#i’m so sad that the claws aren’t solid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jayeray-hq · 3 years ago

Text

Twin Kittens (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my part for the Paws and Claws Collab that was with @katslutski The theme of the collab was hybrids (puppy/kitty/bunny etc) so if you’re interested check it out!

Unfortunately as usual I got excessively wordy, so this is going to be split into three parts. This part alone is about 20K words and we're only about a third of the way through! so it definitely had to be split up.

If you like this feel free to check out my Atsumu or my Osamu masterlists!

While there is no smut in this part there will be in the future thus this story is 18+ minors DNI please!

TW: Previous mentions of past abuse, gaslighting, verbal, death threats, hybrids have been treated like slaves before

This story is Fem Reader x Atsumu x Osamu but there will be no actual incest. While there will be a threesome at the end the boys won't ever touch one another sexually.

“Are you alright?” your neighbor Ojirou asked, a concerned look on his face as he watched you listlessly stir your drink with the straw, playing with the melting ice in the glass.

The two of you were actually good friends, having lived peacefully side by side for over five years now. You’d met on the very first day when you moved in, you’d been struggling to open the door with a large box in your arms and he’d rushed to the rescue. He and his hybrids diligent Kita, the blue merle border collie, and sly, sleek Suna the Siamese cat, had all pitched in to help you get moved in and settled. You’d been good friends with all three of them ever since.

It was his turn to host your traditional Friday night dinner, so you’d gone over to his apartment determined to enjoy yourself. However, something must’ve given away the rough day you’d had, because all three of them had been casting you concerned looks all night and trading glances when they thought you couldn’t see.

It was apparently Aran’s job to confront you about it, though both hybrids were looking at you expectantly. Well, Kita was looking at you expectantly, Suna was pretending not to pay attention, his phone in his hands, but you could see him watching out of the corner of his eye.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” you asked determined to at least give it a try.

The stern look you got from Kita and the sympathetic smile from Ojiro told you how ultimately fruitless the effort had been, so you caved in with a sigh, pushing your glass away so you could slump face down on the table burying your head in your arms. You’d tell them, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be necessarily looking them in the eye when you did.

“You know how I went to that thing with some of my girl friends today?” you asked tiredly.

There were acknowledging hums all around even from Suna who you saw from the corner of your eye was no longer pretending to look at his phone and instead watching you like some rare breed of animal in a zoo doing something particularly fascinating.

“Well it was fun, great even,” you told them with a small quirk of your lips, “Right up until we started talking about significant others. Apparently two of them are getting married soon, one has a baby on the way, and the rest are in steady loving relationships or have openly declared they aren’t interested in that kind of thing. So guess who was the only sad single there?”

“Ah,” Ojirou acknowledged a well of sympathy in his voice.

“And of course once they found out, they were like ‘oh I think my husband has a brother’ or ‘oh I have this great friend from work you’d just love,” you ranted, earning a quiet snicker from Suna, which prompted you to lift your head up so you could dig back at the cat hybrid who looked to be having far too much fun at your expense.

“They even asked me why I didn’t date my nice neighbor, the one I’m always hanging out with,” you added on ruthlessly, ignoring Ojirou’s shocked sputters, “But I told them he was in a committed relationship. They were skeptical at first, but then I told them that I was sure because someone is extremely loud, enough that I’m forced to use headphones to drown out the yowling.”

Poor Ojirou was coughing, clearly dying of embarrassment, and even Kita had the faintest red tinge to his cheeks. Unfortunately, Suna, unbothered as ever, simply smirked at you, which confirmed some of your suspicions that he’d been doing it on purpose, the brat.

Heaving another forlorn sigh you decided to give up and give poor Ojirou a break, making a mental note to make it up to him somehow. The poor guy really didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and Suna.

“So, I spent the time being relentlessly hounded until it was time to leave,” you continued on, pretending not to notice Kita patting Ojirou’s back sympathetically, “I tried to explain to them that I just don’t have the time and energy it takes to go out and start dating people, that work was taking up too much of my time, but they weren’t having any of it.”

“It sounds like a rough time,” Ojirou told you, with genuine sympathy, the man too kind even after you’d embarrassed the hell out of him, “like when I go home and baa-chan asks when I’m going to settle down and get married.”

Suna let out an involuntary hiss at that, and Kita’s shoulders stiffened up a bit. Even though hybrid-human relationships were accepted and even almost expected between them and their owners these days, it didn’t mean that everyone accepted them as ‘true’ relationships. There were a good chunk of people, mostly conservatives and the older generation who believed that human/human relationships were the only valid ones.

This was no doubt because of the fact that most hybrid children, once they hit eighteen chose to go to hybrid adoption centers rather than staying with their parents. This was partly because it was one of the few good ways to get out from under your parents roof.

Hybrid rights had come a long way from when they’d first been implemented a few decades ago, back when they were considered something of a toy and a pet, not better than a slave. However, they technically still required a human ‘owner’ to do things like go to school, find a job, or even be out in public unsupervised.

There were people working to change that of course, and you’d donated heavily to the cause and actively supported it, but change was slow going, so for now it was what it was. It didn’t help that there were a good deal of people around like Ojirou’s grandma who viewed hybrids as less than human, and would probably never acknowledge his relationship or any children they had, especially if the children were hybrids too.

It was something you’d listened to him vent about more than once, happy to lend him a listening ear, especially since he’d done the same for you plenty of times over the years.

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” you admitted, giving him your own sympathetic smile, “but it was rather depressing.”

“Do ya even want a companion like that?” Kita asked her reasonably, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya talk about wantin’ a relationship other than rantin’ about a few failed dates here and there. If ya don’t I don’t see why it should be a problem, and not any of their business either.”

“Except I think I kind of do,” you admitted with a grimace, to the practical dog-hybrid who always gave solid, dependable advice, “I never planned to spend the rest of my life alone you know? I just always put my career first figuring relationships could come later, when I had more time, but now I’m starting to wonder if later will ever come.”

“And ya don’t want to date?” Kita asked with a slight frown, “I’m sure ya could make time if ya really wanted to, we could change our dinners around fer a while maybe?”

“No way,” you protested immediately, “Dinners with you guys are my only bastion of sanity. Plus I’m not even sure I want to go out and meet people, frankly at this point I’m not even sure I know how. It just… gets a little lonely coming home to an empty apartment sometimes you know?”

“So why don’t you get a hybrid?” Ojirou asked, his tone eminently reasonable despite the shock of what he’d said.

“A hybrid?” you repeated a little dumbfounded, “Me?!”

“Well why not?” he defended, stroking his recently grown goatee with his thumb and forefinger, “You’re wealthy enough to afford one, it would solve your companionship issue, and you wouldn’t have to date anyone, just go to a hybrid adoption center and find someone you’re compatible with.”

When he put it like that it did sound reasonable, even if it wasn’t an idea that had ever occurred to you. A lot of your friends, not just Ojirou, had hybrid companions, one of the weddings discussed earlier that day was even to a hybrid even if it wouldn’t be official until they could get proper legislature passed. You just had never really considered it an option for yourself.

“Do you think I could?” you asked with a light frown, turning the idea over in your mind, the question directed more at Kita than anyone else, both because he was always the most reasonable of the three and because as a hybrid you thought he’d probably be more qualified to answer whether you were a fit ‘owner’.

However to your surprise it wasn’t Kita, but Suna who answered first informing you in his normal lazy drawl, “You’d do well with a hybrid I think, probably something lower energy, like a cat, and we’re pretty self-sufficient as you know, so you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving it home alone like you would a pet.”

“He’s right,” Kita agreed, after a thoughtful pause, “Personally I believe ya would do well with a hybrid, ya get along with us well enough. Plus if yer worried we can help ya look after them. Suna needs a playmate anyway, he’s been getting’ up ta too much mischief lately when Aran and I ain’t here.”

Suna didn’t even bother to protest, just shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. Figuring you might as well take advantage of the situation you asked a few more questions, all of which were answered by your friends who all had a lot of input on what kind of hybrid you should get.

You left that night with your head stuffed full of information, after telling them you needed time to think it over. Getting a hybrid was a lifechanging thing and you didn’t want to run off half-cocked. It had gotten you an approving nod from Kita and a supportive pat on the shoulder from Ojirou. Suna had simply given you a knowing smirk, as if the smug cat hybrid already knew exactly what you were going to do as you walked out the door.

You stared up at the hybrid adoption center, not quite sure how you’d ended up here. For the last week or so, ever since Ojirou had brought it up you’d had hybrids on the brain. You’d found your eyes wandering to look at them when they passed you in the street and idly daydreaming in your down time what it might be like to have one waiting when you came home and fantasizing about what kind you might get.

Normally you were very focused and productive at work, but somehow, you’d found yourself scrolling through different sites, putting in research into what kind of facility you should visit and what you’d need to do. It had gotten bad enough that some of your coworkers had noticed your distraction, which was the final nail in the coffin.

You’d already known which center Ojirou had used to choose Kita and Suna, and so at the end of a particularly long day, quietly dreading heading home to your empty apartment you’d instead found yourself driving over to the center.

It was on the smaller side when it came to hybrid adoption centers, privately run and owned by Azumane Industries, a fashion line that created clothes that specifically catered to hybrids. Ojirou had, had nothing but good things to say, and so gathering your courage you left your car to head resolutely inside.

The lobby was rather quiet, only one other patron and two people manning the desks, both of whom looked up when you entered. You were a bit surprised to see the only two workers in sight were hybrids, one a silver cat of some type and the other clearly a German shepherd.

In hindsight it made a lot of sense to have hybrids be in charge of the adoption of other hybrids as they would likely know best how to match people up. However, you rarely saw that kind of practicality when it came to hybrids especially because you knew there was a lot of prejudice out there.

You offered the cat a hesitant smile, stepping up to the desk, the smile he gave back one that was both kind and welcoming as he introduced, “Welcome to Azumane Industries Hybrid Adoption Center. My name is Sugawara, how can I help you today?”

“I’m looking to adopt,” you admitted, unsure what else to say you tacked on, “My friend recommended this place to me, so here I am.”

“Well, we’ll take good care of you,” he assured you calmly, “Usually we do this by appointment, but you’re lucky. It’s a slow day and we have an opening, so I’d be happy to start the process with you if you’re willing.”

“Great,” you told him with a quiet sigh of relief, glad that he could fit you in. Honestly you should’ve known that a place like this would require a call ahead at least. It would’ve served you right for being so impulsive if they hadn’t been able to squeeze you in, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Sugawara offered you a sly grin, one that reminded you of Suna as he promptly pushed a large stack of paperwork in your direction and handed you a pen. You grimaced at the sight of it but set to work, quietly filling out the forms one by one and handing each of them to Sugawara after so he could log them into his computer.

The forms reminded you of a loan or job application in a lot of ways, asking after your health, your income, your living situation, if you had a criminal record, any previous experience with hybrids etc. It took you quite a while to fill them all out, and by the end of it your wrist was sore and you’d signed your name more times than you cared to remember. However, since Sugawara had been filling in as you went you didn’t have to wait long to move on to the next step.

“Congratulations,” he told you with an amused smile, watching as you massaged your wrist, “You’ve been approved to adopt from our center, which means we now get to the fun part.”

“Fun part?” you questioned a little warily, having learned from Suna that a cat hybrid smiling at you didn’t necessarily mean good things for your sanity.

“Tell me about what kind of hybrid you’d like,” he told you leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk as he watched you intently, “Do you have any preferences? I’ve read all your information as we’ve gone along so I have some ideas, but I’d like to hear from you what you think you want.”

“I’m not sure where to start,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s start with species, that’s always good and will narrow things down a bit.”

“I know I want a cat or dog hybrid,” you told him immediately glad to have some kind of answer for him, “Rabbit and rodent hybrids have heats and ruts too often for me to handle given how busy work keeps me.”

Heats and ruts were one of the big things that separated hybrids from humans and were part of the reason it was hard for them to find and hold down jobs. There were two kinds of hybrid within each species, alphas and omegas.

Alphas were usually more aggressive, stubborn, and willful. You needed to have a more dominant personality to have an alpha hybrid otherwise they’d walk all over you. Alphas also had a period called a rut, where their hormones skyrocketed and made them want to breed with anything and everything. It was a really uncomfortable time for them, and made them even more aggressive.

Omegas were generally more passive, quiet and compliant. They tended to be favored over Alpha hybrids as companions because of their more docile nature. They had periods called heats, which were similar to an Alphas rut, the only difference being they wanted to be bred rather than to breed. It made them needy and clingy the entire time.

Both heats and ruts lasted anywhere from a couple of days to a week depending on the species of hybrid. Dogs and cats had week long heats, but they only happened two to three times a year, whereas rabbit and rodent hybrids only lasted a few days, but happened every week and a half to two weeks.

You knew it wasn’t necessarily expected for a hybrid owner to stay home when their hybrid was in heat or rut, but you also knew it was those times that hybrids tended to be more reckless. Most of the research you did advised that you should if you could, even if you weren’t the one who was going to be sexually intimate with your hybrid. There were of course hybrid heat centers, where hybrids could go to find willing partners and get their needs taken care of, but you’d heard horror stories about places like that and didn’t want to use one unless you absolutely had to.

“There are medications to manage heats and ruts,” Sugawara pointed out reasonably, a slight frown on his face.

“I know,” you agreed, “But I did some research and it looks like most hybrids don’t like to take them because they have nasty side effects, like potential infertility, mood drops, and weight gain. If there’s a rodent or rabbit hybrid that wants to voluntarily take the medication then that could be fine, but I’ve heard only a few ever want to risk it.”

Sugawara looked surprised for a moment, then slowly nodded, “It’s good you’ve looked into things, and it’s nice to see someone who’s come prepared. I’ve heard a bit of that too, so no rabbits or rodents. Do you have any preference Alpha versus Omega?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a helpless shrug, feeling a little bad for not being able to narrow down the criteria for him, “I’m pretty open so long as they can fit into my lifestyle, are a little more independent, and think they’ll get along with me.”

“Well you’ll at least have lots of options,” Sugwara assured you, with a smile that told you he wasn’t off put by the fact that you didn’t know exactly what you wanted either, “Does that mean you don’t have a preference for breed either?”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a firm nod, “I just want someone who’s going to be compatible with me, everything else is secondary.”

“Okay,” he told you cheerfully, “I’m sure we can do that! Though it might take us a little bit to narrow things down. Since you aren’t picky you might as well come with me to start looking. Daichi can you manage the desk on your own?”

“Sure,” the german shepherd hybrid agreed, from where he’d been sitting quietly, keeping watch over the two of you and typing away on his computer, since there was literally no one else in the lobby, “Just keep a radio on you so I can call you back up here if it gets busy Suga.”

Your soon to be guide agreed with a smile, plucking one of the aforementioned radios up and attaching it to his belt, before standing up from the desk. He stretched in a very feline manner, then ushered you towards a door that led toward the back of the building, tail swishing peacefully behind him.

“Each species of hybrid has its own floor,” Sugawara explained as he led you through the hall, “Bunnies are on the top floor, rodents underneath them, cats on the second floor and dogs here on the first. Each floor has four separate wings, separated into categories depending on whether the hybrid in question is male or female, alpha or omega. These wings have private rooms in them and are connected by a shared space.”

“We’ll be going into the shared space,” he explained pausing outside one of the doors, “It’s where hybrids come both to hang out, and to meet people. If a hybrid isn’t interested in being adopted by a specific human they’ll simply return to their rooms until the human leaves. This way we ensure that no one gets coerced into adoption. We also keep a close eye on things with security cameras in the shared space, for both the safety of humans and hybrids. Before we enter the room, I need you to give me verbal consent to allow yourself to be filmed.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, more than a bit impressed with how thorough and organized the whole thing was, along with the lengths they went to, to ensure everyone’s comfort.

“Alright then, let’s introduce you to the dogs,” he teased, with a confident smile.

The minute the door opened, almost every head turned in your direction, making you feel a bit awkward and unsure. Some of the hybrids were in their human forms, ears and tails the only hint of their non-human status, while others were lounging around in their secondary animal form.

The animal form of a hybrid was indistinguishable from a normal animal of the same breed. The only thing that might give it away was the high level of intelligence. Your research told you that hybrids tended to act more on their instincts when in animal form, which could be both a good thing and a bad thing.

Case in point, the minute you entered with Sugawara one enormous grey and white speckled dog came bounding over barking his head off. He was absolutely huge, and only the madly wagging tail kept you from cringing back as he charged over, his barking immediately setting off a few of the others.

You got the wind knocked out of you a bit as he collided with you, though thankfully the door was behind you, and kept you from being knocked off your feet as he placed enormous paws on your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and sniffing enthusiastically. You froze, unsure exactly what to do in this situation, and more than a bit uncomfortable.

Luckily Sugawara immediately came to your rescue, shoving the big dog off as he scolded, “Bokuto! What have I told you about jumping up on our guests!”

The big dog immediately began to whine, tail tucked between his legs, and you wanted to feel bad for him, except you were still a bit unnerved.

“Sorry about him,” Sugawara apologized with a sigh, “He’s harmless I promise, just incredibly enthusiastic about new people.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hesitantly reaching out to Bokuto palms first to see if he might be interested, only to have him turn away. Unsure what to do you glanced at Sugawara, whose tail was swishing in clear agitation.

“Ignore him,” the silver haired cat hybrid told you, “He’s just sulking because he got scolded. In fact, better yet ignore all of them, since they can’t stop being rude and barking.”

This last bit, along with the fierce glare that accompanied it was leveled at the room in general, earning some sheepish looks from a couple of the dog hybrids who were in human form, and managing to quiet several of the barking ones who were in animal form.

“Come on,” he urged with one last flick of his tail, “I should’ve started you with the cats anyway. You seem like a cat person to me, and I assure you they’ll have much better manners. If you don’t find what you’re looking for there, we’ll come back, but let’s explore the cat option first and give them time to recall their manners.”

You allowed him to usher you out of the room and toward the elevator, trusting his judgment. It was funny that he’d said you were a cat person, as he was actually the third cat hybrid to have told you so, Suna being one and the Siamese hybrid of one of your coworkers being the other.

It took you less than a minute to get up to the next floor, and when Sugawara ushered you into the cat hybrid room you could immediately feel the difference. There was no noise for one, just a bunch of curious eyes turned in your direction, but it didn’t feel hostile at all.

Sugawara quickly introduced you to the cat hybrids, telling them you’d come to adopt and had ‘just been slobbered all over by the dog hybrids’ so if they could all ‘mind their manners’ that would be great. You were a little amused at the exasperated hybrid’s antics, and you weren’t the only one, if the quiet snickering from a hybrid with particularly messy hair was any indication. However you were also grateful to him for being so diligent as he introduced you to everyone.

Slowly, several cat hybrids meandered up to you, some in human form, some in cat form, though some also stayed in place clearly observing everything. You chatted lightly with the ones in human form, while letting the ones in cat form do as they pleased, answering their questions and asking a few of your own.

It was a much more relaxed experience, something you were infinitely grateful for after the sudden chaos of the dog hybrid room, and you had to wonder if the cat hybrids who’d pegged you as a cat person hadn’t been right after all. You were in the middle of quietly talking to a lovely female alpha hybrid named Shimizu when Sugawara’s radio blared to life. Apparently, the front had gotten rather busy and Daichi desperately needed his help.

“Will you be alright if I leave you here?” Sugawara asked you seriously, “This shouldn’t take too long, and Shimizu is more than capable of looking after you.”

“Sure,” you agreed, after a quick glance at the hybrid in question, who gave an acknowledging nod of her head, “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he agreed with a bright grin, before rounding on the rest of the room, “And all the rest of you better behave or I’ll hear why!”

With one last warning glare around the room he turned on his heel and left, leaving you in Shimizu’s capable hands. The two of you continued to talk amiably as several cat hybrids came by in one form or another to sniff at you or listen in on the conversation from nearby. A number of them only came over for a few minutes, lingered a bit and then left, spreading back out to the room or going into the hallways that led to their private rooms, however a good chunk of them stayed nearby as well.

Chatting lightly with Shimizu and a few of the others you found you really liked the poised and graceful cat hybrid and might’ve looked into adopting her. Unfortunately, Shimizu quickly made it clear that she had some plans of her own, that included getting herself and her young and adorable munchkin kitten hybrid Yachi adopted by one of their frequent visitors.

She was however, more than happy to give her own opinion on some of the other hybrids around, most of whom seemed to respect both her and her opinion a lot. You were listening to Shimizu tell you a bit more about Yachi, who was watching from a safe distance, clearly anxious, but also unwilling to leave, when you felt something paw at your leg.

A quick glance down revealed a long haired fluffy looking cat, in shades of silver and white who was staring up at you expectantly. None of the other cat hybrids had actually dared to touch you, a few coming close, but none making actual moves to greet you.

A little intrigued you crouched down so you’d be closer to his eye level, and extended your hands for him the same way you did for Suna when he was in his cat form, giving him a choice about whether he wanted to be touched or not. The cat hybrid eyed your hands thoughtfully for a minute, before sauntering within reach, nudging his head against your palm.

Taking your cue you allowed yourself to pet him, gently rubbing at his silky ears and enjoying the feeling of his thick, plush coat. His back arched pressing closer into your hands, eyelids lowering in contentment as you carefully massaged your fingers through his fur in a way you knew Suna enjoyed.

A rumbling purr escaped his throat and you couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed your lips at the sound as he pressed his way closer to your torso, entering the circle of your arms and keeping himself there. You were caught up in petting him for a moment and didn’t immediately notice, but after a few seconds you realized the room had gotten very quiet.

It had been quiet before, as cat hybrids didn’t make a lot of noise in general, but now it was almost deathly still outside the small purring sounds from the cat under your hands. You immediately froze and glanced up at Kiyoko who was watching the two of you with wide eyes.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, more than a bit concerned.

“You pet him,” Shimizu murmured, more to herself than to you.

“Should I not have?” you asked worriedly, moving to pull your hands away, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I pet my neighbor’s cat hybrid all the time when he’s in the mood for it.”

The cat hybrid under your hands made a noise of protest as you pulled your hands away, giving Shimizu what you assumed to be a rather annoyed look based on her baffled and slightly contrite expression.

“No,” she assured you quickly, “We like to be pet, physical affection is important to hybrids. It’s just that particular one doesn’t usually allow anyone to touch him.”

“Do you mind?” you asked the hybrid in question, holding out your hands again.

He gave an agreeing mew and pressed his head to your palm, which you assumed meant you could resume petting. The fur under your fingers was clearly well taken care of, soft and plush and you truly wouldn’t have minded continuing to pet him until he got sick of you.

However, you were interrupted by a furious yowling sound that immediately made you jump, your head snapping up to search for the source of the noise. It turned out to be another long haired fluffy cat, this one in shades of gold and white who came charging out of the halls and ran straight at you.

You didn’t even have a second to react as the cat that had been in your arms darted around to hide behind you. Not that it stopped the oncoming golden one who didn’t even bother to go around and instead went right over you, claws digging into your arm as he attempted to get at the silver one.

You let out a yelp of surprise and pain, as he launched himself off your shoulder at the silver cat behind you who immediately darted out of reach, running around you in dizzying circles with the golden one fast on his heels both of them yowling, hissing and spitting, clearly having some kind of argument.

It only took a moment for you to regain your bearings and decide you needed to put an end to whatever this was, since poor Shimizu didn’t look at all ready to step in, an utterly appalled look on her face. Luckily you had quick reflexes and managed to snag both cats around the middle and stand up quickly, the abrupt shift immediately silencing both, no doubt shocked by your interruption.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” you scolded firmly, as you hefted the two carefully, keeping them firmly separated. They were a bit heavier than they looked but certainly not too much for you to keep aloft.

“You,” you scolded the golden one, gently shaking him, who had turned to stare up at you with wide copper colored eyes, “I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I’m sure whatever it was could’ve been resolved without the ruckus. I also don’t appreciate being climbed on or used as a spring board.

“And you,” you gently shook the silver one in turn, who looked equally surprised to be addressed, “I’m not sure if he deserved whatever you did or not, but you shouldn’t have been causing a ruckus either, and I don’t appreciate you using me as a shield.”

“From what I understand, in order to be here you have to be considered adults,” you continued firmly, “So I suggest you act like it, and figure this out between yourselves without dragging innocent bystanders into your mess!”

With that you loosened your grip, fully expecting both of them to jump to the floor. However, both continued to simply hang limply in your grasp, watching you with curious eyes that you realized rather abruptly were almost completely identical.

“Siblings huh?” you asked no one in particular, nodding to yourself, “I suppose that explains a lot.”

“Are you alright?” Shimizu asked you worriedly, “You’re bleeding.”

A quick glance at your arm showed you were indeed bleeding, small pinpricks of blood welling up from where the golden cat had dug his claws into you. It stung a bit, but you didn’t think it was too bad.

“I’m alright,” you assured her, kneeling down and releasing both cats, since they seemed disinclined to continue fighting, and you wanted your hands free, “Though I’d appreciate some disinfectant and some band aids if you’ve got them.”

“Of course,” Shimizu assured you with a quick nod, “Just let me get them and I’ll be right back.”

The elegant hybrid moved with enviable grace and speed as she exited the room, leaving you alone. A quick look around the room showed that almost every eye was now on you, and you heaved a sigh, not exactly pleased to be the center of attention, especially since none of them did anything but stare, none of them bothering to approach, just look.

You glanced down in surprise when you felt something touching your leg, only to find the golden cat headbutting your shin, rubbing his face against your calf affectionately as he twined his way through your legs.

“Does that mean you’re sorry,” you asked, crouching back down and offering your hands to the pretty, fluffy cat.

He immediately rubbed his face against your hands too, which you took as permission to continue your petting, rubbing your hand affectionately over his head and earning a happy purr from the feline who arched happily into your hands.

You were distracted from your petting by a paw, which came to rest on one of your wrists, the silver cat watching with obvious envy in his pretty copper colored eyes. Luckily for both of you, you had two hands, and you reached out to pet him too after assuring it was okay. The golden cat clearly wasn’t too happy about his brother’s presence, but didn’t kick up a fuss, instead pressing himself closer and becoming more insistent as he purred ever louder. The silver cat didn’t seemed to pay him any attention though, simply soaking up your attention and affection.

“Here,” Shimizu offered as she came back, first aid kit in hand, “Do you need any help getting bandaged up?”

You were about to accept her offer, as attempting to bandage your dominant arm was always a pain, when you felt something strange under your hand. You turned your attention back to the cat hybrids you’d been petting just in time to see the silver one shift, form becoming large, limbs extending, body lengthening and bulking up until he stood in front of you in human form.

You blinked, utterly startled as you stared up at him, taking in his appearance. He was incredibly handsome in his human form, with the same silvery grey hair as his fur in cat form in an undercut and bright bronze eyes that peered out at you from under heavy lids. He had a strong, slightly square jaw and thick eyebrows, with blunt cheekbones and cupids bow lips.

He was also surprisingly big, at least six feet tall, and maybe a bit more than that, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest, showing off the definition of his muscles. To top it all off he had two cat ears poking out from his silvery hair and a fluffy tail that was slowly waving back and forth as he looked at you.

“I’ll do it,” he told the two of you, his voice pleasant and lightly accented, his hand held out to Kiyoko gesturing for her to pass him the first aid kit, “I’ll bandage ya up. It’s only fair since the moron who scratched ya is too busy bein’ pampered.”

That earned a hiss from the golden cat, who immediately began to shift under your hands. You watched in surprise and no small amount of awe as he turned into a carbon copy of the other man who’d appeared, only with golden hair, ears and tail. You’d realized the two were related, but you hadn’t realized they were identical twins. Twins were really rare for hybrids, even more rare than human twins. As such they were usually snapped up for adoption right away, so it was rare to see them in any sort of center.

“If ya hadn’t stolen my puddin’ I wouldn’t have chased ya and scratched her in the first place,” the golden cat hybrid hissed at his brother.

“Well if ya hadn’t eaten my onigiri, maybe I wouldn’t have had to eat yer puddin’” the silver haired one retorted, his tone and expression both flatter compared to his sibling who looked like he might lunge at his twin at any moment.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a literal cat fight you held your own hand out to Kiyoko, who gratefully placed the first aid kit in your hands, then plopped down to sit cross legged on the floor. Your sudden movement startled both cat hybrids who turned to look at you, but you pointedly ignored them as you worked on opening the kit, and pulling out the things you’d need.

“Here I got it,” the golden haired one told you, plopping down beside you, “That scrub ain’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about this. I scratched ya, and I should fix ya.”

You gratefully held your arm out to him, and watched as he gently dabbed the scratches with disinfectant, grimacing slightly at the sting. You were distracted enough by his careful movements that you almost didn’t notice the other twin, right up until he gently smeared Neosporin over the scratches, placing small bandages over the deeper punctures.

“Thank you,” you told them both when they finished, automatically reaching up to pet their heads, but then pausing as you realized the gesture might not be as welcome in their human form.

Your worries were quickly allayed through as the golden one practically fell into your palm, soft, happy purring noises leaving his mouth as you gently scratched the base of his ears. His twin however didn’t immediately move for you, and you turned concerned eyes on him, worried he might be offended. The minute he saw you looking though he immediately leaned forward, pressing his head to your palm, his own soft purrs leaving his throat as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I’m back,” a familiar voice sang, the door to the room sliding open to reveal Sugawara, with a cheerful grin on his face, a grin that was immediately replaced by wide eyed shock as he saw you and the two hybrids who were nearly in your lap with how close they were pressing towards you.

However, shock melted into fury as his eyes saw the open first aid kit and the bandages on your arm, his words nearly a hiss as he demanded, “What happened?!”

Both hybrids immediately stiffened under your hands, drawing closer to you, either looking to protect you or looking for protection you weren’t sure. Either way you allowed it, rubbing your hands over the backs of their necks in a way that always seemed to sooth Suna as you answered, “We just had a bit of a mishap is all, but we’ve cleared it up.”

“Are you sure?” Sugawara demanded anxiously, “We were told when they were brought in that they’d had a bit of trouble before, but they never mentioned that they might attack humans.”

The golden-haired twin seemed to bristle, and if he were in cat form you were sure all his fur would be puffed out as he glared at Sugawara. His twin didn’t look nearly as bothered on the surface, but close as you were, you could see how tight the muscles in his neck and shoulders were as if he was about to spring forward at any moment.

Instinctively you pulled the golden twin toward you, tipping him over into your lap. Despite his size it wasn’t all that difficult given he’d been practically leaning all his weight on you. He let out a yelp of surprise, but stayed still as you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his cheek pillowed on your thigh. Your other hand gently squeezed the back of the silver twin’s neck, both holding him still and reminding him of your presence.

“It wasn’t an attack, simply an accident,” you assured Sugawara, as you soothed your thumb over the tense muscles of the silver one’s neck, hoping to get him to relax, “A bit like what happened with the dog hybrid earlier.”

“If you’re sure,” Sugawara told you, watching your pet the twins with wide eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, “Does that mean you’ve decided to take them then? I know you were a little worried about adopting one hybrid so I never imagined you’d want two at once.”

“What?” you asked, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information, and the assumption he’d made.

“You’d have to take both of them,” Sugawara explained gently, “Admittedly sometimes twins are separated, but we don’t do that unless they want to be separated, and in this case both of them have stated they want to stay together.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, with a smile. It was good that the center accommodated things like that, and you made a mental note to thank Ojirou for directing you to such an upstanding place.

“Should I get paperwork started?” Sugawara asked, with an answering smile, “If you’re taking the twins it will take a bit more work than usual, so I’d like to get started right away. No pressure though, you don’t have to make a decision today if you don’t want to.”

“I hadn’t really thought about adopting them,” you admitted, and felt both twins stiffen under your hands, so hurried to reassure them, “We haven’t had a chance to chat much yet. I’d like to talk to them a little bit first before we make any decisions.”

“Of course,” the kindly hybrid agreed with an understanding nod, “We’ll give the three of you some space and let you get to know one another a bit better.”

“Thank you,” you told him politely, waiting until he’d ushered Kiyoko a little bit away, clearly trying to give you some sense of privacy despite the fact that they were still well within earshot for hybrids, and likely interrogate the elegant female about what exactly had happened while he was gone.

“Do ya not want us,” the golden haired one asked you, once the two were gone, rolling over in your lap to peer up at you with wide copper eyes, the hint of a pout on his lips, and a little bit of hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” you told him honestly, gently stroking his golden hair away from his eyes, “We don’t know each other, yet do we? Do you even know if you want to come with me?”

The two cat hybrids glanced at each other, clearly communicating silently with each other for a moment before turning back to you. The golden haired one had apparently been elected spokesperson because he was the one to admit, “We wouldn’t mind goin’ home with ya.”

“But you don’t even know my name, do you? And I don’t know yours either,” you pointed out, utterly baffled that they’d apparently already decided.

“I heard mister pleasant over there when he introduced ya,” the silver haired one told you with a shrug, “But if it matters so much to ya, I’m Miya Osamu and he’s Atsumu.”

“I can introduce myself ya know,” the golden haired on hissed, doing his best to glare at his brother, though you were sure the effect was entirely lost considering he was apparently refusing to move from your lap and was upside down, “And I didn’t get to hear yer name.”

“That’s because ya were sulkin’ in our room,” Osamu pointed out.

“And whose fault is that huh?” Atsumu demanded with a grimace.

“Yer own,” Osamu countered, looking utterly bored as he peered down at his brother. Atsumu made to lunge out of your lap, but was stopped by your hand pressed firmly to his forehead holding him in place. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to introduce yourself, gently rubbing behind his ears until he started purring again.

“And ya wonder why we want to go with ya,” Osamu told you sardonically, watching the two of you, “I ain’t ever seen anybody who could get ahold of Tsumu like that.”

“Do the two of you always squabble like that?” you asked, a little amused and a little concerned, “If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought one of you was a dog hybrid with how well you’re getting along right now.”

“It ain’t always so bad,” Osamu told you, turning his face away though you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink to his cheeks, “We’re just a little restless is all. We haven’t been here long so it’s just new, not as much freedom as we’re used to either bein’ cooped up for most of the day.”

“Surely they let you out if you want out,” you questioned, a little appalled that the center might be keeping hybrids like prisoners.

“Well sure,” Osamu answered turning back to you, his head tilted to the side as he studied you, “But there are only so many places a hybrid is allowed without an owner ya know.”

You winced slightly at the blunt statement, but couldn’t refute it. The law stated that all hybrids had to have a registered owner, and it was then up to that owner to set limits on the hybrid, about where they could go and what they could do. This was because if the hybrid caused any trouble, it was always on its owner to take responsibility which made things quite limited for them at times. There were lobbyists working to change that of course, as it was viewed as inhumane, but for now the law was the law.

“Did you have more freedom before here then?” you asked curiously, “I’ve heard this place is pretty good.”

“It’s not bad,” Atsumu piped in, his voice content and rumbly as he turned languid eyes in your direction, clearly not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “Better than the first center we were at when we first went up for adoption.”

“So you’ve been adopted before? Or did you just get moved from one of the other centers?” you asked curiously, only to have Atsumu go absolutely rigid under your hands as Osamu hissed at him, clearly angry with his brother, who’d apparently revealed something he shouldn’t if the way he shrank away instead of hissing back said anything.

You glanced between the two of them warily, unsure what to do as Atsumu pulled himself out of your lap so he could look at Osamu. The two of them were clearly communicating, both their tails swishing back and forth in clear agitation.

“We had an owner,” Osamu admitted at last, his words clearly careful as he peered at you from underneath the fringe of his hair, “But we didn’t get along with him so he surrendered us ta the shelter again and they sent us here.”

A part of you really wanted to ask why exactly they hadn’t gotten along with their old owner, but given the way Atsumu was refusing to meet your eyes, his nails practically digging into his thighs where he sat next to you, you got the feeling it would be kinder not to. Instead you carefully redirected the conversation back on topic and asked, “And what makes you think you’ll get along better with me than your previous owner?”

“Yer nothin’ like him,” Osamu told you bluntly, effectively shutting that avenue of conversation down.

“If you say so,” you told him calmly, holding his gaze until he glanced away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was clearly a sensitive topic, and you didn’t want to push. You’d just met the two of them today after all, you certainly wouldn’t have liked it if they tried to pry into your past, fair was fair after all.

“What do you picture yourselves doing all day?” you asked instead, figuring you might as well.

“Doing?” Atsumu repeated confused, tilting his head in a manner that you couldn’t help but find rather adorable.

“I’ll be at work most of the day during the week,” you explained patiently, “Which means you’ll be by yourselves for quite a bit of time. You’d be more than welcome to laze around if you really wanted to, but I figured I’d ask.”

“What kind of things are we allowed to do?” Osamu asked slowly, a strange look on his face that you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Anything within reason,” you told him with a helpless shrug, “I have money, it’s not an issue, so long as it’s legal, and doesn’t have the potential to hurt me, you or anyone else then I see no reason to place restrictions. My neighbor has a dog-hybrid who works a small rice farm that Ojirou bought him, but his cat-hybrid Suna spends most of his time either lounging around their apartment or playing sports with some of the other hybrids who live in the neighborhood.”

“Which sport?” Atsumu asked, eyes bright, all hesitation forgotten in the face of this new information.

“Volleyball I think,” you told him with a shrug, “Ojirou and I have gone to watch a few games, though I don’t think it’s just volleyball either.”

If Atsumu had been a dog-hybrid you were sure his tail would’ve been wagging a hundred miles an hour with how eager he looked, copper eyes bright in his face as he told you, “I like volleyball. Do you think he’d let me play?”

“You’d have to take it up with Suna, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” you admitted cautiously, earning a happy smile from the hybrid.

“What about you Osamu?” you prompted gently, “Do you play too, or is there something else you’re interested in?”

The silver furred hybrid looked startled to be addressed, but then slowly admitted, “I like to cook.”

“That’s amazing,” you praised, “I live on take out a lot of the time, unless I’m headed over to Ojirou’s or Kita, his dog-hybrid makes an extra bento for me. I really should cook more, but I tend to be on the go a lot and don’t want to dedicate the time.”

“It’s a bit of a shame though,” you admitted, feeling more than a bit sheepish, “One of the best features of my apartment is the kitchen and I hardly ever use it.”

You continued to chat lightly with the twins learning quite a bit about the two of them in the process. Atsumu was definitely the louder twin, always eager and a bit blunt with his words, always saying the first thing that came to mind. Osamu was quieter than his twin, letting his golden furred brother do most of the talking for the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily shy per se, and would answer when spoken to, but he seemed content for the most part to quietly observe before adding his two cents in.

The two of them together were utterly charming, which made you wonder just how they hadn’t been adopted yet. You were fairly sure it must have something to do with the reason they’d been returned to their adoption center, though for the life of you, you couldn’t guess what that reason might’ve been.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sugawara cut in gently, interrupting Atsumu telling you all about the last volleyball game he’d played in, “But the center is closing to visitors in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized immediately, hurriedly scrambling to your feet, feeling more than a bit guilty, “I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.”

“That’s alright,” Sugawara assured you with a kind smile, “It sounds like the three of you are getting along well.”

“I think so,” you admitted, glancing at the twins who’d both risen to their feet as well, both of them far more graceful than you could ever hope to be.

Both of them were watching you, Atsumu with tentative hope clear on his face, and Osamu completely unreadable except for the agitated twitch of his tail which told you he wasn’t pleased your conversation had been interrupted.

“I’m glad,” Sugawara told you, “Do we have any kind of decision made?”

“I…” you started glancing between the twins, who were both looking at you. Gut instinct meant you wanted to say yes. You’d gotten along well and you thought you might continue to enjoy one another’s company. They seemed like they’d slot into your life pretty easily. However you were still a bit hesitant. Adopting one hybrid had seemed like a big deal, but adopting two?

Plus you’d only met them today. Maybe you were being overly cautious but a single day didn’t seem like nearly enough time to get to know someone before inviting them to live with you, no matter how much your heart urged you to say yes.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter,” Sugawara interrupted, an apologetic expression on his face, pulling you from your thoughts as he explained, “We wouldn’t have time to finish the paperwork before it’s time to close, so you wouldn’t be able to take them home with you anyway, not today at least.”

“But…!” Atsumu tried to protest, but quelled as Sugawara shot him a stern look.

“I think that it will be good for all of you to sleep on your decision,” the cat-hybrid told all three of you firmly, gently beginning to usher you from the room, before telling you, “You can come back tomorrow if you like. We’re open at the same times then.”

“Alright,” you agreed, following after him without a fuss, only to pause in your tracks at a heartbreaking mewling sound.

You turned around to see Atsumu staring after you with devastation written all over his handsome features, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach out and physically stop you from leaving. Before you’d really thought about it your feet had carried you back, and you’d pulled the hybrid into your arms.

Atsumu clutched you tightly, burying his face in your neck and rubbing his cheek against yours in a move you recognized as scenting. You let him do as he pleased without protest, gently running your fingers through his soft golden hair. However, you were conscious of Sugawara waiting for you, so you gently extracted yourself after a few minutes.

Turning you saw Osamu watching you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you stepped toward him, offering your open arms anyway, waiting patiently. You were rewarded for that patience as he stepped into your hold, nuzzling at you the same way his twin had on the opposite side.

“I’ll come back,” you found yourself promising, “I have work tomorrow, but after I’ll be here.”

Osamu drew back and peered into your face, copper eyes boring into your own, clearly searching for something before nodding, “We’ll hold ya to that.”

You let Sugawara usher you out after that, but found yourself tearing up a bit as you followed after him. You desperately didn’t want to leave the twins behind. Somehow, someway you’d gotten terribly attached to them in just a few short hours.

Your sniffling apparently caught Sugawara’s attention, because he turned around and hurriedly fumbled a packet of tissues from one of his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he told you apologetically, “I thought maybe you wanted more time to think things over. We can still do paperwork tonight if you want I don’t mind staying a bit late.”

You looked at him, startled that he’d apparently picked up on your hesitation as you gratefully accepted the tissues, dabbing at your eyes and blowing your nose before replying, “No, no you’re right. It’s not a decision I should make impulsively. I do want to think it over I just…”

You trailed off helplessly, unsure what to say or how to explain that you’d gotten incredibly attached and were currently having a crisis as your head and heart were at war with each other. However, Sugawara apparently understood as he nodded in clear sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, “That’s completely understandable, adopting a hybrid is no small thing. Those troublesome twins will still be here waiting for you tomorrow, so take all the time you need to think it over.”

“I will,” you told him, then tacked on sincerely, “Thank you, for all your help today. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he told you with a bright, pleased smile as he walked you to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” you agreed with a smile, letting yourself out and heading back for your car.

The drive home your thoughts were absolutely full of the twins, and what it might be like to have them with you. Your heart and your mind were at war with one another, your heart desperate to run back to the center as soon as it opened in the morning for the cat hybrids, and your head worrying about what it might mean to have both of them and why they’d been returned to the center by their previous owner.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice Suna as you walked passed Ojirou’s door, headed to your own.

“What is that?” Suna demanded, his voice making you pause in your tracks.

“What is what?” you asked him baffled as he strode toward you nose in the air, clearly picking up something.

“You smell like hybrid,” he informed you his tone accusatory, watching you with narrowed golden eyes.

“Do I?” you asked mildly.

“You do,” he affirmed, “Doesn’t she Kita?”

“Doesn’t she what?” the collie hybrid asked, emerging from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Smell like hybrid,” Suna explained, his tail twitching languidly behind him and eyes alight with interest.

“You do,” Kita agreed, after carefully scenting the air, “Two of them actually.”

“Really?” Suna asked, clearly surprised, moving closer to sniff at you again, “You sure?”

You held still, too used to his behavior to be bothered by it, partly amused and partly annoyed at the cat hybrid who was clearly digging for information.

“Yes I’m sure,” Kita told him calmly, “They’re very similar, but there.”

“They’re identical twins,” you explained, figuring the jig was up anyway, and hoping maybe Ojirou or Kita would have some advice that might help you with your quandary.

“Ho?” Suna asked a purr of interest in his voice as he inhaled and nodded to himself, then asked slyly, “And what were you doing with these twins to have their scent on you so thoroughly?”

“Is Ojirou home?” you asked Kita, completely ignoring Suna’s question, earning a chuckle of amusement from the Siamese.

“He’s here,” Kita agreed, “Did you need to speak with him?”

“Both of you, if you have a minute?” you questioned hopefully.

“For you? Always,” Kita assured you kindly ushering you in.

“Oya, I think I’m hurt,” Suna told you as he followed along behind, a feline smirk on his face, “What about me? Don’t you want my advice too? After all they’re cat hybrids aren’t they?”

“They are,” you agreed with a huff as you plopped into your normal chair, “But are you going to give me good advice, or are you going to say whatever you think will be most amusing for you?”

“What’s this about cat-hybrids?” Ojirou asked, emerging from the hallway, where Kita had gone to fetch him.

“She’s thinking about adopting twin cat-hybrids,” Suna informed him before you had the chance to speak up, smug as the cat who got the canary.

“Are you really?” Ojirou questioned with a grin, taking his own seat.

“Yes,” you agreed, shooting the smug Siamese a look for interrupting and stealing your thunder, “I went to that adoption center you recommended today.”

“That’s great,” Ojirou told you, leaning forward in his chair eagerly, “How did it go?”

You explained your meeting with the twins, happily accepting the drink Kita pressed into your hands, which was your favorite, as the collie hybrid got everyone settled and then settled in himself to listen. You talked about how much you liked them, but your wariness about getting not one but two hybrids, and the strange issue with them having a previous owner and being so cagey about it.

“I can see why you’re wary about used goods,” Suna noted.

“Don’t call them that,” you snapped, despite the fact that you could hear the tinge of sarcasm in his voice and knew he didn’t really mean it, unable to help yourself, “people aren’t like items, and shouldn’t be treated like them.”

“She’s right,” Kita told the Siamese sternly, “Even as a joke, that was a rude way to refer to them.”

Suna slouched in his seat, looking thoroughly chastised as he admitted, “I know you don’t see them like that. You’ve always treated us just like normal people.”

“That’s because you are just like normal people,” you told him, stroking your fingers through his hair to let him know you forgave him, “Just with enhanced senses and a different set of instincts at times.”

“I don’t know why you think you need our advice,” Ojirou pointed out reasonably, “It sounds like you’ve pretty much already made up your mind, you clearly adore them already.”

“It’s just a lot,” you admitted, “Do you think I can handle twin hybrids? Especially since I’ve never even had one before? I mean, I’m not like you, none of my family ever had one growing up, and the only ones I really know are Kita, Suna, and a couple that come into the office with Tendou from time to time.”

“We’re not exactly children,” Kita reasoned, logically, “We don’t actually require all that much care outside of the basics, which I know you’re monetarily able to provide, and companionship, which is the whole reason you decided to seek out a hybrid in the first place. One or two, does it really matter? It might even be better as they’ll be able to keep each other company if they get lonely when you’re gone, and I see no reason we can’t help you look after them too.”

“You’d do that?” you asked the collie hybrid, surprised.

“Of course,” he agreed with a tiny smile, “We’re friends are we not?”

You smiled at him, touched, and extremely reassured by his ever cool logic. It did make sense, and quelled some of your worries, plus knowing the extremely reliable hybrid would help you out if you needed it was incredibly comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry about them being returned to their center,” Suna told you, surprisingly serious, “Hybrids get returned for all sorts of reasons, but most of the time its owner incompatibility rather than behavioral issues. Plus that center wouldn’t let you adopt them if they thought they’d give you trouble.”

“But Sugawara did say they’d heard the twins gave someone trouble,” you admitted, recalling the conversation with the worried cat-hybrid.

“Yes, but they didn’t give you trouble,” Suna pointed out, “We cat hybrids tend to make up our minds pretty quickly about people. It sounds like they decided they liked you, and unless something really terrible happens they’ll keep liking you, we’re terribly stubborn that way.”

“If you’re really worried you can always ask the center about it,” Ojirou told you, “They keep records, and would probably tell you, especially if it’s a concern about their adoptability.”

“I don’t want to pry into something and lose their trust,” you admitted, even as part of you was incredibly tempted to do just that.

“Then maybe try asking if the center if they think whatever the issue was, will be an issue with you,” Suna reasoned, “And if they say no then let it lie and adopt them, and if they say maybe or yes, then tell the twins you can’t accept them if they can’t tell you what the issue was.”

“That seems fair to me,” Kita agreed with a nod, “Just make sure you’re honest and tell them you asked, just in case.”

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a relieved breath, “Okay that sounds really reasonable to me. It’s just… do you think I’m rushing into this too fast? I mean going to the center today was an impulse.”

“I don’t think so,” Ojirou assured her thoughtfully, “You’ve been thinking about it for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s put so much thought into it she’s actually over thought it,” Suna interjected wryly before you had a chance to answer.

You made a face at him but couldn’t actually argue. He might have a point about overthinking it. Reassured you spent a good couple hours talking with your neighbor and the two hybrids as they answered more of your questions, and you told them about the twins.

Eventually however you headed home, determined now to get at least a little bit prepared for the arrival of your two new housemates tomorrow. Luckily it wasn’t dirty, but running a load of laundry and doing a little vacuuming never hurt anyone. You didn’t have a whole lot for them and didn’t know what kind of things they might have or need, but hopefully your office with pull out futon and guest bedroom would suffice for now until you could take them shopping.

Falling into bed that night you let yourself feel your excitement for the first time. You were adopting a hybrid, not just one but adorable twin hybrids. You couldn’t wait to bring them home and maybe put an end to your loneliness once and for all.

Osamu glanced slowly around the room, trying not to look at his twin, the clock, or the doors to the main area of the shared living space the way Atsumu was. Yesterday had been a bit of a revelation. He’d never actually expected to approach the woman who’d shown up looking to adopt. After what happened with their last owner he’d never expected to ever actually want to be adopted again. However, somehow he’d found himself entranced by her, and he had no one but himself to blame.

When he’d initially strolled over, it was because he’d known via his bond to his older twin that he’d finally realized that Osamu had snagged his pudding for himself and was throwing a fit about it. He’d thought that his twin wouldn’t dare make a fuss if he was with a potential owner.

The rules of this place were pretty lax compared to the first center they’d lived in. It allowed them a lot more freedoms. It let them come and go from their rooms as they pleased rather than on a regimented schedule, and allowed them to turn down any potential adopter that they didn’t like, which had felt utterly shocking and unprecedented when he’d first been told about it. They gave them a small allowance they could spend or save as they chose, and even let them deal with their heats and ruts in whatever way they chose, including with other tenants so long as birth control was used.

It honestly felt like heaven compared to the first center they’d been at, and maybe even better than living with their previous owner even before everything had gone to shit. He wasn’t sure he’d even ever wanted to leave, which he’d been assured by several other tenants was also an option if he so desired.

However, the one rule that was the same between both centers was that they weren’t allowed to cause trouble with the humans that came looking to adopt. This was only good sense considering how much the law favored humans in cases of hybrid vs human issues. However, unlike the first center they’d lived, this one at least didn’t threaten to put them down if they misbehaved.

They’d been young back then, everyone in that center was, all of them below the age of twenty-one, because anyone who reached their twenty-second birthday disappeared and was never seen again. Thus he hadn’t known it was actually against the law to kill hybrids, none of them had known and the caretakers had perpetuated the rumor that those who reached twenty-two were killed instead of shipped off to other centers in order to make them that much more desperate to be adopted.

It had made him more than a bit bitter once he’d been with their new owner long enough to learn more about what was and wasn’t allowed when it came to human hybrid interactions. The man had actually found their previous beliefs amusing and had laughed at them more than once for being so naïve.

It was positively galling, and had made his hackles rise more than once. However he’d known better than to lash out and had better impulse control than Atsumu who’d been punished by their previous owner more than once for acting aggressively. Fortunately, Osamu had never liked being made fun of, and spite was a powerful motivator, meaning he’d practically memorized any and all of the laws that had to do with hybrids.

It meant the few times their owner had toed the line with Atsumu’s punishments that he’d been able to cite the law to pull him back, right up until their owner had decided he no longer cared and pushed too far, leading to them being removed from his home and put back up for adoption at this new center.

They had been here for just over a month and while several people had been interested in adopting the ‘rare gold and silver hybrid twins’ he had absolutely refused to engage with any of them. It was probably why that female alpha hybrid had been so shocked when he’d first approached.

He’d fully intended to just use the human to keep Atsumu at bay, right up until she’d crouched down and offered her hands to him and he’d gotten a whiff of her scent. He’d known from the few lessons their ma had bothered to teach them that hybrids relied a lot more on their sense of smell than humans did, and that scent was the basis of the instinct that told them who would be a good mate and who wouldn’t.

He’d originally thought compatibility could only be found with other hybrids, after all he’d met plenty of humans before both when he’d lived in the adoption centers and with his previous owner and never once had he gotten a hint of compatibility with any of them. He thought he could be forgiven for completely losing his head and giving over to his instincts as he caught the scent of the most compatible person he’d ever met.

Her scent was honestly indescribable, and his instincts had him purring within seconds as he tried to rub her scent all over himself. She’d obliged, petting him with fingers that had felt magical, her touch kind and soothing and perfect as she rubbed his ears, carded fingers through his fur and rubbed her hand along his back.

He’d been lost in a dizzy haze of touch and scent and probably would’ve remained that way if not for the fury of his brother, which had jolted him out of it. It had been like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head pulling him from his happy haze and reminding him of the whole reason he’d come up to the human in the first place.

He probably should’ve run off, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to move very far, instead darting around to hide behind her. He’d thought that once Atsumu saw her he’d stop and at least hold off attempting to get vengeance until later, but he’d overestimated his brother again, who was apparently more incensed than he’d guessed about the lost pudding.

Instinct had kicked in and before he’d really thought about it he was running away from his brother, darting around her legs in a game of chase that was both amusing and a bit annoying, especially when he could tell how much it was pissing his brother off, his sibling’s annoyance pulsing down their bond in waves of sparks.

He wasn’t sure how long it would’ve continued, as they’d actually run around like this until someone got tired before, usually Atsumu as he got fed up and didn’t have the patience to keep going. However, he’d suddenly found himself plucked right up into the air.

He’d been amused when she’d scolded Atsumu, though the amusement had faded a bit when she’d decided to scold him too, leaving him feeling properly chastised. He’d been more than a bit pissed off with his brother when he’d realized the nice smelling woman was bleeding because of him, though there’d also been a small frisson of fear, wondering what the consequences would be.

However, to his surprise she hadn’t actually seemed all that angry with either of them. Instead she’d immediately accepted Atsumu’s apologies as his brother, who’d managed to get a lungful of her scent had cuddled up to her. He could feel Atsumu’s deep interest in the human. His brother clearly also scented compatibility with her, which wasn’t surprising given they’d shared almost everything else in their lives.

He’d found himself more than a little bit jealous as he’d watched his brother soak up her attention. It had always been like that to an extent. Atsumu had always been the more outgoing one, the one who attracted attention, who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow managed to win people over despite his often crass personality. Osamu had always kind of faded into the background as he was much quieter and had better control over his emotions, the silver to his gold, the shadow to his light.

Normally he didn’t mind, but this time being forgotten had stung. They’d always competed with each other, but most of the time he’d been humoring his brother, or simply hadn’t wanted Atsumu to win rather than wanting the prize of winning himself. This time though it had felt like more than that. No way was he going to let his brother steal her all to himself.

Before he’d really thought about it he’d reached out a paw, and to her credit she’d immediately offered him a sweet smile and resumed her wonderful petting. Atsumu hadn’t been pleased, but he hadn’t cared a bit.

It hadn’t surprised him at all that when Shimizu had come back with the first aid kit that Atsumu had insisted on taking over when he’d been the one to offer first. The two of them had continued to quietly compete over her attention as they fixed up her scratches, though he could at least feel his brother’s guilt for inflicting them on her in the first place, which did help sooth some of his annoyance with his older twin.

It was utterly gratifying that even when she had Atsumu literally in the palm of her hand, she’d still looked for him too. He’d tried to shove the feeling down and away, trying to remind himself that neither he nor his brother actually wanted another owner, but found it wasn’t working well. The combination of her scent and her fingers as she massaged her fingers through his hair enough to make him want to curl up in her lap and never leave.

He’d thought they might get in trouble when Sugawara returned. His fellow silver cat-hybrid belonged to the owner of the center, and took his job very seriously. He wouldn’t allow any of them to make trouble, and while he respected him, and admittedly envied him a bit for the clear trusting and loving relationship he had with his owner it didn’t stop him from wanting to claw his eyes out for bringing up their past in front of her.

Right when he was considering attempting to verbally eviscerate the other hybrid and damn the consequences his brother’s shock had pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see her pull his twin into her lap. The feel of her hand gently squeezing his neck from behind practically made him limp with pleasure as Atsumu’s own bliss at being so close to her combined with his own to thoroughly distract the two of them, though not so much he didn’t notice her excusing their behavior and ensuring they didn’t get in trouble.

However, both of them had snapped to attention when the other hybrid had asked her if she wanted to adopt the two of them. He’d been able to feel his twin’s building hope, his impulsive brother apparently forgetting all about not wanting another owner, already clearly more than half in love with her despite not even knowing her for a day.

It was a trait he both hated and envied in his twin, the ability to be so impulsive, to move on so quickly and let go of past hurts. It wasn’t something he was capable of. He knew he was a grudge holder and far slower to trust than his brother was. He liked to think it served him well and kept him from being as naïve as Atsumu could be, though there were times it made things difficult too.

He’d been unsure whether he wanted her to state her intention to adopt them or not, right up until she’d said she hadn’t even considered it. It stung more than he’d expected, his own small hurt amplified by his brother’s though both of them had been somewhat soothed by her explanation that she wanted to know them better.

It was extremely reasonable and made him like her all the more, knowing she was the cautious type, more like him than like Atsumu, even if he simultaneously wished she’d been a little more impulsive just this one time and said yes instead. Though he found himself heartened by her honesty. That she’d actually asked them if they wanted to go with her rather than making any sort of assumption had settled things for him.

He hadn’t needed Atsumu’s silent pleading to forget their original plans to agree that maybe they should give this human a chance, though it did make it easier in the end to agree as he wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

They’d both tried to win her over, and though they’d accidentally fallen into squabbling more than once she’d handled it like a champ, not at all put off and even amused by it if the smile was any indication. However, despite the fact that they were the ones trying to win her over, it seemed every word she spoke was actually meant to win them over instead.

She was nothing like their previous owner, who’d been strict with his rules and harsh with his punishments. In fact she didn’t speak about punishments at all. He wasn’t naïve enough to think there wouldn’t be any if they misbehaved, but the freedoms she was offering in turn more than made up for anything she might throw their way.

The biggest hiccup had been when Atsumu mentioned their previous owner. The horror and guilt he’d felt from his twin was the only reason he’d managed to keep himself from doing more than hiss at him. His stomach had sunk when she’d gently pressed them for answers, but he knew they had to give her something.

He’d tried to give her as little as possible unwilling to volunteer the information, both because he hated even thinking about their time with their previous owner and because he was afraid she might somehow decide she didn’t want them because of it. In the end she’d changed the subject herself, and not brought it up again, but as she’d walked away from them with Sugawara, leaving them behind he’d wondered rather despairingly if that hadn’t been a mistake.

It didn’t matter that she’d turned around to comfort them when Atsumu had been unable to keep his heartbreak quiet. He’d known the minute she walked out the doors the chances of her coming back were slim to none. That was the other thing that remained consistent between this shelter and the last. Once a potential owner walked away claiming they needed to ‘think on it’ they never came back.

Still he hadn’t been able to turn away from her embrace, or to stop himself from scent marking the opposite side of your neck from the one his twin had claimed, laying his own personal stamp with the faint hope it would remind you to come back for them. However, no matter what you’d said, he couldn’t bring himself to hope. He knew hoping would only lead to more disappointment, and he wasn’t like Atsumu he wouldn’t be able to bounce back from it.

Not that his twin was making it easy on him. His brother’s hope was so fierce it was almost painful and he could feel the slightly desperate edge to it. He’d gotten attached to her, not that he could blame him, he was more attached than he wanted to be too. However unlike him, Atsumu had fill faith you were coming back, so much so he’d actually packed up his room into the bags they’d brought from his old place and was ready to go.

Nothing Osamu or any of the others, who also seemed to understand how small the chance was that she’d come back for them, said could sway him. The moment it had passed three o’clock Atsumu had brought hjs bags out to the shared living area and began to sit vigil, waiting for her to come back.

Stubborn as ever his twin had ignored all the pitying looks sent his way and the fact that slowly but surely time had slipped by, leaving just half an hour until they were supposed to close. Though his face was resolute, his brother wasn’t actually stupid and Osamu knew it was only stubborn pride keeping him in place. He could feel the slow onset of his twin’s hurt and despair as each minute ticked down.

He’d contemplated leaving him, going to his own room to wallow, but he knew he could never abandon his twin. They’d been through everything together, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave him now.

He was trying to figure out if he could coax his brother into leaving his post when the door swung open, revealing Sugawara, who had a wide beaming smile on his face. His fellow silver hybrid cast a quick glance behind him before ushering his follower into the room.

He barely caught a glimpse of her before his brother practically launched himself at her, but it was enough to freeze him in his place, because it was her. She’d actually come back after all.

His brother had wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her neck and clinging to her like favorite a stuffed toy, not that she seemed to mind, if the hands she was running over his hair and back meant anything. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, the words too quiet to hear over the sudden near painful hope and the rapid beat of his own heart at the thought that she’d come for them.

Atsumu’s joy was practically burning through him, combined with his restored faith and smug satisfaction that he’d been right all along about her coming back for them. It probably should’ve annoyed him, but he found that all he could really feel was a bone deep sort of relief.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked, as she finally managed to gently extract herself a bit from his twin’s embrace, though he noticed he didn’t let go entirely, one of his hands laced firmly with hers.

He immediately stood, letting himself fall back into his more human skin as he made his way toward them, not waiting for his brother to out him. She seemed to spot him immediately and the relieved smile on her face was enough to make his traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Osamu,” she greeted warmly, more warmly than he thought he’d ever been greeted by anyone before as she opened her free arm in an inviting gesture. It was maybe a little pathetic how readily he accepted that embrace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, as he fell into her hold, face automatically nuzzling against the side of her neck that Atsumu had left unclaimed. A rumbling purr left his lips as he felt her press her face against his affectionately, as he allowed himself to cling to her for a bit.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured to him quietly, her arm squeezing affectionately around his waist, genuine regret in her tone, “My boss made me stay a little longer than usual, and then there was an accident on the freeway. I called ahead though and Sugawara has almost all the paperwork done. I just need to collect the two of you, do some signing and we’ll go home okay?”

“Really? Yer takin’ us home?” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice given how weak it sounded, the quaver in it making him feel utterly ridiculous and overly emotional, something that was supposed to be his twin’s job, and frustrated him enough that he bit his lip nearly hard enough to bleed as he wrestled with himself, trying to get back in control of his emotions.

“Yeah, as long as you want to come, then I’ll gladly take you,” she offered with a gentle smile that made his heart squeeze nearly painfully in his chest, “Though there’s something I need to admit to first.”

He froze a little at that, staring at her anxiously as Atsumu also looked on, his blabbermouth brother finally silent and clearly wary. She carefully released him, though she still reached for his hand, peering between the two of them, anxious but also obviously determined. He allowed her to grasp her fingers, squeezing them automatically, anxiety making his heartrate skyrocket and bile rise in his throat.

“I asked the center about your previous owner,” she confessed, the words automatically making his heart drop, as he wondered numbly what they could’ve told her. Had she asked for the details? Was she afraid now? Had she changed her mind or decided to add some stipulations to their adoption?”

“I didn’t ask for details,” she clarified, her voice managing to cut through the haze of panic that had been rising in his chest, “All I asked was if they thought whatever had happened with your previous owner would cause trouble for me, or put any of us in any sort of danger.”

That didn’t actually sound so bad, and was even fairly reasonable the storm of hurt and anger that had been building behind his anxiety slowly dispersing the more he thought about it. He noticed that his grip on her hand had loosened a bit, and he retightened his hold, hoping the center had responded in a way that reassured her. Given that she was here, talking to them, he thought it wasn’t unreasonable to be hopeful.

“They said none of us would be in any danger, otherwise they never would’ve offered to take you both in, in the first place, and that they were sure you’d be alright with me,” she explained, her hand gently squeezing his in return.

He wasn’t sure if the bone deep relief he felt was his or his brother’s but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too caught up in the surging hope that followed it as she asked, “So, even knowing that I asked that, are the two of you still willing to come home with me?”

“O course we want to go with ya, right Samu?” his brother replied instantly, nuzzling into her neck insistently, clearly begging for attention, attention she seemed more than willing to give if the affectionate smile on her face was any indication. When she looked at him for confirmation all he could do was nod in agreement, unable to find the words for how very much he did want it and unwilling to sound ridiculous again.

The next half hour passed in a strange almost dream like haze, as he packed himself up, his smug brother clinging to her and gloating over how he was already finished, soaking up her attention as he made a mental note to get back at his annoying twin later. Once he finished packing all there really was, was a couple of signatures before he found himself in a nice car that was speeding along the highway.

Atsumu was chatting away in the front seat, practically bouncing as he asked their amused new owner anything that popped into his head as he tried to digest what had happened. Somehow, someway, they had an owner again.

You smiled to yourself as you listened to Atsumu babble away happily in the seat next to you. The golden furred twin hadn’t stopped bouncing since you’d showed up at the shelter, clearly over the moon that you’d come back for him. Osamu was quiet in the back seat, and you might’ve been worried he was happy to come with you if not for the way he’d scent marked you, almost frantically his hand clutched tightly to yours as you’d signed the paperwork to take them home.

It was pretty clear both twins had thought you weren’t coming back for them, and it had broken your heart a bit, and made you even more resolute that you’d done the right thing for all of you. You’d been anxious the whole day to get back to them, not nearly as focused on work as you probably should’ve been, which had been part of the reason for your delay in the first place.

You’d panicked more than a bit when you’d encountered the accident on the way there, afraid that you’d break your promise to the twins. It had only been Sugawara’s kind voice, assuring you that he’d start the paperwork while you drove and even stay open late if necessary for you to get there, that had kept your guilt and panic at bay.

Now that you had them with you weren’t quite sure how you felt. Dazed that it was actually happening, excited for what the future might bring, and a little anxious about all the changes you’d have to make in your life even as you looked forward to those changes more than anything.

However, before you headed for home there were a couple things you needed to do first. Luckily you would hopefully find everything you needed in one place, at least for today. You wanted to give them time to settle in a bit, more shopping could come later when they’d decided what they needed.

“Where’s this?” Atsumu asked, pausing in his excited babble to look at you with confusion, as you pulled into the large parking lot, “Ya don’t live here do ya?”

“Don’t be stupid,” his brother huffed from the backseat, “Yer gonna make her think we’re some kind of bumpkins, ya know what a mall is Tsumu.”

“O course I know what a mall is,” Atsumu blustered, twisting around in his seat to glare at his twin, “I just thought maybe she had an apartment nearby is all. Who knows how rich people live?”

You huffed in amusement, reaching out without thought to ruffle his ears affectionately. The golden haired hybrid froze for a minute under your touch, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, freezing as well, before a rumbling purr left his chest as he pressed his head further into your hand.

“You’re too cute,” you murmured almost to yourself as you gently scratched his ears and stroked your hand over his face and neck, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

“We’re only stopped here for a quick couple errands,” you explained to both twins, reluctantly pulling away from Atsumu who offered a pout but didn’t protest, “I noticed you don’t have as much as I thought you would, and I want to get you more comfortable collars to wear when we’re in public.”

Both twins hands immediately flew to the simple brown leather bands around their necks. All hybrids were required to wear collars in public to identify them as belonging to someone. The collars had a tag on them, which was essentially a small chip that had all their owner’s information in it, that when scanned would tell someone how to get in contact with their owner. It was to ensure they behaved and that if they didn’t their owner could be forced to take responsibility for their actions. Any hybrid who walked around without a collar immediately had the police called and was brought in and held until they could figure out why they were without.

You’d heard horror stories about the way such hybrids were treated, innocent hybrids who’d accidentally lost a collar somewhere and been so traumatized when they were finally returned to their owners that they were never the same again. Which of course was why you were determined it was never going to happen to your twins, even if a part of you balked at the idea of putting a symbol of ownership on another sentient being. Judging from the looks on their faces, Atsumu’s much easier to read than Osamu’s they’d heard stories too, and neither of them bothered to protest.

“Come on,” you urged gently, climbing out of the car yourself, “The sooner we get the unpleasant stuff done the sooner we get to the good stuff. I’ve got a couple things in mind I’d like to get you both as welcome home presents, but if there’s anything else you think you want or need feel free to ask.”

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding out of the car.

“That’s right,” you agreed with a small laugh, watching him sulk a bit as he realized his brother had beaten him in securing your free hand, Osamu’s fingers laced with your own and a smug smirk on the silver hybrid’s face, “So keep close and let’s get going okay?”

Luckily the mall wasn’t too crowded, and while the twins got more then their fair share of admiring looks, doubtless both because of how good looking they were and how rare twin hybrids in general were, no one actually dared to approach your group, even as Atsumu practically bounced around glancing around the mall in fascination and reminding you more of an eager puppy than a supposedly slightly older cat hybrid.

Osamu was much more dignified and kept close to your side, though judging from his wide-eyed look that he couldn’t quite hide behind his stoic façade he was just as in awe as his brother. You were starting to get an impression of their previous owner and it was far from good.

You’d known that some owners kept their hybrids close to home, either because they were overly protective or possessive, and it had always rubbed you the wrong way. Ojirou had always allowed Kita and Suna to do as they pleased for the most part, treating them as capable adults and equals, more like roommates than the pets some treated their hybrids as and his was the example you were going to strive to follow.

It was why your errands today were so important, because while you would happily have let your twin hybrids run around as they pleased dressed however they pleased a collar was unfortunately the one thing they couldn’t be without, especially if they were going to go outside without you.

Luckily the mall was outfitted with several hybrid specialty stores and it didn’t take you long to find one dedicated entirely to collars. Both twins were a little wide eyed at the selection, and neither seemed to know quite what to say as you roamed through the aisles together looking at the selection.

Several of them made you grimace in outright distaste, the collars boasting accessories like inward facing spikes or tracking devices that would alert the owner if the hybrid tried to leave their home. It made you feel a little sick to your stomach, so you instead turned to the less intrusive ones.

“Do you see anything you like?” you asked the twins, squeezing Osamu’s hand affectionately, “You don’t have to wear collars in the house if you don’t want to, but you’re going to need them if you want to leave when I’m not home, which means you’ll probably be wearing them a lot, so make sure to pick something you like. You can even pick a couple if you want it to match your outfit for the day or whatever I don’t mind spending a little more to get a handful of chips programmed.”

Both twins blinked at you owlishly clearly startled by the offer, which made your heart hurt for them, even as they hesitantly turned back toward the displays, looking more closely than they had before.

“Do ya have any restrictions?” Osamu asked bluntly, not quite looking at you as he eyed a display of thick leather ones that didn’t look comfortable in the slightest.

“No,” you assured him, “I’m not the one who has to wear it.”

Osamu nodded slowly, and seemed to be taking his time as he perused the collars. You let him do as he liked, allowing him to lead. You’d only loosened your hold on him once, thinking he may like to wander the store like his brother and not have to tow you along with him, but the way his hand had reflexively tightened on yours in response had put paid to that assumption and you’d immediately re-laced your fingers together.

In the end Atsumu approached you first, holding a collar out to you hopefully. It actually looked like it was meant more for a dog hybrid, thick black leather with steel spikes on it, making it look fairly fierce. Personally you thought it was gaudy and was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you tried not to let your distaste show, after all you’d said anything they wanted and you’d meant it. Luckily in the end you didn’t need to say anything.

“What the hell is that?” Osamu demanded when he caught sight of the collar in his brother’s hands, the disgusted look on his face letting you know his feelings quite clearly.

“It’s a collar scrub, what else would it be?” Atsumu replied with a sneer for his twin you were beginning to think was automatic.

“I’m not the scrub you are,” the silver twin sneered, “Because only a scrub would wear somethin’ like that.”

“Oy,” Atsumu interjected, with a fierce glare, “She said we could have what we wanted.”

“Yeah but she probably thought ya had some sort of taste, she doesn’t know you well enough to know how scrubby ya are scrub,” Osamu hissed back.

“Alright guys,” you interjected gently, squeezing Osamu’s hand and reaching out to gently ruffle Atsumu’s ears, aware of the eyes of the cashier which had definitely turned in your direction given the twins were getting louder and louder by the second, “Let’s try to keep it to polite volume levels in public hmm?”

“Sorry,” both twins grumbled, identical pouts on their faces that made you giggle.

“It’s alright,” you assured them fondly, “Just try to be good okay?”

They nodded though Osamu clearly needed to get the last word in as he turned to you with pleading eyes, “Ya think it’s an abomination too don’t ya?”

“I said you could have whatever you wanted,” you told him diplomatically, “If this is what Atsumu likes, then of course he can have it.”

“Ha, see!” Osamu demanded of his twin, clearly seeing right through your attempt at diplomacy, “She thinks it’s ugly too!”

“Do ya really think it’s ugly?” Atsumu asked you sulkily eyeing the collar in his hands.

You’d known before that you were weak to pleading eyes, but it turned out you were even more weak to the pleading copper eyes of your hybrid, the thought that he might be sad tugging at your heartstrings.

“I just worry you’ll be uncomfortable,” you assured him, letting go of Osamu’s hand and gently cupping his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks affectionately, the same way you did for one of the hybrids that occasionally came to your office to sulk when his owner brought him to work but didn’t pay attention to him.

Atsumu immediately leaned into your palms, heavy lidded eyes half-shut with bliss as you explained, “It’s summer right now, and there’s no padding so it will be hot, heavy and probably chafe. Plus didn’t you say you wanted to play volleyball? Won’t it get in the way? I can definitely get it for you if you like it, but maybe pick something else too, okay?”

“Kay,” your golden twin agreed, sounding completely and utterly content as he nuzzled into your hands, making your heart melt in your chest.

“What about this one?” Osamu offered, pulling your attention away from his brother.

He was holding a collar in his hands, one that actually looked more like a necklace a thin but sturdy looking cord of leather fastened with a silver chain in the front that clasped on both ends to a silver hoop that suspended a solid silver disc in the middle that on close inspection revealed that it housed the chip needed for identification.

“That looks really nice,” you praised, letting out a breath of relief at his choice. You weren’t a big fan of the collars in general, but seeing it look more like a necklace made it seem far more tolerable. Plus it was black and silver and thus would probably go with just about anything he chose to wear.

Letting go of Atsumu to take the collar from his twin, you completely missed the smug smirk directed over your shoulder by Osamu as you inspected it, though Atsumu certainly didn’t, giving his twin an annoyed glare above your head.

In the end, while Atsumu sulked and complained about it, he did actually put the original collar he’d offered back and go with Osamu’s choice, even though you offered to get him both. He refused, sulking slightly all the while, but remained insistent that he only needed the one, even though you ended up buying four collars total, so you could have two back-ups. Though he did insist on holding your hand to make up for the disappointment.

Luckily the manager didn’t seem to mind having to program all four collars, tapping away at the computer, while Atsumu sulked a bit by your side and Osamu somehow managed to all but radiate smug superiority. The cashier carefully ringing up your purchases for you as you pulled your wallet out.

“A word of advice?” the cashier offered as you waited for the programmed collars, surprising you with his forwardness.

“You’re too indulgent with them,” he continued on, not giving you the chance to refute the need for him to speak, “Hybrid’s need a firm hand. You’ll spoil them if you let them get away with raising their voices in public and causing a scene. Don’t ever let them forget their place.”

You felt more than saw both twins bristle on either side of you, and gently squeezed Atsumu’s hand, before laying your hand over the back of Osamu’s neck. You wouldn’t care a bit if they wanted to verbally eviscerate the man who was eying them with clear distaste, a distaste you were almost sure stemmed from jealousy given the lascivious looks he probably thought you hadn’t noticed levelled in your direction. Unfortunately, you also didn’t want them to get into trouble, and weren’t quite sure what the law said about how hybrids were allowed to defend themselves from humans, something you planned to rectify as soon as possible.

For now however you weren’t about to let the twins get in trouble and cut in your tone as cold as you could make it, “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, nor do I care about what you think in the least. I’ll treat them how I want to treat them, which means I’ll spoil and pamper them as much as I like. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself in the future if you want to keep this business running. As it is I’ll be sending my complaint to your superiors. Let’s go guys, we can find other collars elsewhere. It’s not like they’re hard to find.”

“Wait! The chips are already programmed and you haven’t paid,” the manager protested, standing up from the computer looking utterly appalled.

“Should’ve thought of that before your employee opened his mouth, and decided to spew his unwanted bile everywhere,” you countered with a shrug, “I’d consider finding better employees in the future if I were you, or at least teach them to keep their mouths shut.”

“But the chips can’t be removed from these collars, they’ll be completely ruined,” the manager put in, sounding more than a bit despairing.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, feeling genuinely bad for the woman, after all it wasn’t her fault the other employee was an ass, “But that’s not my problem. I refuse to support any sort of business that would treat its customers like this.”

The glare she leveled on her fellow employee was utterly ferocious and had him cowering back in his seat. Not that you could blame her for being upset, each collar was about three hundred USD so the sale they were losing out on was enormous.

“I can offer you a discount?” she tried hopefully, “Fifty percent off?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, but didn’t reply instead turning to look at the twins who’d clearly been more than ready to follow you out of the store, “What do you think?”

“Us?” Atsumu asked, clearly baffled.

“Yes, you,” you told him with a fond smile, “You’re the ones who got insulted, not me, and they’re your collars. I’m happy to buy you whatever you like from wherever you want it, whether that’s here or somewhere else.”

“Seventy-five percent off,” Osamu bargained from her other side, taking you by surprise. You turned to see him watching the manager with shrewd eyes, and when it looked like she would protest he added in, “Seventy-five percent off and we won’t leave bad reviews on every site we can or send letters of complaint to upper management.”

“Agreed,” the manager huffed, shooting another vicious look at her employee, one that clearly read that it would be coming out of his salary.

You huffed, amused at Osamu’s bargaining, gently massaging your thumb against the base of his neck affectionately before releasing both twins and moving to pay, only spending a quarter of what you’d originally planned.

“Nice work,” you praised the silver hybrid once the three of you were out of the store and out of earshot.

Osamu shot you a sly smirk, looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he walked beside you. Atsumu had claimed your hand this time, so he was carrying the bags, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Now that, that’s taken care of, let’s go grab your gifts,” you told the twins, tugging them along to the PineApple store.

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding along beside you, your intertwined hands swinging back and forth between you.

Laughing you simply pulled him with you into the store. Both twins were wide-eyed as you browsed through, clearly unused to the cutting edge technology on display, both of them exceedingly cautious with the expensive looking tech. It took some gentle urging, but eventually you managed to get phones and laptops picked out for each of them.

“Isn’t this too much,” Osamu asked you in an undertone, clearly worried as an employee walked Atsumu through getting his laptop set up. It turned out that of the twins Osamu was definitely more technically savvy and loved his new laptop, though Atsumu had already managed to download several apps and games on to his phone and was thoroughly enjoying them as well, “It’s expensive.”

“I have the money,” you assured him gently, “And besides, everyone has a phone these days. I want you guys to have them in case you get in trouble when I’m not home and need to reach me, like if you got lost or hurt or simply need a human to ensure you’re treated fairly. I’d feel awful if you needed me and I didn’t know.”

“The laptops are so you don’t get too bored at home, though I hope you’ll find things to enjoy outside the apartment too,” you continued, absently stroking your hand up and down his back.

“Will you be wanting hybrid trackers in the new phones?” the employee asked, her voice professional as she began to ring up your purchases.

You hesitated. On one hand you hated the idea of invading the twins privacy, and on the other you knew that you fully intended to let them roam as they pleased so wouldn’t it be better to have the tracker just in case? A quick glance showed that Osamu was impassive as ever, and even Atsumu just looked bored, not paying any attention whatsoever, instead tapping away at his new phone.

“What do you think?” you asked them, more than willing to hear their opinions on the matter.

“You’re the owner,” Osamu told her, apparently speaking for both of them as he gave an unconcerned shrug, which wasn’t helpful in the least.

You grimaced a bit trying to think of a compromise before finally pulling out your own phone and asking the employee, “Is there anyway to ensure all three of the phones will track each other?”

“Let me go ask,” she told you politely, turning away to go grab someone more knowledgeable.

“That’s fair right?” you asked hesitantly, “This way you know where I am too and can come find me if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Osamu agreed, giving you a look that you thought might be something as close to awe as you’d seen on the silver haired hybrid, “Yeah that’s fair.”

The employee quickly returned and confirmed they could indeed make all three phones track one another, and in the span of a few minutes managed to get your purchases complete. Feeling like that was probably enough for now, you led them back towards the car.

It was starting to get pretty late, and the minute you’d exited the mall Osamu’s stomach had given a loud rumbling growl. Atsumu had made fun of him for all of a minute, before his own stomach betrayed him. You’d shaken your head at their antics, but allowed a surprisingly eager Osamu to order whatever he wanted for carryout from the Chinese place near your apartment.

One quick stop for the food, and you finally managed to bring your new hybrids home. Both of them were a little quiet as you led them up to your apartment, staring around and clearly taking everything in. Either Ojirou, Kita and Suna weren’t home, or they’d decided to give you time to settle with the twins as they didn’t emerge from their apartment as you arrived in the hallway and fumbled the door open.

“Here we are,” you told them, hitting the lights, “Home sweet home.”

Both twins were laden with things, carrying their purchases, the food, and their things from the adoption center. Still looking at them was enough to make your heart clench. It had only taken one trip to bring everything up, but despite hybrids being stronger than normal humans it still made your heart clench to see how very little the twins actually had. Each of them only had a medium sized suitcase of things, and Atsumu had a worn volleyball but that was it aside from the things you’d bought them. It was something you were determined to fix for the future, but for now you’d make do.

“I know you’re hungry, so unless you want to settle in for a bit first we can eat and then I’ll show you around,” you offered.

The twins exchanged looks, but nodded in clear agreement. You pointed out the bathroom just in case, but then brought them to the kitchen, trying to show them where everything was as you pulled utensils from the drawers. Osamu clearly paid much more attention to her explanations than Atsumu did, though both diligently helped her set the table.

The food was really good, and thankfully sparked more conversation, even if it was more subdued than earlier, all of them worn out from the long day they’d had. Osamu was clearly very interested in food, and not just in eating it the way his brother was. You managed to coax out that he’d cooked for their previous owner from time to time, and told him that as long as he was careful he was more than free to use her kitchen and anything in it for whatever he wanted earning what felt like her first real smile from the silver haired twin.

Despite how tired they clearly were, both twins helped you clean up. For the first time since you’d first discovered the lovely little Chinese restaurant there weren’t actually any leftovers, the twins having consumed everything you said you didn’t want. As they worked you noted it really was kind of nice, even if things were quiet, to have the company as they went about their tasks.

“Alright, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want your own rooms or if you’d want to share,” you told them, gesturing for them to follow, “We’re going to have to do some shopping either way, since they’re your rooms and I want you to be able to personalize them any way you want, but I think they’re pretty equal in size.”

The twins stared at you, clearly surprised, glancing at each other, to the rooms you’d offered, to you, and back again, the gesture making her more than a bit nervous. You’d thought there was plenty of space for the two of them, but maybe they didn’t see it that way?

“We get our own rooms?” Atsumu asked at last, finally breaking the silence, his voice quiet and disbelieving, copper eyes huge in his face.

“If you want them, then of course they’re yours,” you assured him, concerned, “I still have to clean out my study, but I didn’t want to delay adopting you and I don’t think it will take too long. There’s a pull out futon in there, though you’re more than free to share if you want a bed, or I can take the futon and one of you can have my bed for now. I’ve certainly slept on the futon before and I don’t mind.”

“You’d give up your bed?” Osamu repeated, looking like you’d just smacked him over the head with a fish, more surprise on his face then you’d thought him capable of showing.

“Just until we find something for you,” you told him, a little puzzled at his surprise but with the sinking feeling that your suspicions about their former owner were correct.

“But, why?” Atsumu asked you, wide eyed and a little teary.

“Because, you’re mine now,” you assured him, unable to quite find the words you wanted to say, but hoping you were conveying your feelings at the very least, “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe and happy.”

The sad mewling sound he made in response to your words was enough to break your heart, as he pitched forward squeezing you into his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. You pressed your cheek to his hair, rubbing his back soothingly with one arm even as you automatically opened the other one for his twin, a gesture that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

Osamu didn’t sob the way his twin did, but the way he squeezed you tight let you know he was just as moved as Atsumu even if he was quieter about it. Seeing their genuine gratitude for what you felt was common courtesy broke your heart, but even as it ached and you did your best to soothe them you swore to yourself, to love and care for your new hybrids so they’d never want for anything ever again to be the best owner it was possible to be after all they deserved nothing less.

Like this? Please feel free to drop in to my ask box and make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first!

Want to commission me or just support my writing? Visit my ko-fi!

179 notes · View notes

saipng · 3 years ago

Text

Warming up

Fandom: Resident Evil (8 in particular)

Pairing: Ethan Winters/Karl Heisenberg

Rating: E

Word Count: 13,803

hey guess what i can post the full fic from my laptop lol so this is basically a reupload!

AO3 link in replies

Ethan accepts Heisenberg's offer and learns how to negotiate.

(P.S: Technically PWP but there is a tiny bit of P in the beginning, just to set things up. Lighting some candles, putting on some music, pouring some wine. You know how it is)

(P.P.S: There aren't any actual candles, wine, or music in this fic. I'm sorry.)

“Take a seat.”

The rusted, sickly looking chair clattered against the floor helplessly, its sad little legs looking as though they would give out underneath their own weight any second now – much less Ethan’s.

He did not take a seat.

Heisenberg turned his back, walked across the room to a small table with a blistering desk lamp at the other end. You’re not a threat to me, his body language all but screamed.

You’re nothing.

“Listen, Ethan, you’re being played-“

Ethan, in turn, felt his own body seize up.

“What are you talking about!? You think this is a game!?”

There was a second - half a second - where the other man stopped fiddling with his cigar, turned his head towards him giving him a look so pointed it bore right through the tiny jet black shades. And in the very next moment Heisenberg was throwing a steel blade into the poster laden wall, metal glinting as it flew through the air. Ethan could barely follow the movement with his eyes before he was suddenly being shoved onto the flimsy chair, its legs stubbornly refusing to collapse against all odds.

Heisenberg looked down at him, sneering.

Ethan couldn’t help the shaky breath.

Most dangerous of them all, Duke’s words echoed in his head, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. His knees felt weak.

And he could swear the man in front of him looked delighted to tower over him like this.

But then he took a step backwards, then another, and then, when he was certain enough Ethan wouldn’t dare make another move, he turned back towards the board, pointing at each one of his siblings in turn.

“Lady super-sized bitch...”- A glint, and the knife was slashing through the air, pulling right out of Dimitriscu’s face, leaving an ugly mark in between her eyes with a particular sort of malice.

“Ugly ass psycho doll...”- The knife stabbed into Donna Beneviento’s torso, the crack of wall underneath the poster almost painful.

“And that moronic freak.”

The blade easily lodged itself somewhere in Moreau’s face, or maybe his neck, maybe somewhere around the eyes or the shoulder – both Heisenberg and the knife barely spared the last sibling a second’s thought and the man turned back to Ethan, his hands outstretched.

“Don’t you get it? It’s a test, to see if you’re strong enough to be a part of Miranda’s family!”

“I don’t WANT to be a part of Miranda’s family-“- Ethan was growling before he could really think, and Heisenberg kept looking at him like he was saying all the wrong things.

“Neither did I. But here we are!”- He circled back, something in his voice cracking, -“And I’m next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!”

And with a quick sweep of his hand, the metal wall was splitting in two.

Miranda’s portrait tore.

Ethan felt nauseous.

“I don’t give a damn about your personal issues!”- He was sputtering incredulously, not knowing why he was expecting all of this to start making sense when it wasn’t, -“I just want to fix my daughter!”

And to his great surprise, Heisenberg laughed.

“So do I!”- He grinned, ear to ear, fists shaking, -“Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda’s scared of her-“

It was then that whatever horror was lurking beneath them began revving its engines up again, and images of chainsaws and lawn mowers began to flash across Ethan’s mind. He grit his teeth while Heisenberg roared at whoever it was to quiet down, daring to tear his eyes away for a glance towards the hole.

Tufts of white smoke clouded the room below. He’s been around this accursed village long enough to know that there was nothing good waiting for him down there. He’s known Heisenberg for long enough to figure that whatever it was was sharp. And painful.

His captor looked at him for a moment. Took another to inhale deeply and look away.

Ethan could empathize. He could hardly catch his own breath.

Heisenberg removed his glasses.

“You and me, Ethan,”- He pleaded, and really, there was no better word to describe his voice just then - this monster pleaded with him and Ethan felt something in his neck crack, -“Together, we go and save Rose — and then we can use her to grind Miranda into paste!”

“My daughter is not a weapon,”- Ethan growled back at him, his chest hollow, -“Fuck you!”

Heisenberg took a step back. Looked at him for that one agonizing moment once more. Ethan expected more pleading. More reasoning that he would have to refute. A conversation.

What he didn’t expect was the chair flying right underneath him, the other man boring into his arm with an iron grip as Ethan dangled on flimsy footing right above the room that filled his lungs with nightmares.

His own hand clung frantically to Heisenberg’s, body faintly remembering what survivor’s instinct was.

“Last chance,”- The other man said, his face a spasm between amusement and frustration. I’m holding the trump card now, that expression told him.

I won, so why do you refuse to see it?

“You don’t want to find out what’s in that hole,”- He added as though for emphasis, and Ethan didn’t tear his eyes away.

Couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He thought of Rose bubbling around in pieces. Thought of her crying.

Thought of Miranda’s hands.

A painful current passed through his spine, and just like that, his mind was electrified. His stomach was turning.

The soles of his shoes were beginning to slip.

“I am not using my daughter,”- Ethan told him through clenched teeth, and felt the grip on his arm falter. He exhaled shakily through his nose, his own fingers curling tighter.

Heisenberg raised his chin up, and Ethan had to force the next words out through his red-hot sternum.

“But-“

He exhaled, that single syllable just as painful as a scythe through his leg. A knife through his ribs.

“-if Miranda really is as strong as you say she is-”

Coiling his fingers, Heisenberg gave him a barely noticeable pull, his eyes squinting. Ethan swallowed down the bitter bile rising in his throat.

“Well. We’re not exactly left with a lot of options.”

Another pull, and he was standing on solid ground now – still precariously close to the gaping hole, a single firm push away, but at least no longer dangling over it like some helpless worm.

The other man levelled him with a gaze, mouth thin. He didn’t let go of his arm.

“What, exactly, are you proposing?”

Ethan didn’t let go either.

“A truce.”

Heisenberg’s eyebrows shot up.

“You want to partner up?”

“Call it whatever you want, but it sounds like you’re going to need all the manpower you can get,”- Ethan took a step forward, unnecessary but needed. His grip tightened. He could negotiate this, -“And I sure as hell am not going to turn out the only helping hand that’s been offered – even if it is yours.”

He could save Rose.

That was all that mattered.

Heisenberg made a sudden noise, something between a gasp and a chuckle. Something angry. Something incredulous.

“So now it’s you doing me a favor!?”

“Take it or leave it,”- He offered cautiously, words somehow both softer and harsher than he intended, -“We rescue Rose. Make sure she’s safe. Kill Miranda. This was always the plan, and I will do it with or without you.”

And just as he was certain no more words were needed, he found himself talking anyway.

“Help out or don’t get in my way.”

He watched the other man watch him, his eyes all too sharp without the shades, all too quick and bright on that gray and beige face, and Ethan’s pulse began to quicken once more. His breath hitched.

He hated the way his breath hitched.

His arm was beginning to ache.

Just as suddenly and impulsively as everything else he’s seen this man do, Heisenberg was throwing his head back, his laughter echoing up and down and out of the hole, mixing in with the revving noises that once again filled up the electric air.

“There’s that unfounded confidence that kept you breathing through the night!”- He roared over the sound of metal splitting metal, arms wide as he finally let go of Ethan, taking a large step back and putting his sunglasses back on, -“Now I see what’s been keeping them all hooked!”

Ethan turned his head in the direction of “them”, took one more look at the faces of the people – the monsters – he’s slaughtered in the course of the day.

He tried to suppress whatever feeling was beginning to claw its way up his throat.

By the time he turned back towards Heisenberg he could only see the man’s back briskly striding down a hall he could swear wasn’t there just a moment ago, beckoning him to follow.

“Let’s get moving then, Ethan!”- He yelled, voice faint over the constant noise that Ethan was now beginning to associate with the sound of a plane propeller and certain death, -“Can’t even hear myself think in this goddamn shithole!”

He spat that last part as though it was an insult to whomever – or whatever – it was that so insistently kept on interrupting their conversation, and Ethan realized that he could move again. Inhaling sharply before taking a couple of all too precarious steps away from the hole, he finally resolved to trudge along behind, only briefly wondering if this decision was eventually going to get him killed.

He didn’t want to think whether it would get Rose-

He couldn’t think about it.

“I’m assuming you have some sort of a plan,”- He said instead, if only not to think.

“Some sort of a- Are you kidding me?”- Heisenberg snarled, not bothering to turn around as they made their way down a shoddy corridor that looked as though touching any surface would give you instant tetanus, -“What, you think I was going to walk up to Miranda, shove a gun in her face, and hope for the best?”

He didn’t look back as he said this either – Ethan knew exactly what his face looked like just then anyway.

“Has been working out for me so far,”- He muttered under his breath, kicking at a loose screw on the floor.

“Yes, well, it’s not going to work against her.”

They finally reached a single door decorated with a large golden horse crest. Heisenberg fumbled inside his coat pockets before pulling out a large keychain with a single key.

It glinted in the dim light.

“A whole army isn’t going to work against her.”

He threw the door open, and Ethan suddenly saw the inside of a surprisingly accommodating room that did not belong in this run down factory. It bore a single metal framed bed tucked away in a far corner, a tiny kitchenette right across from that, and a small round metallic table and couple of equally metallic rusted through chairs strewn about that looked only slightly sturdier than the one he found himself sitting in and falling out of mere moments ago. Random scraps and chunks littered the floor, paper and metal and god knew what else. The space looked barely used, counters barren and bed sheets made, yet Ethan still felt out of sorts stepping into what he could only presume were Heisenberg’s personal quarters.

“And we have that? An army?”- He asked uncertainly after looking around, wondering whether they came here to retrieve said army and whether it could be found biding its time in the rickety wardrobe to his right.

“Oh, we have so much more than that,”- Heisenberg grinned at him, reaching back into his coat to tuck away the key ring and bring out a new cigar instead, placing it against his lips as he struggled with a box of matches, -“There are still preparations to be made, Ethan, but once it’s done - well, let’s just say Miranda won’t see any of it coming.”

He took a long drag, exhaling a puff of ashy smoke into the ceiling, and then, as though an afterthought, extended the cigar towards Ethan with a nod.

“I don’t smoke,”- Ethan said instead, watching the other man shrug and take another long drag. He tried to disregard the sudden shiver that came over him as a winter chill, -“W-Well, what the hell are we waiting for, then!? Let’s get out of here and-“

“Hold your horses, pops. We’re not ready yet.”

“Ready? What is there to be ready for, we just-“

“Listen, Ethan,”- Heisenberg was up in his face in a flash once again, and Ethan suddenly could see himself being forced onto another chair, shoved down and made to sit in place. His legs felt pathetic and his chest clenched in anticipation – but the man didn’t make another move, simply stood there. Entirely too close.

“It’s like you don’t even listen.”

Ethan tried to pretend he didn’t feel awkwardly disappointed. Tightened the grip around his gun instead.

“I just said there was a plan. And plans require time.”

He could deal with being pushed around, with constant attacks and violence. He had no idea how to handle a sudden moment of peace, even if he did propose it himself.

Heisenberg smelled like cigar smoke.

“Time!? Time!?”- Ethan felt his hands shake, -“We don’t have any goddamn time to-“

“Do you want to throw all this out the goddamn window!? Want Miranda to do as she pleases with Rose!?”

He was now dangerously close to walking out the door.

“Okay, look. Why don’t you take some time to regroup?”- The other man finally moved away, letting him breathe in a breath he didn’t know he desperately needed, -“Take a seat, relax, put your feet up, for fuck’s sake! Make yourself at home! You deserve a little rest after everything you’ve been through, don’t you, Ethan?”

It’s not a trap, Heisenberg told him when he was on his way to this factory, and it sounded about as reassuring then as this did now. Ethan was certain that he won’t be able to relax for the rest of his actual life after this. Not after everything he’s been through. Especially not after everything.

“And where will you be going?”

“To make those final preparations,”- He was now moving backwards across the room, hands splayed out, that shit-eating smile never leaving his face, -“Check up on few things, add a few final tweaks. You know how it is.”

And right before he stepped out the back door and right after Ethan missed his chance to protest, he added, -“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Ethan. I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, Heisenberg disappeared into the noise filled air of his factory.

It has been several hours until he returned.

Actually, it could as well have been several minutes, but that thought was way less reassuring and way more pitiful.

After rummaging through every drawer possible, picking up piles of metal scrap, random packs of ammo and several herbs, pocketing one of Heisenberg’s slightly damp cigars and flipping through several pages of his diary denoting the creation of “Soldats”, Ethan resolved to plopping one of the shitty metal chairs against the closest wall and plopping himself right down on it. He was definitely feeling way too exhausted to actually sit and soak it all in, way too agitated to be here in the first place. His every nerve and sense was buzzing with the need to move, and his numerous injuries burned, burned, burned. For the first time since losing his fingers was he beginning to feel phantom pains, the loss acutely piercing through his left arm and shoulder when he tried to flex his hand, wincing at the movement that never reached his ring and pinky phalanges. His knee was bouncing and his mind kept replaying scenarios of all and everything that could go wrong going wrong, and amidst all that his gaze was fixed on a single spot of rust colored stain on the old worn out carpet all the way until Heisenberg unceremoniously burst through the backdoor, scattering a few metallic parts across the floor.

Ethan’s first impulse was to jump right out of the chair, and when his body didn’t listen, he resorted to simply snapping his head up in equal parts greeting, inquiry, annoyance and excitement.

Most dangerous of them all, Duke told him a forever ago, and those words kept replaying over and over and over in his restless brain like a broken record until he’d almost convinced himself he was actually glad to have Heisenberg on his side.

“Good. You’re still here!”- Said man stopped in his step, voice colored with surprise, -“Feeling better?”

Maybe he expected Ethan to bail by now. Maybe he simply forgot he was there.

“How’re the Soldats coming along?”- Ethan asked instead, fingers interlacing with one another, ring and pinky awkwardly hanging out without their proper place, legs simply refusing to let him stand.

Heisenberg quirked his head to one side, a small incredulous smile gracing his lips, -“How do you- Hm. I see someone’s been doing their homework.”

“You leave stuff lying around.”

He nodded for a long moment, slowly placing his hands on his hips as he kept on staring at Ethan.

And kept on staring.

And kept on staring long enough for that weird alien ache to return to Ethan’s bones, make him want to squirm in his seat if his body had any resolve whatsoever left in it.

And then he simply shook his head, looked at his feet as though he couldn’t believe any of this was happening, and turned back to walking across the room towards the tiny bedside table.

“Well, to answer your question, they’re coming along just fine. Revving and ravenous,”- He stated simply, rummaging around for something Ethan couldn’t see.

“Great,”- He swallowed down in turn, finally willing his heavy, ginormous, colossal feeling body to lean forward in the chair, getting ready to stand up powering through on fumes and the rushing adrenalin alone, -“Let’s do this.”

“Woah, slow down there, cowboy,”- Heisenberg suddenly turned to him, a precariously small bottle dangling in his hand as he spread his arms out, -“We still got several hours until-“

“Several hours!?”- Ethan’s head shot up, something way too close to the surface of his skin slowly beginning to boil.

Not a trap.

“You said you were going to make checks and tweaks!”

“Yes, and now that those are mostly done we need to wait until dawn for the ceremony to start so-“

“Have you gone completely crazy!?”- He was shouting now, realizing that he had finally managed to stand up without noticing it. That his knees were shaking, -“We don’t have that kind of time, Rose will-“

“With all due respect, Ethan, your daughter isn’t exactly going anywhere. Not in the state she’s in.”

Heisenberg grinned. Ethan heard his breath catch.

“No, you know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m going alone.”

He didn’t have the time to figure out how he was going to take the next step – didn’t have to. Because in the very next second, metal scraps were levitating off of the floor and darting out to throw him backwards, knees buckling against the metal chair so he was sitting back down, his wrists now pinned painfully against the wall.

He immediately tried to dash forward, and the metal bore right down into his very bone.

“Sit. Down.”

Ethan let out a breath.

Now this? This, he understood.

He only wished he could reach his gun.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!? Miranda is going to kill you!”

Heisenberg moved slowly towards him, his outstretched hand lowering back down, a snarl over his face which made Ethan think of full moons and howling and silver bullets to the face.

He wouldn’t be able to stop silver bullets, would he?

“I’m starting to think I might as well take my chances,”- Ethan growled back, voice hoarse and aching.

“And leave me to clean up your mess!? No, thank you, I’d rather just kill you myself.”

“Big talk for someone who’s too afraid to go up against mommy-”

Wrong thing to say, the metal cuffs on his wrists told him, their grasp suddenly growing that much tighter, extracting another hopeless grunt. Ethan tried not to think of how much force it would require to pop his hands clean off. Crush his bone into dust. Sever at his skin. He somehow had no doubt Heisenberg could do it if he wanted to.

Most dangerous of them all.

No amount of chem fluid was going to reattach his hands after that.

“You have no goddamn clue what she’s capable of, you pathetic idiot. She won’t leave a wet stain once she’s through with you – and then she’ll come for me. I am not going to let that happen, Ethan.”

“Yes, well,”- He tried again, feeling as though the metal was crushing his larynx and not his arms, -“I’ve taken out three of your kind already. What’s a couple more to boot?”

Heisenberg lurched forward then, a mean expression painted over his features as he leaned in, further, further, that snarl so visceral it was all canines and blood and meat and bone, and Ethan could pull back only so far until his head connected with the wall and Heisenberg’s face was in his neck.

He groaned involuntarily. Shut his eyes and prepared for the sting-

- And then Heisenberg took a deep, deep breath in through his nose.

“Did you just- Did you just smell me!?”- Ethan stammered out breathlessly, eyes flying open as something in his abdomen sunk and he bucked against the metal restraints once more. And here he thought he could predict where this was going.

This damn village was going to drive him completely mad.

“Death… and decay,”- The other man muttered, coarse beard hairs scratching at Ethan’s Adam’s apple, his neck craning further and further till the strain was tugging at his very veins, -“You reek of it, Ethan. You really think Miranda is going to let you walk when you smell like that?”

Ethan didn’t say a word – couldn’t even form a word in his mind, had no idea what he could possibly say, Heisenberg’s own smell of metal and gasoline and cigar smoke penetrating his every sense. His breath was everything but stable, his pulse breaking through his skin.

Was this room always this suffocating?

“Dammit, Ethan, I’m on your side here!”- Heisenberg barked, the noise resonating in Ethan’s very chest cavity, his every hair standing on end by the time he pulled away and took a step back, -“Don’t you get it!?”

He didn’t get it. Didn’t want to get it.

He swallowed down, and the air was still too hot.

“We need to wait till Miranda’s busy with the ceremony - then, we strike. She’ll never see it coming.”

He was taking his sunglasses off again, running a heavy hand over his eyes. Then he looked up, and looked at Ethan, and Ethan breathed out heavy because he was starting to hate the way the other man looked.

In this light, his irises were practically white.

“Who is going to protect Rose once you’re fucking dead?”

He said nothing. The restraints let up, and he missed the pain intensely.

He understood pain. There was nothing to negotiate when violence was involved.

And now, there was only a dull itch, and the sense that his very world was crumbling – just like when he woke up outside that overturned van, a dead body and a ringing phone for company.

“Trust me on this, Ethan.”

Then, it was lonely and frigid and cold. But now…

“We’re partners, remember?”

Every inch of his being was burning up as he slowly nodded, not trusting his dried up throat with making a sound.

“At least till Miranda’s done and dealt with,”- Heisenberg added with an almost imperceptible smile, and Ethan’s brows furrowed.

“...And after?”

“Let’s not jump too far ahead, shall we? All that matters is that I’m not going to betray you.”

He took a slow step forward, too close. Too far. Ethan hated everything in that one moment.

“You will get Rose back.”

“Fine,”- He finally relented, hating it all that much more, the word tasting acidic on his tongue. He wanted, needed the metal on his wrists to tighten. Why was it still there.

Why was it barely touching his skin.

“We wait till dawn,”- Ethan nodded once again, more to himself than anyone else, saying something just to say anything and stop inhaling the smell of cigar and rust, -“But this better work.”

“It will. It has to,”- Heisenberg nodded at him, no longer looking his way, –“I’ve waited too damn long.”

He whispered that last part. A hollow silence stretched the room thin.

Ethan was still burning, and it concentrated just below his waist.

And he missed home dearly. Everything was so monochrome back then. Their hiding, their fear, their happiness – quiet, simple, muted. The pain wasn’t painful. The smiles didn’t hurt.

It was fine. It was good. Lukewarm.

“...Rose.”

Everything felt so much now. Absolutely everything.

He was miserable.

Heisenberg looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Ethan looked up slowly.

“Rose will be sacrificed at the ceremony?”

He saw the other man sigh. Watched him pull out yet another cigar.

“In a manner of speaking. She is going to become the new vessel for Miranda’s true child.”

“True child?”- Ethan blinked at him, and thought that this was good. He could handle conversation. Probably.

“What, another Lord?”

“Please. We were never her children,”- Heisenberg placed the cigar on the table without lighting, not sparing it a second glance, -“Just a bunch of ragtag experiments that didn’t lose their minds. Well, not all of us, anyway.”

“But why...”- Ethan couldn’t help the question he’s been so successfully avoiding all night, morning, day, and evening. A question he had no idea if he truly wanted to know the answer to. Whatever was holding it back now has burned through, though, and his guts were spilling onto the floor, -“Why her? Out of everyone in the goddamn world, why did it have to be Rose!?”

The other man looked amused, smile almost gentle as his eyes developed crinkles at their edges. Ethan grit his teeth. Tried not to blink.

“You really have no clue how powerful she is, do you?”

He had no idea if he actually was expected to answer – so he kept quiet. Watched Heisenberg and that out of place look on his face. He thought it didn’t suit him. He thought about that giant hammer and wondered where it was.

“It doesn’t matter, really,”- Heisenberg finally said as he shook his head, smile dropping, -“I suspect a lot of it has to do with you, anyway.”

And Ethan held his breath.

“...Me?”

“Who else? You are very special indeed, Ethan,”- He began to walk closer yet again. Ethan could swear the corners of his vision blurred. The scrape of metal against his wrists became that much more noticeable, like a couple of snakes slowly coiling their way around him.

He swallowed hard as that pair of impossibly gray eyes scanned him up and down. Slowly. Shamelessly.

“Your body is... Well, it’s something. Personally, I’m quite... interested in it.”

Filthily.

Ethan felt filthy.

And Heisenberg definitely took pleasure from standing over him like this.

His stomach turned in knots and his jaw clenched painfully as he tried his best and failed to prevent the words from spilling out of his lips.

“Are you... hitting on me?”

Fuck.

He asked and cursed internally immediately after, feeling that much dirtier.

Filthy, filthy, filthy.

It didn’t matter that the thought first entered his head back when he heard the other man enunciate his name, it didn’t matter that it continued to haunt him and evolve from ridiculous to creepy to anxiety-inducing all in the span of a couple of hours. And it definitely did not matter that Heisenberg was now staring at him like a piece of meat moments away from being torn apart, a small incredulous smirk blooming into a full sized grin – it did not matter that he felt his damned pulse betray him once again as it began to jump around his body.

Didn’t matter.

He should have stayed quiet.

By the look on Heisenberg’s face, he should have stayed quiet.

“Oh! Oh, that is rich!”

He wished it didn’t burn.

Loud laughter filled the impossibly hot air of the tiny room, Heisenberg’s eyes blown wide open in that very same expression that told Ethan You never fail to surprise me, -“Where does it all come from!?”

He laughed. And he shook his head. And he laughed some more.

And then Ethan shifted in his chair, and suddenly he was no longer laughing – rather, he was walking closer, those metal cuffs piercing and cutting through Ethan’s skin without so much as a warning, and Ethan’s heart was in his throat and his curse was out his chest.

“Fuck-!”

“Then again... You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck,”- Was all Ethan could manage, wondering if he would even be able to move his wrists afterwards. His hands have been through worse than this – he could manage. He could…

“Only if you ask nicely.”

He threw his head back against the wall again, banging it with a loud thud, incapable of nothing more when Heisenberg crouched down in front of him and began to slowly rack his gloved hands up his thighs.

Whatever Ethan was breathing with just then, it certainly weren’t his lungs – his entire chest was on fire and he meekly tugged at the restraints. It stung.

This – this, he had no clue how he could handle.

Heisenberg laughed again, but it was almost aggressive. A bark of a sound, a single ‘Ha!’, low and reverberating in Ethan’s lower abdomen despite the overpowering need to vomit.

“Really, Ethan, your wife’s body is still warm to the touch and you’re already spreading your legs for another man-“

“Don’t talk about her like that,”- Ethan remembered himself for a moment, a brief goddamn moment that felt akin to a breath in freezing winter air after spending an eternity in a furnace. He tried to kick, and his legs did not listen, -“And don’t fucking touch me.”

Heisenberg’s hands did pause – if only for a second. And then he looked up, and his grin was all sharp teeth and promise to use them.

“No one can blame you for being exhausted, papa,”- He continued to growl, the now soft, barely-there hands tracing the fine seaming of Ethan’s denim jeans, - “All that running around, the pain and the adrenalin... And the worst is yet to come!”

He dug his fingers into Ethan’s legs at that, and Ethan gasped out as his insides twitched.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to let go? Just for a minute?”

“I said-“- He began, voice sharp, and swallowed his own damn tongue when his eyes met Heisenberg’s.

He was no longer smiling.

Ethan wanted to melt into the wall. Dammit, he should have stayed quiet.

“Look, Ethan, I think we have a misunderstanding here,”- Heisenberg began, thumbs slowly, slowly, so painfully slowly rubbing up, the leather and the denim heating up in between sweaty skin.

“Damn right we do,“- Ethan muttered, and tried not to push into the touch.

“You see, this is hardly any more dignified for me than it is for you,”- The other man continued, fingers circling, impossibly light, as though trying to pretend they weren’t there in the first place. Ethan knew they were. He felt them just fine, -“But I’ve been working, too. And personally, I think I’d like to let go. Waste some time, so to speak.”

And at this, Heisenberg tilted his head, and grinned.

“We got time to waste.”

He kept on looking at Ethan, as though waiting for a sign. As though Ethan could ever possibly agree to-

As though Ethan could even entertain the idea of-

“How about this then,”- He suddenly said with a heavy breath when whatever expression Ethan’s face was contorted into didn’t seem to satisfy, -“You… don’t have to say anything.”

His voice dropped to a whisper at the same time as his eyes dropped down to stare at Ethan’s crotch. Ethan’s hips reared back into the chair. His heart was in his throat.

“Just don’t stop me, Ethan. And then we can both... Pretend.”

Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, barely made another sound or move. Just licked at his lips, slowly.

And Ethan- Well, Ethan just sat there, constrained to the wall, legs shaking, hands shaking, this- this man that he was fully intent on killing just a couple of hours ago in between his thighs, and his cock fucking throbbing. It was the most miserable he’s felt in goddamn years.

He was burning.

He never wanted to not be burning.

Heisenberg didn’t look like he was breathing.

Without making a sound, Ethan turned his head to the side and held his own breath. Grit his teeth. He felt those damn hands methodically, achingly move up his thighs, pet up his lap and slide alongside his jeans’ pockets over to his belt. He could swear he was experiencing vertigo.

“Okay. Okay,”- Heisenberg kept on whispering, and he couldn’t see his face but he could swear that that shit-eating grin was plastered all over it, and suddenly, the hands were gone, and Ethan didn’t dare look, -“Good. Perfect. Close your eyes.”

He did as he was told without a thought. Was simply glad the other didn’t gloat.

He didn’t dare think. In fact, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do, ever, because then he would realize that he’s made a decision here, and god, what did that say about him-

“Shit...”- He muttered when the hands returned, now noticeably glove free, and burning even hotter than Ethan himself, something about Heisenberg’s skin scorching like a goddamn oven. His eyes flew open involuntarily when he felt, heard his belt being opened, his body already shifting in its seat for easier access. He didn’t dare turn his head.

He really wanted to turn his head.

He exhaled a slow breath, and he didn’t think.

Heisenberg’s fingers were at his zipper now, the sound of it sliding down like the crack of thunder to his ear in the quiet room. Ethan was struggling not to pant, swallowing hard when his tongue kept drying up from all the hot air. The silence was killing him. The sound of his breathing was making him sick.

When did this room become so stuffy. He needed air. He desperately needed-

“Fuck!”- Ethan screamed desperately bucking forward when Heisenberg’s face was suddenly stuffed into his crotch, nose and mouth pressed to his still-covered cock as he took another deep, filthy inhale.

When did this happen. How did this-

“Fuck is right, Ethan,”- He muttered, lips moving against the shaft with every word, hot breath making Ethan’s hips twitch and his legs fall apart wider, -“You smell like... Fuck.”

Ethan couldn’t breathe. He could not goddamn breathe and he didn’t want to breathe.

He tried pulling at the restraints again, and they still did not let up. An electric chill ran down his spine and he began to grind his hips against Heisenberg’s face, desperate for literally any kind of friction, even if the beard did itch.

“Fuck,”- He muttered breathlessly again when the other pulled away, finally looking at Heisenberg for the first time since he somehow agreed to this happening, saw that exact grin that he was expecting, and suddenly, those canines did not look so much terrifying as inviting.

Suddenly, he felt like he could negotiate this too.

“Your mouth-“

Ethan swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down painfully as whatever he wanted to say died down just as suddenly as it came up. He saw Heisenberg blink at him in dry amusement, watched him slowly stand up and take off his stained-through trench.

“Don’t talk, alright? Make this easier for both of us.”

Ethan obeyed gladly, instead opting to look over the curve of muscle underneath the yellow shirt, the peak of collarbone where the buttons weren’t closed. Everything about Heisenberg was distinctly man and that, too, drove him absolutely wild. He’s never done this before. Never thought he’d want to. Never had any reason to.

Then the other lurched forward towards his face, and Ethan’s head connected with the concrete wall one more painful time.

Heisenberg stopped just shy of his lips, still grinning as a deep, cigar stained laugh escaped his chest.

“Ethan, please. Did you really think I’d stoop so low as to defile you with a kiss?”

Then again, he never met any other man quite like Karl Heisenberg.

His words were one thing, but they were also burning against Ethan’s mouth and they were hungrily gulping each other’s breaths in the tiny space between them. And then, just as fast and unassuming as everything he did, Heisenberg stuffed his nose into Ethan’s neck again and took another desperate huff.

“Could smell you all day when you’re like this,”- Ethan heard him mutter, low enough to be a vibration, quiet enough that Ethan thought it wasn’t meant to be heard at all, and it was almost concerning how flattering he found those words to be all things considered. The heat went straight to his cheeks. He was goddamn blushing.

Heisenberg placed a steady hand on his cheek, angled his face away as he swiftly licked at his neck, and then just as quickly bit down with his horribly sharp teeth.

“Shit!”- Ethan yelled, his voice a shameful moan that he couldn’t prevent even if he wanted to, and his hips were once again seeking friction in the shitty metal chair that he was beginning to hate. It scraped against the floor painfully.

The bite wasn’t anything Ethan expected, and it was everything he wanted. He threw his wrists against the restraints again, panting hard as Heisenberg sucked at his pulse, never feeling so exposed in his life. The other man’s hand slid down to palm his cock, and Ethan felt his eyes roll backwards in his head.

The words were spilling out of his mouth before he could even catch himself, his voice low and distant and not his own when he heard himself begging, -“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He could only remain quiet for so long, it seemed.

Heisenberg paused in leaving hard bites at his neck, raised his head to look at him once again in raw wonder.

Interesting, he called Ethan, and in hindsight, that statement could have meant absolutely anything. Facts about European bird migration patterns were interesting. Didn’t mean Ethan was going to fuck a crow any time soon.

“Please,”- He asked. Nicely.

And just this once – just this goddamn once he was glad that interesting really did mean what he thought it meant, because Ethan was so hard it hurt to move, and Heisenberg looked like he could very easily move Ethan himself.

And so he did exactly that.

As if in slow motion, he saw the other man pull back and take a few certain steps back, eyes never leaving Ethan’s, a hand flying out in front as Ethan simultaneously found himself being lifted off into the air, the pull on his wrists unreal, his arms feeling like they were going to pop right out of their shoulder sockets any second now. The world went black for a second as he was being turned around in mid-air, the room and all its contents tumbling in his vision as he was sent flying back across the entirety of it, finally landing with his back thrown against the weirdly hard bedding.

His breath was knocked out of him.

His entire body melted regardless.

And his wrists were still pinned up over his head with the metal scraps, arms beginning to feel sore.

He was lying on this shitty, dusty bed in this shitty, dusty room, completely helpless and hopeless after what was definitely the absolute worst day of his life, body and mind burning through with pain, this person who was more animal than man, who came excruciatingly close to ending Ethan’s very life, who could still end it with a single sweep of his hand looking at him like he was going to consume him.

And as Heisenberg quietly began to make his way over there, taking the time to unstrap his belts and tug off the random pieces of scrap he had hanging around his neck, Ethan wondered why in the fucking hell was he finding all of this so agonizingly arousing.

He heard the other man throw the belts down to the floor, buckles hitting the shaggy carpet with a dull clink, shirt undone to mid-waist by the time he reached the bed; watched as he climbed onto it one knee at a time, throwing them over Ethan’s body and lowering his full weight on top of his thighs.

Ethan squirmed underneath it, and refused to think any more.

“I figured you were impatient, but really, Ethan…”- Heisenberg leaned down slowly, hovered over his lips for the briefest of seconds before going for the neck again, and Ethan practically whined, -“You need to learn how to let go.”

He felt a scrape of teeth right in the middle of his throat, Heisenberg making his way down as he licked with his tongue, reaching the hollow spot between the collarbones and just- sucking right at the skin there. Ethan’s entire body arched up, and the other man’s hands were on his hip and shoulder, holding him down easily, pressing him into the bed like he didn’t weigh a thing.

“Yeah, well- Some might say I got issues,”- He rasped out finally finding his voice, pushing against the hold that he was certain was going to leave blisters on his skin. He felt the following chuckle rumble through Heisenberg’s chest into his own and shuddered.

“Then I’ll just have to fuck you so hard you’ll forget all about those, hm?”

His whole body was shuddering. His head was swimming.

Ethan was used to being manhandled – it was basically his second nature at this point, what with everything that happened in Louisiana and in the past day. But he was no goddamn pushover – he was used to fighting back.

So he pulled at the restraints again, desperate, knowing full well they wouldn’t budge a bit, and he bucked his body against the hand that was as solid as metal itself, that was now travelling underneath his shirt, slowly, painstakingly, and he craned his neck back far enough that he was now staring at the rust colored wall.

And when none of that worked, and when Heisenberg simply continued to nip at his collarbone, his burning fingers slowly raking up Ethan’s stomach, up to his nipple where he began to rub with his thumb, Ethan swallowed down the remainders of his pride that he didn’t think he’d still have anywhere on him, and did what he hated most.

He asked for help.

“Heisenberg,”- He whispered, voice hoarse and dry as his wrists kept wriggling in the cuffs, still trying knowing full well there was no point. He could negotiate this one, too.

“Ethan, please,”- The other man murmured against his stomach, where he was now pressing a particularly wet and toothy bite. Ethan let out a hiss, -“I think we might as well be on a first name basis, all things considered. At least, while your cock is still hard.”

And he punctuated his claim by pressing an almost gentle kiss down next to Ethan’s navel as he ran his fingertips alongside his bulge, making Ethan’s guts knot together.

Swallowing down the suffocating grip on his throat, Ethan tried again.

“Karl.”

His bones were at their breaking point with how hard he was pulling.

“I also wouldn’t object to ‘sir’, or maybe ‘daddy’, but use those at your own discretion,”- The other muttered from somewhere close to Ethan’s ribs, his smile stretched out against sore skin.

“Karl,”- Ethan simply said, and then, when Heisenberg didn’t so much as budge, he huffed out an angry breath, his tone guttural, -“Karl, goddammit, look at me.”

He did.

Heisenberg raised his eyes, blinking slowly from underneath his hat. From this angle, they somehow looked a soft brown. Almost like a puppy’s.

He raised an eyebrow.

Ethan swallowed.

“I want you to free my arms,”- He stated matter of fact, and watched as the other man grew tense, shoulders visibly stiffening up underneath the rumpled shirt.

There was a gut-wrenching moment of absolute silence, with nothing but the distant sounds of machine whirring and their heavy, messed up breathing to fill in the gaps. Ethan squared his jaw, and tried not to lick his dried out lips.

And then, Heisenberg moved his hand, and the restraints were gone, violently scratching Ethan’s hands as they flew into the wall across and got lodged in the concrete, cracks webbing their way around the holes.

“What, the daddy thing was too far for you?”

Ethan suddenly felt drunk with the regained freedom, immediately rubbing at his burning, itching, pulsing wrists, each bearing red rings of angry inflamed skin.

“Hm. You’re no fun,”- Heisenberg said then, voice a breathless whisper and expression dark as he began to throw his knees off of Ethan. And before he could move another inch, Ethan’s hands were on his shoulders, his face, his neck, roughly pulling him back in, lips pressing hard against Heisenberg’s and he didn’t hesitate for even a second before darting out a tongue and inserting it into the other man’s mouth. The beard was coarse and itchy against Ethan’s skin, their teeth clicking together from the sheer force, and his hands immediately got lost in the long frustratingly soft hair, finally knocking back that stupid hat that he’s hated since the moment he laid eyes on it. He thought Heisenberg made a noise and proceeded to ignore it, moved instead to take his own jacket off tongue still in the other’s cheek, threw it across the room without ever opening his eyes, and in a second his hands were back on Heisenberg’s face. He held it with enough force to bruise, was hoping to leave a bruise, his fingernails digging in and leaving angry red marks against his cheeks, adding more scars to his collection, his teeth meanwhile catching on the one that decorated Heisenberg’s lips. He licked at it temperamentally, liked the shape it formed against his tongue, and felt the other man press an unsteady hand against his chest, pushing him back. Ethan allowed it to, but not before catching his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling back - and only then did he finally let go and take the deepest goddamn breath he’d taken yet.

Well. He, for one, had no idea he was going to do that. That was the drawback of not thinking.

Things happened.

Heisenberg was panting loudly, mouth hanging open, something canine in his expression as he simply stared, eyes wide in shock and wonder and a nasty trail of saliva smeared against his crimson lips. Ethan’s fingers detangled from the messy hair and got wrapped inside his collar instead, pulling him down on top.

That was the benefit of not thinking too, actually. Things happened.

“Well, well, well. Ethan Winters,”- Heisenberg practically purred, stretching out that final ‘S’ against Ethan’s lips, -“Playing dirty, are we?”

“Wouldn’t have to if you weren’t taking your damn time,”- Ethan bit back, drinking in Heisenberg’s laughter with his throat as his own fingers kept travelling further down, finding those remaining buttons of his shirt and working to undo them.

If they were doing this, they were doing this. He didn’t give a damn anymore. Not after tonight.

“So impatient,”- The other man muttered before leaning back into the kiss, his full body weight pressing Ethan down into the bed as he lapped at Ethan’s mouth, tongue practically in his throat, and Ethan moaned desperate, dirty, loud. He did not give a damn.

His hips ground upwards, finally finding friction against Heisenberg’s solid leg, and Ethan dry humped his thigh while Heisenberg’s cigar tasting tongue did horribly filthy things to his mouth. Ethan’s hands grew their own consciousness, suddenly travelling to his dick completely of their own volition, grabbing at the sweaty, hot skin inside his boxers and pulling it out to feel the coarse texture of Heisenberg’s pants. Heisenberg, in turn, finally moved his hands away from Ethan’s face, and was now actively trying to pull off his jeans and sweaty boxers. Ethan didn’t even hesitate before lifting his hips up, found himself gasping and whining when Heisenberg pulled away, his leg and that desperately needed friction now replaced with the frustrating air of the room that was somehow both too hot and too cold.

Ethan more felt than saw the other man begin to untie his boots, throwing an arm over his eyes as his other hand kept working his dick, a slow but steady rhythm, his entire willpower in that one movement that was so much but not nearly enough. He was nearing his edge, and he needed to calm down. He wouldn’t come yet. He couldn’t.

Because then it’d be over. Because then he’d have to face-

“Look at me,”- Heisenberg’s rough hand was suddenly at his jaw, forcing Ethan’s head from underneath his arm, -“Ethan. I want you to watch me. Want you to see me make you cum.”

Ethan near damn choked on his own saliva, eyes practically glued to the other as he pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere behind, somewhere into the other pile of their dirty messed up clothes – and everything about his body practically smelled of man. The curve of the muscle, the edge of the collarbone, the musk – Ethan was driven crazy by how unfamiliar everything was. Terrifying.

Hot as fuck.

His hands finally left his dick to touch at Heisenberg’s chest hair, thick and curling and strange and so unlike anything of his own. His fingers got lost in it as the other man leaned in once again, an absolutely feral smile painted over his lips as he muttered into Ethan’s neck, -“What? Like what you see?”

“Don’t get cocky,”- Ethan spat back, pinching at a nipple and receiving a way more enthusiastic response than he’d anticipated.

“Mm. Say cocky again.”

He felt Heisenberg’s bulge at his thigh then, grinding once, twice, all the while his lips kept sucking at a single spot at the base of his neck, and he momentarily wondered if he was being fucked or eaten here. Feeling curiosity get the damn better of him yet again, he bit down his lip hard, before allowing himself to mutter quietly, -“Think I’d much rather just take your cock.”

Heisenberg bit down. Hard.

Ethan moaned loudly and didn’t hate how the pain spread throughout the arm like a jolt of lightning. Lycan teeth sinking into his flesh momentarily flashed behind his closed eyes, and he wasn’t sure he could ever sustain another bite ever again without his dick immediately taking interest.

His hands were pulling at Heisenberg’s hair, wanting him to move, needing him to move, to feel those hands, those teeth, that dick. And when the other man finally unclenched his jaws and let go, Ethan immediately crashed their mouths together with no regard for how messy it felt to taste his own blood on the other’s tongue.

“Yeah? You’re gonna take my cock, Ethan?”- Heisenberg panted into his mouth, pulling him up, -“Just wait. Gonna fuck you long and hard. Gonna make you fucking scream.”

Before he knew it, he had somehow climbed into Heisenberg’s lap, was now grinding against his stomach, against his happy trail, his gut, fingers clutching at the beard and tongue lost inside a mouth that was all cigar and wet, and he felt like a damn bitch in heat trying to get off on his own here, more desperate than ever to be fucked. And Heisenberg, damn that fucking monster of a man, pressed his giant calloused hands into Ethan’s hips, fingernails digging into his ass, and in a single move lifted him up into the air and dropped him back down on the hard, spring loaded bed.

Ethan felt the wind get knocked out of him, exhaled hard into the musty air.

“I said wait,”- The other man commanded looking down on him, lips purple and wet and stomach stained with precome, and Ethan felt a full-body shudder run through him like a fucking electric current.

“Do we have to teach you how to behave, Ethan,”- Heisenberg asked, more a statement than a question. He slowly got off the bed, a hand carefully slipping down the waist of his pants, and Ethan felt his mouth run dry.

“Don’t fucking move until I get back.”

He watched with baited breath as that hand snaked underneath the slacks, strokes slow and methodical, his eyes glued to the movement. It certainly helped that Heisenberg was walking through the room backwards, his own gaze just as fixated on watching Ethan’s every twitch.

“That’s right. Just watch. See how fucking hard I am for you, Ethan.”

And Ethan didn’t dare twitch.

His fingers were tangled in the rough yellowed bed sheets and his jaw hurt. But he didn’t move. Didn’t know if he could at this point, really.

Heisenberg only turned his back when he reached the table, picked up something off it and then turned to make his way back, all while jacking himself off shamelessly, breathily. Ethan could see the tip of his dick now and his throat closed up.

When Heisenberg sat back down on the bed, knees spread wide open in between Ethan’s legs, he watched him open a familiar looking bottle and squeeze it into his hand.

“That’s the one from before,”- Ethan noted astutely, eyes frantically travelling between Heisenberg’s own and his hand that was now dipping below the waist of his pants again. He was begging to seriously hate that one single article of clothing.

“Lubricant, Ethan,”- Heisenberg replied just as wisely, licking his lips when his voice sounded a tad too dry, -“Had a feeling we might need it.”

He had a smile on his face. Ethan’s eyes only grew larger.

“Not when- I mean, now. Not when I first-“- The other man suddenly scrambled for an explanation, and Ethan couldn’t help sitting up on his elbows to quirk an eyebrow at him, -“What I mean to say is- I didn’t intend to fuck you the moment I came into this room.”

“You didn’t,”- And despite the absolutely god awful- well, everything that has been going on since he opened his eyes the night before, Ethan found himself actually beginning to smile.

“No, it- One of the Soldats downstairs was sounding rusty.“

“So you were going to use..?”

“Lube is lube, Ethan!”- Heisenberg cracked down, both his hands flying up in the air, and fuck, Ethan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. He was having fun. He hated that he was having fun, -“I’m running out of oil, alright!? Not exactly a wide variety of suppliers around these parts. Do you even have any idea how much-!”

Ethan didn’t have any idea, and he didn’t care to find out. Instead, he reached to shut the other man up with a kiss that felt disgustingly and alarmingly tender even to himself, and at the same time he reached for the lube that was now staining the bed sheets even further.

“Well, if you didn’t intend to fuck me the moment you came into this room-“- It was Ethan’s turn to graze at the other’s neck, lips and teeth running over heated skin all the way down to the shoulder, tongue darting out to lick at the curve of muscle and tasting salt and bitterness, -“-When did you intend to fuck me?”

It’s not as though he was trying to sound salacious – he was actively curious. Besides, talking gave him the courage to finally slip a lubed up hand down Heisenberg’s disgusting trousers and curve his fingers around a thick, pulsating dick. He ran his thumb down a throbbing vein at the same time as his tongue pressed against the beat of a pulse on the other’s throat, and he felt more than heard the growl that that evoked. He gave the dick a few strokes as he continued to lick, suck, bite, patiently waiting for the answer, his own cock slowly grinding back into Heisenberg’s stomach. He felt it raise and fall with every hitched breath, every stutter and sigh, and he felt powerful. In control.

He felt good.

Until, of course, Heisenberg’s hands came to tug him by the hair, raise his face up to be kissed as he was being pushed onto his back once more, hand still desperately trying to find the right rhythm at which to jack off another guy. Touching a dick that was not his own was novel. The smell in the room was novel.

Despite everything, he still felt damn good.

And then Heisenberg pulled back entirely, taking a moment to look Ethan down with a smile so small it made his insides twist, and then just as suddenly his hands were behind Ethan’s knees, lifting them up as he began to manually turn him over like a life-sized doll.

“Hey, what are you-“

“Well,”- Heisenberg interrupted him, voice something else entirely now as his slick hands ran up and down Ethan’s bare legs, nails lightly scratching where they caught on scars, -“I first thought about fucking you when I saw your dainty little face.”

Another twist, and Ethan was on his stomach now, unsure of how he ended up in this position and feeling weirdly exposed, all things considered. He furrowed his eyebrows at the statement still, trying to recall what he could about their first meeting.

“I first wanted to fuck you-“- A tug at his hips, and Ethan was now basically ass up in the air, feeling like he should probably say something about this and finding that his throat very much refused to work, -“-When you survived my game, and I realized you were very much unlike all the other meat that went through the grinder.”

He could barely breathe now, nose stuffed into the dust smelling pillow and eyes staring wildly into the darkness, terrified of what was going to come next. His dick gave a desperate twitch, neglected, aching. His fingers clutched at the bed sheets.

“And I first knew I was going to fuck you-“- Heisenberg slapped at one of his thighs, then the other, moving them further apart, and Ethan frantically tried not to think about what this looked like, what he was doing, what was going to happen, because-

“-When you first spread those gorgeous legs of yours for me, Ethan.”

Ethan swallowed hard as he felt a wet and slick finger push its way inside him, stomach tied in knots and nausea clouding his barely functioning mind as he didn’t want to remember when exactly was it that he first spread his legs for this man.

He groaned painfully when it was fully in, Heisenberg, for once, not bothering to take his time. Ethan brought up his own arm to bite down on it painfully, the thought that he really was spreading his legs for Heisenberg not leaving his damn head for a second.

Spreading his legs while his wife was-

But that, too, was interrupted when Heisenberg pulled out roughly and replaced the single finger with two, the awkward discomfort now turning into a proper burn inside and out. Ethan’s teeth sank into his flesh deeper, back arching out, and he whined.

“C’mon, don’t be shy now,”- Heisenberg all but mocked him, and for a second Ethan wondered how offended would he be if he were to shoot him just then. Not like it would kill him.

That’d be too easy.

“I want to hear you scream, Ethan.”

And when he added a third finger, definitely way too goddamn early, punctuated with a quick and filthy bite to Ethan’s ass, Ethan obliged readily.

“Fuck you,”- Ethan only just managed, voice coming out barely audible through his strained neck, bucking his hips further as he wondered at what point was this going to feel actually good.

Heisenberg only laughed in return – but maybe that point was coming sooner than Ethan anticipated, because he began to move his fingers then, his other hand finding its way to Ethan’s leaking cock, and fuck, this was everything.

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, precious.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate to moan at that, too, dignity long forgotten.

“That’s right. Spread those legs for me, Ethan,”- Heisenberg laughed, pressing another wet bite somewhere between his ass and thigh, -“Gonna fuck you till you can’t breathe.”

There was definitely no dignity to speak of in the position he was in, and it was beginning to feel way too damn good to even bother. In fact, it was beginning to feel like not enough.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, c’mon, fuck me-”- He whined loudly, breathily, the end of each phrase cut off with the thrust of fingers, hanging his head low as his hips were now fucking right into Heisenberg’s hand.

“Yeah- Yeah, that’s better,”- Heisenberg muttered, sounding not quite there himself, and Ethan desperately wanted to see his face. Taste his mouth. Touch his skin.

He bit down on his lip and thought he could taste blood.

“You’re so good, Ethan. So fucking good.”

He was emptied out almost painfully, his insides and outsides pulsating wildly, and his dick ached, but fuck, no way in hell was he coming without having Heisenberg inside him. And just as he turned around to see what the fuck was taking him so long, his eyes landed on Heisenberg’s. His pants were finally, finally off, his cock was out, and he was shamelessly jacking himself once again, lube shining on his fist as he stared at Ethan, mouth hanging open.

“Thought you were going to fuck me long and hard,”- Ethan heard himself saying, breath slowly getting there, anticipation making his knees tremble. He didn’t recognize himself. Had no idea what was happening to him. Only knew he needed to get off, and fuck, he needed it now, -“Are you going to make me cum or what?”

Heisenberg only laughed again.

“Are you always this demanding?”

And Ethan couldn’t help his own smile.

“What can I say. I’m special.”

“That you are, Ethan. That you are.”

Ethan turned back at that, unable to sustain eye contact any longer, thought about biting the pillow and decided against it. Something inside of him was getting ready to burst and he wasn’t sure it was just the arousal speaking, and he couldn’t handle any of that right now. He just wanted to get fucked.

He needed to get fucked.

And so when he felt Heisenberg finally grab him by the hips, he groaned in anticipation.

“Ready?”- He heard a voice ask him, and before he could even so much as think about replying, there was a definite pressure against his ass, and it was almost insulting how fantastic the burn felt inside his guts.

Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, only moaned high and needy, and as he felt him draw back his hips again, Ethan felt himself being tugged back by his shirt, back arching. There was a sudden smell of cigar and gasoline and rust and a hot tongue running up the back of his neck. Ethan cried out, stretching his arms out in front of him and feeling one of Heisenberg’s hands come up and grip at his wrists, pinning him in place yet again, sore skin pulsating wildly against the iron hold.

“Fuck- Never been fucked like this,”- He gasped into the sweat-stained bed sheets, tongue running on its own, lips trembling, -“Feels good. So fucking good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you- You feel fucking amazing, Ethan,”- Heisenberg breathed into his ear, moaned as he went in deeper, and deeper yet, and that was the moment where Ethan definitely felt him hit something inside his guts, and his knees all but gave out from underneath him.

“I could fuck you all night.”

Then do it, he thought, realizing that he would gladly let him if only Heisenberg would keep hitting that fucking spot, because fuck.

“Fuck- Harder, harder- Please.”

Ethan bucked his hips once, twice, falling into rhythm, realizing that before he even knew it he was fucking as much down into the mattress as he was up into the other’s dick, overstimulation hitting him like a pile of bricks and suddenly he was so much closer than he wanted to be. Heisenberg’s hair tickled his cheeks, and when he turned his face, he received a sloppy, lopsided kiss that was every bit as messy as the rest of this experience. Ethan drooled on the pillow as he turned back, bit into it after all as he felt himself nearing the edge, and as though sensing his thoughts, Heisenberg’s hand moved from his hip to his cock to give it the much needed friction.

“You look fantastic like this, Ethan,”- He heard a breathy voice in his ear, felt his eyes roll back in his head as he gasped and groaned, -“I’m going to make you feel so good. So good.”

“I’m-“- He wanted to say and couldn’t, and Heisenberg picked up his pace without question.

“Cum for me, Ethan,”- He gasped against his earlobe, nipping at it in between, something frantic about his movements, -“I want to watch you cum. I want you- I want you-“

Ethan couldn’t hear the rest, didn’t know if there even was a rest. He was coming as though on fucking command, his body in spasms, eyes rolling back in their orbits. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and Heisenberg was still fucking into him, still pumping his dick through the orgasm, and fuck, this was the hardest Ethan’s come in all his goddamn life.

He could swear his vision went blank for a good moment there – but that could also have been because he stuffed his face into the pillow. And he only realized that this was the case when his body loudly demanded oxygen – and Ethan wriggled out of the grasp on his wrists to rise up on his elbows and take a deep breath.

Heisenberg slowed his movements, the roll of his hips almost in sync with Ethan’s heartbeat. His vision settled.

It was disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Spent and tired and wasted and already so full of acidic regret it was beginning to eat him alive.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cum,”- Heisenberg whispered into his ear, breathless. Ethan inhaled sharply.

And so he grit his teeth and swallowed down the repulsive sticky feeling, shifting slowly, certainly. He heard Heisenberg groan, and he knew wanted to see. For how perfectly filthy he was feeling then, he still wanted to fucking see.

“Pull out,”- He demanded when turning around didn’t quite work and he felt the other man still, -“Karl. Come on now, trust me. I won’t leave you hanging.”

He surprised even himself with how earnest he was being there. And then, for emphasis and own personal amusement, he added, -“We’re partners, right?”

Because who didn’t love some good irony.

He had no idea what Heisenberg was thinking, of course, couldn’t claim to - but he wanted to believe that something like this would work. That he knew him well enough by now for this to work.

And it did.

With much hesitation and huffing, Heisenberg did pull out, leaving Ethan throbbing and empty and weirdly cold. And Ethan grit his teeth as he forced his shaky body to work again, at least enough to turn around. Enough to push the panting, confused, and perfectly compliant Heisenberg onto his back and climb on top.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Ethan tried not to think that he looked good lying like that, his sweaty hair spread out on the bed sheets, his eyes somehow both the color of orange rust and clear crystals at the same time, blown out, unfocused yet watching his every move. He really did try not to think about how enjoyable it was to kiss that mouth with that scar, to explore every other scar littering that frustratingly handsome face with his tongue, to hear the soft moans and know he was causing them – but dammit, without arousal clouding his every move, it was too damn difficult. And so he kissed that mouth again and again and again, licked at that scar, at every other scar, if only because he could.

For now, he could.

But then Heisenberg’s hands were moving back to his cock, and Ethan couldn’t have that. He was a man of his word if nothing else, dammit. And now, it was time for payback.

“You going to jerk off while I’m right here? Really?”

It was his turn to grab the other man’s wrists, force them above his head with minimal resistance (and he suspected resistance would be completely fatal in this case anyway), and slowly wrap his own fingers around the swollen cock, drop the remainder of lube on it and spread it through slowly. Heisenberg shuddered, releasing a soundless chuckle as he looked up at the ceiling, visibly trying to relax into the touch.

“You’re going to choose now to learn to take it slow, huh?”- He rasped, breath slowly picking back up again with every stroke Ethan gave him, and Ethan drank it all in like he was watching the most fascinating performance of his life.

“I’m a hands-on learner,”- He quipped back easily, swirling the head with his thumb and forefinger just because he could, and watched Heisenberg quiver.

“Going to fucking kill me,”- Ethan heard him mutter, and he really couldn’t suppress his smile then, licking his dry lips and mentally preparing himself for what he was planning on doing next. He reached down and finally pulled off his disgusting shirt, exposing his chest to the hot air and the sound of Heisenberg groaning in approval.

“Told you I could take you on.”

“Ethan, I swear to-“

Ethan didn’t know who Heisenberg was going to swear to, because at that point he finally managed to swallow down the rest of his disgust, anxiety, and apprehension, and use gravity to lower himself back down on Heisenberg’s dick once more. And sure, it was loads more uncomfortable, painful, the second time around, but fuck if the look on the other’s face wasn’t worth it – Heisenberg swore loudly, throwing his head back as he moaned and his hands immediately shot up to dig into Ethan’s hips and hold him as though his life depended on it.

“You’re goddamn insane,”- He half-whispered, half-laughed out, expressions twitching between incredulity, arousal, and just a simple fucking smile, and it was that last part that allowed Ethan to try and buck his hips forward. Just as an experiment. Just to see what would happen.

“Nah, just special.”

And what happened was that Heisenberg growled, stomach curling in, and Ethan moved again, and again, and again, until he was riding the other’s hips, until he felt himself suddenly get half-hard again and wondered if this was a normal thing to happen right after he’d already come, and before long Heisenberg was moving his hips too and his fingers were leaving bruises on Ethan’s pale skin.

“Fucking hell, Ethan, you feel so fucking hot,”- He breathed out, nails digging in to leave soft scratches against Ethan’s ass, -“So fucking- I knew you were gonna be a good fuck, but- Fuck.”

Ethan spread his legs wider, balls against a sweat-soaked stomach, hands spread out atop the twitching chest, fingers twirling the nipples, and he watched, watched, watched as Heisenberg fell apart.

“Gonna make you cum so hard,”- He whispered seeing him bite down on his lip so hard it bled.

Most dangerous of them all, echoed in his head once again and he barked out a single laugh as he leaned in and captured his mouth in a horrible kiss that was barely reciprocated – Heisenberg was close, and his eyes were screwed shut, and he was gasping and panting and whining and Ethan wanted to consume it all until that was the only thing left between the two of them. He pried away a reluctant hand from his hip and took a couple slick fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking and pressing his tongue into the webbing in between.

“Want you to suck me like this,”- His teeth grazed against the scars there, and he groaned when he felt a trickle of saliva run down his chin, -“Want your lips around my cock. Like this. Just like this.”

With a desperate moan, Heisenberg was coming, and Ethan’s already sticky feeling grew impossibly larger as he felt himself fill up, and if he wasn’t already working his dick to come a second time, this just might have sent him over the edge and turned this whole situation unbearable. As it stood, though, he was simply sitting there, taking it all in, desperately panting and moaning himself as he fucked his hand, twirled his tongue around the press of Heisenberg’s fingers, and tried to get it over with quickly.

And Heisenberg watched him through it all, eyes half-lidded, his mouth a thin, plump line, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He slowly moved to sit up on his elbows, his soft dick still moving inside Ethan, still doing things to him.

With a messy pop he pulled his fingers out of Ethan’s mouth, used that hand to bend him in half, giving him yet another messy kiss.

Only this time, it was slow.

It was slow, and it felt different, and Ethan’s dick was twitching in his hand and it ached.

Heisenberg lifted him off with a tired grunt, Ethan desperately ignoring the sensation of everything leaking out of him, and placed him back on the mattress, back in his place. And then, he yanked Ethan’s hand off, and without so much as another word, replaced it with his mouth.

“Fuck,”- Ethan screamed, the swirl of hot wet tongue making his hips spasm frantically, fingers tugging at the long hair.

Heisenberg took his cock nearly all the way down to the base, then went back up and pressed his tongue against the slit, lapped up at the fluid coming out and removed his mouth again.

“Taste fucking amazing, Ethan,”- He stated, and Ethan had no doubt that that was true. He licked at the shaft in one slow motion, starting at the base and making his way to the head, then back down again, and Ethan heard him take a deep inhale, practically nuzzle against his balls, and he wanted to scream, -“You’re good. You’re so good. Is this what you wanted?”

“Yeah. Yeah,”- He panted, holding the other man by the base of his neck as he fucked against his lips, his cheek, his mouth, leaving streaks of white across hot skin, -“You get me so hard. So fucking hard. Make me cum. Make me cum again.”

“I will. You will cum for me again and again, Ethan. You smell amazing,”- Heisenberg told him just as well, stroking and licking and it was the absolute weirdest blowjob Ethan has ever received in his life, but he was watching Heisenberg practically worship his dick with a look that many did not bother worshipping their gods with, and he was never a fan of dirty talk, but somehow this was now making his guts explode. He watched that mouth wrap around his tip, suck at it almost gently, his breath now a confused mess of moans and curses and growls.

“Fuck. Like that. Fuck, I’m going to fucking cum all over you-“

“Do it. Whatever you want. My face, my mouth, my chest. Anything,”- Heisenberg muttered against the shaft, then took it back down his throat, swallowed hard, and Ethan practically saw stars. By the time Heisenberg pulled back, half of Ethan’s cum was dripping down his chin, onto his beard, his collarbones, his arms.

“Like that, Ethan. Let go. Let it all go.”

And Ethan hated how gently he worked him through the rest of the orgasm, how that made him feel dirtier than the first one when he was ass up and practically blinded, how staring at Heisenberg’s cum-stained face pressed into his thigh was making him feel weak and desperate and like he never wanted to move ever again.

Heisenberg was still pressing a wet hicky into his leg by the time Ethan had finished, had time to come back down from his high, had time to remember everything he’d said and everything that was said to him, had time to feel the dried up fluids covering his body, and had time to realize that this was it. That the distraction was over.

He wanted to sink into the bed and wake up a week later.

He had no idea whose bed he wanted to wake up in.

Heisenberg gave his skin another whiff as he was standing up, looked at Ethan from underneath those greatly hooded eyes and smirked, and then simply walked back across the room to the table butt-naked, cum stains across his abdomen and crotch and chest and beard.

Ethan crawled up the bed slowly, no idea what he was supposed to say now. What was supposed to happen. He was beginning to get cold. His teeth ached.

He watched a very naked Heisenberg wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, pick up the cigar he discarded earlier, then crouch down and search around for a lighter, which he used immediately.

And then he watched a puff of white smoke cloud the already hot and mussed up room.

This time, when Heisenberg reached over and offered the cigar, Ethan didn’t refuse.

He took a long drag and smoke filled his senses, seeped into his lungs and came back out as a violent cough, everything about the taste making him think of the man in front of him, the feeling weirdly soft for as sickly as it made him feel. His backside burned and he desperately needed a shower.

He didn’t know if regret was the right term for what he was feeling then. It felt about right.

Heisenberg simply laughed, and the sound, too, was making him melt further down into the bed.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”- He asked settling back into bed, throwing a tattered blanket over both of them, and Ethan automatically moved aside to make space. His knees protested the new position.

He passed the cigar over, trying and failing not to move closer. The other man was still burning hot – and Ethan was so damn cold for so damn long.

He watched him take another long, slow drag, and this time instead of releasing it into the air, Heisenberg turned to look at him, blinked slowly once and then smiled and reached over.

Ethan didn’t have the time to think before opening his mouth up for the kiss, tasting the smoke and the cum and thinking it disgusting and yet reaching his tongue deeper in for more.

“Better?”- Heisenberg asked pulling back way too soon, watching as Ethan released a thinning cloud into a room that was beginning to look and feel like a fire hazard.

And Ethan took that moment to look him over. All sweaty and dirty and sullied, hair a wild mess, bite marks covering the entirety of his neck and shoulder, lips puffed out and red, that scar lost amongst the color. Eyes hooded, pupils blown out. A smile so gentle it could crack any second now.

And he looked- Karl looked- Heisenberg looked like a man. A normal, regular, content fucking person who was just happy to be there. Ethan swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smoke beginning to sting at his eyes.

He shuffled in closer, threw a leg over Heisenberg’s own. To warm up, he told himself, and Heisenberg’s expression told him he didn’t mind one bit. You’re alright, it told him. It’s okay.

“Yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it,”- Ethan told him in a quiet voice. Didn’t know if regret was still in the room with him, or if it managed to slip out somewhere in between all the cigar smoke. He inhaled, and his lungs burned sweetly.

Heisenberg took another slow drag. Leaned back in for another kiss.

And this time, it lasted longer. The graze of lips was slow, the tongue slower yet to follow, gentle and intent on exploring, learning, mapping. And the second Ethan pulled back to release the smoke that was beginning to choke, Heisenberg was back in with another dose. Another kiss that lasted even longer.

Ethan was beginning to suspect the cigar was just an excuse.

His hand slipped over a warm thigh and squeezed. Nothing felt alien anymore.

Just slow. And sleepy.

“You should rest,”- Heisenberg told him when Ethan found himself inexplicably resting on his chest, fingers mindlessly playing with the hairs, throat weirdly tight.

“But-“

“Believe it or not, there’s still time, Ethan,”- He told him, a soft hand running up and down his arm. Ethan exhaled and tried not to think about how this looked. About how this felt. About how he felt, -“Sleep. Rest. I will wake you in the morning.”

He inhaled the smell of cigar smoke readily. Took another look around the tiny room that was the closest he felt to home in what felt like forever. Finally felt like he was no longer cold or hot.

Just warm.

“Okay. Morning it is.”

He settled back. Looked into the ceiling for a long moment, then rose up on his elbows to give Heisenberg another slow kiss – this time, in between cigar drags. Sighed into the little surprised sound he’d managed to extract. Settled back again and crawled further under the blankets.

The room was beginning to look like a dream, and for once, it wasn’t a nightmare.

He pressed his back to Heisenberg. Immediately, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Lips pressed against his shoulder.

Ethan closed his eyes.

“And in the morning, we change everything.”

#wintersberg #karl heisenberg #ethan winters #re8 #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

wordstro · 3 years ago

Text

[2:48 PM] + hero/villain au + "we're quite a pair, aren't we?" + part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

a/n: 2.5k, gender neutral as always, I know I said this is the last part but i'm gonna need a couple more or else this will be too long! warnings for cursing, wooyoung being toxic, and an astrology joke because I couldn't help myself lol

jung wooyoung's fiery gaze is unwavering, unrelenting, and it has you frozen to your spot. you do not know whether you are terrified or in awe of the sheer power displayed before you. flames curl around him like wings, heat scorching your skin as he moves closer. despite his promises to you, to selfishly keep you alive, you think this is it. either you will stop wooyoung, or you will die trying.

a hand on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality. back to the screams of civilians, to the skeletons clawing themselves out from the cracks in the concrete, all headed your way at a slow, daunting speed. there are so many of them, like moths swarming a flame or those zombie movies you used to watch on movie nights with your team, with wooyoung wedged between you and san and popcorn nestled in your lap. your heart withers in your chest, but the terror the looming army of skeletons dredge up within you does not quell.

hongjoong levels you with a sincere, determined look, his voice low, "you are not going up against him alone," his fingers drop from your elbow to your hand and he squeezes it as he used to when you were both in university, "not again. not anymore."

at any other time, the show of sincerity would bring you to tears after everything, but you don't have time that. not now. instead, you give him a grateful smile before you switch gears.

"it's fine, joong. you need to find seonghwa and jongho and make sure yeo...that he's..." your heart sinks in your chest as you trail off at the thought of yeosang's fate.

"i know." hongjoong sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, before he swivels on san. they have a silent exchange, one you can't decipher, but san nods in response and hongjoong grits his teeth. hongjoong's gaze keeps flickering to wooyoung's approaching figure even as he looks between you and san.

hongjoong says, "protect each other."

you both nod. hongjoong steps back, his eyes lingering on wooyoung, before he disappears into thin air, no doubt stepping into one of the many dimensions he can flit through. he's likely already on the other side of the army to confront seonghwa. the skeleton army spreads into the city streets, like ants, aimless as they descend upon the city. you ignore the guilt surging within you as you block out the screams and cries of civilians, turning your focus entirely on wooyoung.

"you think this is poetic justice or something?"

"what?" you blink sideways at san. he cranes his neck as he stares at wooyoung, and his expression is the calmest you've seen it in a while, as if all the anger has melted under wooyoung's scorching heat. all that is left is a sad sort of resolve.

"two of the three people who love wooyoung most," san gives you a sidelong glance and a knowing half-smile, "teaming up to beat his ass into the next decade. the alliance's pr team could never set something up like this."

your heart twists at his words, but you manage a small smile back. "should you really be romanticizing a beat down, san?"

"i can't help it," san shrugs, "i'm a cancer. we romanticize everything."

you snort, and san smiles, and you know right then that you are not the only one who's resolved to stop wooyoung or die trying.

before you can say another word, flames burst up into the sky all around you, a fire wall that cuts you and san off from the rest of the city. you watch some skeletons burn to crisps before you, blackened bones clattering into the rubble, cement melting.

you hear wooyoung laugh.

then a molten piece of rubble is soaring in your direction at a speed you can barely fathom, let alone dodge.

~.~.~.~.~

you come to all at once, and you feel as if you've been hit by a truck. a burning truck made of solid metal. multiple times.

you don't have time to assess the damage, only that you know your vision is blurred and you have burns and the smell of burning skin and hair is not pleasant at all and that you're - holy shit, you're practically embedded into the side of an office building, half your body hanging in the air, unsupported. you blink away the spots in your vision, shaking the ringing in your ears, and grip a steel pipe protruding from the gaping hole you've caused and look over the side of the building to -

"- fucking asshole!"

"you've said that already."

you recognize san's shout and wooyoung's infuriatingly nonchalant response, drifting from beneath you.

you lean over and recoil at the sight of san swinging at wooyoung with a vengeance you only imagined from him until this point. wooyoung dodges each hit with ease. he knows san's fighting style, even after all these months. wooyoung and san used to train together often, alongside yeosang.

"i knew you were bad at throwing punches, but i didn't know you were this bad. heartbreak made you this soft?"

wooyoung's tone is mocking, mean. you bristle, yanking at the protruding pipe beside you. it groans in protest, but you don't have any other weapons, so a giant corporation can handle a missing plumbing pipe or two.

san lands a punch. "that one's for y/n," then san tackles wooyoung to the ground, straddling him before he lands another punch on wooyoung's face. the sickening crunch seems to echo despite the chaos in the city. san's biting words echo as well, "and that's for yeosang."

wooyoung merely laughs, "is that it? yeosang hit harder than you."

san blinks, and the silence that follows has you pausing in your attempt to wrench out the stupid pipe from the cement building.

"hit?" san's voice echoes up to you, "past tense?"

wooyoung doesn't respond. san grabs him by the collar, yanking him close to say something you can't hear from up here. you finally pull the pipe from the building, water bursting from the severed pipe and spilling over you.

whatever san says to wooyoung flips a switch in him, one that you've seen too often in that underground apartment. in the blink of an eye, wooyoung has san by the throat, fire bursting from his other palm, poised and ready for the finishing blow. you lock eyes with san over wooyoung's shoulder, even as he grips wooyoung's arm. his lips are moving, and whatever he's whispering to wooyoung has anger rolling off him in waves. you jump from the side of the building, landing right behind him as you swing at his head. the road crumbles beneath you at the force of your jump, making you miss wooyoung by an inch. he turns his fire on you and it whizzes past your head, inches from your ear. the smell of burnt hair floods your senses once more.

wooyoung meets your gaze.

your grip remains tight on the pipe in your hands, but your voice wavers when you whisper, "is yeosang...is he dead? did you kill him?"

"those are two very different questions."

"woo -"

wooyoung grabs the pipe and it starts to melt in his hands, molten metal dripping between you both. you yelp at the way it burns your hands, pulling your stinging hands away just as san lunges for wooyoung's feet. without turning, wooyoung swings the pipe straight down into san's lunging hands. the movement is too fast. the instant rotting scent of burning flesh causes you to lurch back, even as san lets out a loud scream. he phases away fast enough to avoid the brunt of it, but from the way san cradles his hand against his chest as he scoots away from wooyoung, you know the pain is bad.

wooyoung rolls his eyes, brandishing the molten pipe in his hands. "this is fucking pathetic," he eyes san in annoyance, "you're fucking pathetic."

if you hadn't known what to look for, you'd have missed the way san's shoulders deflate at the insult.

you push your way between them, blocking san from wooyoung's harsh gaze. you shove wooyoung so hard he stumbles back, his eyes widening slightly as if he'd forgotten your strength. maybe he has, since you spent months unable to use it on him. then, he turns his angry, mocking eyes on you, stepping towards you.

he tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your face, "did that hit too close to home for you, y/n?"

your fists curl at your side. his gaze flickers to your fists. his smile is vindictive.

"you think after this, they'll let your crimes slide?"

he takes another step closer, flicks his wrist, and all you hear is san shout behind you before he is blocked off by a wall of fire. you're encircled by fire, by wooyoung, and wooyoung merely laughs once more.

you shove him away from you. his back hits the fire behind him, but it only seems to push him back into the circle. wooyoung is unaffected by the strength of your shoves, his gaze unwavering. each time you push him back, he stumbles back only to step forward. sometimes his flames push him back to his feet when you push him to close. he continues to advance on you as if your strength is nothing. as if it isn't enough.

if you wanted to, you could shove him a hundred meters into the ground or toss him into the sky, into one of the office buildings peeking over the wall of fire even. but you don't. despite everything, you can't. yeosang doesn't need to be here to speak the strength out of you. you know it, and so does he. san knows it too, you realize, and that's why he landed punches for you.

"stop it. don't come any closer." you grit out, shoving him once more.

he laughs. there is nothing amusing about it, "do i need to remind you what you've done?"

"i'll kill you, wooyoung," you stand your ground, arms raised, but your voice wavers when wooyoung steps even closer, until his chest brushes against your raised knuckles, "i swear i will."

"come on, y/n. we both know you can't," wooyoung snorts, "you can barely even hurt me. we're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"don't compare me to you. you've hurt me time and time again," you remind him, pushing him back once more, "you just threw a fucking lava rock at me."

he shrugs, "but did it kill you?"

you let out a scream of frustration, lunging at wooyoung, tackling him to the ground. you grip his tattered collar, ignoring the way his heated skin almost burns, and you raise your fist.

he says, with such ease, as if you aren't seconds away from breaking his nose, "killing me won't stop a thing. it won't stop your anger or any of the fighting. this is only the beginning, y/n. kill me now and you'll only create a martyr."

your fist shakes midair, your grip tightening around his collar. he's right. his ideologies have already found a foothold within disenfranchised communities. you could tell that much from the brief bits of news you were able to catch on television between serum injections and blank spaces. wooyoung is always fucking right.

wooyoung's eyes flicker from your raised fist to your face, and his eyes are unreadable.

his voice is the softest murmur, but his words cut right through you, "all i have to do is say the words, you know. then we can have the city by nightfall."

you can't imagine the idea of mindlessly joining wooyoung's side. after reconciling with hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san. after yeosang risked his life to get you out. you can't fathom why wooyoung insists on making you go through that again.

you drop your fist to his collar, and you yank him up with both hands, the sound of his collar tearing further filling the silence between you both. you search his gaze for a long moment before you whisper, "why are you doing this to me?"

it's a genuine question, and for once, wooyoung appears entirely genuine as he thinks over his response. "there are two sides to every war. those who win, and those who are dead," wooyoung's eyes flicker over your features, "i don't know what i'll do if you die, so i'm picking your side for you."

his tone is quiet, an admission almost, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. you need to get away from him. bile rises in your throat at the thought of his words, the meaning behind it, the way a miniscule part of you still stirs at the admission. you always used to wonder how he felt about you, and when he betrayed you all, you used to lament that you were not enough to make him even consider staying. now, you're getting an admission under all the wrong circumstances and for all the wrong reasons. you continue to back away, until the heatwaves emitting from his fire wall burns at your skin, sweat dripping down your back.

wooyoung merely sits up and watches your reaction with unreadable eyes.

"you're doing this because you care about me?" your voice curls around the word care. your heart hurts.

wooyoung drags a hand through his messy hair, his gaze falling to his feet for just a moment. he nods. he appears subdued like this. vulnerable.

"that's fucked up," you whisper, "it's unfair. it's - it's -"

"i know," wooyoung says, sighing as he tugs at his hair, "i know, y/n."

his brown eyes meet yours, and he holds you in his gaze for a moment too long. your fingers curl into fists as you look away first.

"what about," you grit your teeth as you address the wall of fire behind him, "what about san? joong? mingi and yunho? you don't care if they're dead?"

"if the villain alliance needs their powers, we'll have them take the serum."

he doesn't answer your second question, and you can't help but look at him again. you can see the way your question affects him though, the tick of his jaw and the brief flicker of guilt. but his words sit heavy on your shoulders.

one day, he'll take their autonomy from them as well and you'll be forced to help.

"i hate you," you tell him.

wooyoung's voice is soft with pity, "no you don't."

jung wooyoung is always right, and you hate that most of all.

another siren breaks through the city, and you're suddenly aware of just how eerie and silent the world has become. the siren doesn't sound like anything the alliance had trained you on, the low hum of horns grating on your ears. wooyoung seems to know what it means, though, craning his neck as a small grin tugs at his lips. he brushes the dirt from his tattered clothes and flicks his wrist. the flames around you dance further into the sky.

"that's your cue," he says to you.

you shake your head in a last stand of defiance. you hope he'll listen. for once. but, he sighs, as if you are merely a child throwing a tantrum.

then he says the words and your vision spots.

you disappear.

#wooyoung angst #ateez angst #ateez #ateez scenarios #wooyoung #hero/villain au

65 notes · View notes

complicatedandstained · 3 years ago

Text

Nightmare

You tell Axel about the hallucinations, and he ruffles your hair between the horns and cups your cheek and calls them Nightmares. “You ought to know all about them, Roxas, living here.”

You’ve walked together outside of the Halloween Town proper and into the local graveyard, pausing to talk on a bench barely distinguishable from the headstones.

“How do I make them stop?” you ask, and he doesn’t quite succeed at trying not to laugh, but it’s the sad kind. You’re all too familiar with that now.

“They’re just a part of being human, I guess. Well,” he flicks at one of your horns. "Human-ish."

Your brows bounce. “You have them too, then?” He seems too put together for it, though he’s always insisting that he’s not. “Sure.” His expression hardens, and you see his jaw working, his lip twitching, fighting for a softer look. “Sometimes. Even had a couple in the Organization, eventually.” He manages the smile. “Dreamt they shrunk me down and put me in a bird cage in Saïx’s office. Only fed me sea salt ice cream bars.

"Spent all my time swinging on the perch bar and looking out the closest window at the lightning storms and neon lights—screaming my lungs out.” He pauses, shakes his head. Emerald eyes dart down to you, more serpentine than his regular ones, lip quirking, “Funny, right?”

You shake your head back at him, your fingers knotting in front of you. “I don’t really think so.”

“Teensy tiny little ice cream bars, though.” He pinches his fingers together, and his jaw goes slack. He reaches up to ruffle his own hair, and looks away from you, to the far side of the graveyard, where the stones are weathered and hardest to read. “Yeah. Okay. Probably funnier in my head.” He laughs again but it’s cold.

You are not feeling reassured. The only comfort is that he is warm and solid in the morning chill, sitting with his leg pressed to yours. “There has to be some way to stop them. I’m not…” Your finger drags beneath your eye at the deep violet shadow you’re sure is painted there.

“Oh, Roxas,” he winces. Hadn’t realized it was so bad, you guess. He tilts his head. “Well, really it all depends. What are they about?”

You stare back. Your mouth feels stuck like a door with no handle. They tell you your people skills are deficient, Who’s wouldn’t be, they sympathize, being raised by criminals, but you’re pretty sure there’s no good way to tell someone you dream about their death—heartless clawing every inch of them and dragging them down until they are just a wet, glittering red organ floating skyward. You wake up in a cold sweat and call out for him, or Xion, or Sora.

He realizes you aren’t going to tell him, coughs to split the tension in the foggy air. “Well, I can think of a couple people who might have some ideas.”

Sally makes tea as Jack waxes poetic about the healthy benefits of a good fright. He retells some of his own most bone chilling nightmares, and you have to admit you don’t want those either.

You do not tell Jack and Sally what yours are about, but Sally’s frown deepens when she looks at you, watches you stirring milk into your oolong, your spoon rattling too sharply against the ceramic.

“Sometimes,” she says when Jack pauses to take a sip of his own brew, “nightmares have something to teach us. But sometimes, it’s just as important to have the right person to face our fears with. Someone to hold us tight when the lights go out and remind us they aren't going anywhere.”

“And,” Jack nods, “that when things go horribly wrong, there’s always a way to set things right.”

Jack and Sally share a knowing smile and squeeze their hands together, cloth and bone.

Axel rises from his chair and wraps strong, sturdy, warm arms around your chest. “I’m right here for you, Roxas.” He squeezes too tightly, and you laugh and push at him with your shoulder, but he holds firm. “I’m right here.”

#kingdom hearts #halloween #tnbc #roxas #axel #lea #jack skellington #sally the ragdoll #chilltobember #week 4: nightmare #my writing

22 notes · View notes

larkace · 4 years ago

Text

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!

53 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

For the bot reader sparkling prompt what about Swerve and or Whirl? (I’m especially curious about Whirl’s reaction if the (or one) of the sparkling(s) resembles him pre-empurata) I would toss a possible Misfire in there too but I don’t think he’s a bot you usually do.

Hope you're ready for FEELS and CUTE SPARKLINGS because that's absolutely my favorite combo anon! Plus I'd always liked the Scavengers but never really looked into their appearance in the comic until now, and thank you for giving me the impetus to learn about the chaotic but still lovable gaggle of misfits.

Swerve

·He's admittedly been on a whole new level of euphoria since the two of you started dating, but the moment he found out you were gonna be Creators he more or less ascended. Every scan nearly brings him to tears and he keeps all the pictures on him wherever he goes, so any bot that comes near will be ambushed by a flood of bragging and a veritable album of a bitlet that hasn't even been born yet. Suffice to say that when it was finally time to meet your little bundle, he was emotional, though for your sake he remained a surprisingly steadfast and supportive partner through the entire emergence. But the moment he laid his visor on that squawling little bitlet...

·"Tears" aren't quite sufficient to describe the waterfall that poured from his visor, but thankfully the staff was quite accustomed to such reactions and smoothly checked over the newborn before handing them back to their new parents. As a metallurgist for a species made of metal that's at it's most vulnerable after birth, he's actually been present for a few sparklings entering the world to provide potential care for those considered high risk, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing your beautiful new bitlet in person.

·Between praising you and the beeb he can hardly get a coherent word out through the blubbering, but his awe and adoration is still clear as day. You made a whole new bot, and now they're here, and they're the most amazing little sparkling the planet has ever seen! Every feature of yours or his that he sees gets him crying anew, and he can't possibly fathom what he's done to deserve any of these blessings. Countless photos of their first few hours are accumulated to join his collection in addition to being shared via intergalactic Wi-Fi to every friend you have.

·When your chosen visitors arrive he's absolutely effusive with his praise of you and the beeb. Do they see this bitlet? Have any of them ever seen anything this precious in all of history?! His Conjunx made them isn't that the most amazing thing in the entire galaxy like how did they even do that?! Even bots who know him well are amazed by how genuinely tender and affectionate he is, as there's not a joke to be heard from him even once. Truthfully he can't think of anything funny about this at all, except maybe how even the tougher bots that visit absolutely melt when they see the sweet little face of a newborn amidst a bundle of blankets, but he can't really blame them now can he?

·Despite all of his joy for the two of you being Creators, when it's just you and him and the sparkling again, he's quite hesitant to ask if he can hold them. He's held them before in the rush of the moment, but here in the still and calm... It worries him. There's so much caution in his grip when he takes them into a gentle cradle, his bulky arms easily supporting the tiny weight despite how unnaturally heavy they feel. There's a flash of worry for all the chances he'll have to mess up, but that disappears when a little fist pops free of the blanket and into the bitlets mouth, where they contentedly suckle on it in the most adorable display he's ever beheld. Somehow he knows it will be okay in that moment, because he'll never let anything happen to you or your new little addition.

Whirl

·His reaction to his own prospective sirehood was a near perfect example of internal screaming beneath a veneer of calm. Of course he wasn't necessarily surprised, and he loved you more than anything in any universe, but... you've met him, right? Sure, you fragged him, but have you paid attention to the kind of bot he is? Do you really want any of this around a sparkling, or remixed into one? Admittedly he hadn't had an argument for your simple "yes" in reply, and to the day your little bitlet arrives he still can't think of a rebuttal, beyond how his claws don't give you much of a hand to hold or provide good massages.

·Somehow the entire process manages to be Unicron levels of unthinkable horror and awe inspiring beautiful wonder at the exact same time, and his attitude is even more varied as a result. There are moments he's the calm partner whispering sweet nothings, the aggressive coach shouting for you to kick labor's ass, the panicking wimp who refuses to believe the body parts he's seeing belong where they are, and the petrified but dutiful sire-to-be frozen in horror while you hold onto him for dear life. Thankfully he manages to reign it all in once the two of you have a newly minted bitlet wailing in the real world.

·He'd expected to be awed, but also knew to brace for seeing a bundle that... didn't much resemble his current self, due to Empurata not affecting genetics, but he never could have prepared himself for the reality. One look at this tiny and flawless little accident and he comes embarrassingly close to fainting, his long legs folding into a chair some brilliant medic was smart enough to push beside the bed, and his optic growing misty as he beholds you and the whole new person you made. There's awe at the fact he contributed to making something unbelievably perfect, happiness for a million reasons he doesn't care to comprehend, but also... sadness. A face he'd never thought he would see again is looking up at him with the biggest and most innocent pair of optics, all while a tiny mouth nibbles on a pair of servos so like the ones he had taken from him.

·He should be... angry, maybe? Old Whirl would have been angry, furious at the Functionists for ruining so much, but he just doesn't feel it. The sadness in his spark isn't even for him, it's for this little one who will grow up and eventually figure out why his sire looks the way he does, and all the pain that may cause a bot who never did anything to anyone... But that feeling is so small it's quickly swept away so he can feel what he actually wants to feel, and he wants to feel happy damn it! You and he have a bitlet, and a pretty good one as far as bitlets go! Heavy stuff can be addressed later, the two of you get to enjoy this with friends! There's precious few bots he trusts enough to visit, but those that make the cut are welcomed and invited to pay respects to the cutest sparkling ever born and the bot who squeezed them out. He has to fight incredibly hard to keep from shedding happy tears, but seeing so many of his friends coo over this tiny miracle strains his emotional reservation to the limits.

·For all the love he has for the little one, and all his progress in accepting himself, he still hasn't held them by the time night is settling and you're in need of rest. Only your obvious exhaustion and his protective nature compels him to finally accept the sleeping sparkling, and even then he's a wreck on the inside, his spark all but crackling with anxiety as the delicate beeb is laid in his arms while he stays carefully seated. Nothing could have made him understand just how tiny this little guy was until this moment. As you drift off, he tempts fate and holds out the tip of a careful claw, not daring to ventilate as he gently adjusts some blankets for a better look. Something like abject terror shoots through him as a stubby hand takes hold of him, but he doesn't move, and the little one only coos and keeps his solid little grip. At that he lets himself cry just a little. Nothing will ever hurt you or this tiny gift so long as he lives, and he won't let anything past present or future ruin the happiness you've made together.

Misfire

·His whole life he's had a soft spot for things that need caring for, but every time he's found something or someone to take care of he's told himself all he really cares about is the potential benefit for him. Recent events have forced him to admit that there's a soft spark under his... business savvy ways. Finding out he'd be a sire though? That was an entirely new level of self discovery, because he's absolutely thrilled and has no logical reason why. He quickly has to tell the rest of the Scavengers, which becomes daily updates on everything sparkling related, so even his close collection of friends is admittedly a little relieved when the bitlet finally arrives and they can meet them. Thankfully none of them were there to see him faint on more than one occasion during the delivery, but he does have to make up a story about the dents on his head when he calls to give the announcement that their newest Scavenger has arrived, claiming that he got them in a heroic dive to save the bitlet when they were still slippery and dropped by a medic.

·While never one to be too mushy, he's made incredibly sappy just by the sight of the new little bitlet when they finally end up clean and swaddled in your arms. All across the little one's features are pieces of him that he recognizes on the spot. Blended perfectly with those are obvious signs of you, creating a whole new being who's got some of you both while still existing as their own unique little wonder. It defies all logic and yet he's so happy he can't really bring himself to care. From their optics to their stubby hands to their impossibly cute little pedes they're already the most perfect being to ever come into existence, making them tied with his Creators for perfection, and no bot is ever going to be able to convince him otherwise on that undeniable fact. But, for the sake of the moment he does have to wonder; does this sparkling yet realize how attractive they're going to be?

·The group is getting a million messages a minute from the new sire as they head over to see the newest addition, and when they finally arrive he does everything he can to present the little beeb with a proper introduction but can't stop getting misty optics and sniffling the whole time. Thankfully the Scavengers are an understanding bunch. Every one of them welcomes their new teammate with a carefully observant Misfire there to ensure they don't risk any kind of damage to the bitlet. Not that he doesn't trust them, but he does know them, so... None of them take it personally. Nickel is spared this oversight, of course, being a responsible bot and a medic more than capable of holding even a proportionally sizable sparkling. One she informs the new Creators is very cute in her proffesional opinion.

·Grimlock gets a special little moment with the new Sire, specifically one in which he gets to truly see how far he's come with his little adopted family now that it's started to grow. Misfire is fully trusting as he hands over the snoozing bitlet, and while the Dinobot is beyond touched, he does indeed hesitate just the tiniest bit. Gigantic servos absolutely dwarf the sparkling when they're settled within. Despite what any bot walking into the room might think, Misfire knows that at this very moment his bitlet is more or less in the safest place in the universe. They seem to be at least somewhat aware of this, as their little tubby cheeks lift up in a smile when they behold the gigantic bot looking down on them, a sight so unimaginably adorable it makes every bot present shed at least a single tear.

·When the rest of the group heads out after leaving a mountain of gifts in their wake, Misfire happily takes the beeb so you can get some sleep, because he at least got some rest when he passed out during emergence. Holding his little one with just the tiniest hint of uncertainty, he spends the night mostly chatting with them in a fully one sided whisper conversation, though he does occasionally get a tiny sound from the sparkling he'll swear is a coherent reply. Understandably, this little one has a lot to catch up on though. He can't help smiling at the thought of all the adventures he's going to be able to brag about to them, and how many you'll all have together once this little one is up and finally walking. There's so much he'll have to teach them too, and somehow that excites him more, knowing you and he will get to help shape this little wonder into the most amazing bot that's ever lived...

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #maccadam #tf #lost light #my writing #my asks #anon #swerve x reader #whirl x reader #misfire x reader #scavengers #transformers sparklings #bot reader #self insert #requests

167 notes · View notes

rosereview · 4 years ago

Text

Favourite Webtoons Part 2

Okay so since the first part didn’t have every single one that I loved, I decided to make another part and I’m sure I’ll do more in the future. So here again are my favourite Webtoons and if you’re interested in more, here is my part 1 of the list.

KillMax by Kennycomics & SilentMaru

KillMax has such a cool concept and beautiful visuals that I instantly loved it. Sadly it was slow going for the creators getting pages out and now they are on hiatus getting ready for season 3, but I really think it is worth the read. It was hard to remember certain things because of the large gaps between getting pages out but I reread it multiple times and that in itself was very enjoyable so I do recommend. It’s about a witch girl who gets famous on the internet which grabs the attention of witch hunters and I love the badass-ness of the main female character and also male lead as well. So if you like strong female characters, then definitely give this a read because you will not be disappointed.

Siren’s Lament by instantmiso

This was the first completed Webtoon I’ve read and I loved it so much it’s crazy. The only problem is that I am so sad it’s done! I wish I had more because I loved the characters so much and the art style is so beautiful (like all of the Webtoons I’ve talked about so far). This story is a romance with a love triangle where somehow you are always rooting for all three of them to be together because as a group they are just absolutely adorable. The concept is that the main lead is turned into a siren but only gets half of the “curse” from the siren guy she kissed so they have to figure out why it happened that way. The whole plot was beautifully done and like I already said, all of the characters are so likeable and all of their relationships are adorable but still complex, so I highly recommend.

To Love Your Enemy by Jungyoon & Taegeon

This one I recently started and it is very cute and fun to read. I don’t think it’s my favourite Webtoon ever, but it updates twice a week which is wonderful, and the beginning for me was very solid. It’s also a romance with the trope of fake relationship + hate to love, and I think that was my favourite part— the two characters falling in love with each other. But now that the story has progressed so much I don’t really know how I feel about the whole romance aspect of it. I think now it’s just that I’m anxious for the characters because (SPOILER, although it’s a romance so not really a spoiler because we all know what happens) they are together and I want them to stay together. Once romances get to the point of the two leads getting together, the next big storylines and plot points are the drama of them trying to stay together and that’s a little nerve racking further in this Webtoon. But I still do enjoy it very much. Also forgot to say what it’s about, but it’s about a girl that worked in a pyramid scheme (I think) finally gets out of it and goes to university where a guy there knows who she is and hates her for what she’s done, but then she starts a rumor that they’re together and it goes from there.

Men of the Harem by Alphatart & Yeongbin

Another one that I started recently and which doesn’t actually have a lot of pages out is Men of the Harem, which I am loving so much! This one was recently started so a lot of the story foundation is still being made and the real drama hasn’t started yet, but the potential for this story is very promising. It’s a fantasy that has our lead becoming the Emperor for her kingdom and she surprises everyone by wanting to create a harem of men instead of being a normal female emperor and having only one male consort. Honestly I just love that concept in and of itself and the story so far has been delivering in the best way possible. I love that we have a strong female ruler that breaks the rules of being the stereotypical girl and makes the power move of having her own harem. So if you’re into that then you’ll love this Webtoon.

The Advanced Player of the Tutorial Tower by Bangguseok Gimssi & Omagam

This one was also started recently so there aren't many pages out but it is really good so far. It’s about our modern world being overrun by monsters and people have to start fighting them to stay alive. But there is also this tower that randomly selects people to complete it where they either die or defeat all the monsters inside alive and become monster fighters/hunters in the real world to protect the normal citizens. There is a lot more to it than that but that’s the bare bones, and the main character was put into the tower when it first appeared and completed it but was never let out until 12 years later, so he’s now the most powerful monster hunter guy in the world. I love having a main character that is all powerful because I always love seeing the bad guys underestimate them and then get destroyed because they’re so cocky. So if you like action (and I think this is actually the only non-romance Webtoon on either of my lists) then you’ll love this one.

The Remarried Empress by Alphatart & Sumpul

Another strong female lead in a patriarchal fantasy setting with romance and drama created by the same creator as Men of the Harem. This one updates twice a week and is so good it’s crazy! The main character is the Empress of this kingdom because she had an arranged marriage with the Emperor, but they were always good friends growing up so it’s supposed to be all good. But then dummy Emperor dude goes out and gets himself a stupid mistress who ruins everyone’s day and who has an agenda of her own. This one does get you really angry at certain characters but you also fall in love with the lead so much it’s worth it. Also her new love interest is absolutely great, so read it for that reason too! But yeah, if you like fantasy, fantasy politics, drama, romance, and magic then check this one out.

Unholy Blood by Lina Im & Jeonghyeon Kim

The last one I want to mention is this one, Unholy Blood, which is a vampire Webtoon that is such well developed plot/world building-wise that I think it’s worth it just for that reason. The main character lives in a world where there is a vampire disease that is running wild in the form of crazy vampires turning humans and killing them on the streets. Because of that the world lives in fear with a curfew and the police are doing all they can to destroy the vampires, but they have their claws in every part of society. The main character has some traumatic stuff happen to her which makes her have to go find all these evil vampires responsible and kill them. It’s very action packed with a tiny bit of romance later on, but like I mentioned already, it’s the whole world, concept, and plot that makes me love it coupled with awesome badass characters as well.

The concludes my second list of recommendations and favourite Webtoons. I hope some of these interest people and make them want to read them or just get on the Webtoon app and check out some other stuff because these creators really deserve the support.

Until next time!

~Rose Reviews

#siren's lament #instantmiso #the remarried empress #alphatart #sumpul #killmax #kennycomics #silentmaru #to love your enemy #jungyoon #taegeon #men of the harem #yeongbin #the advanced player of the tutorial tower #bangguseok gimssi #omagam #unholy blood #lina im #jeonghyeon kim

40 notes · View notes

wlwhovian · 4 years ago

Text

Lost

Thirteenth Doctor/Reader

Word count: 2119 Genre: Whump & hurt/comfort Summary: You’d hoped she’d be here by now. No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Usually it would be fine, only the forest has things hiding in it that you would rather not meet face-to-face. You just hope the Doctor finds you in time. Warnings: Big bugs

It’s getting dark.

You shiver as the cold settles in futher, a chill running down your spine, and try to keep your teeth from chattering as you huddle up, trying to reserve what body heat you still have left.

You’ve managed to find an alcove in one of the trees that succesfully blocks most of the wind, but every now and then when the breeze picks up, it seems to puncture your meager shelter like paper. The forest is silent, save for stray critters skittering around, looking for food, and your own heavy breathing. You blow air into your freezing palms and rub them together. Fuck, it’s cold.

It’s been hours now. There’s no sign of the Doctor, or the TARDIS, and their striking absence is slowly forcing you to consider the chance that maybe she’s not coming, and if that really is the case, then you can’t afford to stay here and wait, slowly freezing to death. No, you have to do something. Right now. What that is, though, you aren’t so sure. Shelter is pretty high on the list of priorities, and you kick yourself for not thinking about any of this earlier, because now the sun is well past setting and finding anything useful will be, if not impossible, very, very difficult. Not to mention that you’d have to leave your meager cover and exchange it’s relative safety for a temperature that’s dropping lower by the second.

You think, once again, how the Doctor told you to stay close, to not get separated, to stay with the bloody group, but here you are all on your lonesome, lost in the middle of the woods. You just can’t listen, can you? You never can. And this time, it just might be the slow, unforgiving death of you.

You jump when something cracks in the distance. You quiet your breathing and try to remain as still as humanly possible, but you can’t keep your hands from trembling, and proceed to stuff them under your arms with a curse under your breath. You’re not sure if it’s the sudden surge of adrenaline or if it’s just the fucking cold.

You can see movement beyond a fallen tree, about ten feet away from where you’re hiding, and your stomach lurches when you get a better look at the source of the noise. It’s not the Doctor. It’s not even humanoid.

Halfway hidden by the treeline you can see a lengthy arching back, covered in some kind of plating, and what looks like dozens of little wiggling legs. Well, little might be an understatement. Try something more like the size of your forearm. They all move in unison with a thick, wet, squelching sound that makes your stomach turn. It slithers over the fallen tree, landing with a soft thump against the ground, and in the encroaching darkness you can see a pair of antennae wiggling in the air as it takes in it’s surroundings. When it gets closer you manage to get a better look and you can tell the creature is, in fact, a massive centipede, and it is headed right towards you with an uncanny determination that makes you wonder if it already knows you’re there. You need to run. Or hide. Anything. You can’t just sit here, for fuck’s sake! You shift your position against the tree, preparing to crawl through the foliage, or run for your life if you have to.

Your heart skips a beat when the ground crumbles under your foot and a whole patch of earth comes loose, sending gravel flying down the hill, cascading over the centipede in rock-hard rain. It turns it’s head on the spot and lets out a deafening screech that forces you to clamp your hands over your ears. The creature shoots towards you at an absurd speed, tiny legs shifting and scuttling and you back away as far as you can, but as your back hits solid stone, you have no choice but to admit that you’re trapped. You cover your face as the centipede rears up, throwing half it’s body in the air, and roars, slathering you in thick, gooey spit that smells like gasoline and spoiled food. You try to breathe in, but the air is heavy with the odour and your chest keeps tightening, like your lungs are being held hostage by your own ribs. You let out one final cry, a little high pitched hiccup, before the creature descends upon you, ready to rip you into shreds.

A flash of light. An electronic whirring. Very potent cursing spiced with a strong Yorkshire accent, followed by another screech from the insect before it crawls away into the distance. Hurried footsteps.

Something heavy and soft is dropped on your shoulders, and you dig deep into the warmth like your life depends on it. A hand lands on your shoulder, but you can’t bear to look up. Your neck is frozen in place, and you sit there, violently shivering, your entire body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. You hear rustling, before your head is gently guided towards someone’s chest, where it is held by a soft, warm hand. You try to breathe in, and listen to their heartbeat. Heartbeats. Plural.

”Doctor?” you manage to mumble, words coming out in a thick slur.

”Shh,” she says, and runs a hand through your sweat-soaked hair. ”It’s alright.” She bends down until her face is in right in front of yours, offering you a sympathetic smile. ”I’ve got you.”

A choked sob escapes from your lips, but it turns into a frenzied gasp that leaves you dry-heaving, and as you weakly nod in confirmation, your head lurches forwards. The Doctor grabs your shoulders and lets you rest in the crook of her neck, where you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment. It doesn’t help though, because no matter how much you try to make yourself calm down, how many times you try to get yourself to just breathe, air refuses to enter your lungs and you’re left to claw at your throat with feeble, trembling hands.

The Doctor takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, before she presses it against her lips. The simplicity of the intimacy in the gesture makes you press yourself tighter against her, as if you could burrow into her, somewhere she could always keep you safe.

”It’ll be okay. Promise,” she says. Her voice is strained and her brow is furrowed, and she looks so awfully sad that you want to kick yourself for not being able to do anything about it. ”You’re in shock. We need to get you somewhere warm and safe, ok? The TARDIS is just around the corner, we’ll be there in no time.” She pauses. ”Are you hurt?”

You shake your head what meager amount you can.

”Right. That’s good. Proper good.”

You wait for a moment, trying to get the words straight in your head before you try and actually speak them aloud. The Doctor’s chest rises and falls, and you try to focus on the motion instead of the swimming in your head. Eventually, you finally manage to open your mouth despite your tongue feeling dry as sand. ”I’m sorry.”

It’s such a small sentence, only two words, and yet, saying it feels like climbing a whole slew of mountains.

The Doctor shimmies you around until she has you in what she deems an acceptable grip, before rising to her feet, with you carefully secured against her. She takes a few tentative steps before settling into a steady walking pace. Once she’s sure that she’s not going to drop you, she looks down and makes sure she catches your eye. ”None of that now, love. There’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Her voice is so gentle, steady like a rock in the middle of a raging sea, that it makes you want to cry. You try to make yourself as small as possible, but all your extremities are numb and you’re not sure if moving would only make it harder for the Doctor to carry you. There’s a weight in your eyelids that’s getting harder and harder to resist, and you have to fight a losing battle to keep them from shutting.

The Doctor takes notice, and offers you an encouraging smile. ”Don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me just yet.” She speeds up to a jog, and you do your best to hold on to her shoulders, but your fingers keep slipping and your hands shake so bad that you can barely get them moving. ”We’re almost there.” She glances a the forest in front of you, before muttering under her breath: ”Really should’ve parked closer.”

You swear you had only closed your eyes for a second, but suddenly you’re being engulfed by the light flowing from the TARDIS, and Graham is ushering the two of you inside. The doors shut with a slam, and when your whole body is drowning in warmth and silken light, you find the world slipping away as deep, comforting darkness takes over.

You awaken to a great, throbbing headache and the scent of raspberries. It smells like safety, like home and saturday mornings spent with a cup of tea, and you let yourself bask in the quiet for a moment. Opening your eyes, you can immediately tell that you’re in your own bedroom, with the lights dimmed and softly playing music easing you back into the waking world. You’ve been stuffed under several thick blankets, but there’s still a persistent chill somewhere deep under your skin. You try taking a deep breath, and this time your chest rises and falls just as it should. The scent of raspberries only gets stronger with each draw of air.

”Gave us quite the scare, you did.”

You jump, but under the heavy weight, nobody but you can probably tell. You turn your head, wincing as pain shoots down your neck, and end up face to face with the Doctor. She’s sitting cross legged in a chair drawn up next to your bed from it’s usual place, holding what looks to be a cheap erotic romance novel, and a cup of tea in her hand. That explains the smell, at the very least.

You sigh. ”I’m sorry,” you say, eyes strictly trained on the frayed edge of the blanket. The Doctor places the book down on the armrest, before turning to fully face you.

”There you go again,” she says with a lop-sided smile. ”With the sorries and the apologies. I told you,” she pauses as she shifts to hold her cup more securely, ”You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for. Pinkie swear.” She holds out her little finger and you take it with yours. ”Unless you try to get up before you’re ready, in which case I’ll have no choice but to detain you.”

”Detain me?” you ask with a snort.

”Made you laugh,” the Doctor says, smiling mischieviously. You throw one of your pillows at her.

”Oh, shut up.”

”I’m serious!” she says. ”Bedrest is nothin’ to be laughed at, you know. Plenty of things get much better by having a lie down.”

”You’re one to talk. The last time I saw you in bed was probably two weeks ago.”

”But I’m not human, am I?”

You look away, sheepish. ”No.”

”And humans need their rest. Lots of it.”

”Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. ”Have it your way.”

The Doctor grins at you. ”That’s more like it.” She drains her cup and stands up, giving her back a hefty stretch. ”You just try and sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders.” She turns to leave, and you find your hand shooting out from beneath the blankets to hold hers. The Doctor turns, surprised and a little confused. You can’t make yourself look her in the eye.

”Could you stay with me?” you ask, and you can already feel heat creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks in a flush. A second passes by. To you, it’s one too many, and you draw your hand back to where it was, an apology already on your lips, before the Doctor interrupts you.

”Of course.”

You’re not really sure what you expected, but upon being granted your request, you’re not sure what to do. The Doctor grins. ”Do you want me to hop on the bed too, or should I stay in me chair? I could read you this literary masterpiece,” she says, gesturing at the book that’s still open on the armrest.

”Come here?” you ask, your voice quiet and shy. The Doctor beams. She picks up the book and crawls over you, so that she’s leaning against the wall, her legs crossed on top of you.

”Right! Alright, so, in the previous chapter..”

You try to listen. You really, really do, but the comforting narration of the Doctor combined with the abysmal plot of the book has you falling back asleep in minutes. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her taking your hand in hers, holding it carefully as she lightly draws circles on your skin with her thumb. You only wonder how you ever got this lucky.

#thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #whump #doctor who #hurt/comfort #this is just a 2k words long excuse to be weak and get carried by the doctor

119 notes · View notes

lostonehero · 3 years ago

Note

okay!

here it is

warning- it has some dark themes, also it’s from the point of view of a vengeful zombie ghost emmet so I’m not sure it could be happy

Bitter Malice

Many things are lost to him.

His name, for one. He doesn’t remember. It frustrates him sometimes, and he takes it out on the human that stalks him. The human always comes back, anyway.

But there is one thing he holds onto, that he clutches as tightly as he can in his claws, is that he is looking for something.

Someone. The memory blurs. The something is a human (no- no he isn’t, he’s like me isn’t he? We’re the same, aren’t we? But- I don’t think his fur is as translucent as mine, or it might be. I can’t remember. I CAN’T REMEMBER) and he is verrrry important.

He scours the mountains, the forests, even braving small towns. He doesn’t care about anything else. Shadows cloak his claws as he tears through local Pokémon and humans alike, searching, searching, searching. He cannot find him.

He is angry, and bitter, and a sadness so deep and thick it turns into loathing runs inside him. He hates.

He doesn’t know what he’s hating. The world? Himself? The human stalking him? But his bitter hate turns into rage, and then he has to take it out on something.

He hunts. He fights. He wins. He keeps winning and the blood on his claws crusts thicker and thicker. The human stalks him, then disappears for a bit. He eventually finds the human again, frozen solid, and something (do not let the passenger suffer) tells him to smash the ice and free him.

The human sticks much closer after that, despite the risk.

Attacks from Pokémon pass through him. He distantly recognizes some of them as having been able to hit him before. Before what?

Before this?

He can’t remember. He can’t remember before this. HE CAN’T REMEMBER.

What he can remember

He needs to find his brother.

Owo I love it poor Emmet going in circles for a end he can't obtain

His mind forgets over and over he doesn't recognize anything even if he just saw it

He keeps going for a end he doesn't even remember what it is anymore

Gosh I love it

#half zoroark au #pokemon #half flygon au

4 notes · View notes

muses-of-kira · 3 years ago

Text

update 5 - 10 - 22

Hi.

My brain won’t shut up and as per usual I’m hiding everything underneath a cut because I feel like my feelings are a bother to people. And I get it. There’s going to be at least one of you who tries to tell me. “Your feelings aren’t a bother Kira!” I know that logically, but it does not stop my brain and my heart from feeling that way.

So now here I am ready to explain my existence to you because my brain won’t let me write and it won’t let me draw either and today I feel like a failure of a human being because I can’t handle stress and worse I can’t even cry to cope. So here we are.

So all that personal shit I don’t talk about.

I almost lost my migraine prescription this week.

So context for those unaware: I have a lot of medical issues. I take a monthly preventive shot to contend to my migraines and I have for well over a couple years now. It doesn’t make them go away completely but it does make them less and I haven’t had to go to the ER recently because of them so I mean 😀 that’s a plus.

The downside to this is, while it helps control my migraines pretty well, if I fall off it, as I did a couple times last year because of pharmacy screw ups - I end up out of work for however long it takes to get back to me and in urgent care because I get migraines so bad that I get so dizzy I’m unable to stand. So I mean fuck driving at that point right?

So I almost lost it because I got a text message telling me that my prescription had been changed / canceled and I freaked out and called the hospital like it told me to and they told me they didn’t know what I was talking about and didn’t have a record, etc. I basically had to hold my breath for the lady who fills my script to call this week, thank god she did. That was a mini-heart attack.

As for work, I’m on burn out. My Lead worker / direct Boss told me in feb. that he was getting ready to retire Spring 2023 and he needed to make sure he was getting everything around so I could take over. Today he says “I dunno when I’ll retire, haven’t decided yet maybe if Chris (his boss my boss-boss) pisses me off. Rumor some how got around that he was planning on retiring and because it got back to him he pulled back all plans out of spite. I have no idea when he’s going to retire now.

For those of you who have listened to my work rants (for many years now) know how devastating of a blow this is for me. There was a plan and he reneged on me. So basically long story short when it comes to work -> I’m still stuck doing almost all the manager work but not getting paid for it. And Chris - my big boss - knows it’s going on and does nothing about it. I’m burnt out. My boss, Terry, literally looked at me and was like “it’s chill day, just do whatever.” because he didn’t feel like working and knows I will keep busy all day on my own.

What the fuck.

So I’ve been fighting the depression side of my bipolar for a little more than a month and half now:

Look I am over 1400 entries solid into this app. It is accurate to the day. I haven’t missed a day since 2018. Things have not been good. I keep trying to claw my way out of it. I have using every tool I have in my tool box but nothing is helping. My SOS is busted. Nothing works.

the kick in the ass is this is from before my idiot physiatrist started taking my anti-convulsant away:

But it’s not “doing anything” he says. I have taken anti-seizure medication for four years to help mood control and this fucker who barely talks or sees me since Aug 2021 decides that all the doctors before him and in my 13 years of being diagnosed with this suddenly decides I don’t “experience mania” and “Are you sure it’s depression? I haven’t really seen you sad.” SO he decides to look at one of my two mood stabilizers (the other is an anti-psychotic) and just go “yeah it’s not working let’s get rid of it.” but knows nothing about what I'm going through or dealing with - you know things that effect my mood - and just starts trying to take me down on it. He already tried to rip me off the other one that controls my mania and proceeded to throw me into a two week manic episode as a result.

“I think you were having a manic episode.” I wanted to scream.

ANYWAY.

So that’s all going on. Away from the medical and work bullshit.

Here’s the thing I don’t think I’ve ever been clear about, so me being me - who instantly feels like a disgrace of a human being and the scum of the earth when I think I’m not being clear and I think I’ve been misunderstood again ->

If I’ve never said this to you before I’m autistic. There is no such thing as High Functioning / Low Functioning so don’t ask me that or even say it to me. I’ll scream.

So to get that ableist bullshit out of the way ->

High Functioning + Impairment = I’m going to deny you care because I don’t see your disability as valid enough to give you consideration or accommodation. Low Functioning + Impairment = I’m going to deny you validity because I see your disability as so aggrieviously detrimental to me that I’m not only going to refuse to help you with it but I won’t acknowledge you as a fully functional human either.

Just don’t fucking say it to me.

So with that out of the way, I need you to know, sometimes I go nonverbal. Sometimes it’s partial. Sometimes It’s completely. Sometimes it’s text. Sometimes it’s verbal. Sometimes it’s both.

Sometimes I can only speak / type in few words and that’s it

Sometimes all you’re getting out of me is GIFs and Emojis.

I need you to bear with me for this. I need you to bear with me. Sometimes I simply cannot talk and I also need you all to know and realize for me that talking and writing a post / story is not mutually the same. When I am IC that is my muse writing, not me. I am simply conveying a story through a muse, I am not processing real world shit.

Guys, if you’re new around here or I haven’t said this to you before. I write to cope. It’s not the same.

And for the new people, the rest of my medical issues include: C-PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, Bipolar 2 rapid cycling, insomnia, chronic migraines

I take a lot of meds, and there is a small patch work system of people holding me together.

I am also a survivor of: Abuse, isolation (the act of being; not self imposed) , sexual assault, martial rape, gaslighting, and weaponized silence.

Do I owe you my life story? No. Do I feel like it helps me know someone as a person if I know a little of what they have going on? Absolutely. Do expect people to tell me what they got going on? Nope. Absolutely not.

But I have been misunderstood and dismissed and passed over and talked over and ignored etc so many times I have become an information dumper and I do this because my brain is begging to be seen clearly for once and to just have someone accept me even if they don’t get it.

Guys I have been in shut down all week day and I’m fighting so desperately to get out of his hole but here we are. With the ground breaking out from under us again. This isn’t a pity post, to clarify.

Nothing lights my brain on fire faster than pity. I will tell you right now my brain little instantly light to “I don’t want your fucking pity” just so you know it’s a trigger. This also isn’t a “tell me how strong I am” post because every time I’m told I’m strong my brain shuts down and stops working because the minute I hear the word ‘strong’ in relation to me my brain falls into that’s all you’re allowed to be mode and I shut down every emotional function and process I had currently active.

Guys I can’t grin and bear it anymore.

Can I get off this ride? This roller coaster is 0/10. Do not recommend. I’d like to stop now.

If only I could actually cry.

#ooc || mun speaks #tw; long post #tw; medical #tw; mental illness #tw; all caps #tw; personal #tw; doctors #tw; medication #tw; work stuff

3 notes · View notes

ashes-and-ashes · 4 years ago

Note

sirius thinks remus’s parents are abusing him after a full moon.

tw for mentions of abuse

Remus tries to hold in his groans as he makes his way down the hallway. His hands are all bandaged up, making it hard to hold the bottle of tonic Madame Pomfrey had shoved into his hands; he cradled it awkwardly against his chest. Whatever painkilling potion he took earlier was just barely starting to kick in - enough to dull his movements but not enough to dull the pain.

No matter what Pomfrey did there were some wounds that just refused to heal. No one was quite sure what it was - something to do with werewolf claws, maybe - but he still left the hospital wing every time bleeding and bruised and battered. He managed to hide most of it beneath his robes, though, and concealing spells did the rest.

He swears as he reaches the portrait, nearly dropping the bottles he was holding. The Fat Lady gives him a sad smile; without a word she opens, letting Remus in. She’s done that ever since Remus broke his jaw a year back, opened for him without Remus having to say anything. With a grateful smile he climbs through the portrait hole, making sure to tug the painting shut behind him.

Once he’s in Remus braces himself against the wall and lets out a long sigh. The bottles clink faintly in his hand but he ignores it, the world going slightly fuzzy around the edges as the pain under his skin banked and ebbed.

He’s seriously considering just passing out on the sofa when suddenly he hears movement, the faintest rasp of someone on the armchair by the fire. Remus staggers to his feet, the world swaying around him, instinctively pulling his pajamas tightly around him and slipping his hands behind his back.

It’s Sirius, Remus realizes, sprawled out with his legs thrown over the side and head tilted against the back of the chair. He looks exhausted; Remus glances over at the clock in the corner.

“What are you doing?” he asks. His voice is raspy from screaming, giving out at the end and he winces. “It’s 3 in the morning.”

Sirius flicks his gaze up. This close Remus can make out the reflection of the flames in his eyes, a mix of bronze and gold and silver. “I was waiting. You said you’d be home two nights ago.”

“Got sick,” Remus lies. He wonders if Sirius can hear the lie underneath his words. The Full was horrible, worse than usual - he had to stay in the Hospital Wing for a solid day afterwards while Pomfrey tried to piece together the mess of torn skin and broken bones. “Mum thought it was better for me to stay.”

Sirius nods, slowly. “And how are your parents?”

“Fine.” Remus scrubs a bandaged hand over his face. “Jesus, Sirius, you should go to sleep. You didn’t need to stay up - “

He realizes his mistake as soon as he sees the flash in Sirius’ eyes, the way he suddenly went still. Remus curses to himself, letting his hand drop back down.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Really. It’s nothing - “

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Sirius’ voice is deadly calm.

Remus rolls his eyes, in an attempt to hide the rolling out of nausea in his gut. “Jesus, Sirius, didn’t realize I’d come back to a bloody interrogation.”

“It’s not an interrogation - “

“Good. I’m going to bed.”

He’s about to turn away when lightning lurches up his arm, the sudden pain making him lightheaded. Remus barely hears the wrecked, ragged gasp he makes, the bottle of painkillers falling out of his grasp and shattering on the floor. He whirls around; Sirius looks stricken, his hand still outreached and face pale.

“Oh God,” he says, guilt twisting his face. “Re, I’m so sorry - “

“Fuck,” Remus manages, through the bile rising in his throat. It was one of the wounds Pomfrey couldn’t close, the deep, jagged gash on his forearm, the bruises and the swelling. He didn’t know why it hurt so badly - he’s had other, worse injuries before, broken bones and head injuries. Pomfrey figured something on the Wolf’s claws kept it open, some sort of poison running through Remus’ veins.

He can’t think, the combination of pain and potions making him lightheaded. He stumbles to the armchair Sirius had just vacated- it’s warm from the fire and his body. Sinking into it is both heavenly and excruciating and Remus can’t hide his flinch as he settles into the cushions.

Sirius just watches him, a stricken look on his face. “Re, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were hurt.”

“Leave it,” Remus says; his voice is low and hoarse. “It’s fine. I’m not - not badly.”

“That’s what I used to say,” Sirius says, softly. “Every time.”

Remus frowns. “Sirius, what - “

“I’m not stupid,” Sirius whispers. “Every time you go home. You come back broken. They’re hurting you, aren’t they?”

Remus swallows, hard. There’s something on Sirius’ face, a mixture of concern and a flicker of hope, the desperate plead for someone else, for someone so that he was no longer alone. Remus closes his eyes, thinks about the thin scars on Sirius’ body, the raised white lines and the flecks that looked like starbursts covering his back.

“No,” he says, softly. “It’s not my parents. It’s nothing to do with home.”

Sirius asks, “Are you lying?”

“Not to you,” Remus manages. He watches the flames, the light flickering over Sirius’ face. “Never to you.”

He’s not sure who starts it first; maybe he reaches out or Sirius reaches down but Remus barely has time to take a breath before Sirius’ lips are on his. It hurts - everything hurts, every cut and ache and burning, throbbing bruise - but Sirius’ hands are heartbreakingly gentle on Remus’ body. He wonders if this was what loving Sirius would be like - a mix of pain and hope and secrets, like the sound of thunder as it started to rain.

“I’ll kill them,” Sirius says, breathes it against Remus’ lips. “If they’re hurting you.”

Remus swallows back a dark chuckle. “I know your parents do.”

Sirius shakes his head. “Not like this.”

And they’re both too raw for lying so Remus offers a half-truth, something to soothe the ache that was pounding through his veins. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, and he feels Sirius tense around him. “The only one hurting me is myself.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black angst #remus lupin angst #sirius black fanfic #remus lupin fanfic #marauders #marauders era #marauders era fanfic #harry potter #hp

247 notes · View notes

ilovehallas · 4 years ago

Text

Can it not just wait til morning

Relationships: Anders & Justice, Anders & Varric Tethras

Summary:

Anders wanders the streets of Lowtown at night to try and recover from a disturbing nightmare, but the implications of what he dreamed won't let him go and Justice only makes matters worse. When things reach a fever pitch, Anders rushes to the Hanged Man in need for friendship and reprieve.

Tags: Night Terrors, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Dragon Age II - Act 3, Friendship saves the day

Warning for graphic violence

[One of my favorite relationships in Dragon Age 2 is the friendship between Anders and Varric and the change in tone in their banter between Act 2 and Act 3 always gets to me. So I wrote a self-indulgent piece about it that completely went out of hand! There's a lot of other stuff I still wanted to get in there, but I did actually try to keep it brief. This oneshot takes place a short time after the Legacy DLC, between Acts 2 and 3. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!]

Read on AO3

Acrid fumes hung heavy in the air of the tunnels. The stench almost had its own physical presence in the way it crept into his air ways and made it hard to draw breath. It had made them all quiet as they tried to avoid stepping on the strange fleshy growths covering parts of the ground and the walls; if Anders looked too long he could swear they were pulsing slightly, feeling every pulse like the beat of his own heart.

Something lived here that Anders didn’t want to see. He tried to keep his eyes fixed to the back of the Warden-Commander, on the familiar griffon heraldry emblazoning her shield. Nothing in the way she moved betrayed whether she could sense it too. Her hand rested easy on the hilt of her sword.

The winding tunnels got progressively more difficult to traverse, forcing them to walk on the growths as the ground became uneven. They would give ever so slightly under Anders’ weight with a sickening, squelching sound. Everything was damp and warm, and Anders hoped that it was sweat that ran along his brow as his breathing grew more and more shallow.

Soon they were in place that Anders recognized well. They were in one of the many tunnels sleeping deep beneath Vigil’s keep, walking past long abandoned dark spawn barricades. How long had it been since they had walked these halls together? Sigrun smiled at him with understanding when she glanced over. When they reached a fork in the road, Anders found a weight finally lifted off his chest. Two massive holes were gaping in the stone, the one on the right side leading down another cramped path, and the other opening up to the inside of a large structure illuminated by an odd blue glow. The walls there were of solid stone adorned with careful geometric designs of lyrium, reaching up so impossibly high that Anders couldn’t even make out a ceiling when he entered. From far away, the soft echo of running water called out to him.

A flicker of hope lit him up like a spark in dry kindling. This was it! The place they had been looking for! The exhaustion of their grueling eternal march fell off him like opened shackles as he turned and ran back to the others, cursing the way his robes would slow him down. When the canal spat him out, he was back in the deep roads. This time there was not an inch that was not covered in organic matter. The walls were infested with empty egg sacks sprouting from the flesh and Anders’ blood rushed in his ears, whispering to him in clicking and chittering sounds that whatever had nested there was watching him. His body and chest seized up around nothing in anticipation of a threat he couldn’t see, his limbs stiff and useless as the paralyzing poison of panic set in. But no, he could see it. When he looked down, through the grate of the drain under his feet, the thick tentacle of a broodmother emerged from the dark in greeting. When he lifted his head, he looked right into the bulging humanoid face of one of her Children, perched on its grotesque legs.

“We need you, Grey Warden” it spoke with a calm voice. Its claw-like appendages poised, it jumped at him baring its needle teeth and buried them deep into his neck. He didn’t even get to scream, his blood pooling in his mouth as his skin tore. He could feel the way the creature sucked the rest of it right out of his veins. His legs gave in, crushed by the weight of the childer now feasting on him.

“Why can’t I help you?” Justice wailed mournfully from Kristoff’s body, half swallowed by the wall. “I’m stuck here. Anders, what can I do? This isn’t right!”

“I don’t know!“ Anders forced out, his hands pushing fruitlessly at the darkspawn burrowing itself in his body. The fade was silent and sliding away further and further the deeper the teeth went. “Get off of me!”

“I apologize for what I must do to you” the childer said. “But the Father says we need your blood.”

His arms were getting weaker, he still tried to dig his fingers into the creature’s eyes.

“It’ll make us free. Wouldn’t that be just?”

Anders sought Justice’s eye, his own despair reflected back at him. Justice opened his mouth as he struggled, his words coming out as a death rattle. “Why can’t I change this? Why aren’t you letting me?”

“But it’ll hurt us too. It’ll be sad.”

Everything was becoming blurry, colors and sensations mixing together in agony. He couldn’t see, couldn’t smell, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. There was only the sound of this voice.

“We’ll miss the song. Oh, the beautiful song! How we’ll miss it!”

“I can hear it too, Anders” a woman whispered. The Warden Commander! She had to do something! He had watched her cut down dragons, why wasn’t she doing anything? Why wasn’t she helping? Nothing had ever stopped her before, not archdemons, not self-preservation, not reason. “It’s heart-wrenching. There is a part of me that understands the darkspawn now. Why they long to hear it so much…”

She began to hum an unfathomable melody that was alien and familiar at once, like the impression of a song he’d forgotten in his childhood. Blindly he tried to reach her so he could make her stop, somehow, whatever it took, but there was nothing, only a great expanse of nothing where her voice became a drop in the ocean of the song.

It thrummed in his chest like it came from inside his bones—

“They call to us! They need us! Please! Grey Warden! Oh, Grey Warden!”

The whole world shaken by the song calling—

Anders awoke drenched in sweat with a sob. Eyes unfocused and mentally still entangled in the images of his nightmare, his hands shot up to touch his neck to convince himself that there was no darkspawn there. Relief when he felt that his skin was intact but it was running hot, crawling with something that weren’t there. He was trembling all over, couldn’t stop gasping, his stomach was rolling, there was a flash of blue. Quick, quick where—

Scrambling to get up, Anders managed to take a few steps before he had to lean against the wall for support and retched once, twice. The nausea was still there, but it receded just as much as Anders needed it to so that he could reach for a cloth and wipe the saliva and vomit from his mouth.

He looked around frantically, taking a moment to recognize he was in his own clinic. It was pitch dark in the room save for a little lantern and it slowly dawned on him that he must’ve fallen asleep in the evening, only to wake in the middle of the night from a nightmare. And how lucky that he did wake.

A nightmare… Anders always kept a bowl or two of clean water around when treating patients. Knowing this place better than the back of his hand, he found one of them even in the relative darkness and splashed his face with the water. For good measure he rubbed his hands over his face, hoping that if he convinced himself enough that he was awake, the sick sense of dread looming over him would disappear. The scratch of his stubble was oddly grounding, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

It had been so visceral. Even now he felt little aftershocks of the “song”. And if there were not the usual noise of a night in Darktown, he was certain that he would be able to hear a faint melody from deep underground.

Maker’s breath, he had to get out of here.

As Anders headed for one of the exits to Lowtown he passed the faces of people he’d seen too many times. There were children that were growing up before his eyes in the dirt. He hastened his pace.

To wander the maze of Lowtown alone at night as a mage was among the most stupid things one could do in Kirkwall. Anders could not find it in himself to care, feeling himself embraced by the night’s chill when he reached the surface. It soothed his burning skin much like ointment did to a wound. A sigh came over his lips as he tipped his head back to gaze upon the stars. See? he thought triumphantly to himself. No ceiling, no stone. Only sky. Just a regular night in Kirkwall, whatever that meant these days.

He drifted in and out of alleyways he’d never seen in the years he’d lived here to stay out of the templars’ sight, along streets he’d last walked before he’d met Hawke. There was no one place he really wanted to be in right now, he was simply grateful for the quiet in his skull that the movement and the cold afforded him. Hadn’t really had much of that lately, or ever, since he’d let Justice in. He looked down from a ledge of a dead end to the docks, his gaze sweeping across to where the few lights of the Gallows gleamed. It was a bit strange, if he thought about it. Justice made it hard to remember dreams usually. Somehow Anders had assumed that if he were to experience a nightmare again, it would involve a templar. It would have been kinder.

The wind tugged at Anders as he stared transfixed at the circle, strands of hair falling into his eyes. The longer he looked, the louder his heart thumped in his chest, the muscle squeezing like a clenched fist as images flashed before his eyes. He tried to push them away, but Justice would not relent. When Bethany’s face entered his mind, Anders pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

“I was just going for a walk” he muttered, bracing himself against Justice’s reproach. “You know, I thought it was you who said that there’s beauty in this world and now you won’t even let me appreciate the moonshine. That’s more than just a little unfair.”

He raised his head again to the one moon shining bright tonight, hands trembling once more. Something in him stirred at the sight so that even Anders had to smile a little. The serenity of night. The gratitude of a mage holding up pieces of their broken phylactery. The relief when the fever of a patient finally broke against the odds. Finally storming the baroness’ estate. The amulet Hawke had given him that he kept under his shirt, just out of sight but he always knew it was there. Darkspawn blood gleaming on the Warden Commander’s blade. A cat purring on his lap. The granite fortifications of the keep. A ring, a ring made of lyrium, she’d given him a ring. The people of this plane couldn’t hear it, but he could. Like the fade woven into sound, a beautiful song that calls…

Ander’s stomach lurched unexpectedly and he managed to clasp his hand over his mouth before he threw up this time. With great effort and his insides still twisting he swallowed it back down, coughing and gagging as he stumbled away from the ledge.

A spike of irritation. It’s not that kind of song, Anders thought. He retraced his steps to an intersection, taking a path that lead left through a narrow alley as his restlessness returned with a vengeance. And it wasn’t his memory for sure. A rat squeaked in panic when he nearly stepped on it and he cursed as the critter hurried past him. He darted out of the alley, then down a flight of stairs hewn directly into the stone, starting to feel as though something was lurking right behind him.

Why was he angry? The Warden Commander had never wronged them. Because it wasn’t about her or about wrongs. Anders’ coat nearly caught on one of the iron spikes jutting out from the ground. The problem was that he had never wanted to go back there, but Hawke had taken him anyway. And what did he do? What did he hear?

He’s not Vengeance. Or wasn’t he? He’s not a demon. But we’re an abomination. Anders gritted his teeth. Fenris was right on that account at least. He had become an abomination long ago, even if the process wasn’t as sudden as the Chantry would think. Justice wouldn’t like to be reminded, but if it weren’t for Hawke and the others, they would have slain that poor girl they’d meant to protect. And underneath the Vimmark Mountains they’d turned his magic even against his friends. All because—

Anders’ throat was beginning to hurt even though he wasn’t even running. Feverishly he touched his neck to prove to himself once again that there were no teeth. A piece of himself had never left the Deep Roads. And what remained of Justice now? Some memories and a rage that seared him to the bone. Behind him he heard footsteps and the rattle of armor.

What if it was a templar?

Yes, what then?

Somehow the question didn’t come with enough fear. Or any. The truth was that right now Anders almost hoped a templar would come and find him. He didn’t need a staff anymore to defend himself, thanks to Justice magic would pour all too readily through the veil. One dead templar, one dead mage, Anders feared that at this point it didn’t even make a difference anymore. Anders peered over his shoulder. A guardswoman stopped in her tracks when she noticed him, narrowed her eyes, and then continued to walk her round without a second glance. Likewise Anders picked up his pace again as well.

He wasn’t an abomination. Vengeance was angry now. He was spewing Chantry propaganda at himself because it was difficult to care about this world, beautiful and broken as it was. He couldn’t give up now just because it was difficult. There was too much here that had gone unpunished and not a day would pass without more suffering heaped onto the pile unless this whole damn system crumbled. He wasn’t an abomination.

Anders recognized the area they were in now, the streets broader to accommodate the crowds that usually mingled here. There were people shrouded in darkness in the corners of the market, but none of them looked his way. His nails were digging into his arm and he wondered if maybe he could...

It was a trap; every mage lived in a trap. Push a little to pull your head from the noose and the rope around your neck only tightens, every single time. Vengeance prodded, reminding him of Karl until Anders had to bite the inside of his cheek. Thousands of voices in Thedas were crying out for Justice! Somebody had to answer the call, even if it was a losing battle, even if he was going to try to hold back a tidal wave by himself! He wasn’t an abomination!

He was a liability! Anders took two stairs at a time, his blood boiling despite himself. Chill had turned to cold in the time he’d wasted running around, but he was pretty certain there was a passage back to Darktown nearby. If he was lucky he could get another hour or two of sleep before the daily grind picked back up.

Was he running away again?

He wasn’t running. Wasn’t he? The Warden Commander smiling at him, one of her rare smiles. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Anders or Justice remembered her reciting the motto to herself in a light-hearted tune before leaving for Amaranthine to defend it. This was his chance to remedy his cowardice.

Anders didn’t have the energy left tonight to argue. He knew, yes, he knew there was no turning back and that he had chosen this. There was no escape from the Wardens, no escape from the Calling, from Justice, from himself, from the path he’d chosen, from the path the templars were forcing. But wasn’t he allowed to be angry to know this for a little while? Wasn’t he allowed to mourn that for all the freedom he fought for, Anders had forsaken his own? He hadn’t wanted to be an abomination.

Vengeance didn’t understand anymore. It would be the most beautiful thing of all to see the circles fall, no matter what it took. No more Ser Rylocks, no more Ser Alriks, no more Merediths.

Anders frantically looked around—

It’d be beautiful but it wasn’t all that Anders wanted. He’d wanted to be free, and now he’d never be. He had made a demon out of Justice, he couldn’t trust himself to make the right decisions. All of this had been a mistake. And even if he succeeded, one day the taint would come for him.

Don’t think like that! It wasn’t his fault that the world had made him like this! This was worth every price! He knew that!

There had to be something to get him out of this, change of course—

He couldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be relied on! He didn’t know what to do!

He would find a way, he had to! The circles had to go! They had never cared about the suffering they inflicted on mages, generation after generation! Whatever he could do it would be justified! They had sealed their fate centuries ago!

They had to go, but—

IT WOULD ONLY BE JUST!

Anders winced, the words booming in his skull with terrible finality. Something in his mind was burgeoning against his defenses, the veil around him straining and warping under its stress. Anders hissed, stemming against the tide of righteous fury and frustration that incensed Vengeance. The pressure abated not long after, but the damage was done. His heart and head were pounding, everything in him was reeling as it had when he’d woken, but suddenly he remembered: he knew where he was. Down this street past the merchant’s stand, one more set of stairs, then turn right. He was nauseous with resentment, though he couldn’t say if it was his own or who it was aimed at. He almost stumbled his way up. It was embarrassing that it felt as though he would be okay if he just made it there, maybe, but he’d lost all of his dignity already running through Kirkwall like a madman. Might as well act like a child and pretend the bad things can’t get him so long as the candle was burning. He rounded the corner, his heart skipping a beat. When he saw it, relief washed over him warmly and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Somehow he’d made it to the Hanged Man just in time.

Not giving himself the time for second thoughts he pushed past a drunken patron through the entrance door, praying that they weren’t closed yet. With a creak the door swung open for him, allowing him to step inside, the tavern reeking of desperation and hundreds of beers and ales spilled over the decades. Barely anyone was still here. The old man who was always muttering to himself was sitting at one of the tables by himself, apparently only half-awake, and a man was leaning on the counter where the tired bartender Corff was already eyeing Anders. No Isabela, no Varric. Shit.

“We’re about to close.”

Anders paused and dug through the pocket of his coat for coins. “Enough time left for me to get a drink, right?” He gave the man a strained smile and slid the silver he’d found across the counter, hating the way he couldn’t keep his hands still. The man caved.

With his freshly-purchased drink in hand and a view to the door Anders plopped down on one of the benches in the back of the room, sinking in on himself a little. He hadn’t planned to actually drink anything, but the longer he sat the more he became aware of how drained he really was. A dull ache spread through his whole body from exhaustion and his throat and mouth were parched while hair stuck uncomfortably to his forehead with sweat. His mind was suspiciously quiet when he raised the bottle to his lips and drank. The sense of doom and the heat of anger however still formed a tight knot in his chest that kept him tense, so he knew it wasn’t over yet. Static buzzed in his ears.

When the entrance door creaked once more, Anders perked up.

Sheer dumb luck, Anders couldn’t believe it, it was sheer dumb luck that the person who entered really was Varric. When he spotted Anders he raised his hand in greeting and made a beeline to his table.

“Varric, we’re closing!” Corff yelled in dismay, but the dwarf only waved him off.

“You know, you should probably consider listening to him” Anders commented as Varric took a seat across from him against the bartender’s protests. “One day he’ll stab you in your sleep.”

“Oh he’s harmless” Varric said. He opened his mouth as if to elaborate, but something in his expression changed when he looked at Anders. Then after some apparent deliberation with a bit too much sincerity: “…You look like shit.”

The corners of Anders’ lips twitched up reflexively, unsure yet if he wanted the concern. “And here I was thinking I only felt like it!”

Anders didn’t feel like joking, he hadn’t felt like it in weeks but there was something soothing about when they both broke out into nervous chuckles over his quip. A bit like a reassurance that oh right, so he could still talk like a person.

“Did you run into any trouble?”

Anders made it a point to yawn. “I just fell asleep in the clinic. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Varric didn’t inquire further even though Anders could see that he knew it was a bit more than that. There was a twinge of disappointment and unease. Usually Varric would fill moments like this with empty talk but for some reason he was holding off on it. So they sat suspended in unnatural silence until Anders had drunk the last drop from his bottle. He licked his lip, waiting for Varric to strike but nothing came. The only quiet sounds came from the bar and the fire crackling nearby, the static in Anders’ head grew louder. He was getting ready to abandon ship if this was how it was going to go, when it occurred to him what Varric was doing.

Anders studied his companion’s face, who was pretending to read a letter he’d pulled from one of his pockets. It would be terrifyingly easy to tell him about everything that was troubling him; really, a part of Anders yearned to let it all spill out of him in the hope that maybe once it was out this pressure in his head would be gone. That used to work. But there was too much to put to words by now, steeped in too much shame, and too much that Varric for all his kindness simply wouldn’t understand. Or shouldn’t have to hear. Once he said it, he would never be able to take any of it back. But, Anders didn’t want to leave. He desperately didn’t want to leave and be alone with himself. And there was something that he knew would be safest with Varric. It would be a compromise.

“I should come back in the evening when the others are here” Anders ventured.

Varric didn’t even look up. “Oh come on. You don’t come by the Hanged Man much anymore, would be a shame if you left so soon. You must’ve missed the filth.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Don’t be so serious, of course you have! It goes great with your look right now. So, are you staying?”

Corff was glowering at them now. “Sure.”

Varric stuffed the letter back to where it came from with less care than one would a handkerchief and got up. Anders hesitated one last moment before he followed suit, swallowing his reluctance as he took the familiar path up to Varric’s room. In all the years he’d known Varric, somehow the room had stayed mostly the same. Much of that was probably to blame on the tavern itself, but it still struck Anders now that it had been some time since he’d last been in there. The biggest difference he could make out was that there were now chairs to accommodate a human or an elf; there were little traces that friends had left. It was weirdly cute.

Anders sank on the chair closest to Varric’s favorite little throne, stretching out his legs. For a room at the Hanged Man it was really quite nice, even if the lack of windows was depressing. He felt a bit out of place.

Varric took his seat and wrung his hands. “So what are you in the mood for? Need an editor for your manifesto, or do you want to brainstorm—“

“No” Anders cut him off sharply. “Not tonight.”

“Somebody’s touchy” Varric scoffed. “But alright. What is it then?”

Anders tried to collect his thoughts, frustrated with himself that he was so out of practice that he couldn’t be like Varric and talk about things without mentioning them. His gaze lingered on the vase with wilted flowers Varric kept on his desk next to an unopened bottle of a Tevinter vintage. “I’ve been thinking about how I’ve gone into the Deep Roads twice now since leaving the Grey Wardens.”

“Oh? You’re not getting nostalgic now, are you? I know I said you should reconsider your career but…”

“No. No, not at all. I absolutely despise the Deep Roads. I’m still angry at Hawke for asking me to come along at all. I thought he knew better than that” Anders admitted, the words bitter on his tongue. Acrid fumes, the unnerving feeling of another creature in his blood. “But it’s hard to say no to him, so guess I’m the idiot.”

At that Varric’s expression briefly turned serious again. “It’s just our luck that whenever the Deep Roads are involved, we either get screwed over or somebody’s got it out for Hawke. But I could also live without ever having to go down there again.”

“That isn’t the point. But it’s actually a bit funny. Hawke reminds me at times of the Warden Commander.”

“How so?”

“Charismatic bastards that attract a special kind of trouble and surround themselves with the worst kinds of people” Anders deadpanned, relieved when Varric relaxed again.

“We’re just a bit rough around the edges” Varric replied. “But go on, I’m interested in hearing this.”

“How much have I told you before?”

“Aside from the story of how you were recruited and how mad the templar was that the Hero of Ferelden and the King were both telling her off? A story here and there. If I didn’t already know the Order is fishy, I’d have guessed as much from how you talk about them.”

Anders clicked his tongue. “Well then. Care to hear about my dark past?”

“Sure” Varric said with a wink. “It’ll come in handy if I ever need inspiration for unrealistic Grey Warden characters.”

Anders grinned. “So have you heard this one before: the Hero of Ferelden, a drunk dwarf, an apostate and his cat, a member of the legion of the dead, the son of the disgraced Howe family, a slightly homicidal Dalish mage and a rotting corpse walk into the Deep Roads…”

“A corpse?!”

“And yet somehow the dwarf smelled worst” Anders joked. “Oghren was a complete pig. At first I didn’t really understand why we were bothering with him, but apparently he’d traveled with the Warden Commander during the Blight. Turned out he really had a hand for cutting down darkspawn. So much so that he left his wife and unborn child to go kill more of them. …Thinking about it, I’m sure he would have loved the Hanged Man. Filthy, barely any sunlight during the day, cheap alcohol…”

“Ouch, that was unnecessary” Varric grumbled. “But I’ve heard that name before. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in Orzammar, Maker knows they’re always trying to get their hands on lunatics like that. A corpse though—”

“The strange thing is that they were all like this” Anders insisted. “And if they weren’t from the start, they would be by the end of it. Nathaniel made the classic mistake of trying to assassinate the Warden Commander in revenge for daddy dearest and got recruited as thanks. He was a terrible grump about it too and said he'd rather be hanged. But give it a little time and before you knew it he was fully indoctrinated. So maybe what Orzammar really needs is better recruiters.”

“I’ll let them know somehow” Varric snorted and rose from his seat. Anders watched him grab a bottle and pour its content into a glass. He was beginning to feel as though a string that was cutting into his flesh was threatening to loosen, only a little bit. Varric placed the glass in front of him and settled back into his own chair, keeping an expectant eye on him. “Go on.”

Anders nodded to Varric in silent thanks and eagerly drank the watered down ale. “She’d recruited really anyone who seemed half-way capable and was unlucky enough to cross our path. So that’s how we ended up with Velanna and Sigrun. I think Velanna only listened to us because the Warden Commander was Dalish herself. When we found her she was having a grand time burning down trade caravans because she was convinced her sister had been abducted by humans, when it was really darkspawn. Sigrun got recruited after we fought our way through a thaig together. She was an awfully cheerful lady for someone who was supposed to be dead. Pick-pocketed me at least six times for sport though.”

“And it kept working?”

“She was really good.”

“I’m sure she was. And…?”

“And then there was Ser Pounce-a-lot, the best kitten anyone could ask for. There isn’t much to say about the corpse, Varric.”

Varric put his hands up defensively. “Excuse me, but you can’t drop that in there and expect me to not be curious!”

“That was Justice’s old host” Anders explained, overcome with a shiver that wasn’t his own. “He doesn’t want me to talk about it. Just know that he was there.”

“Oh.”

Anders’ vision zeroed in momentarily on the wine bottle. Another bottle just like this always stood in Hawke’s study where he needed it most. “But I think that gives you a pretty good idea of what we were like.”

Varric hummed and scratched his chin. “Should I be worried that you’re comparing us to that little cult you’re describing?”

“In our defense, we were a pretty fun cult sometimes.”

Anders set his glass down softly before he crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair and frowned at the ceiling in thought. He’d always kept to the stories that didn’t require context or detail beyond the way the hurlock had tripped over his staff and off a cliff. He hadn’t thought before about how to convey personalities or meaning while leaving the important things unspoken. The Warden Commander wiping blood from her cheek, bent over the dead body of the ogre she’d killed. Hawke breathing hard, checking to see if he had killed the Arishok for good.

“Think about it: If it weren’t for Hawke, none of us would given the other a second glance” Anders began. “That’s what it was like with the Warden Commander as well. They’re the kind of people that draw others to them and make you want to stick around just to see what they get up to next.”

“That… puts it well actually.”

“How many times has Hawke asked you to join him to do something that is obviously a bad idea? And you went along anyway? That happens practically every other week.”

“Like all the times he decided he’d pick a fight with every gang in Hightown? Or maybe when he took us to the Wounded Coast and got involved with hunting down an extremely dangerous criminal? Everything involving the Qunari? My personal favorite is the time he went to kill some dragons with us in the Bone Pit.”

“Exactly—“ Anders had to swallow, “but you always expect things to go well just because he seems so convinced that it will.”

“And it usually does.”

“It does. Every time we go into a fight I can’t help but trust him.”

He stopped himself there. Why had he agreed to come with to the Deep Roads? Because so long as Hawke was there, it was as though there was a lifeline. The inevitability of this world seemed to hold less power over him and it was eating Anders up with envy and admiration. He had no choice but to want to stay near. Varric waited patiently. Perhaps he understood what Anders couldn’t think.

Eventually he asked: “So what did the Hero of Ferelden do that gained your trust?”

“Oh, I saw her do a vertical leap and ram a sword straight through an ogre’s skull.”

“…You’re shitting me.”

Anders shifted for comfort, glad to direct the conversation into a different direction. “I’m serious. And she made it look easy, too. It was equal parts disgusting and impressive.”

“What did that look like, exactly?” Varric asked, sounding casual but Anders recognized that curious glint in his eyes.

Anders felt another grin pulling at his mouth. “We were harmlessly traipsing around the Wending Woods killing darkspawn, when suddenly that big stupid beast charged at us. All the Warden Commander did was to jump straight up and angle her sword right and the ogre practically impaled itself. She braces herself against the ogre that is still barreling forward, yanks her blade out and blood explodes everywhere. We’re all hit by the spray while she manages a perfect landing as the ogre collapses behind her.”

“Do you have more details by any chance?”

“She had her sword enchanted with a rune that imbued it with electricity, so it smelled of smoked darkspawn in the whole clearing. Is that graphic enough? If not, I can go on all day. Grey Wardens kill a lot of darkspawn.”

Apparently delighted by what he was hearing Varric sat straighter, his hand hovering near a quill but not grabbing it. Anders took it as an invitation anyway, blowing the spider webs off memories he’d kept stowed away. He started off with the easy things, stories like the ones with the ogre. Violence was mindlessly entertaining after all. Gesticulating dramatically he told of encounters with sylvans, of blighted wolves, of the ghosts of dwarves conjured by stone hacking at impressions of darkspawn, reenacting their deaths until the end of time. He regaled Varric with all the darkspawn heads that had exploded from shield bashes, arrows and magic blasts. Whatever bound him was unraveling. His heart beat fast in excitement whenever Varric interjected and needled him, when they both laughed at the absurdity of it all. Nathaniel once shot a genlock with its own arrow. One hurlock was so confused to see its fellow darkspawn beheaded in one swing of Oghren’s axe that it suffered the same fate. Velanna’s fireballs had singed Ander’s robes on more than one occasion. Soon Varric began to share his own tales, giving Anders the space to remember the little things quietly by himself. Taking a week to learn that the Warden Commander’s name was Serket because nobody ever used it. Sigrun proudly showing off the brass telescope she’d been given. How he smuggled Ser Pounce-a-lot along on missions and had to chase after the cat through half of Amaranthine. He was feeling more like a person, more like himself than he had in months.

Vengeance’s ache continued to sit with him through it all but it was different now. What had split his head in half hours ago with every heart beat was just the occasional throb behind his eye. The separation between then and now may only be paper-thin but it was there. No, so maybe he wouldn’t tell Varric of the Architect with his intelligent darkspawn and that Hawke and Serket thus had more in common than immunizing against common sense. He wouldn’t talk about the children or how he was being eaten alive by his choices. But with Varric he didn’t have to for the pressure to ease.

By the end of it Anders was curled up in his chair, his coat hung over the backrest for cushoning. The conversation had trickled away somewhere along the way. The stasis wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was tinged with the melancholy of knowing that morning had come. There was a sliver of light coming from under the door. Varric had gotten up and laid down out of sight from him some time ago. Anders scratched his neck in anticipation, static back in his head as he bated his breath. This silence wasn’t empty yet, the way it was when people decide to go to sleep. This was the twilight hour in between. The backrest dug into his cheek.

“Why did you leave the Wardens then?”

And exhaled. “That’s complicated.”

“So?”

“I was a different person back then.”

“Well yeah, people change. That’s what being a person is like.”

Feeling the fade touch his mind when he agreed to take Justice into him, believing with all his being that this would be the key. A queasy mixture of joy and bitterness accompanied the memory as he and Justice couldn’t agree. The water had only continued to rise around him. What did he have to show for the person he was now?

He could hear Varric turn over. “Listen, Blondie. So maybe you weren’t a good Grey Warden. But you’ve picked another battle that’s about as insane and that unfortunately seems to be working for you.”

Anders stared into the darkness of the room wordlessly, blinking as though stunned. He waited until he was certain that Varric was asleep, listening close for his breathing. “Thank you, Varric.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Of course he’d say that. If he were to mention it to Varric later anyway he’d brush it off and find a way to paint it as the most incidental thing in the world. Anders curled in more on himself even though would become painful soon, finally closing his eyes. A deep calm crept into the space the tension had left behind.

Varric’s friendship was so often understated like that. It made it so easy to want to confide in him, simply because he didn’t ask too much. Nothing had to be serious. He cared in a way that Anders hadn’t had enough mind to appreciate lately. Maybe you couldn’t trust him to keep all your secrets, but you could always trust him to remind you that you were only a person. Varric was a good friend. He’d have to find something to give to Varric, something that would leave a trace of him, something to express… He’d find something… something…

Hours after Anders had left, Varric noticed a single tawny feather on the ground under one of his chairs. He picked it up, held it between his fingers briefly before he placed it gently among his other keepsakes.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanfiction #anders #varric

19 notes · View notes