in them, as well as a photo for every single birthday he was present for.

In Damien's eyes, Reader's primary title is "Damien's Little Sibling" and is willing to deal with the shared titles that must come with that (Dick's Little Sibling, Bruce's Child, Alfred's Ward, etc). If you want to have the honor of bestowing Another Title upon Reader, Damien has to give the go ahead first. He will never give the go ahead.

Jason would also be super protective, since he was around when they were still learning to talk and walk. He comes into the living room and Alfred's got Reader on a blanket with some toys and upon seeing him, Reader wobbles to their feet and stumbles over to him, squealing in delight and almost falling over before grabbing onto his leg and smiling up at him.

It was at that moment, the Reader fan club was truly established. Bruce would be the leader since he was the dad, but Damien was second in command and manages the collections of information/photos.

AN: I have no clue about the lore/timeline the Batfamily has. If something mentioned couldn't have happened during a certain point of time, then I'm sorry lol.

#yandere batfam #yandere batboys #yandere batfam x reader #tw yandere

343 notes · View notes

innerfare · 9 months ago

Text

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker.

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating.

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises.

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more.

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars.

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM.

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you.

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite.

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it.

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too).

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face.

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #op mihawk #mihawk smut #Dracule mihawk smut #mihawk x reader smut #shanks #red haired shanks #one piece smut

486 notes · View notes

ablobwhowrites · 9 days ago

Text

dragon y/n cookie yap session

I love to imagine that y/n's true form is kinda similar to Longan Dragon Cookie's form. I imagine them to be similar ages because of them being two dragons who have been here before cookies.

Dragon y/n also has a lot of scars and stuff from cookies of the past believing they are a monster and must be killed or others from the battle against the beasts as y/n believes that cookies simply haven't seen as much as they have and never gets as much wisdom of the world because of that. Y/n is very forgiving to cookies even the ones who wounded them but the other dragons see the cookies as simply not deserving of y/n's kindness and longan dragon cookie sees this as weakness the cookies gave to y/n as no dragon should care about the weak and inferior and gets frustrated when y/n tries to argue about the cookies being good and worthy of being in this world.

Y/n doesn't deny that all cookies can never make mistakes yes they have hurt y/n before but they just believe it's just because of fear this happened. Yet something inside of them wishes to believe longan dragon cookie and the rest of the dragons but they never bring themselves to accept it even if they long for their lover who they had to leave because the cookies feared y/n and saw them as a monster who tried to take away a innocent cookie and sometimes they wish they could cut off their wings or just be a regular cookie to go back and see their lover again and have the kids and life they both wanted together but that day many never come.

I like to imagine that before the dark flour war when the four kingdom the ancients ruled were still thriving. I imagine just the civilians there had grew to like y/n as many saw them as a loyal protector and the small cookies though it was so cool to see a real dragon up in person and scholars or any kind of researchers just sketching y/n and asking so many questions about dragons that the ancients step in cause one researcher asked if they could take one of y/n's scales. I do imagine y/n helped the ancients in the dark flour war but was heavily injured after blocking a attack from dark enchantress cookie which left them weak for a long time and had to go into hibernation for a while as many cookies believe the dragon sacrificed their life for the cookies and this reached the dragons and they all believed that the cookies had killed y/n the oldest cookie seconds behind longan dragon cookie. I do imagine somehow the beast hear about this as well but that's for another time.

The ancients visited y/n after they found out that y/n was in a cave in deep hibernation as many cookies heard about this and put gifts and tributes to y/n as they slept as many weren't sure if they'll ever wake up again. (They do but hey they worried the cookies)

I imagine just y/n's cookie form covered in scars in old and new. The new ones are because y/n is sometimes a dumbass and runs into stuff because they are a bit bigger than the average cookie being a dragon older than cookie kind itself so yeah.

Also thought of this

Dragon y/n cookie: "oh Royal Margarine cookie! I heard that you ride dragons!"

Royal Margarine cookie: "oh..um yes I do, is there something wrong? Is that bad or-"

Dragon y/n cookie: "oh not at all, say you can ride me! I would love if you do. Hopefully I'm not to difficult to ride due to well, me being a bit bigger than the average dragon."

*dragon y/n thinking they just offered a fun ride in the skies with a new friend they made*

*Royal Margarine cookie thinking that's he rizzed up a hot ass dragon cookie*

Also y/n still has their heart out for their cookie lover. Hoping they find them again (they never will)

(Anyways that's it's for my yap session. If you guys like it please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have! But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

163 notes · View notes

cececat · 2 months ago

Text

STH FanStory Recommendations:

As well as writing, I have found myself also reading an awful amount of Sonic-related fanfiction and comics recently… So, I thought I’d share a few of my favourites in case anyone else has found themselves hyper-fixating over this fandom like I have recently 🦔

I’ll try to put them in sections but please note that quite a few of the topics tend to overlap. Oh and also, there happens to be an awful lot of Sonadow shipping too, because even if it’s not always the key focus in the story, it always seems to make its way into the things I consume now apparently 😅 So I’ll be sure to tag with 💙🖤❤️ if that’s relevant.

I hope you like this list (it took quite a while to put together) and be sure to show all of these stories and creators some love! 👇👇 👇

And obviously I had to start this list by plugging my own fanfiction stories, because I've been putting so much work into them and they will be updated regularly, while also making lots of other stuff as well... So please follow and/or subscribe for that... 😉 archiveofourown.org/users/cececatcreates

Live Action Universe:

Concord by EvieNyx (@evienyx) - [Complete] 💙🖤❤️ Focuses on Shadow after the third SCU movie. It’s really cute, and I feel like it accurately portrays movie-Shadow’s thoughts and memories, mixing together elements of the films with fan theories and other STH media canon.

Project Guardian by AealZX @aealzx - [Ongoing] Again, after the third SCU movie (there’s quite a few of them 😅) but Shadow is taken in as a fourth Wachowski sibling, who has to recover from severe injuries. Some art is included, and it’s just really sweet all-in-all.

Secrets In Our Quills by @nebrasska-alasska - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ I’m sure many of you are already aware of their amazing stories, but this one is the longest so far, and also the closest to being completed. But if you like Sonadow slowburn and plenty of gay fluff, you should definitely read all of their incredible fanfics.

A Junk Yard Of Possibilities by CrazyForClones (@crazyforclones) - [Complete] This story looks at what happened to Agent Stone after Dr Robotnik’s death and focuses on the potentially adorable friendship that could blossom between him and Tails.

Family Loading… Please Wait by Humanities_Handbag ( @humanityinahandbag) & Invader_Sam (@smerfols) - [Ongoing] This quickly became a favourite, as it did with many others. 💕 It starts all the way back with the Wachowski’s adopting Sonic and then Tails and Knuckles and eventually Stone and Shadow, and it’s just the biggest, cutest family dynamic.

What Makes Us Who We Are by EmmaSmoke ( @emmasmoke8) - This is about the Mobians doing certain things their Earth animal counterparts would naturally do. My favourite parts are definitely Tails doing adorable fox things and Tom and Maddie trying to figure out what the heck all their anthropomorphic alien children are doing. 😅

Suspended by CheetahBoy (@90sfr3sh) - This looks at what could have happened if Sonic and Tails didn't get rescued by Maddie and Rachel during the second film. It's such a cool concept, I'm very excited to see what happens next! 😁

General / Alternate Universes:

Sonic Wave by Sharp_Silver (@sharp-silver-fanfic) - [Ongoing] I really love this story! 💕 It’s basically a full retelling of the STH universe lore, taking elements from all different bits of media. It’s been crazy good so far, so please give them your support!

Weird Science by satan_official - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ This one is really interesting and it sort of makes me think of Equestria Girls (for any MLP fans out there!) but instead it’s Sonic and Shadow who are stuck in human bodies on the human world. It’s a bit different but really great so far 😁

Fixing Fractured Worlds We Briefly Broke by TheLittleStar_tm - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ This is a fellow Prime fanstory, focusing on the trauma of all the Green Hills characters we already all know and love in the aftermath of season 3. 💔

Boom To Another Dimension by Gamerblade - [Ongoing] Explores what could happen if the SCU Live Action film characters were sent to the Sonic Boom universe, with pretty regular updates being uploaded so far. 😊

Into The Tailsverse by TheCatCacoon - [Ongoing] This one has a bunch of my favourite little two-tailed foxes, and, as someone who is also exploring bringing different Miles Prowers together, it’s intriguing to see how someone else writes these characters 🦊

Culture Shock by foggystarrs (@foggystarrs) - [Ongoing] 💙🖤❤️ Purely a Sonadow fanfiction, but it looks at hedgehog / Mobian courting behaviour and is just really cute 🥰 If you are a fan of oblivious gay and alien hedgehogs, you’ll probably love this one.

Others / Comics:

Sonic Desolation by Wren Rivers (@sonicdesolation by TrenchCoatGecko) - [Ongoing] This is a crazy detailed comic set around the events of the Sonic Forces game where Sonic is struggling with PTSD from what Infinite did to him during his imprisonment.

Heart Of A Monster by SuperEmeralds (@the-heart-of-a-monster by @superemerarts) - [Ongoing] Another insanely detailed comic, which is a retelling of Sonic Unleashed. Its so well done, plus there's a gentle sprinkling of platonic Sonadow.

Team Dark Supernova Odyssey by @sharpedgedfool (@teamdarksupernovaodyssey) - [Ongoing] This is a space opera comic revolving around found family and adventure themes, set as a hypothetical spin-off to the Shadow the Hedgehog video game.

Sonic Boom Revisited by @multiisketch , @mama-qwerty. & @star-stages (@sonicboomrevisited) - [Ongoing] This comic is amazing. A bit darker than the original series, but has just been so gripping so far. Regular updates too! Definitely recommended! 👍

Second Chance by @sumju - 💙🖤❤️ - Who doesn’t love a Sonadow comic?? Plus Tails is adorable as usual (and reminding Shadow of Maria 😭) so that’s an added bonus 🧡

Infested by @flightyalrighty - [Ongoing] Viewer discretion advised for this one, it seems pretty dark...

Ask the Sonic Verse by @verizzafai (@asksonicverse) 💙🖤❤️ - [Ongoing] This is a fun, silly ongoing series which focuses on different versions of Sonadow all being stuck in the same room and getting sent questions from the audience.

Low Light by @verizzafai (@soniclowlightau) 💙🖤❤️ - Only a few pages so far, but looks very promising!

Broken Future by @teamchillidogs 💙🖤❤️ - [Ongoing] A tragic re-telling of an alternate ending of Sonic Adventure 2.

Silver's Parent Trap by @evilgenius-prower 💙🖤❤️ - A silly AU where Silver is actually the adopted future child of Sonadow and goes back in time to try and save his dads lives.

Eggsperiments by @prince-less - This is a new concept so there's not much content about it yet, but I really hope it becomes either a proper comic or fanfic or something similar, because I'm such a sucker for alternate stories of Sonic and Tails being the best brothers, and this a really cool idea 🥺

Sonadow Future by @torusonicpilled 💙🖤❤️- [Ongoing] Another newer one, with a few fanfic chapters and a few comic pages, but they've already got me interested from the idea that Tails can be resurrected, so I'm excited to see where it goes next ☺️

Sonic & The Olympus Heroes by @miitarion - Not sure if this will be continued as it was only shared quite recently, so might just be a one-off, but the art is incredible; Definitely worth a read! ✨

@mercurio-shadowz - They've not been following a particular storyline, but their art and short comics (especially about Shadow being a closeted gay disaster) are awesome. 🤩

Incomplete / Unfinished:

These are a bunch of stories that I really grew to love but they either stopped too long ago and so are presumably forgotten about, or may have been abandoned entirely and will likely never receive any conclusions. I’ve included when they were last updated, but only read these at your own discretion! ⚠️

• Can’t Defeat A Genius Without Taking His Brain by xenoon [4 months] • Deepest Desire by Tirainy [5 years] 💙🖤❤️ • Mad About You by Cherivide [1 year] 💙🖤❤️ • Sonic The Second Speedster by ItsZaira [1 year] • Sonic the Vagabond Hedgehog by @trekkerac (@tatck) [1 year] - This quickly became a favourite; Sonic and Tails' relationship is so adorable 😭 But you might only want to read the first issue and think of it as complete, since the second issue isn't complete and hasn't been touched for a year or so... 😔

I've tagged as many people as I can and might come back to this list later if I find more that I enjoy, but for now I think (hope!) it's mostly up to date 💖

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #fanfic #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #sonic fandom #sth fanfic #sonic au #sth au #archive of our own #fan comic #work in progress #sonadow #cececatchat #cececat

225 notes · View notes

another-random-fanfic-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Fates Entwined

Warnings: 18+ , mentions of sexual assault, abuse, death

Summary: You rescues 8 hybrids that are about to die.

word count: 7099

Masterlist

Next Chapter

The shelter workers dragged the beaten, bloodied, and half-conscious hybrid to a cell room, throwing him on the floor in front of 7 other hybrids.

"This was the third time he was returned," sneered the worker with greasy slick-backed hair, "that means he gets put down tomorrow. If you 7 don't agree to be adopted separately, you'll be joining him."

The shelter worker walked out of the room, slamming and locking the door while whistling cheerfully as he walked away. Meanwhile, the other 7 hybrids crowded around their friend on the floor, Seonghwa carefully lifting his head to place in his lap.

"Sannie," Wooyoung cries out, holding San's hand.

"Sannie, what happened?" Hongjoong asks, rubbing Sans arm gently.

"It was a hybrid fighting ring," San cries, refusing to open his eyes, not that he could open both, considering one his right eye was swollen shut, "I couldn't kill the other hybrids like they wanted, I'm sorry."

"It’s ok, Sannie," Yunho replies calmly.

"It's not ok, now they're going to kill you with me." San sobs uncontrollably, barely able to get the next words out, "I don't want you to die too."

"It's ok, San," Seonghwa whispers while cradling the crying man's head, not letting anyone see the tears spill from his own eyes. "Everything will work out, you'll see. We'll be ok."

The 8 hybrids stayed huddled together for a few minutes before they move to their beds, which were nothing more than flimsy blankets filled with holes. Slowly, one by one, they each begin to fall asleep, the younger 4 crying themselves to sleep while they older 4 held in their tears, too on edge to let themselves fall asleep, they flinch at every sound coming through the facility. When they heard two sets of footstep coming towards their cage, Yeosang tightens his hold on Jongho and Wooyoung while Seonghwa held San, and Yunho cradle Mingi, Hongjoong moves to sit in front of everyone, trying to block them from the view of whoever was approaching, with his small body.

Two workers appear in front of the cage, the greasy haired employee named Mike, and the employee with yellow teeth, missing his front one, called Carl. They enjoyed spending their time harassing the hybrids in the shelter, but their favorite targets were the group of 8. Mike stood by the door smirking as he looked over the huddled hybrids.

“Up front now!” Mike demands. Causing all 8 to jump and slowly line up by the door, kneeling on the ground. “I have some good news, we found homes for all of you, except San, he dies in the morning, no exception, but if you agree, you all get to live.”

“Seonghwa gets to go to a nice breeding farm or a brothel, we will let you pick,” Carl laughs as he reads off a paper, meanwhile Seonghwa grips his thighs tightly, holding back tears. “Yeosang will be going to the brothel, Ming and Yunho will be working in the mines to test for gas build up, Wooyoung, Jongho, and Hongjoong will be sent to medical labs as test subjects for new medications or some shit like that.”

“You hear that Seonghwa,” Mike says leaning down in front of the hybrid, “you’re the only one that gets a choice, now say thank you master.”

Seonghwa bit his lip, wanting to yell out and curse the two men, but not trusting his voice as he thinks about how everyone's lives will be ruined. Hybrids were made by humans, then abused, and abandoned by humans. Out of all the different types, rabbit hybrids were on of the most unique and one of the saddest hybrid stories. Scientists, for whatever reason, decided to make it so both female and males could be impregnated. It was wasn’t easy to get a male hybrid pregnant, and the pregnancies were extraordinarily difficult, but humans decided to make a game of it. They hosted insemination parties, bringing mass groups of men to try their luck at who could impregnate the poor hybrids for a prize. Then the rabbits were left to suffer through their pregnancy alone, only to go through it all again, if they survived giving birth.

Mike opens the door, walking in smugly as he looked at the hybrids kneeling on the floor, knowing that they wouldn’t attack him no matter what he did. He walks up and down the row, looking at each hybrid closely, paying attention to their features. Stopping in front of Hongjoong, Mike kneels and grabs his face, roughly turning it to each side before pushing away from him and standing. Before Hongjoong could take another breath, Mike grabs him by the hair yanking him to his feet and pinning him to the cage wall. Wrapping his hand around Hongjoongs throat, he lifts Hongjoongs small body up in the air, enjoying the feeling of how Hongjoong struggled for air, trying to free himself.

“Maybe you won’t go to a lab,” Mike laughs, licking, kissing, and biting what he could reach of Hongjoongs neck, grinding his hips against the hybrids, as he got excited by Hongjoongs whimpers and choking noises. “I think I’m going to take you to one of those sex parties, you know, the ones where a hybrid takes over 60 men in one night. What I wouldn’t give to see your broken and useless body afterwards, I wonder how squirrels compare to rabbits.”

“PLEASE STOP!” Seonghwa yells from behind them, unable to watch or listen to anything more, especially when he sees Hongjoongs face turning purple from the lack of oxygen, his grip on Mikes arm starting to loosen as his body grows limp. “PLEASE!”

Mike whips around and stares at Seonghwa before throwing Hongjoong onto the ground, kicking him in the ribs as he coughs and gasps for air. Stomping towards Seonghwa, Mike grabs Seonghwa by his ears, dragging him out of the cage and letting Carl slam the door shut before anyone could react. Pulling Seonghwa into the empty cell across the hall, Mike chains him to the wall. Carl moves out of the hybrids way so they can watch what's about to happen.

“I figured, you’re going to be used for breeding no matter what, that’s all you bunnies are good for anyway,” Mike sneers unbuckling his pants, “so I may as well get a taste of what you have to offer. Isn’t that what you wanted when you asked me to stop? You wanted to take his place, you wanted to be treated like a true bunny right.”

Mike grabs Seonghwa’s shirt and rips it open, while Seonghwa cries, unable to get his arms free from the shackles, shackles that were installed in every cage just in case a hybrid got out of control. Seonghwa opens his eyes and watches as his friends try to break their door open, crying and begging for Mike to stop, with no luck.

Mike undoes his pants and pulls himself out walking closer to the bound man.

“If you bite me, they all die instantly,” Mike laughs, lining himself up with Seonghwa’s mouth, “and after, Carl will want to take you for a spin.”

Just before Mike could touch his tip to Seonghwa’s mouth, they hear a yell from down the hall.

“Mike, Carl, we have a meeting, get your asses in here now!” Yells the owner of the shelter, leaving no room for arguing.

“That man always knows how to ruin the fun,” Mike growls to Carl while he zips himself up, “throw the bunny back in his cell, and let’s go.”

Carl unshackles Seonghwa and throws him in the cell with the others before they disappear, leaving Seonghwa to grip his torn shirt around himself while the others hug him, all of them sobbing uncontrollably.

“Maybe…maybe,” Jongho cries, unable to get his words out between sobs, “maybe death won’t be all that bad.”

No one responds at this point, understanding his feelings as they all feel the same. If they died, no more pain, torture, sexual harassment, or anything else. However, they still didn’t want to die, not really. Laying down and curling around each other, they wait for the death sentence that was coming for them in the morning.

“Wake up! Line up, standing, hands out!” Mike barks at the hybrids, waking them from their fitful sleep.

Each hybrid slowly moves into a line, dread filling their bodies as their wrists and ankles are shackled together and muzzles put over their faces. Soon, they are led down the hall to the euthanasia room, some not able to stop the sobs that rip from their throats.

“You’re going last,” Mike whispers in Seonghwa’s ear and he grabs Seonghwa’s ass. “You’re going to watch as each one of them dies, then, you’re coming home with me. You’re too good looking to not be filled every day. I’m going to make sure you have no energy to leave my bed. I’m also going to have frequent parties, 5 dollars for whoever wants to have you. But first, you have to watch all of your friends die,” he finishes laughing before locking Seonghwa in the waiting cage with everyone else, but San, shackling all the hybrids to the wall. The other 6 hybrids quickly move Seonghwa behind them as best they could, as far away from Mike as possible before turning their attention to San who is being strapped to the table, tears pouring out of his eyes as the technicians insert the needle into his arm.

“I don’t want to die,” San cries, when his muzzle is removed, eyes squeezed close tightly as tears stream down his face, his body bordering hyperventilating. “I don’t want to die and I don’t want them to die.”

“Wait!”

------------------------------------------- a few minutes earlier ----------------------------------

“I will see you in 30 minutes to an hour,” You say, parking your car outside the hybrid shelter. “It’s not a problem, don’t worry about it, I’m happy to help.”

You hang up your phone as you cross the parking lot, entering the shelter and walking to the front desk, looking down the hall to see a group of 8 hybrids crying as they are led into a dark looking room.

“How can I help you?” Asks the secretary after the door closes.

“I’m here to pick up some hybrid medication; it should be under the name Mrs. Roe.” You respond, leaning on the counter, “what was wrong with them?” You ask nodding your head towards where they hybrids disappeared.

“They’re being euthanized-“

“What the fuck?!” You ask, interrupting the secretary.

“They are being euthanized, they refuse to be adopted separately and one has been returned three times when he was forcibly adopted out.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You pay $3,000 and sign this paperwork that I already filled out, all it needs is a signature at the yellow flags,” the secretary replies hurriedly shoving a stack of papers at you.

“You were prepared,” you comment as you hand over your debit card and start signing by the flags, berating yourself for not actually reading the contract you’re currently signing.

“I’ve been hoping someone would come for them for a long time so I was prepared just in case. I’ve always been prepared just in case,” she says handing you the receipt as you pull out your phone and call someone.

“No more talking, let’s go,” you reply, gesturing for her to walk as you finish the paperwork. “Kim, how close are you to 5823 Rosedale Lane?” You ask into the phone.

“Few minutes why?” The voice, Josh Kim, answers over the phone.

“I’m calling in a favor, get your ass here now, bring backup, go past the front desk take a left, door at the end of the hall,” you say, hanging up.

Once you sign the last box, of the papers, the secretary opens the door and yells “Wait!” looking up you see a hybrid strapped to the table, crying as a man begins to attach a syringe to the needle in the hybrids arm.

“This woman adopted all 8 of the hybrids, the paperwork is signed and she already paid,” the secretary states quickly thrusting the papers at the men in the room.

“It’s too late,” the man with the syringe scoffs, as he goes back to what he was doing.

“Let me make this clear,” you growl, stepping forward, staring the man down, “you remove that needle from my hybrids arm right the fuck now, or I do, and shove through your fucking throat!”

The man glares at you and throws the syringe back on the tray before pulling the needle out carelessly. Meanwhile, you keep eye contact with the jackass as you approach the table and begin to undo the restraints on the hybrids arms and legs, helping him up. You turn around and see the other 7 hybrids still held in the cage.

“Release them and then take all 8 of them to the reception area please,” you ask the receptionist.

She nods and begins undoing the restraints to the wall of the caged hybrids, ushering them out of the room when they are freed, before a greasy haired man grabs the bunny hybrid by the ears, yanking him back and wrapping his arm around the poor hybrids throat.

“Seonghwa!” Someone yells from behind you, but you aren't sure who, and you don’t care to find out at this moment, though you can guess it was the hybrid on the table since the others are muzzled. Your eyes are glued to this man and your hybrid, that he decided to put in a choke hold.

“Get them out of here,” you say to the receptionist, as calmly as possible, not allowing your anger to get the best of you.

Once you hear the door shut, you begin to speak again.

“How many hybrids have you killed since last May?” You ask, slowly walking around, making sure to keep tabs on everyone in the room while also watching that this greasy haired bastard doesn’t hurt your hybrid. “Did you know that it is illegal to euthanize a hybrid that wasn’t terminally ill for the past year? Any hybrids euthanized since then are considered a murder charge. They passed that law last May…That means, every hybrid you fuckers euthanized, will be counted as murder. So tell me…how many have you killed?”

You stand by a door on the opposite side of the room from which you came in, grabbing the handle and opening it, only to get hit with the unforgettable smell of death and decomposition. You turn on the light and see dozens upon dozens of hybrid bodies piled up in the room before pulling the door shut.

“I count over 40 bodies in there now, which means it’s at least going to be 40 counts of murder and well as 8 attempted murders, and the police should be here any minute.”

“Fuck off bitch,” the man missing a tooth exclaims, spitting towards your feet.

Just then the door opens and multiple police enter the room, demanding everyone to freeze and put their hands in the air. You walk over to Josh, who is staring down the man holding the bunny and show him the adoption papers in your hand, pointing at the bunny’s name.

“You’re Seonghwa?” The Josh asks the bunny, earning a small nod from him. “Let him go, sir, or do I need to add assault to your list of crimes?”

“Mike, just let that damn thing go,” one of the other men yell, earning a scoff from Mike, before he throws Seonghwa to the ground.

Police quickly move in and cuff Mike, before leading everyone out of the room. You nod your head at the door, hiding the decaying hybrids, alerting Josh to go look in the room. You hear him cuss before the door slams shut, and he appears in front of you.

“Unfortunately, this is still happening,” he says. “Thanks for calling. Hopefully, I wasn’t too late.”

“Not for these ones. Thanks for getting here quickly, or I may have shot that bastard,” you reply shaking his hand, “see you later Josh.”

Josh nods and walks out of the room calling in the need for evidence teams and the counties coroner’s office to remove the bodies, leaving you to look down at Seonghwa. You look back at the table that the other hybrid was strapped to and see the keys that you used to unshackle your hybrid with. Grabbing the keys, you approach the scared bunny, keeping your hands in his view the entire time.

“I’m going to take the muzzle and cuffs off, ok?” You say, getting a small nod in reply.

Carefully, you remove the muzzle from his head, reaching behind him to undo the buckles, letting it fall to the ground as you examine the bruises beginning to form from it being bound to tight. You make quick work of the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, looking at the bruises forming there, frowning at how marked up he is. When you begin to look up, you notice his torn shirt, small tears made in it so that the front could be tied close.

“Wanna get out of here, Seonghwa?” You ask standing and holding your hand out to him. He meekly nods and shakily takes your hand, standing unsteadily.

The two of you walk out to the reception area where you see your other 7 hybrids, 6 of them still chained together and muzzled, while the one who was strapped to the table was free and hugging the fox hybrid, clinging to the fox like his life depended on it. As you approach, all seven hybrids eyes turn to you, watching you carefully.

“I’m going to take the muzzles and cuffs off,” you say holding up the key and approaching the closest hybrid, who tenses when your hand gets close to him.

Seonghwa practically clings to you the entire time you are removing the restraints from your hybrids, you assume so he can make sure you don’t hurt any of them. You notice the same problems on them that you did on Seonghwa; they are all bruised from the restraints being too tight.

“See that red SUV out in the parking lot,” you say to what you assume is a squirrel hybrid, based on the ears and tail, “will all of you go wait by it? I will be right out.”

He nods, and they exit the building, looking back at you every few steps as they walk away. You turn and walk to the reception desk, seeing the secretary sitting there looking around nervously as the police remove file after file from the cabinet. Grabbing the medication on the counter and your remaining paperwork, you give her some advice.

“Try to cut a deal with the district attorney, say you will testify to anything you can if they want.”

With that, you turn and walk to your car. On the way you pull out your phone and text your friend Marco, saying ‘Meet me at my house ASAP, bring your kit.’

“I didn’t expect to adopt 8 hybrids today,” you say looking at the group huddled around your car, “this only seats 7, so you two will have to sit on someone's lap until we get home.”

They nod and climb in, the squirrel and fox being the two that sit on someone’s lap. You throw your car in drive and make your way home, silently. You’ve never been good with talking to people, you never know what to say, and honestly would much rather be alone than be around others. Now you have 8 lifetime commitments sitting in your car and it’s a little daunting.

You’re unsure what to say to them, and continue to rehearse your introduction in your head. When you were about 10 minutes away from your home, you stop at a house and park the car.

“I’ll be back, I just need to drop this off real quick,” you say, holding up the box that you picked up from the shelter.

The hybrids don’t respond, and you get out of the car, approaching the house. Knocking on the door, you wait for the older lady to answer.

“Y/n, how are you,” Mrs. Roe asks as she answers the door, “thank you so much for picking this up for me. The vet called and they said that the medicine should be back in by the time it needs refilled, so you won’t have to pick it up for me again.”

Mrs. Roe motions for you to come in, and as you enter her home, you see her hybrid laying on the couch wrapped in blankets and sleeping soundly.

“He’s having a pretty bad flare-up and it doesn’t help that the doctor didn’t inform me that his medication was on back order and wouldn’t be coming in this month, which is why I had to hurry and find a place that has the medication in stock.”

“Well, I’m always happy to help. And if you need anything to help him through this flare just ask,” you respond, setting the box on her kitchen counter, smiling as you watch her adjust the blankets surrounding her hybrid. You appreciated that she treated him as though he was no different than she was and did whatever she could to make him happy. When she walks back into the room, Mrs. Roe tries to hand you cash for the medicine.

“Oh, no, I don’t need that,” you say refusing the cash, “it wasn’t that much anyway.”

“Well, then at least take this,” she replies, turning away from you to pick up a freshly baked apple pie, which from previous experience, you know is to die for. “I have to thank you some way.”

“I will be more than happy to be paid back in food, you are an amazing cook and I will never turn down a meal.” You happily take the pie from her, noticing that the pan is still warm but not hot enough that you can’t hold it with your bare hands. “I really need to get going, but thank you for this.” You say as you begin to leave.

In the car

“What’s going to happen to us?” Mingi asks, clutching Yunho’s hand in a death grip.

“I don’t know, Mingi.” Hongjoong replies, staring at where you disappeared into the house.

“Whatever happens, we will be together,” Yeosang whispers, with a slight tremble of nervousness in his voice, his lisp becoming more pronounced due to his stress.

The car quiets once again as they watch you exit the house carrying something in your hands. You carefully open the door and sit down, realizing you have nowhere to put the pie with everyone in the car.

“I can hold it,” the fox hybrid whispers to you and you just smile handing him the food, saying a quiet thank you back to him.

Once you leave, it’s as quiet as it was before. You can feel the nervousness in the air and can’t think of what to do to break the tension, so you just stay quiet. It only takes 10 minutes to make it to your house, a giant home that looks as though it stretches as far as the eyes can see. As you pull in the driveway, you see Marco sitting on your front steps waiting for you.

“Welcome home,” you say to everyone, picking up all of the paperwork and files you got from the shelter, you turn to the fox and ask, “Can you carry that inside for me?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You walk to the front steps, letting the hybrids get out at their own pace, understanding that this is probably overwhelming to them.

“Hey Marco, thanks for coming so quickly,” you say as you approach him.

“Y/n, what is so important that you had to call me on my day off,” he grunts in reply.

“I adopted 8 hybrids, they were about to be euthanized, and they are bruised from the restraints, one has other injuries, they also look pretty malnourished. I wanted you to look them over but figured it would be too stressful to suddenly show up at a doctor’s office.”

Digging through the stacks of paper you are holding you pull out their medical records and hand them to Marco to read through. As he begins reading, you turn around and see all eight hybrids standing behind you fidgeting and looking around the front yard.

“Let’s go in,” you say, sweeping your arm forward and leading them into the house. You watch as they remove their shoes and lead them to the living room. “Marco is a doctor, he’s going to give you a checkup and treat any injuries you may have. You can sit,” you motion to the couch and chairs, “I will be in the kitchen.”

“Wait!” Seonghwa yells, stopping you, “please don’t go. Please stay.”

“Ok,” you say, smiling and nodding before sitting on a chair, “I will stay here and read while you get a checkup, if at any time you are uncomfortable, you can ask to stop.”

While Marco examined them, you open the files, they were fairly sparse with very little information. The first up was Hongjoong.

Hongjoong – Squirrel hybrid

26 years old

Found wandering the streets, emaciated, angry

Personality issues, stubborn, clumsy, not good at anything – likely unadoptable

You look up and see the squirrel hybrid, he’s blonde with grey ears and tail, and he has perfect teeth from what you’ve seen so far, pillowy lips, and a sleek nose. He stood on guard watching every movement Marco made. Looking back down you flip the page to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa – Rabbit hybrid

27 years old

Found chained to a fence, starving and emaciated, abandoned by owners for refusing to participate in an insemination party, attacked everyone that tried to touch him.

Personality issues neurotically clean – likely unadoptable

Seonghwa was also a blonde with bright white ears, his hair was short with buzzed sides underneath. He had boba like eyes and high cheekbones, with a sharp nose

Yunho – Golden Retriever Hybrid

26 years old

Rescued with Mingi, both of them were neglected by their owner and starved on the regular, both also showed signs of abuse. – co-dependent, likely unadoptable

Yunho had golden ears and the gold on his tail was matted from neglect, his hair was a dark brown and he was smiling at the others, trying to cheer them up and make them feel more comfortable.

Yeosang – Doberman Hybrid

25 years old

Found chained in a junk yard with no shelter, sick with multiple broken bones, surrendered for not being able to ‘protect anything properly.’

Personality issues, too quiet, and shy – likely unadoptable

He had a mark on the side of his face, probably a birth mark that fit him well for some reason. His hair was dark reddish brown and he had delicate features.

San – Black Jaguar hybrid

25 years old

Returned three times, the first he complained about his owner not leaving him and Wooyoung alone and trying to touch them inappropriately without their permission, the second he was adopted alone and returned because he was too clingy and the owners wanted a guard hybrid, the third time he was returned by a hybrid fighting ring for refusing to fight the other hybrids. His personality is defective and he will be euthanized.

Personality issues, too clingy, scared of everything – unadoptable

San had cat like eyes that fit the hybrid that he was, and jet black hair. He was muscular, well built, which you wondered if it was from his hybrid genetics or hard work, or a mix of both.

Mingi – Chick hybrid

25 years old

Personality issues, clumsy, scared of his own shadow, co-dependent, - likely unadoptable

Mingi had eyes that made him look like an emoji, eyes that were wide and filled with almost a childlike fear. His hair was black, and he looked to be 6 feet tall.

Wooyoung – Fox hybrid

25 years old

Surrendered with San, shelter employees were told by San that the owner tried to touch them inappropriately multiple times.

Personality issues, too loud, clingy, and rambunctious. Talks back too much, owners will not like him – likely unadoptable

He had reddish orange hair with shaggy bangs, a prominent nose, and mischievous face, though also a face that looked sweet.

Jongho – Bear hybrid

24 years old

Origins unknown, was found passed out at the front of the shelter

Personality issues, standoffish, can be aggressive, becomes lazy in winter during typical bear hibernation time – likely unadoptable

He had dark brown hair, a cute round face, and small nose.

“All done,” Marco said removing his glove and putting it in the garbage bag you gave him earlier. “We can talk outside about the results now, or you could wait until the blood tests come back.”

“I’d like to know now if everyone is ok with you telling me,” you reply to Marco before turning to the hybrids, “knowing if anything is wrong will let me know what treatments you may need.”

“It’s ok, you can know,” Hongjoong whispers for the first time to you, while the others nod.

“Right, so,” Marco starts, looking at his notes to make sure he repeats everything correctly, “Everyone is malnourished and needs more food, all also have bruises and small cuts. The only ones that have major issues are Hongjoong and San, both have bruises and contusions, possible fractured ribs. San also has a swollen knee, I think it is a soft tissue injury, just keep an eye on it for now, here are some pain meds, and if his knee is too overworked, it could give out, maybe get a brace. Then there is Seonghwa who has eczema, potentially stress induced, it’s hard to tell right now, we will have to check up later. Best treatment now would be a corticosteroid ointment or we have pills, and injectable meds. Finally, there’s Yeosang, he has a lisp and hand tremor, these could be benign or they could be something more, again, could be stress induced, just keep an eye on it and let me know if it gets worse. Now, what kind of meds do you want for Seonghwa?”

You watched the hybrids closely as the doctor mentioned each issue. They all flinched and curled in on themselves as if ashamed of the issues.

“Seonghwa,” you say getting the rabbits attention, watching him jump at the mention of his name, “what kind of treatment would you like to try?”

“I…I don’t…what?” He asks, looking at the others for help.

“This is your body, your health, you get to choose what type of treatment you would like to have, and if it works great, if it doesn’t we will move on to the next.”

“Um…oin…ointment please.”

“Ok, then we will start with that,” You confirm, looking at Marco, who nods in response.

“I will have it delivered tomorrow and let you know when the results come in,” he says, standing and walking to the door, bidding you goodbye before leaving.

You shut the door and wait in front of it, taking a deep breath before turning and walking to your hybrids.

“So…how about I show you where you will be staying?” You ask, watching them carefully. They all fidget, and Jongho slowly nods yes. “Perfect, follow me.” You say, leading them through the house, to the kitchen, “here is the kitchen, help yourself to any and all food that you want. Outside the kitchen, beyond the patio is a pool, if you’d like to swim, and this way is where your rooms are.” You say as you lead them to the steps, San following you the closest out of everyone, when his knee seemingly gives out and he falls, you were lucky that you watched him so closely because you were able to catch him before he fell. “It’s ok,” you say softly as you drag him to the step for him to sit on while he grips his knee and whimpers in pain. “I have your pain meds. Once we get you to your room, I’ll give them to you, then get you food, ok?” You ask, earning a small nod and whimper. You turn to the rest of the boys and ask, “Can one of you get an ice pack from the freezer and another help me carry him up the stairs?”

Yeosang races off to the kitchen while both Yunho and Mingi step forward to help carry San up the stairs. You walk behind them with your arms out, ready to brace them if they begin to fall, knowing that you will be going down with them if they fall. Once you reach the top of the stairs, Yeosang comes sprinting up the stairs with an ice-pack, and you usher everyone to the room across from the stairs.

“You can stay in this room,” you say, directing San to a bed, lifting his leg, and propping it up on a pillow before getting a towel to roll the ice pack in, then placing it over his knee. “I am in the room across the hall, diagonal to this. All of you can have your own room, and you get to choose any room you want. San, you don’t have to stay in this room if you don’t want to, you can look at the others, I just ask that you wait a day for your knee to recover before you start looking.” You pull out a pill and put it in his hand before getting a glass of water from the bathroom. “All of you are welcome to bathe, in hot water, if you’d like, and I will try to get some clean clothes for you. Tomorrow, or later, we can go clothes shopping and get you your necessary supplies. I’ll go get you some rice, then cook everyone dinner, ok.”

You stand and walk to the door before turning around.

“I would like all of you to choose your own room, everyone deserves to have their own space. However, if you want to sleepover in someone else’s room, that is fine with me, I don’t care, this is your home as well, and I want all of you to be comfortable, I will be making bulgogi, broccoli, and rice tonight.” With that you walk out and go to the kitchen to cook.

Hybrids

Once you walked out of the room, the hybrids turned to each other, Wooyoung scrambling onto the bed to cuddle with San, while the others sit down around him, Seonghwa crawling to San’s other side.

“She seems nice,” Seonghwa whispers, breaking the silence.

“What if she’s just acting that way and will do something later,” Mingi also whispers, while tugging on his hair, close to having a panic attack.

“Then we’ll deal with that later,” San replies, beginning to fade away, the stress, and pain meds making him tired. “We aren’t dead, she saved us, I’m scared, but I also, don’t want to ruin a potentially good thing.”

Before anyone can respond a knock comes from the door, the hybrids just stare but it doesn’t open, finally Yunho speaks up.

“Co-come in,” he says, trying to steady his voice.

The door opens and what looks like a chair and pile of clothes with legs walks in, setting everything down in the living room.

“Ok, so here are some clothes from my closet, Mingi and Yunho, I have oversized shirts that should fit, but my pants will be capris on you. Each bathroom has shampoo, conditioner, soaps, and towels, as well as toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, and hair brushes. San, here is a chair that can be set in your shower so you don’t have to stand on that leg. Also, there are scrubbies for your body in each bathroom. Oh, about dinner, I don’t have regular beef for the bulgogi, so it will be ground beef bulgogi and should be ready in about 45 minutes. So, why don’t you clean up and I can bring it up here, or we can work to carry San downstairs, I should have some crutches around here somewhere.” As you begin to leave, you stop again and turn back to them, “My name is Y/N, I adopted you, and I’m sure you don’t trust me yet, seeing what was about to happen and reading your files, I can only begin to imagine why you wouldn’t trust me. However, you are safe here, I will never knowingly hurt you, I swear I will protect you, and I hope, that one day, you will come to understand that I truly mean that…Ok, I will get going.”

With that, you walk out, leaving the clothes and everything in their room and hybrids stunned in silence behind you.

“Let’s, uh, let’s clean up,” Hongjoong says, standing and looking through the clothes on the chair, giving the biggest ones to Yunho and Mingi, while the others look through what’s on the pile. Suddenly, Seonghwa gasps as he reaches for a shirt, snatching it quickly and pulling something from the back of it, which seems to be stuck by static.

“Do you think she’d let me wear this?” He asks, holding up a feminine shirt, hope glimmering in his eyes with excitement at the prospect.

“Yes,” Jongho states, watching the elder hybrid. “I…I don’t trust her fully, that will…take time. But I believed her when she said she wouldn’t hurt us…I…believe her.” He finishes, blushing as everyone stares at him, knowing the bear hybrid is least likely to believe or trust anyone. “I’m going to go find a room and shower.” He yells as he runs out of the room, face bright red.

“I will set the chair in the shower,” Seonghwa says, as he smiles, watching where the bear ran out of the room. He jumps up and takes the chair, placing it in a giant shower stall before looking around and playing with the dual showerheads. Walking back into the room, he clears his throat. “I’m not shy, I know some of you are, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving San alone to shower. The shower can fit all of us and has two showerheads.” He begins before turning to San, “I would like to help you, I don’t even have to face you, I just need to know that you won’t fall, that you will be ok, th-“

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong interrupts.

“No, he’s my baby, they are all my responsibility and I failed each of them now San is hurt and I can’t let him be alone,” Seonghwa says almost panicking.

“Hyung,” San begins to say.

“What if you fall, whatifyouslipandbreakthroughtheglassandbleedoutinthebathroom, what if-“

“HYUNG,” Yeosang yells holding Seonghwa’s face in his hands as he tries to calm the older down.

“I should have protected all of you, I’m the oldest,” Seonghwa cries out, falling to his knees, hugging himself.

“You did protect us, remember how you sacrificed yourself last night to save Joongie?” Yeosang asks, rocking Seonghwa side to side, “You saved us, you always saved us.”

“You can help me hyung,” San says, “I’m really tired and don’t want to be alone, I would be happy if you help me.”

Seonghwa looks over at San and nods, drying his eyes as he sniffles and tries to compose himself. Before he can say anything, there is a knock on the door, the hybrids saying come in at the same time. You pop your head in seeing Seonghwa and Yeosang on the floor and more than one hybrid crying.

“Is everything ok?” You ask watching their reactions.

“Yes,” Yunho replies, “we were just talking.”

“Ok…if you need anything just ask,” You say, nodding as you shut the door again, “oh, I brought San my old crutches to help with his knee…I’ll just…put them here.”

You place the crutches down then walk out again, not wanting to push the hybrids into talking or making them uncomfortable.

After a few moments, each hybrid stands up, taking their clothes to the shower to clean up, while Seonghwa helps a sleepy San into his shower, standing behind him with his back turned, while both relish the feeling of hot water and soap to scrub their bodies. Feeling the grime and oil come out of their hair as they clean. What feels like hours, but is really only 15 minutes, both hybrids are drying off and applying lotion to their skin before brushing their teeth and getting dressed, after a half an hour, they enter San’s bedroom to find 8 dinner trays, with complete meals covered in the room, all with names on each tray. San hobbles over to one chair and tray and lifts the lid, salivating at the smell of food, looking at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, begging to let him start eating. Seonghwa chuckles and nods, watching San devour his food, like he’s never eaten before. Soon, the others come trickle in, their stomachs growling as each goes to their trays. All of them notice that each tray has appropriate food based on their animal needs, San has the most protein, while Seonghwa has the most veggies. Meanwhile, Jongho and Hongjoong have a large side of berries and nuts.

Once everyone finishes, they are unable to keep their eyes open, all crawling into San’s bed and configuring themselves to all fit together in the king sized bed, passing out as soon as their eyes shut.

You waited two hours before heading upstairs, you knock quietly on the door, and open it after no answer, seeing all the hybrids asleep in the room makes you smile as you take multiple trips removing their food trays. Once the trays were cleaned and put away, you head to bed, exhaling as your head hits the pillow and you your eyes shut within seconds.

A few hours later, your eyes snap open, the feeling of being watched creeping over you. As fast as you can you jump up and spin around, seeing San standing there on his crutches, looking like he doesn’t know if he should run or stay.

“San,” you ask, rubbing your eyes, relaxing your posture, “is everything ok?”

“Um…yes,” he replies, “I…um…can I…may I…can I sleep with you tonight?” he quickly says, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to see your face.

“Of course,” you state, moving over and patting the bed next to you, watching as he stares in awe then hobbles over to share your sleep space.

He snuggles in carefully, a smile on his face, before he falls back asleep. You watch him for a minute then drift off as well. Maybe 8 hybrids won’t be so bad.

Next Chapter

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #hybrid au #hybrid! ateez #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #hybrid ateez

284 notes · View notes