#the rest were mostly outside especially in the woods. I was always covered in scratches from running through branches and thorns

[coffee-mouse]

dedicated to my childhood best friend Fudge the basset hound plush 🧡

[waitimcomingtoo]

Captains Orders

Pairing: Peter Parker x venom!reader

Synopsis: a series of scenes following a Captain American fan through the events of finding out Peters secret, losing him, and reuniting

Masterlist

Finding out

“You never know what’s out there. Be ready for anything. That includes an extra pair of underwear in your child’s backpack. Lucky for them, I have my own brand.” Captain America, clad in his old fashioned uniform, held up a pair of underwear on your TV screen. Being as a big of a fan as you were, you tended to leave on his old commercials when they came on.

“I don’t know about the underwear, but I’ll take your advice on being ready for anything.” You smiled as you turned the TV off and climbed out the window that lead to your fire escape.

“Ready?” Venom’s metallic voice filled your ears and you nodded.

“Ready.” You confirmed and jumped off the terrace. You shot a black tendril at a nearby building to anchor yourself as you swung through the streets of New York.

Like you usually did, you encountered Spiderman while you were out on patrol. No matter how many times you explained to him that you only hurt bad guys, he always came after you to try and stop you. In turn, you sent him away with a few broken bones and a couple bruises to keep him at bay. When he approached you on this particular night, you and Venom were in no mood for the usual banter. Venom picked him and and hurled him against a wall before he had a chance to speak.

“Woah woah woah, what did I do? I haven’t even said anything yet.” Spider-mans youthful voice came from behind his mask as he rubbed his head.

“Leave us alone. You have been a thorn in our side since we started patrolling the streets.” Venom growled. “Don’t make us hurt you. We would have no problem crushing a pesky bug.”

“Crushing seems a bit extreme.” Spiderman insisted as he stood up. “Perhaps we could compromise on a simple smush.”

His sarcasm only angered you further, making you charge at him. Spider-Man skillfully slid under you and shot a few webs at your feet, cashing you to fall and roll along the pavement. You angrily ripped his webs off of you, causing Spider-Man to let out a surprised squeak.

“No ones ever broken out of my webs on their own before.” He gulped.

“No one gonna get through chance again.” You threatened as you lunged towards him. As much as you hated to admit it, Spiderman always put up a good fight. For every time you threw him against a building and knocked the wind out of him, he got in a few punches or wiped you off your feet. Growing tired of the nightly routine you had with him, you decided tonight was the last time. You shot a tendril at Spiderman, pulling him towards you at full speed and punching him in the face when he got close enough. This disoriented him enough where you could grab him by the neck and hold him up, grinning wickedly as he struggled to breathe.

You pulled his mask off at the same time he yanked Venom off of you. You immediately looked to Venom, who was laying on the floor, unharmed. You only looked back at Spiderman when you heard him making gawking sounds. Your eyes traveled up his red and blue suit until they landed on the face of your best friend. His jaw was dropped and eyes wide, and your face quickly did the same. You both pointed a finger at each other and froze, now knowing what to do or when. Venom crawled to you and bonded with you but stayed inside as you stared at Peter. Finally, you broke out into a laugh.

“Yo!” You laughed in happy surprise.

“Dude, no way.” Peter looked you up and down, unable to process what he was seeing.

“You’re Spider-Man? The Spider-Man?” You whispered so it wouldn’t catch anyone’s unwanted attention.

“And I take it you’re Venom?” Peter said as he nodded.

“We’re Venom, but yes.” You corrected as Venom rested on your shoulder. “What are the odds?”

“This has never happened before. There are no odds!” Peter exclaimed.

“I can’t believe I’ve been beating the life out of my best friend every night and I had no idea.” You scratched your head in amazement, suddenly feeling guilty about all the bruises and scratches you’d seen on Peter that you now knew you gave him.

“I can’t believe it either.” Peter remarked “Especially since you still ask me to open jars for you.”

“Venom can open jars. I can’t.” You informed him.

“So you’re two different people?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Yes, in one body. Two minds, two personalities.” You listed.

“One love.” Venom spoke up.

“Okay, Venom.” You laughed and patted her head. “What about you? If you have all these crazy abilities, why aren’t you the captain of every sports team by now? You’d crush all those meat heads.”

“If I couldn’t play those sports before I was bitten, I can’t play them after. It’s not fair to everyone else.” Peter told you his philosophy.

“Bitten?” You asked.

“Radioactive spider.” He confirmed. “And you?”

“Symbiote from another planet.” You pointed to the sky.

“Symbiote? So you guys are a host and parasite situation?” Peter couldn’t keep from geeking out a little.

“We don’t like that word. We call it a buddy system. Cause we’re buddies.” You shrugged with a happy smile.

Infinity War

You were at home, eating a big bowl of Cheerio and getting left on delivered by Peter when a rather large space ship pulled up to your window. You dropped your spoon into your bowl in shock and stopped chewing as a bridge extended from the ship onto your fire escape.

“Hey space balls, think you can do something for me?” Tonys voice came from the ship, though you didn’t see anyone inside except a pilot.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded slowly. “What is it?”

“I need you to help me with something. Get on the ship. And bring your little monster friend.” Tony continued. You swallowed your mouthful of Cheerios and blinked a few times to snap back into focus.

“Sir, I can’t get on that ship.” You said apologetically.

“Why not?” Tony asked.

“Stranger danger.” You said weakly.

“Listen Space Jam, there is a much more imminent danger at hand than the stranger steering the jet. Get on it, or die. Simple really.” Tony quipped.

“Okay.” You nodded confidently and got up. “Should I bring a jacket or-“

“Get on the jet!” He interrupted.

“All right! I’m going, I’m going.” You blew out a nervous breath and walked onto your fire escape. The jet was hovering outside your terrace and you contemplated what to do. Mr. Stark needed you, yes. But you were not equipped to fight the battles he was typically caught in. You could let him down in a big way if you went, and a bigger way if you stayed. The TV caught your attention and you saw one of Captain America’s informercials playing. They were usually dumb and pandered mostly to kids, but you admired him and often found yourself tuning in to what he was saying.

“Go out there and be brave.” Captain America saluted on your screen. Your face lit up in a smile and you stood up straighter.

“Captains orders.” You saluted the TV and ran to board the jet.

Wakanda

The space dog stalked up to Cap, pinning him against a tree with nowhere to go. When the dog was about to pounce, Cap put his arms over his face to protect himself. Just when the dog was about to get to him, you dropped down it front of him. You punched the dog out of the way and turned to asses Cap.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked. Before he could answer, another dog came running at you. You shot a black tendril at a tree, yanked it from the ground, and used it as a bat to ward off the remaining dogs. Once the area was clear, you turned to Steve and pushed him higher against the tree for support. You shot a web at his shield and handed it to him as he watched in admirable confusion.

“Yeah, just locked the wind out of me. Where’d you come from?” He asked as he looked you up and down, not recognizing the giant white spider symbol on your suit.

“Mr. Stark sent for us and flew us down here. We haven’t fought too many people before but he thought we could help.” You explained as you pressed a firm palm against the gash on his thigh, covering the wound with your black goo. When you took your hand away, the gash was gone. Steve watched you in awe as you did the same to other cuts of his.

“Right.” He nodded as he began to watch your face instead.

“Have you seen my friend Peter? He’s my age and kinda short, but if you ask him he’ll tell you he’s average height and I’m like yeah, average height of a woman.” You nervously talked as you healed a cut on Steve’s forehead. “He was supposed to text me when he got to MOMA but he never did.”

“I haven’t seen him.” Cap shook his head, watching you heal a scrape on his elbow.

“Shoot. He better not be here. It’s not safe.” You fretted as you looked up and saw the raging battle all around you. “If you’re okay to keep fighting, we’re gonna go find him.” You looked him over to make sure he was okay to leave.

“You can’t go alone. Thanos will be here any minute. You should stick by me if you’re an inexperienced fighter.” Cap insisted, grabbing your arm so you wouldn’t leave.

“Trust me Captain, I’m never alone.” You smiled gratefully at him for showing concern for you.

“Who are you?” Steve asked in wonder, still not having figured it out.

“Well, my name is Y/n, but we,” you said before turning around and catching an alien about to attack, throwing it across the woods, “we are Venom.”

You turned up to leave, only getting a few paces away before you heard his voice.

“Hey.” Steve shouted after you. You turned to look at him and he smirked.

“You mind giving me a ride?” He asked.

“Hop on.” You smiled. You turned into Venom and let Cap climb on to your back.

“Run as fast as you can.” He commanded.

“Captains orders.” You said as you took off towards the battlefield.

In the battle

You and Venom were punching as many space dogs as you could when a large axe landed a few feet away from you. You went to pick it up to swing it at the dogs, but found it impossibly heavy and unable to be moved.

“Why can’t I lift this?” You called out as you tugged on the handle. Thor ran up to you and picked up the axe with ease, using it to send a wave of lighting towards the advancing group of dogs.

“Because you’re not worthy.” Thor said smugly as he cut an alien in half.

“Why am I not worthy?” You asked as you punched a space dog and sent it flying. “Because I eat people?”

“You eat people?” Steve and Thor said in unison, making your face redden in embarrassment.

Endgame

You sat next to Scott as Steve and Tony argued, quietly looking around to admire the cabin he had moved in to. Peters face flashed among the ones lost in the snap, making you grimace and wipe a stray tear.

“We gotta do this, Tony. I lost Bucky.” You heard Steve plead.

“Who the hell is Bonkey?” You whispered to Scott.

“Some girl I think.” Scott whispered back as he munched on a pop tart. He saw the distraught look on your face as you stared at the montage of people dusted and offered you half of it.

“No. Not happening. It’s over. We lost. I gotta shave.” Tony shut down Steve’s idea of looking for Thanos.

“Please Mr. Stark.” You stood up and everyone looked at you. Your legs trembled as you walked towards your mentor. “Please. We’re the only people with the power to fix this. How can we not?”

“Look, Rocky Horror, I’d love to bring everyone back as much as the next guy. But there is no protocol for this. We have no idea what could happen if we snapped again.” Tony reasoned with you.

“But we know exactly what will happen if we don’t.” You countered. You and Tony stared at each other for a moment. He couldn’t deny that every time he looked at you, he saw the empty space by your side that Peter used to take up. He looked at his feet and sighed.

“Give me five days. If you don’t hear from me, the Time Jinx-“ Tony began.

“Time Heist.” Scott corrected.

“Time to go Eff yourself.” Tony snapped. “If you don’t hear from me, it’s off. Sound fair?”

“Thank you.” You nodded and ran to him to hug him. “Thank you so much.”

~

“Thanks for sticking up for me back there.” Steve looked at you in the rear view mirror as you drove home from Tony’s cabin.

“I can’t say it wasn’t for selfish reasons.” You shrugged. “I need people back too. For the first time in my life, I’m all alone.”

“Who are you doing this for?” Steve asked you.

“Peter Parker. My best friend in the whole world.” You smiled sadly. You did your best not to think about the fact that he was gone.

“I’m doing this for my best friend too.” Steve told you with a kind smile.

“Right. Bucket.” You remembered.

“Bucky.” He corrected.

“Bucky.” You repeated.

The snap

“I have to do it.” You interrupted the argument over who would be the one to snap after being quiet since Clint broke the news about Nat. “It has to be me.”

“Not now, the adults are talking.” Tony tried to dismiss you but you didn’t let him.

“I’m serious. I lost Venom in the last snap. That means I’m the only one hear who isn’t enhanced in some way. That makes me expendable.”

“No. It’s going to be me.” Thor shook his head.

“Wrong, Lebowski. It’s going to be me.” Tony told him.

“It can’t be either of you.” You insisted. “If Thor does it and dies, we lose our best fighter. If Mr. Stark does it and dies, we lose Iron Man and the only person here who can make another gauntlet. It has to be me.”

“No.” Tony said firmly. “I’m not about to let a child kill herself for this.”

“Nat just gave her life for this.” You raised your voice at him. “Are we gonna come this far to only come this far? You know I’m right. You know I’m expendable. It has to be me.”

“We don’t trade lives.” Steve said, looking at you with his Steele blue eyes from across the room.

“We don’t have the luxury of morals right now.” You told him. “Trillions of people died. You can afford to lose one more to bring the rest back.”

“No.” Tony snapped. “It’s out of the-“

“Let her do it.” Thor cut him off.

“What?” Tony looked at him with anger.

“She’s right, Stark.” Thor said solemnly. “It’s a horrible fate but it’s true. When Thanos comes, and he will, we’re gonna need every fighter we have. It has to be her.”

Tony stared at him for a long time before his face softened as he realized he was right. Without looking at you, he handed you the gauntlet. You gingerly took it, your heart racing as everyone took precautions, stepping away from you and putting shields up. You looked to Steve for comfort and he gave you a somber salute.

“You better come back from this.” He told you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smiled softly at him and saluted.

“Captains orders.”

Thanos comes to earth

Right as you got out from under the rubble of the Avengers tower you saw Thanos beating up Steve. His shield was in pieces so you grabbed the nearest item to you and ran to his aid. You stepped between him and Thanos and planted your feet.

“Don’t touch him!” You cried as you swung a baseball bat in front of you.

“Is that a baseball bat? Did you seriously show up to this fight with a baseball bat?” Steve asked from the ground.

“Hello, trying to save your life here.” You shot back at him.

“Sorry. Carry on.” Steve said.

“Give it up.” Thanos sneered. “There’s no use fighting anymore. I’ve done what I had to do and I’ll do it again.”

“No. I will never stop fighting.” You heaved. “You took everything from me. Until there is no air left in my chest, I will never stop fighting.”

One swift kick the head and you were knocked to the ground. You saw stars for a moment rad your head spun. A tall man with long brown hair came into your sight and stood over you.

“Hey, get up.” He held out his hand for you to grab.

“Jesus?!” You gasped, thinking you were dead.

“No.” He sighed as if he got that a lot. “My name is Bucky. You gotta get up.”

“Bonky!” You cheered, grabbing his cold, metal hand and standing up. You immediately heard an explosion to your left and an array of screaming from your right. You and Bucky looked at each other and nodded before running opposite ways towards the sounds.

You ran towards the yelling and looked around for anyone you could help, even though you were still without Venom and pretty much defenseless. Ebony Maw saw you looking vulnerable and floated over to you.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in the middle of a battlefield? Don’t you know there’s a war going on?” He said as he approached you.

“Really?” You stopped to ask. “I thought this was a Febreeze commercial.”

“Just for that, I’ve decided to terminate you.” He began to make rocks around you float and threw them at you. You were hit in the arm and began to ran until you were knocked over by a boulder.

“No, wait.” You help up your left arm to protect your face as Ebony piles rocks on you, all with just the flick of his finger. Your right arm was still out of commission after snapping, so you didn’t have much of a defense system. He dropped more rocks onto you until you were gasping for breath and could barely speak.

You could see Cap in the distance, just out of earshot. You opened your mouth to speak, to call out to him, but no words came out. It was like every nightmare you’d had as a kid when you lost your voice and couldn’t cry out for help. Hot tears fell out of the corner of yours eyes in frustration as you tried to scream, yell, talk, anything. Instead of words, blood spilled over your lips, filling your mouth with a metallic taste.

“Help! I need help! Cap!” You tried to scream but it came out as a hushed whisper.

“He’s not coming.” Ebony said as he began to pile rocks closer to your face.

“Cap! Mr. Stark! Please! Can anybody hear me?” You wheezed.

“I’m afraid no one can hear you, my child.” Ebony Maw said as he dropped a rock onto your head, silencing you. “Not anymore.”

He turned around and began to float away when he heard the sound of rocks tumbling and moving. He turned back to where he left you and no longer saw you under the pile. As soon as he turned back around, he was met with Venom towering over him.

“We heard.” Venom snarled before biting Ebonys head clean off.

“Nice work.” Steve’s voice came from behind you and startled you. You turned back into yourself and faced him. “I was just on my way to help you, but it looks like you got it handled.”

“Thanks. I had help, though.” You said and Venom slid into your hand, as if to hold it.

“You find your friend yet?” He asked you.

“Not yet. I met Bucket, by the way.” You said as you brushed some debris off your suit.

“He told me.” Steve smiled. “Go find your guy. I’ll cover you.”

“Captains orders.” You saluted him and turned into Venom before running off.

The reunion

“I got this! I got this! I don’t got this!” Peter realized in fear as space dogs piled onto his faster than he could fight them off. He instinctively threw his hands over his face and curled himself into a ball. Thanks to his high tech iron spider suit, he barely felt the blows from the bad guys. It wasn’t until he felt himself being thrown onto his back that he began to worry. An alien with sword for a hand tilted Peters chin up with the edge of his blade. Peter felt fear rise in his throat, not knowing how to use his suit yet and not being able to put his mask up to protect his neck.

“Help! Someone help!” He shouted, but it fell on deaf ears. No one heard.

“Someone, please! Can anybody hear me?” Peter cried. Like a hand coming down into Peters open grave to pull him out, he heard a voice.

“We got you.”

The alien on top of Peter was knocked off in a blur of black. Peter scrambled to sit up and looked in the direction of his savior. He tried to catch his breath as he watched Venom ripping the alien to shreds like it was made of paper.

“Venom?” Peter panted, making you snap up to look at Peter. You slowly got off the alien, still in Venom form, and began to run towards Peter. You melted back into yourself as you ran, tears streaming down your face as your legs carried you. Imagine My Tears are Becoming the Sea as you run towards each other. You meet Peter in the middle and throw your good arm around him, tangling your fingers in hair at the back of his head as pressing him as close to you as possible. You dry heaved a few minutes as the scent of your best friends shampoo filled your nostrils for the first time in five years. Hot tears of joy poured from your eyes when you felt him rubbing your back for comfort. You pressed a kiss to his temple, before saying screw it and kissing every inch of his face and neck that you could reach as he laughed. You pulled back and kept your left hand on his face as your right arm hung limply at your side. Your thumb stoked his cheek as you took in your best friends face.

“Is this a trick?” You whispered, searching his face for comfort.

“It’s not a trick.” Peter shook his head with a childish smile, loving all the affection he was getting from you.

“What if it is? What if I wake up and this is just a dream?” Your voice broke. “I can’t take it if it’s fake.”

“It’s not a dream. It’s real. I’m real.” Peter assured you as he took your hand and pressed your fingers against his neck. “You can feel my pulse, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can feel it.” You nodded as you felt the rhythm of his heartbeat under your fingertips.

“Then I’m real.” Peter said gently, making your lip tremble and rendering you unable to speak.

“What happened to your arm?” Peter asked when he caught sight of your right arm, still red and sizzling from the snap.

“Oh, um…dragons.” You said the first lie that came to your head. “It was a fire breathing dragon.”

“Wow, really?” Peter looked at you in amazement. “Did it hurt?”

You broke into a smile at seeing your best friend excited again after so many years of not seeing him at all. His eyes lit up just like you remembered.

“No. It didn’t hurt.” You lied through a genuine smile. “I’m all right.”

“I missed you, Y/n.” Peter said suddenly. “It’s only been a few hours for me, but I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You said through your tears.

“I had a few hours to think when I was in the soul stone and ran out of questions to ask Dr. Strange.” Peter began, looking nervous for the first time. “I think we’ve been wasting a lot of time.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him.

“I love you.” Peter said firmly. “I have for years. For whatever love is at my age, that’s how I feel. I know I’m 18 and you’re 22, but Knives Chau was 17 and Scott Pilgrim was 23 when they dated so I just-“

You cut Peter off by pulling him into a kiss using your one good hand, feeling a sob rise in the back of your throat when he kissed you back. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, only feeling him in the middle of a battlefield.

“I love you too.”

Funeral

You stood apart from the crowd after Pepper sent Tony’s memorial into the water, watching from a distance while fumbling with the bottom of your dress. You watched Peter talk with the other Avengers, a newfound sadness in his eyes as he once again put the “e” in “dad”. You sighed as you watched him, feeling a guilt you didn’t know to explain. You told Mr. Stark the snap would kill him, and he did it anyway. Feeling uncomfortably hot all the sudden, you attempted to pull your hair into a ponytail. Ever since your arm had to be amputated from snapping, little tasks like doing your hair seemed impossible. Hot tears of frustration filled your eyes as you struggled to get all your hair into the ponytail. Right as you were about to give up, you felt someone’s hands take the hair tie from you and gather your hair into a ponytail. They secured the hair tie around your hair and stood beside you, all without saying a word.

“Thank you.” You said quietly as you touched the ponytail, surprised to find it was well done.

“It’s all right.” Bucky nodded as he stared off at the lake. “I owe you one.”

“Who told you?” You asked him, feeling a sharp pain where your elbow used to be.

“Someone had to snap their fingers and you’re the only missing an arm. I took a wild guess.” Bucky smiled half heartedly. You folded your lips into a line as the pain worsened in your phantom limb.

“Are you gonna tell anyone?” You asked in a hushed voice. You hadn’t told anyone that you were the one who snapped. It seemed almost insulting to speak of it since the very same action had killed Tony. It made you sick to your stomach to know both of you had snapped but you were the one to survive and attend his funeral.

“I take it seriously when people risk their lives for mine. I’ll keep your secret.” Bucky assured you. You stared at him for a moment as tears filled your eyes until you brushed your sleeve up to look at the remainder of you arm. It had to be taken off right below the shoulder, so all you were left with was an immobile nub. You looked back at Bucky and saw him silently staring at your residual limb with a look of understanding.

“Does it always hurt this bad?” You whispered, never having vocalized your pain from losing your arm before. Bucky sighed sympathetically and slowly looked up at you.

“The pain gets easier with time.” He told you. “Mine still hurts when it rains or snows.”

You nodded at his words and looked at your residual limb again, pain evident on your face. Bucky could see you struggling with your new body and remembered how hard it was for him when he first lost his own arm.

“You think it’s ugly.” He spoke, making you look at him. “I thought my stump was ugly too. It’s not, though. Steve told me what happened before Thanos came back. You snapped thinking you were going die. You risked your life for us, and you haven’t even met most of us.”

“Someone had to do it.” You mumbled, not wanting to take the credit.

“But you made sure that someone was you. I think that’s beautiful.” Bucky shrugged, and a small smile appeared on your face. “So don’t look at it like its ugly. It’s not ugly.”

“Thanks, Buggy.” You said softly, looking at your stump in a new light.

“Bucky.” he corrected.

“Thanks Bucky.” You repeated.

“Well, Steve sent me over here to get you, so I can’t leave empty handed. He wants you to meet the rest of the Avengers.”

You looked at the group Peter was in and let out a nervous breath before looking back at Bucky.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Captains Orders.”

Tag List 🏷

@foreverxholland @poesflygirl​ @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23​ @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx​ @hes-amarillo​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames​ @purefluff​ @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues​ @electraheart-3174​ @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess​ @ohnothezombies​ @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind @quacksonfics @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @buckybigbutt @cookiemonstermusic258 @awesomebooklover17 @maybemona @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

[floral-and-fine]

When Light Enters the Wound part 1

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Title inspired by this quote: "The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”- Rumi

Summary: When The Hound is saved by brother Ray, he meets the woman who brought him back from the brink of death.

A/n: So I suddenly had the urge to write my first GOT fic, mostly because I'm thirsty for Sandor. Thank you @ewokiee​ and @liamakorn​ for all the help!

*not my gif

Cracking an eye open, Sandor was greeted by a heavenly sight, a lovely woman leaning over him as the sunlight shone upon her, resembling a divine glow. The sky above her was a brilliant blue and there was a gentle breeze that tickled his face.

Sandor felt fingertips delicately skim across his cheek and neck, her touch was so light and feathery that it caused goosebumps to appear in its wake.

Surely, he was hallucinating, his mind playing tricks on him as his body bled out, or perhaps it was a fever dream caused by infection. Either way, there was no way in hell any of this was real.

Not able to keep his eyes open any longer, he allowed sleep to take him. Sandor would consider himself a lucky man if he died in his sleep dreaming about a beautiful woman he’s never met, it was far better than the alternative, to continue rotting slowly on this godforsaken hill.

But when had he ever been lucky?

…

Sandor furrowed his brow as he opened his eyes, he had expected to either be dead or still outside waiting for a wild animal to finish him off, not in some tent.

Sitting up, he was shocked to find how good he felt, his body was well-rested, free of any aches and sores. Rolling his shoulders he noted that the gash that had been giving him such grief was gone and his leg had healed.

Immediately, he started patting the rest of himself down, lifting up his tunic, searching for any bruises or cuts, but there wasn’t a single scratch on him.

“What in the seven hells?” He muttered lowly. No healer in Westeros was this good or thorough, he should be dead…

His attention was drawn away from his thoughts, as the flap of the tent was drawn back and an older man with dark gray curls and sympathetic blue eyes stepped in.

The stranger chuckled to himself. “It’s nice to see you awake,” he commented, with a smile. “Honestly, I can’t believe you survived.”

Sandor grunted in response, “you and me both.”

The man sighed, crouching down. “I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he explained, with a shrug. “But you were so close to death, that even I doubted she could save you.”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed. “She who? Was this the work of some fucking witch?” He spat.

The man didn’t seem phased by Sandor’s aggression or accusation, actually having found it more entertaining than anything else.

“I don’t think she’s a witch,” he answered truthfully. “But I’m no expert on the matter.”

“So if you’re not the one who healed me, then who are you?” Sandor interrogated.

“Name’s Ray,” the man introduced himself. “I’m the Septon here.”

Sandor rolled his eyes, “course you are.”

“My flock and I have decided to settle down here in these parts.”

“Where’s here?”

The Septon smiled and gestured to the exit.

Sandor cautiously got to his feet, standing upright without any pain. How the hell had he been fortunate enough for some magical healer to find and save him?

He grimaced at the thought, he wasn’t sure what to think of it, seemed too good to be true, so there had to be a catch, some bullshit about the Lord of Light or The Seven.

Ray took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air as he took in the sight. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Sandor hummed half-heartedly, it was nothing special just hills, trees, same old shit he’s seen for months now since leaving King’s Landing.

As they walked, Sandor noticed everyone hard at work, women cooking, men building, children running and playing.

These people were the decent and simple sort, not the kind of people Sandor was accustomed to. People in the city were always looking for a way to screw each other over as a way to gain more power or gold. He had grown accustomed to being wary of strangers, never letting his guard down in King's Landing or while he's been on his own, it was all part of surviving in this world.

As the flock noticed him approaching, they kept their distance but were polite enough.

“They’ll warm up to you if you give ‘em a chance,” Ray reassured. “Doubt they’ve ever seen anyone quite as intimidating as you.”

Sandor didn’t give two fucks, either way, they already treated him better than most people he’s encountered over his life.

Suddenly, Sandor stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted a familiar face, he couldn’t believe she was real.

The woman from his hallucinations was sitting alone, washing clothing in a small stream. Her face scrunched in concentration as she scrubbed the linen against the washboard.

The Septon followed Sandor’s gaze and smiled, “that’s her, the one who healed you.”

Sandor nodded, swallowing thickly, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her.

“She’s a good woman, remarkably kind... and forgiving,” something about the Septon’s expression indicated that he knew rather well just how forgiving she was.

“When we found you, I thought you were already dead and was ready to put you in the ground,” Ray recounted. “But she got down on her knees, and pressed her ear to your chest, and was able to hear the faint beating of your heart...insisted that we take you in.”

Almost as if she could sense the Septon speaking of her, her head turned in their direction. Her eyes lit up as she recognized her patient up and about.

Forgetting about the laundry, she stood up and made her way towards them, stopping just a few feet from Sandor.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice soft and warm, a tone unfamiliar to Sandor as people rarely spoke to him before in such a manner.

“Fine,” Sandor grunted, looking away.

“I’m glad,” she smiled. “Never seen anyone in such bad shape before.”

“What can I say, I’m a big man and tough to kill.”

She laughed lightly, a genuine smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. “Do you have a name stranger?”

Sandor looked down, worried to reveal his identity, his reputation as The Hound preceded him. These were decent people who took him in, and they may not be too fond of having a murderer amongst them.

“Sandor Clegane,” he finally answered.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she tilted her head. “I’m y/n l/n.”

Y/n, the name suited her, or at least Sandor thought so.

“Well, I better finish the wash,” she muttered, looking back at the basket and clothes. She waved goodbye, her eyes meeting Sandor’s before she sauntered away.

“Still think she’s a witch?” Ray teased.

It was odd to Sandor, neither y/n nor Ray behaved like the religious sort he had encountered in King’s Landing or anywhere else for that matter. Most of the ones he met acted like they were holier than the gods themselves, looking down at the common folk for living their lives, for just existing.

The Hound quickly found his place amongst the community, Although he kept to himself, he worked harder than any other man and did whatever work was needed.

He was breathing heavily, swinging the ax over and over again. The dull thwack of the ax splitting the wood was all he could hear.

These hills were quiet and peaceful, perhaps Ray was right and there was something beautiful about this place. Sandor hadn’t given it much thought, but it seemed that in comparison the city was cruel and chaotic and smelled like piss.

Since sunrise, Sandor had been working without pause, not even stopping for lunch. Even while working he seemed to keep his distance from the others, and the only people who ever came around him were Ray and y/n.

Hearing a twig snap behind him, Sandor, out of habit, swung around with the ax in hand, prepared to attack but immediately lowered it when he saw that it was y/n standing there.

“For god sake woman, don’t you know better than to come sneaking up behind somebody?” He complained, gritting his teeth. “It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

Most people would shrink away from Sandor, especially after such an outburst, but y/n didn’t even flinch, and he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop coming around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she laughed.

Sandor scowled, “you didn’t scare me, but we might need to get you a bell or something, so I don’t kill you by accident.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “I brought you some supper.”  She held out the plate towards him. “Figured you were due for a break.”

He nodded, setting the ax down before taking a seat on a nearby log. Y/n joined him, sitting by his side just a few inches of space between them.

Typically, Sandor wasn’t one for company, but he made an exception for her. She was different, didn’t avoid him, and always looked him in the eye, never shying away. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, especially not from a woman.

Sandor had yet to figure out why y/n even bothered with him at all, why she brought him his meals and kept him company in the evenings, or why she even bothered to save his life.

“It’s a nice day,” she wondered out loud, admiring the sky.

Sandor shrugged, focused more on his filling his belly than the weather.

“Suppose we better enjoy while we can,” she noted, soon everything would be covered in a blanket of snow, that would last for years.

She bit her lip, thinking about how she wouldn’t mind spending a long winter with Sandor, surely he’d be able to keep her warm during the long nights.

A couple of men came rushing towards y/n and Sandor. “Lady y/n come quick,” one of them started. “Efran fell while working on top of the sept.”

“It looks real bad,” the other added.

She immediately got to her feet, lifting her skirts to keep up as Sandor followed.

When they arrived, the group of people surrounding Efran parted allowing y/n through.

The poor man was lying on the ground groaning, his leg was twisted and bone poking through. She crouched down beside him, then looked up. “We’re going to need to set the leg first. Someone hold him still please.”

Sandor stood behind the group, peering over their heads, he was curious to see just what y/n was capable of.

The man howled in agony as they held him down and y/n straightened out his leg, popping the bone back into place. “That’s the worst of it,” she said, trying to comfort Efran.

Laying her hand upon his leg, y/n closed her eyes, Sandor could’ve sworn that she was glowing, a gentle light emanating from her body. Several moments passed, all eyes were on her and everything was silent.

As she opened her eyes and lifted her hand, the gash and bone had healed, looked as good as new.

“Take him to his tent so he can rest,” y/n instructed, dusting off her skirts as she got off the ground.

“So how are you able to… heal others?” Sandor asked bluntly, now that they were alone again.

“Not sure,” she said, folding her arms. “I’ve never really been the religious type, I don’t pray or even know who or what to worship for that matter… Ray says it’s proof that there’s something, but I don’t have any answers.”

Y/n noticed the rough conditions of his hands, they were rugged and calloused from before, but she could see new blisters forming and small cuts all over his knuckles, most likely the result of all his hard work.

Reaching out she took his hands in hers. Her thumbs gently caressing over his skin. A warmth began to spread from her touch to his skin.

“Good night, Sandor,” she murmured, before letting loose of his healed hands.

…

The morning was still young when the flock had gathered to listen to the Septon's sermon.

When Ray started to speak, it wasn’t what Sandor expected. It wasn’t a lecture on sin or how the gods were judging them.

The Septon’s story hit a little too close to home for Sandor. He had always believed that the only thing he was good for was killing. For the king and for that shit Joffrey, he had committed horrible atrocities, he murdered an innocent child for gods' sakes.

Sandor’s eyes flickered down to y/n who was sitting in front of him as he stood behind her. He wondered how much she knew about his past. Would she still be just as sweet and kind to him if she ever saw what he was capable of?

Ray’s attention turned to y/n then Sandor, the older man couldn’t help but notice how Sandor looked at the healer of his flock. He recognized almost immediately how much he and the Hound had in common, and knew well what inner turmoils the man was struggling with.

“I was hired as a sword for a pretty damn easy job,” he sighed continuing his story. “Just had to kill a woman. I didn’t care why didn’t even question it, Figured it was as good as done.”

Ray ran a hand through his hair. “On my travels to the small village she resided in, I was ambushed by some bandits, they robbed me blind and left me for dead out on that road. I thought this had to be it, they took my money, my horse, cut me open… and then things went dark until I woke up in a small hut.”

“The villagers had brought me to their healer, a young orphaned girl... when she introduced herself that’s when I realized that this girl was the one I was sent to kill.”

“You’d think I would’ve changed my mind right then, and leave her be,” the Septon shook his head a distant look in his eye. “But I had just lost everything, I needed that gold, or at least that’s the excuse I made.”

“I bided my time, gained the trust of the village before deciding to act,” Ray looked down at his clasped hands. “On that fateful night, I took a knife from the kitchen, and was fully prepared to slit her throat as she slept… but as I held it, pressing the sharp edge against her skin, it hit me about how I was taking something good from the world, and how goodness was so rare to find. Who knows how much goodness I had already taken from the world, what right did I have to take more?”

Y/n smiled at the Septon, encouraging him to finish their story.

“For the first time in my life, I wanted to do the same to bring some goodness into the world, no more death, no more senseless violence… that wasn’t going to be my life anymore,” Ray wandered over to y/n, patting her shoulder. “Since then, I’ve changed my ways, and with the time I’ve got left, I plan to use it for good.”

Just as the Septon's lesson started to sink in for Sandor, three men on horses approached.

Ray tried to appease them, but still, their presence made Sandor feel uneasy.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these men were up to no good. Stumbling upon this community was like finding an unguarded vault, supplies, food, women, all for the taking.

Y/n joined Ray, a kind smile on her face as she tried to reason with them as well.

It didn’t escape Sandor’s attention how the man in the yellow coat was eyeing y/n, the stranger's intentions were anything but good.

Sandor’s fists clenched as they made eye contact, he should grab an ax or something and take care of them now.

But Ray seemed to urge against it.

“Do you really think they’ll come back?” Y/n asked once the three strangers had left.

Sandor’s shoulders slumped, “Aye, to them this is easy pickings… unarmed common folk with plenty of supplies and food.”

Y/n wrung her hands nervously. “I see,” she mumbled, looking back at the tents, these were her friends, her family, this was meant to be a safe haven. For the last decade or so, she and Ray had worked hard towards their goal, they were so close to it now.

Sighing, Sandor laid a hand over both of hers, “I’ll do what I can… just stay with me.”

She nodded, taking in a deep breath, “you’re a good man, Sandor.”

He shook his head, “I’m no such thing.”

“It’s a shame you don’t see it,” she said softly, now cradling his large hand in both of hers. “When I spotted you on that hill I saw so much potential, even covered in all that blood and dirt… the world needs you Sandor Clegane.”

For the rest of the day, y/n stayed by Sandor’s side, watching him work and helping when she could.

Deep down Sandor hoped his instincts were wrong, that those men would simply move on but when a shrill scream shattered the peaceful silence, he already knew it was too late.

Rage, as Sandor passed body after body, all he felt was rage. This community hadn’t done anything to deserve being slaughtered like this. They were innocent people, just trying to live their lives and do some good for the world. The monsters hadn’t spared anyone, not even the children.

This once-peaceful place, the place he was considering to call home, had now been desecrated by a massacre, completely destroyed.

‘Nowhere is safe.’ This tragedy solidified these words in his heart.

Sandor came to halt when the Septon came into view, feet dangling in the air as his body swung from the skeleton of the unfinished sept.

Y/n stumbled beside him, her sight blurred by tears, but it was her heart-wrenching cry when she saw the Septon that pulled Sandor from his stupor.

She fell to her knees, face twisted in anguish as she wailed, she had never seen such horrors in her life.

Grabbing her by the arm, Sandor yanked her to him, blocking her view of all the horrors that surrounded them, and wrapped his arms securely around her.

She buried her face against his chest as he held her close. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she clutched him as tightly, all the strength in her legs had given out.

As he comforted her, her pain only fueled his anger further, Sandor spotted an ax nearby, those fuckers were going to pay. He was going to hack them all to pieces.

He pulled away from her, his hands cupping her face, “we’re going after them, all of them.”

Stray tears fell from Y/n’s eyes and slid over Sandor’s hands. “Promise?” She whispered.

...

[quicksiluers]

Here’s a dumb story of Grant not talking to Sherman all day and Sherman has no idea why and is stressing way too much about it and Grant is super embarrassed by it when they actually talk about it. (it’s needlessly long so I apoligize in advance) (I also posted it on ao3 if it’s easier to read there)

With special appearances byyyy Rawlins, McPherson and Comstock cause why the hell not

“And this play we saw, it had to be one of the worst things I had ever seen.” 

McPherson raised a brow, a playful smirk on his lips, “Sherman, if it’s not some professional play, you always think it’s the worst thing you’ve seen.” 

Sherman frowned, ignoring the low chuckle coming from Grant beside him, “It’s not my fault all these actors out here are awful.” 

“Maybe you’re being too harsh?” Grant asked, rolling his cigar between his fingers, “You’re standards seem...high.” 

“Should I set my standards low?” The redhead pushed back, glancing back and forth between the two generals, “If that is their job, they should at least try to be good at it.” 

Snorting, McPherson shook his head and waved the older man off, “Out here I’ll just take what I can get.” 

The wood in the fireplace beside them cracked, the embers filtering up through the chimney. A small chill settled through the room, the winter air creeping through the walls. Sherman ignored it, occasionally rubbing his hands together for a small bit of friction. A little cold wasn’t going to bother him when McPherson and Grant were around. 

Memphis was a city he had spent far too much time in. The people were a pain to deal with, the press even worse, and the weather had been awful the past week. Somehow he found himself missing those summer months outside in the Mississippi heat. 

“I’ll take anything over those balls they invite us to,” Grant grumbled, stuffing the cigar in his mouth, “Those are tedious.” 

“At least the food is good,” McPherson argued, crossing his arms, “I’ve only been to a few and that’s usually the best part.” 

“That’s the only good part.” 

Sherman laughed, “Mac when you go to as many of those things as Grant and I have, you’ll understand how absolutely god awful they are.” 

The younger general’s brows pinched together, his thick beard hiding a small pout, “Well if I was invited to more of them…” 

“Trust me when I say you don’t want that invite,” Sherman jabbed his thumb over in Grant’s direction, “Grant finds a way to scurry off half the time when we’re at them, he’s a genius at finding the easy escape.” 

Laughter filled the room. The redhead covered his mouth, trying to control himself. He wished he had that talent, it would come in handy in a number of situations. 

“Plus, those absolutely awful people you have to deal with,” Sherman continued, “The politicians and the men who claim to be with the Union when it’s incredibly easy to tell they are two-timing snakes.”

“I”m shocked you can tell the two groups apart,” McPherson teased, kicking Sherman’s boot, “You seem to describe them the same way.”

“They essentially are.”

A small movement caught his eye and Sherman turned, watching as Grant pushed back from the table. The cigar was set firmly in his mouth, his expression clouded. Their eyes met briefly before Grant looked down at his pocket watch, the beat-up item resting in his palm. 

“It’s getting late. I have some work to do,” Grant snapped the watch shut, nodding to the two of them. 

“Rawlins can’t do it for you?” McPherson asked, moving to stand up before the older the general waved him down, “What could be so press-” 

“Everything is always pressing with Washington Mac.” 

“It can’t wait until morning?” Sherman questioned, eyebrow raised. If there was something urgent, Rawlins would have crashed the party without an invitation. The young aide had a knack for coming in at the worst times. 

Grant glanced at him and Sherman was taken aback by the coldness of the stare. 

“I would prefer it be finished tonight,” he replied, quickly looking away from Sherman. With a small nod and a muttered goodbye, the leading general gathered his things and made his way across the room. As he left, either from the wind or maybe his own strength, the door slammed shut. 

Silence hung between Sherman and McPherson as they sat in the room, eyes glued to the door. McPherson scratched the side of his face, eyebrows pulled together, “That seemed abrupt.” 

Sherman couldn’t help but agree. Grant could be blunt, but that sort of abruptness wasn’t like him. Especially towards him. The coldness of Grant’s glance unsettled him as well. Had they mentioned something they shouldn’t have? 

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “Must be something important, you know how they get on his back for anything over there.” 

McPherson nodded slowly, the puzzled expression still on his face, “I suppose…” 

“If Washington had to deal with me, they wouldn’t get an answer until I felt like giving them a goddamn answer.” 

“And that is why,” McPherson pointed with a laugh, “they don’t have to deal with you.” 

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

The morning was brisk with a light flurry in the air. None of it stopped the people from roaming up and down the streets, either greeting him with a polite smile or an angry sneer. Sherman tried his best to ignore both. 

The stairs underneath him creaked as he climbed up, bypassing a flushed-looking staff officer. Probably the young man’s first day at the job, he knew the look of someone given too much information in one meeting. He was sure it made the boy’s head spin.  

Striding through the other aides, Sherman entered his office and grabbed the papers and envelopes off his desk. 

“Anything important come in colonel?” Sherman turned, the young man glancing up from the hand full of other papers he was shuffling through, “Don’t tell me I have to look through all that crap.” 

“Oh no sir,” the colonel, Williams, replied. He shook the papers lightly, “Just some complaints from the city folk, which I’ve mostly gone through and divided up.” 

“And?” 

“And most of it is not all that important or interesting,” he shrugged, pushing up his glasses, “the normal complaints and requests that are usually dismissed or denied.” 

“Lovely,” Sherman muttered, walking around his desk and sitting in the chair behind it. 

Shuffling through the mail, there was a few telegrams from Blair and McPherson he would have to review. Some requests for leaves, an invitation or two for another party one of the wealthy city folk was putting on. He’d have to come up for an excuse on those. There was no chance in hell he’d get caught up in those parties again, especially if Grant managed to sneak off. Half the reason he went was because the younger general would be around. 

“Nothing from General Grant this morning?” Sherman questioned, flipping through the papers again. There was a letter from Ellen he would have to read. And it looked like John had sent him something as well. 

“No sir, nothing that came across your or mine’s desk.”  

Odd. Grant made it a habit to leave him a note or something in the morning. Maybe whatever he was finishing up last night didn’t leave him time to have anything sent over. 

Sherman leaned his chair, pulling a cigar from his breast pocket. Ellen had tried to tell him not to smoke so much in the morning, but he couldn’t help it. With the damn cold, he needed to warm up somehow. It wasn’t as if the building was producing any heat to give him comfort. 

Colonel Williams sat silently off to the side of the room at his small desk, eyes flicking back and forth over the pile of papers before him. The young man was useful, he knew exactly what Sherman did and didn’t want to see and brought only the important things to his attention. He also had a knack for reading his moods, which was something all his other aides seemed to lack. 

“I’m sorry sir,” the colonel said, crossing the room, “It seems that General Grant did send something, it just came from General Rawlins. I apologize,” he placed the single sheet down on Sherman’s desk, his eyebrows pinched together. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” Sherman asked, grabbing the sheet. 

“No sir, just…I guess I’m used to General Grant writing to you personally.” 

The redhead shrugged, “When he gets caught up, Rawlins sometimes takes care of it.” 

His eyes trailed over the words, General Sherman, General Grant is unable to accompany you to dinner later this evening. He apologizes in advance. -  Your Obt. Servt. Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins. 

Oh. That was sudden. 

Sherman frowned, chewing on the butt of his cigar. It was incredibly unlike Grant to cancel a meeting, especially this one in particular. It was just going to be the two of them, talking over potential strategies and plans for the upcoming campaign season. Putting together a framework of what going forward would entail and what Washington may or may not above.

Dread crept over him as his eyes went over the note again. 

Maybe Grant decided he didn’t need Sherman to come up with a strategy. He was a man of action and came up with his own movements frequently, which Sherman would follow. Even when they didn’t agree. But they always talked things over, even if Grant didn’t take his input.

What if Grant didn’t need him to make plans? The brunette didn’t really need Sherman’s input at all. Maybe Grant somehow realized and is thinking of moving on, maybe- 

He let out a small breath, the smoke blowing in Williams’s face. The colonel coughed but Sherman was lost in his spiraling thoughts. Stop thinking like that. Just try to go by Grant’s headquarters later. There was no need to make this a bigger deal than it had to be. 

“Thank you, Colonel,” Sherman replied, trying to wave the smoke away, “I’ll be sure to handle it.” 

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

“What do you mean he isn’t here?” 

Cyrus B. Comstock raised an eyebrow, annoyance creeping up into his face, “Do you need me to write it down for you General Sherman?” 

He could almost feel his eye twitch. Cyrus was newer to Grant’s staff, an engineer from the east, but they had gotten along well around Vicksburg. A no-nonsense sort of man, probably from dealing with all the catfighting over in the eastern army. He appreciated that sort of attitude, just not at this exact moment. 

“General Grant is usually here during the day,” Sherman retorted, trying to keep himself calm, “Did something come up to call him away?” 

“Rawlins said that they had some errands to run,” Comstock shrugged. He placed his stack of books down on the desk before him, hand resting on his hip, “They didn’t say when they would be back.” 

Rawlins. Always Rawlins. The boy was practically glued to Grant’s side. Sherman didn’t know how Grant stood it. If Colonel Williams followed him around like a puppy, he’d lock every door behind him.  

Sighing, Sherman carded his hand through his hair. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed at Rawlins. He just needed to know everything was ok. The cancellation was just…so unlike Grant. He had to know what he said or did to bother him.

“How was General Grant this morning?” 

“How was he?” Comstock repeated. 

Now the younger man was getting on his nerves, “Yes, did he seem…fine?” 

“He seemed like his normal self,” Comstock’s eyebrows pinched together again, confused, “Why? Is he supposed to be upset?” 

This was going nowhere. The annoyance mixed with panic was making every nerve feel like it was on edge. This room was stuffy anyway. “No, I just…never mind, I’ll talk to him later.” 

Sherman stormed out, passing by the other busy body aides Grant had working. 

Everything was fine. He would just talk to Grant later, find out what was keeping him so busy. It had to be something extremely important. Probably telegrams from Washington, acting like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Surely that had to be it. 

He stuffed a cigar in his mouth, chomping down on the end. The tobacco ground against his teeth. There was something he was missing. What had brought this on? It wasn’t like there weren’t any secrets between them, but Sherman felt like Grant was always open and happy to see him. He had given him that chair at Chattanooga for god’s sake! 

It must have been something he did. The sheer thought of that made the panic grow. 

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

“I think you’re overthinking this Sherman.” 

“Am I?” He asked hotly, the floorboards squeaking as he paced back and forth, “Grant doesn’t just cancel something we’ve been talking about for weeks. There has to be a reason…” 

McPherson rolled his eyes, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The younger general’s desk was neatly organized, papers stacked to perfection. Just like McPherson, always organized and ready to go. Calm, cool, and looking at him like he was crazy. 

Maybe he was. 

“Grant is probably just busy with other things and can’t make it,” McPherson explained, watching the redhead tug at his beard fiercely, “it probably isn’t more complicated than that.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

McPherson sat up a bit, crossing his arms over his chest, “I wouldn’t understand? Sherman, I was on his staff for a good portion of time. I think I know a little about how Grant operates.” 

Sherman glanced at him, stopping in the middle of the floor. His fingers pulled at his beard again, his irritation building up. He had racked his mind over their conversation over and over. There was nothing he noticed that may have irked Grant, everything seemed so perfectly normal until he left.  

Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair, his other hand resting on his hip, “It was hard to schedule it as is, god knows how long we’ll stay in the same place together. And it came in this morning too, which seems…” 

“Abrupt?” McPherson finished with a small smirk. 

The redhead frowned slightly at that, “Yes. It seemed very sudden.” 

“Like how Grant left last night abruptly?” McPherson continued, “when he said he had important things to work on for Washington?” 

“He would have finished that by now,” Sherman countered, continuing his pacing, “And if he didn’t, I’m sure he would have told Rawlins what needed to be done.” 

“You know Grant likes to do that stuff himself, with it going straight to the president and all.” 

“Did I say something last night?” He changed the topic quickly, tired of McPherson’s counterpoints. They made sense of course, but there had to be more. Surely there was something else behind this. He must have done something to bother the younger general. 

The brunette frowned, looking up the ceiling for a moment, “Last night?” he muttered, taking a moment to think about it. He shook his head, “Nothing that stands out.” 

“Nothing that would offend him?” 

The younger man cracked a smile, a small laugh escaping him, “Offend him? Now I do think you’re overthinking this.” 

This was going nowhere. He just needed to talk to Grant, that’s all. Clear the air, find exactly why he couldn’t meet him tonight. It wasn’t too much to ask for. Just an explanation.  

That was perfectly reasonable, wasn’t it? 

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

The candlelight in his office dimmed, casting small shadows across his desk. Beyond the window, he watched the last streams of sunlight disappear into the night sky. Winter was the worst time, with the short days and what seemed like everlasting nights. Plus the cold air that would nip at his bones, even with his warmer clothing on, was not pleasant.   

Sheman puffed on the cigar resting between his lips, leaning back in his chair. Since he came back to his office, he hadn’t moved from the spot. Every single thought in his mind was racing, trying to solve this riddle. Was it a riddle? Was he making something out of nothing? Wouldn’t be the first time. 

But dammit, maybe he just really wanted to have dinner with Grant.  

The younger general was busier than ever. Between his new command of all the armies from the Appalachian Mountains to the Mississippi River, Grant barely seemed to have time for himself. The fact that they were able to get together last night was a miracle. He had joined last minute and like a flash, he was gone again. 

Plus that rumor of him getting the rank of full lieutenant general seemed to hang over his head. The idea of losing him to the eastern theater gnawed at Sherman. That theater was a disaster. The politicians got their hands into the army’s business far too often and the men there couldn’t do anything worth a damn. And even when they did score a victory, they seemed to somehow let it slip through their hands.  

Out here in the west is where the war would be won. There was no doubt of that in Sherman’s mind and he wanted to reiterate that again to Grant in their meeting. But now he wouldn’t get the chance. 

It wasn’t as if Grant was going to disappear off the face of the earth. He just wanted...what did he want? 

Maybe he just wanted to spend time with Grant before he was dragged off hundreds of miles away from him. 

Sherman frowned, sliding down in his chair a bit as he felt his cheeks flush. What he wanted didn’t matter. It was up to Grant and for some reason, the younger man didn’t want to see him.  

Which was fine. Totally fine. Nothing wrong with that at all. 

A light knock echoed through the room. “Come in.” 

The door creaked open and Sherman looked up, meeting the confused and slightly concerned expression of Colonel Williams. He waved the young man in, sitting up in his chair. Pull yourself together dammit.  

Williams saluted before walking in, a folded piece of paper in his hands, “Sir, a message arrived from General Rawlins for you. It came in only a short time ago.” 

Sherman perked up at that, rising in his seat. What could it mean? He quickly took the slip from Williams’s hands, his eyes scanning over the short message.  

When you have a moment, would you please come over to General Grant’s headquarters to speak with me? There is a matter here I would like to discuss with you. Your Obt. Servt. - Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins.  

Incredibly cryptic, which was very un-Rawlins-like. His frown deepened, reading over the message again. What would he need to discuss? 

Sherman stuffed the paper into his breast pocket, next to the cigars, and rose from his chair. “Thank you, Colonel. If anyone needs me, advise them that I will be with General Rawlins.” 

He left the young man behind before he could answer, his nerves on end. It had to be related to Grant. Rawlins would surely know what caused him to cancel. If Rawlins didn’t know, then Sherman would never find out without going to the source. And that scared him like hell.  

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

John Rawlins looked like absolute shit. Sherman knew he has been sick, Grant mentioned it offhandedly, but it still shocked him to see. The younger man’s back was to him, hacking into a handkerchief. 

Rawlins wiped his mouth, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. He turned and Sherman took in his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “General Sherman, can you close the door?” 

Puzzled, Sherman obliged him and gently shut the door behind him.  

“Did you say something to Grant?” Rawlins asked directly, leveling a smaller glare at the taller man.  

His stomach dropped. So it was something he said. Goddammit, but what was it? “If I did, I don’t know what made him upset.” 

“Upset?” Rawlins repeated, hands resting on his hips, “He’s not upset, he’s just been...so goddamn moody the entire day.” 

“Moody how?” Sherman asked, stepping closer to the brunette. So he wasn’t upset? 

“Like he hasn’t spoken a word all day.” 

“Well you know that isn’t uncommon for Grant,” he replied, “Sometimes he can go hours without talking.” 

“Yes, but he hasn’t spoken to anyone all day. Including myself, which is an issue when you’re supposed to be his chief of staff,” Rawlins responded with a hint of annoyance, “he’s been in this mood since he returned last night and you and General McPherson were the only ones to see him. And in combination with that letter from his fathe-” 

 “Well, why isn’t General McPherson here?” Sherman interrupted, irritation rising, “Have you asked him?” 

“I know General McPherson wouldn’t say something to somehow offend General Grant.” 

Sherman’s anger flared up, planting his hands on his hips, “So you just ASSUMED I said something that’s made Grant moody all day?”  

Rawlins glared at him and pointed his finger, “Either something you said or something that happened in that room.” 

Sherman’s cheeks flushed at that, the anger boiling up, “Well if you and Grant were together all da-” 

“We weren’t together all day.” Rawlins cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just told Comstock to tell people that so they would leave Grant alone.” 

“Unbelievable!” He tried not to shout, but he couldn’t hold it back. All the pent-up anxiety and anger were going to make him lose his mind, “I just wanted to figure out why Grant canceled out goddamn dinner and you go and make Comstock, and I’m sure all the other aides I may have asked, lie! Perfect! Fantastic!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rawlins muttered, rolling his eyes, “That’s another reason why I knew it was you because the ONLY thing Grant requested from me all day was to send that note to you and for the life of my don’t know why.” 

The words stopped him cold. In an instant, the anger was overtaken but the anxiety. It was something he did to bother Grant. He couldn’t stand it, knowing he had made Grant feel like...whatever he was feeling like.  

“Well, where is he?” Sherman asked, taking a small breath. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. 

Rawlins stared at him hard, his frown deepening. Sherman was beginning to think he was going to have to plead to the other man to know. Grant had a knack of slinking off when he didn’t want to be found.  

A hard knock on the door broke the silence. Rawlins’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly as if a weight had been lifted, “Come in!” 

Come in? They were in the middle of a conversation! His annoyance spiked, who the hell did Rawlins think he wa- 

The door behind him creaked open and Sherman turned, eye’s widening slightly when he saw Grant’s familiar tired face. The younger general looked up and their eyes met, and he seemed to freeze for a minute. 

“Rawlins...” Grant grumbled, stepping into the room more. His eyes jumped from Sherman to Rawlins, who had a small smirk tugging on his lips. The young man seemed very proud of himself.  

“Now that you’re both here,” Rawlins clapped, “you can discuss whatever the hell is going on between the two of you.” 

Sherman felt his face heat up and he saw Grant’s eyebrows pinch together, his frown deepening. “Rawlins, there isn-” 

“Don’t you say there isn’t,” the young man interrupted, brushing past Sherman to stand in front of Grant, “because clearly there is and it’s been a pain all day.” 

The two brunettes glared at one another, neither wanting to give ground. Grant’s eyes flickered over to Sherman. There was something beyond the look that he couldn’t place.  

Grant sighed, holding up his hands, “Fine.” 

“Good, now if you’ll excuse me,” Rawlins looked back at Sherman and then to Grant, “I’m going to get something to eat. Deal with...,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “whatever the hell is going on here. Please.” 

Before Sherman could say anything, the young man slipped out of the room, closing the door with enough force to make his point. 

Then it was just the two of them, standing a few feet from one another. There was an awkwardness, Grant fiddling around with a cigar in his hand. Looking anywhere that wasn’t at Sherman. It was going to drive him mad. 

“Grant...” Sherman trailed off, unsure of what to say. Which was rarely a thing that happened. But he didn’t know what he was apologizing for, hell he didn’t even know why Grant had ignored him all day.   

The general walked past him, sitting on the edge of the desk in the middle of the room. He continued to fiddle with the cigar, suddenly interested in the tips of his boots. Why was he acting like this? Grant never acted like this. Sure he was silent a majority of the time, but there was still a presence there. People knew he was commanding the room. But this didn’t feel like that at all.  

“I didn’t realize this was what Rawlins asked me to come here for...,” Grant muttered with a shake of his head, “Should have known.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Sherman shrugged, trying to break the ice, “I just assumed he was having me come in to yell at me.” 

The younger general chuckled, finally looking up at him. There was a flush to his cheeks that surprised Sherman, giving him pause. Maybe Grant wasn’t feeling good? That would explain some things. But why not come out and say that. 

Grant waved his hand to the empty space next to him on the desk, inviting him over, “That is something he tends to do.” 

Walking across the room, Sherman sat on the edge of the desk, a small space between him and Grant. He sighed, combing his hand through his beard, “Grant, I don’t know what I said or did but I’m sor-” 

Grant held up his hand, Sherman shutting up immediately. He watched the other man as he rolled the cigar between his fingers, the flush on his cheeks getting darker. Did he have a fever? 

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for, I was just...,” Grant stopped himself, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s childish really.” 

“I mean, clearly I said something.” 

“It wasn’t really anything.” 

“Well, it upset you enough that you didn’t want to see me all day.” 

Grant sighed, fiddling around with the cigar again. The flush had gotten darker and Sherman couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had never seen Grant like this, everything about this situation was completely foreign to him. Grant didn’t get embarrassed, he didn’t get frazzled. In the midst of battle, he was incredibly cool under pressure.  

Sherman watched him, trying to understand. Maybe he was sick. It could be making him act out of character. That had to be it.  

On impulse, he reached out his hand and placed it on Grant’s forehead, making the younger man jump. It did feel a bit warm but nothing that would indicate a fever... 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Grant spluttered, grabbing Sherman’s wrist and pulling it away, his eyebrows pinched together, looking at him with confusion. 

He was reaching his breaking point. Why couldn’t he just tell him for god’s sake? 

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re sick or something because I can’t understand what the hell is going on,” Sherman declared, waving his free hand dramatically, “I’ve been trying to figure it out all day! Just...,” he deflated, trying to compose himself, “just tell me what I did so we can move on.” 

Grant stared at him, the normally stoic expression clouded with embarrassment. Sherman felt a gentle squeeze on his wrist, a small warmth coming over him before the other man let go. Grant’s hands sat on his lap, his fingers twisting the fabric of his pants.  

“I don’t ‘scurry’ away.”  

The voice was barely above a whisper, Grant looking straight at the wall, away from him. Sherman blinked, trying to understand.  

“You don’t what?” 

Sighing, Grant looked at him, a small pout on his face. The red on his cheeks hadn’t faded away, they had intensified if anything. “You said I ‘scurry’ away at parties...I don’t I just...,” he carded his hand through his hair, messing up the small style he had to it, “I just don’t like being around that many people.” 

Sherman blinked, staring at him. And then he blinked again. The information whirled around in his head, “You don’t... ‘scurry’ away,” he repeated, slowly putting the pieces together. 

The younger general nodded, watching him like a hawk. As if he expected some sort of reaction from Sherman, though he wasn’t sure what. It obviously hit some chord with Grant. He couldn’t imagine why, everyone knew Grant wasn’t into the big social scenes.  

“No,” Grant replied curtly, “I...,” he paused, running his hand through his hair again, “It’s dumb, I made it something it didn’t have to be.” 

On the one hand, Sherman was more confused than ever. He had no idea that Grant had this side. Julia had mentioned it in passing once or twice, her little teasing making Grant blush, but he had chalked that up to their cutesy romance. He was the shyest fellow you ever saw, she told him one night over dinner. But also extremely determined, it was something Julia appreciated about her husband. And it was an aspect that Sherman also appreciated.  

On the other hand...there was this flop strand of Grant’s hair hanging over his forehead that Sherman wanted to reach out and push back. His hair always seemed so put together. And those clear blue eyes were looking at him, the flush on Grant's cheeks making the color come out more. All frazzled like this, the younger general was...extremely cute.  

Oh for god’s sake, listen to yourself. Sherman crushed that feeling down immediately, grabbing a cigar from his pocket so Grant wouldn’t notice his own flustered face. Acting like some fucking damsel.  

“I didn’t realize that bothered you,” he stuffed the cigar in his mouth, the smoke calming him down.  

“It’s...,” Grant stopped, tapping his fingers against his knee. He pushed off from the desk, back to Sherman, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “We can just move past it.” 

“Obviously not,” Sherman countered, “If it’s something that bothers you, I’d like to know why.” 

He could see the tension in Grant’s back, slightly rocking back on heels now and again. There couldn’t be anything like this between them, not when they were about to move into what they hoped was the final months of the war. The planning, everything hinged on them working together.  

“You would?” Grant answered with a mutter, nodding a bit. Like he was coming to terms with something. He turned toward Sherman, his shoulders deflating slightly. He looked tired, worn out.  

“Yeah, I would.” 

“I didn’t mean to take my...annoyance out on you. It just happened to be the combination of what you said and…,” Grant paused, gesturing with his hand slightly, “a letter I received from my father. It had...more to do with him than you but he’s not here so…” 

Jesse Root Grant. Sherman had met the man once or twice when he came to visit Grant in camp. The older man would be warm in greeting but there was a look in his eye that always unsettled him. Like he had an agenda while visiting. 

He also happened to be an ass. Causing more problems than what they were worth, publishing Grant’s letters in the papers. Then all those journalist half-wits would pull from them and disparage Grant in the miserable little articles.  

The pieces all fell into place for Sherman. It just happened to be a wrong comment, the wrong time. The nervous weight he had carried around all day lifted from his shoulders.  

“Your father does have that charming personality,” Sherman remarked, pulling out his cigar, “All that talk and scheming, can’t see how that could affect anyone poorly,” he smirked, waving a hand in Grant’s direction, “such as yourself.”  

For a moment there was no reaction. Grant stared back with that blank expression of his and Sherman thought this time he had taken it a step too far. 

Slowly, a smile tugged onto the young general’s face. Then a chuckle and Grant put his mouth over his face, trying to hide his laugher. It was a rare sound that Sherman delighted in and his smile grew wider.  

“Real ol’ shame for the papers when Jesse stopped blasting your letters for headlines, then they had to do actual work for a story to come up with.” 

Their laughter bounced around the room, the tension evaporating. Grant’s face was flushed again, shaking his head as he came over and stood before him. He wiped at his eyes, a small smile on his face, “It was a sorry day for them.” 

“Really made them scurry off,” Sherman jested, kicking the toe of Grant’s boot with his own, “Probably wailing in the streets too!” 

Composing himself, Grant took a deep breath, that wave of calm Sherman knew so well seemingly coming over him. But the smile didn’t disappear, “Yes, scurrying off I’m sure. Heading for other camps, picking up their rumors too.” 

“But really, your father is an ass.” 

Grant bit his bottom lip slightly, incredibly unfair to Sherman, keeping his smile from growing. “He can be...a handful. Stubborn.” 

“Impossible. He seemed extremely reasonable when he visited.” The sarcasm was oozing from the words, but he couldn't help it. The man was a pain in Grant’s side.  

“You should him when he’s in a good mood.” 

“Charming I’m sure.” 

They shared a small laugh, silence settling over them. Sherman’s eyes looked Grant over, the tension seemingly gone. More at ease, like he normally was around camp. 

Grant pulled out his pocket watch, clicking it open to the clockface. His thumb brushed over it, “Did you eat before coming here?” 

Sherman almost jumped at the question but he calmed himself, trying to keep that aloof personality in place. He didn’t want to seem too eager, “As a matter of fact, I thought I had plans...but it seemed like the scheduled time for them changed a bit.” 

Snapping the watch closed, Grant tucked it back into his breast pocket, “Funny...I seemed to have the same issue.” 

“Well then, it seems we’re two fine men who’ve been stood up,” Sherman jested, trying to keep a serious face. He pushed off from the desk, toe to toe with Grant, “it would almost seem practical if we had dinner together.” 

Those blue eyes stared up at him, a small twinkle in Grant’s eye, and goddammit if those ridiculous thoughts didn’t come back into his head. His brain never knew when to shut up.  

“It would seem so,” Grant conceded, staring at him for a long moment before stepping back. He bounced on the balls of his toes slightly, “Shall we?” 

Walking out into the chilled Memphis air, the two walked side by side, arms brushing together. 

Grant lit up a cigar, puffing on it briefly before blowing out the smoke, “I am sorry Sherman, I shouldn’t let something like that…”

The redhead waved him off, “Water under the bridge. Your father has a big mouth. It gets under your skin.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Well, the next time you get something from him,” Sherman bumped him with his elbow, a small grin on his face, “and it says something idiotic, let me read it and we find a way to laugh about it.”

Grant smiled, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Or you can burn it.”

“Everything doesn’t have to be burned Sherman.”

“Makes it easier to ignore though.”

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Walking Space Heater

Word Count: 2700+ (oneshot) 

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Cinder Fall, Neopolitan, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black

Pairing: Cinder Fall/Neopolitan

Summary: Written (late) for Day 4 of @spice-cream-week 2021, “There Was Only One Bed.”

With the heat of both her Semblance and the Maiden powers, Cinder's body is much warmer than the average person's. So long as she's still by her side, Neo intends to take full advantage of that.

~0~

This is definitely a step down from the Haven dorms. Neo’s thumbs moved lightning-fast over the keyboard of her Scroll. Don’t they have ANY concept of personal space here? 

She could say something about Roman’s excessive use of emojis. But looking at his messages, she could hear his laughter clearly in her head, and she had no problem with that.

wtm? you got stuck with a shitty roommate? I’ll come and get her for you idgaf

That elicited the breathy noises that were the closest Neo got to laughter. Truthfully, she probably wouldn’t have minded sharing a room much in and of itself. It might even have been fun to mess with Emerald and Mercury in their own space. 

But no, she’d ended up with the only one that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Cinder Fall was calm, collected, and incredibly competent. Neo didn’t necessarily dislike her. She thought that they got along fairly well, in fact. But that didn’t mean that she trusted her.

Roman was content to stay in the dark about what exactly her ultimate design was beyond Beacon’s destruction, having already accepted the fact that they would be overwhelmed by it. It still gnawed at Neo, though. Thus far her only clues had been the couple private calls that Cinder had taken, and the way Haven’s headmaster cringed like a kicked puppy whenever he caught sight of her. 

Sure, the man was jumpy enough in general, but Cinder — or, more accurately, whatever force had moved Cinder to the Academies — made him cower. Even Neo’s most devilish smile couldn’t do that.

She’s...not bad. She definitely likes me more than she likes you.

Now, did that really require five laughing emojis after I can live with that lol?

And

Neo’s thumb hovered over the screen. For the first time in several minutes, she glanced up from where she was curled up tightly on the covers of her bed. 

Cinder was perfectly at ease on her own bed, leaning back against a stack of pillows with her Scroll open in front of her face. Still rifling through the records of all the Academy students, no doubt. Casting her great and bloody show, for which every little thing had to be perfect. It wasn’t enough that she was sending Emerald and Mercury out to run recon and collect as many relevant details about their players as possible. No, she had to study up herself for hours on end.

Neo was willing to play her own part, but it all seemed very boring to her. Certainly her interim leader could use a break. She returned her attention for one moment more to her Scroll:

I think she would be fun to play with.

Ignoring the several question marks sent in reply, Neo pocketed her Scroll and slipped off her bed. Moving soundlessly was one of the first skills she had ever had to master, and she still considered it her most important. 

Cinder was still too engrossed in her research to notice as she crept across the carpet and climbed onto the other bed. Or maybe she just didn’t care enough to acknowledge her. She certainly didn’t look surprised when Neo’s head poked through the hole between her arms and her Scroll.

“Oh,” she said, smirking, in a tone that she might use with a stray cat that had come up to her in the street. “Hello there. Looking for some entertainment?”

Neo gave her her best strawberry-ice-cream smile, and scooted closer. From the meager rations of physical contact she meted out to Emerald, she wasn’t sure how much Cinder liked being touched, so she proceeded with care, little by little. It seemed to be acceptable: she stayed very still, but allowed Neo to settle down on her chest, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Or are you just lonely?”

Neo hummed thoughtfully, letting herself relax: not all the way, but just enough. This was nicer than she had expected, she had to admit. Cinder was dressed like she had been in the first round of the Vytal Festival: sleeveless jacket, long pants, and sarashi. Neo’s cheek rested mostly on bare skin, and though of course she had seen Cinder’s Semblance before (as well as the flames that didn’t quite seem to fit with it), it was much warmer than she had thought it would feel. Softer, too, with the scents of wood smoke and spicy perfume clinging to it.

“Well?”

Neo rolled lazily over onto her back, looking up at Cinder’s Scroll to see what she had been so busy scrutinizing. Hm. Several pictures of that Mistrali girl from the cereal commercials, accompanied by a passage about her Semblance which had been highlighted in a few places. There was one more tab open with an acronym on it, but that was it. 

Nothing that could tell Neo anything about their situation that she hadn’t already guessed at. And what was more, absolutely nothing that could be more interesting to her temporary partner than her.

Clearly, Cinder could use a lesson on how to properly spend an evening. Dastardly planning, which seemed to be her only form of recreation, just wasn’t going to cut it. 

So Neo helpfully reached up, laid her hands over Cinder’s, and pushed the Scroll shut for her. She put her pointer finger to the outside of her nose; her new teammates might not be picking up Valerian Sign Language particularly well, but she hoped the long, exaggerated twist away from her face coupled with a dramatic sigh got the message across equally well: Cinder, I am bored to tears.

Cinder tilted her head, puzzled but smiling. She slipped her Scroll into her pocket and wrapped an arm around Neo’s waist. 

“Well, in that case, I’d be happy to give you some attention.”

Neo made as pleased a sound as she could muster up, and snuggled up to Cinder, as close as she could get. It might have been dark and cool outside, but she felt as if she were napping on a sunbeam. Rolling over to lay her head on Cinder’s chest, she could imagine that there was a powerfully burning fire inside it in place of a beating heart, whose heat was palpable, just beneath the skin. 

She tried to look more sweetly smug than actually impressed, but gods, she had never felt anything like this. 

Cinder held her tightly in both arms now, fingertips scratching lightly between her shoulder blades, and Neo nearly purred. Years of pulling back bowstrings had turned those arms wiry and oh so strong. All at once, she completely understood why Emerald was always trying to earn one of these rare hugs.

And speaking of which...

Neo wasn’t sure how long she spent in the lap of luxury, only that she felt like she might actually fall asleep in it, as toasty warm as it was. Cinder had switched from rubbing her back to stroking and playing with her hair, which, in her experience with other people, was a welcome first. But she was jolted back to full awareness when their dorm room door slammed angrily open.

Blinking, Neo lifted her head. She caught the lingering scents of jungle juice and sweat incoming, before she saw Emerald stalking inside, barely hanging onto her last scrap of patience. Mercury stumbled in after her, wearing a huge grin and mirrored shades that Neo was fairly certain did not belong to him.

Cinder smirked. “I was wondering when you two would be back. How did it go?”

Emerald forced a halfway convincing smile for her leader. “It was...interesting. Though not quite as informative as I was h—”

The smile froze on her face when she turned to look directly at Cinder, and saw Neo lounging in her lap like a spoiled cat. 

Neo smirked, and signed, Party fun? With the reputation Vytal Festival house parties had, hopefully Emerald had gotten some attention as well.

“Oh, it was great!” Mercury shrugged off his jacket and pitched it into his and Emerald’s room, littering their carpet with brownie crumbs. “We saw a lot of everybody, didn’t we, Emmy?”

While Emerald tried to take a cue from Cinder and set him on fire with her eyes, Cinder herself just closed her Scroll with a soft laugh. 

“Well, you can tell us all about it in the morning. We should all get some rest now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You got it, boss...”

Neo watched them slink into their room, where muffled bickering started up as soon as the door closed, but did not move until she felt a gentle pat on her thigh. 

“You too, dear. Go on.”

Though she made a show of huffing about it, Neo got up off Cinder’s bed and went back across the room. 

Her own bed felt cold and uninviting now. Catching up on the several missed texts from Roman (including but not limited to what do you mean by that lmao, hey Neo dont leave me out of the loop :), Neo tf are you doing to her O_o, NEO) did make her smile, but as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but wish that she didn’t have to return to being alone just yet.

~0~

This was not at all the solution to that problem that she had envisioned, but Neo knew very well how to deal with whatever life threw at her.

She had never been to Atlas, and while she had to roll her eyes at its decadence, she couldn’t say she hated the place. Cinder, on the other hand, never answered outright when Neo tried to ask if she had ever been here before, but every bitter hiss from her about Atlas elites that had not been asked for gave her a general idea. It had taken them a while to find a vacant apartment to squat in, especially considering that there was an entire chunk of the city that Cinder refused to even go near. 

But now here they were, and it was empty around them and quiet outside. The blackout curtains shielded them from the city lights. In pitch darkness the two of them were curled up together in the place’s one bed.

Cinder had initially balked at the idea of sharing it, insisting that Neo take an extra blanket and find somewhere else to curl up. So barky with her orders these days, and so on edge, too. Neo was beginning to wonder how she had ever thought of this woman as calm and collected.

In any case, she didn’t see what her once-again partner’s problem was. She had invited Neo into her bed with her before, hadn’t she? Maybe not to sleep, but still. And she was far from squeamish; she wouldn’t make a fuss about the scarring and empty eye socket on full display. As such, she ignored the demand, and simply undressed, got under the covers, and gestured for Cinder to join her. 

After some indignant spluttering, Cinder threw up her hands and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t come out until Neo had turned the lights off and laid there long enough that she might reasonably have fallen asleep. Even then, she slipped in quietly, gingerly, and stuck close to the edge of the bed. 

Now, that just would not do. Atlas was much too cold for that kind of nonsense. 

Neo rolled over under the blankets, feeling just as bold as last time, but exercising even more care, Cinder being so volatile lately. She went out of her way to be heard, so it wouldn’t startle Cinder to be touched. She knew her bedmate was awake: though she lay very still, her breathing was nowhere near relaxed enough for her to be asleep. 

Cinder didn’t jump when she felt Neo wrap her arms around her waist, but she did go still as a statue.

“Neo,” she growled, low in her throat, “what are you doing? I’m not in the mood for—”

Neo nuzzled her bare shoulder in a way she hoped was reassuring, as she pressed up against her back. Fortunately for her, Cinder’s new arm was tightly bandaged up for the night, so she didn’t have to risk touching the awful thing. Only human skin, just as fiery warm as before. Even the wood smoke smell remained. 

As had happened so often since the Fall of Beacon, Neo caught herself writing a text to Roman in her head, wryly telling him that he was right, she shouldn’t have thought so hard about where Cinder’s flames came from, because she would never in a million years have hit on the right answer.

She gave her head a shake, and resisted the urge to glance back at the bowler hat perched neatly on a bedpost. If she started thinking too hard about that, she would never get to sleep either. There would be time, when the sun came up, to consider some more whether the woman in her arms was the key to her revenge, or its target all along. 

Right now, the darkness was peaceful and the blankets thick and soft around them, and the heat of their bodies grew more soporific every moment. Comfort was a rarity in both of their lives. They ought to savor it whenever it came their way. 

Cinder let out a long, exasperated huff, clearly not sharing the opinion. 

“Couldn’t you just hug a pillow?” she grumbled. But there was no bite in her voice. 

Neo smiled against her skin, entwining her legs with Cinder’s. Now, she would have said, were her hands not occupied, where would be the fun in that?

“...Fine. Just don’t think you’re going to make this a regular thing.”

Oh, she absolutely was, so long as they were staying in the coldest part of the world and she was in the company of a walking space heater. 

As such, Neo ignored the question and snuggled closer. She was trying her best to communicate “calm down and go to sleep” through body language alone, so to feel Cinder slowly but surely relaxing in her arms, eventually going limp, was deeply gratifying. Almost fascinating.

From nights spent in the Beacon dorm room and Mistrali inns, Neo already knew that Cinder talked in her sleep. Most of what she said was sluggish and toneless as well as nonsensical, but sometimes it was a series of fierce snaps or pained moans. It came as no surprise to Neo that when, just as she was starting to doze off herself, she was woken back up by her partner’s twitching and yelping. 

“No...don’t take...I’m...!”

Neo sighed drowsily, and tightened her embrace, humming as soothingly as she could. Her inability to speak never really bothered her, but there were times like this when it didn’t exactly help her, either. At least she could keep Cinder from thrashing around and hurting one of them: if that arm decided to act up while its host was in distress, she had zero faith in the bandages to hold those claws back.

It’s okay, she thought, hoping that somehow it would get across, just relax, you’re all right...

Nightmares never lasted forever. Neo had woken with her stomach still in free fall from enough dreams of plummeting wildly through a Grimm-infested sky to know that. Still, she hoped that her attempts at calming had helped this one pass quickly. Cinder’s mumbling devolved into moans, then to frantic whimpers, then finally to something close to the restful breathing that Neo had almost fallen asleep to before.

Neo took a deep breath of her own. She was too tired to smile, but leaned in to press a kiss to the back of Cinder’s neck, the ends of her short hair tickling her nose. To her surprise, she felt a burn scar here, too: thin and faded, but winding around her neck like garrote wire. Somehow she didn't think that Ruby had done this. But she certainly wasn't going to ask who had. They weren't going to discuss any part of this in the morning.

So she kissed her neck once more, soft and just a bit more sincere, before closing her eyes again.

Good night.

[mlkytobio]

loving isn’t easy, but it’s bearable with you

a/n: for the cheese cult fic event <3 i tried my best lol

genre: little bit of angst if you squint + fluff // hanahaki au

warning: mentions of blood, but nothing too graphic

pairing: nishinoya x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k 

the hanahaki disease was something that everyone knew of. there were people covered head to toe in flowers, each one a reminder of a time where they had loved. and then there were the few lucky ones, the ones who just happened to have their soulmate as their first love. the ones with only a small flower tattoo over one of their body parts.

everyone covered all over with tattoos always knew that it was harmless at first, little flower petals being spat out, and then becoming thorns that scratch the inside of your throat as they come up. the process of coughing out the flowers was always quick, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. more often than not, blood comes out with the flowers and thorns. it depends though, on the type of love.

you had fallen in love exactly three times. and for one of those three times, you had a trail of forget-me-nots trailing up your right forearm. for the memories of true love, and like the name suggested, “do not forget me”. for the time you had loved miya osamu and he loved you back, and it only ended because you had to move to miyagi. maybe there were more reasons for it, but it was a mutual agreement. he was your first love.

-

terushima yuuji was your second love. and as a result, tulips bloomed across your left wrist, for unrequited love. and it was also the first thing people see when they looked at you. because well, the flower was highlighted with red, like blood, almost. maybe it was a little cliche, for you to have fallen in love with johzenji’s resident playboy. but you couldn’t help it. every little smile he sent you while from his usual seat at the cafe you worked at, every brush of your fingers against his when you went to take his order sending electricity running up your spine.

with osamu, it had been small flower petals and smiles about the flowers that came tumbling out. sometimes you even saved the flowers, but they wilted soon after. still, before you knew that osamu felt the same way,the coughing out the flowers wasn't painful. but why was it with terushima? there were thorns sitting in the bathroom sink, crimson red pooling all around them. and it only got worse after that.

still, you fell in love with terushima yuuji. you fell for his smirk and his tongue piercing and his sly words. and when he walked into the cafe that day, he broke your heart, having a girl draped on his arm and she looked at him the way you thought you looked at him. he broke your heart unknowingly, perhaps, but it was heartbreak all the same. you half expected it, but there was a part of you that hoped, nevertheless, that he would feel the same way.

that day, you coughed out tulips among pools of blood, and it was in the same night that you chose to go get the surgery. you knew you were one of the more privileged to get the surgery, and it was foolish to waste it on a teenager’s stupid crush. but it was better to have others look at you with pity. maybe it was a little dramatic, but you knew you were doomed from the start. this only gave you more reason to do it.

the doctor had given you a look of pity, but everyone did. everyone saw the way you looked at terushima yuuji and felt nothing but pity. and if that doctor expected a story, he had to wait a damn long time for it.

it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. just prickling along the skin, and then when you looked down, your left forearm was covered in blood-red tulips. maybe it didn’t hurt because the thorns had hurt more. the unrequited love hurt much more than getting your lungs pried open than living with thorns creeping up your throat every single day for the rest of your life, knowing that once upon a time you were stupid enough to fall in love with terushima yuuji.

-

everyone at karasuno knew you as the girl who couldn’t live with her love anymore. the girl who squandered away her privilege for the surgery for a mere high school crush.

the volleyball team were the first people who understood your decision. the first people who didn’t talk about you behind your back about how you wasted your probably only chance of getting the surgery and how you were a spoiled brat that deserved the pain anyways. you had heard of every single rumour that people spread about you, and although you tried to ignore them, they were like a thousand little knives cutting into your back every single day.

the volleyball team was where you felt at home. the sleek wood floor of the gym and the frequent shout, mostly from kageyama to hinata. there was some sort of solace in the walls of the gym, almost like it was its own little world set apart from all the rumours on the outside.

becoming their manager was one of the best choices you ever made.

“y/l/n! come and see my new move!” you looked over to nishinoya, his blond tuft of hair slicked against his forehead. you smiled to yourself, knowing that it was probably some other variation of rolling thunder or of the sort. still, it was one of the things you loved most about practice, the players’ enthusiasm and desire to win was forever unwavering.

nishinoya received the ball in a sort of speed that made you dizzy when you first saw it, but even after so long your eyes could only adjust slightly to it. he’s grinning, and you couldn’t help but give a smile back, because it’s nishinoya yuu and his energetic self that could put everyone to shame.

you never paid much attention to nishinoya yuu. sure, he got suspended from the volleyball club for a month for breaking something, but you saw what happened. you saw that he didn’t mean to, that he was just trying to get his friend back. the blond tuft in his hair was the first thing you saw when you first stepped into the classroom, but still, you never stopped and looked at him carefully. until you joined the volleyball club as a manager, and then suddenly you see the bright energy surrounding the short libero, and wondered how exactly did you not notice him before.

you chalked it up to curiosity, to the strange spike of his hair and the way a room lit up somehow when he walked into it.this boy was like the sun, too bright for his own good and probably burns anyone who got too close.

practices only made you notice him more, of course. and maybe he noticed you too, from all the little smiles that looked like they were directed at you and the glances he kept giving you.

to most people, flowers were things of beauty, but to you, they represented a dark time. they represented getting your heart broken and the person who broke it didn’t even know. love was the same, crushing and suffocating you, and the two just so happened to be linked. every flower you saw, especially tulips, made you turn away at the sight. so did love.

love was a curious little thing, taunting you and when it pulled you in, only then will it reveal itself to be deadly. coiling around you, your heart, more like it, and every waking thought, like some sort of boa. it suffocates you, then brings you down with it.

-

nishinoya yuu heard about you before he even met you. about the girl who had red tulips imprinted on her skin, basically a form of public shaming. he never thought about you as someone who wasted away their chances, though. everyone had heard of at least one story where because of love, people had squandered away their lives, and he was no exception. your life was more precious than some unrequited love, so what was wrong with getting the surgery? he had never understood why people held a grudge against you, and so did the rest of the volleyball team.

most of the second years walked home together, and you were in front of nishinoya when he suddenly grabbed onto your shoulders and started jumping up and down in the air. you saw him doing this before, but with other members of the team, and your first thought was: why did he have so much strength?

“oi, noya! don’t be so hard on our manager!” tanaka laughed, and noya’s hands released their grip on your shoulders, his face cherry red. you found it a little cute, actually, if it weren’t for the ache in your shoulders from how tightly he had held on to them.

“i’m so sorry y/n-san!” he sputtered out, even as you said that it was fine, you weren’t injured, but as he kept apologising, all you could say in that moment was “okay, then i’ll let you make it up to me.”

his head lifted up, eyes filled with something indescribable, as he agreed. “i promise you that i’ll make it up to you, y/l/n-san! i’ll take you out on saturday!”

-

a flower petal was floating in his teacup when he sat it down. you looked at him, surprised, but stayed silent, giving him a napkin. he looked at you with a grateful look in his eyes, the tuft of blond hair being swept to the back as he ran his fingers through his hair.

it was spring in japan, when all the sakura flowers started blooming and there were couples all around you. you never liked spring, or maybe you did, and the hanahaki just made you despise it. anything related to flowers you didn’t like, you realised.

“do you know who is it?” you gently asked as both of you walked down the street together. the pink flowers were everywhere, on the cobblestone path that your shoes scuffed against, and on the tall trees looming over you. he looked at you then, slightly surprised, but answered it anyway.

“i think so, i mean, i have a vague idea of who it is,” he gave a reply that was strange of nishinoya, but perhaps it was due to the fact you weren’t that close with him as you were with maybe tanaka, or ennoshita.

“well, i hope they feel the same way,” you gave him a small smile, and he returned it, but there was something lurking deeper in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

he walked you home, and when you were about to say goodbye, his gaze fixated on you, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t want to.

you were about to ask what was it when he yelled out, “y/l/n-san, i like you!”

how ironic, was the first thing that went through your mind. how ironic that you were intrigued by him and now here he was, confessing to you. how ironic it was that this exact scene gave you deja vu, of when you confessed to osamu. how ironic it was that when the thing you tried so hard to avoid doing turned into you being on the receiving end of it. falling in love.

“i-i’m sorry, nishinoya-kun, but i don’t really want to fall in love right now,” the words left your lips before your mind could even register them. his face fell at that, and you wished you could take it all back, say that you would give him a chance, but all he said was “that’s okay! i hope you can reconsider. have a good night y/l/n-san!”

you watched his figure retreat into the shadows, until all you could see was the faint outline of him walking. you thought about his words, and of a time you loved terushima yuuji. the memories of that were laced with regret, but then again, when you loved him, and osamu at that, all you could feel was pure euphoria. the climax of a roller coaster ride, when you’re tipping at the top and it felt like forever before it made its decent again.

-

hoodies weren’t your favourite piece of clothing, but they made well for covering the red ink on your forearm. as you pulled the hood over your head again, hoping to cover your face, you heard the familiar jeer. it wasn’t foreign for you to have insults hurled wherever you go, only for the person who shouted them to disappear into the crowd when you looked over your shoulder. and so, you always said to yourself not to look. it was better not to place a face to the voice.

“attention-seeking bitch,” you heard someone mutter, followed by the laughing. don’t look, don’t look, was all you thought as you made your way through the crowd in the hallways.

“i hope whoever you ‘loved’ is dating someone much better and more deserving right now,” was one of the more prominent insults that were in your range of hearing. gasping to yourself, you felt an empty ache in your chest, probably where your feelings had been. still, it hurt. it hurt for people to not understand your decision, for them to constantly belittle and insult you as if pain was something to be made fun of. you felt blood rushing in your ears, vision growing blurry as you tried to walk, run, even, out of that hellhole. throat constricting and breathing growing ragged.

“stop!” you heard someone say. you only increased your pace. “stop it, right now. all of you.”

it wasn’t directed at you, but to the people crowding around you. “it’s not funny to ridicule someone who has been through pain,” you recognised the voice this time. the voice of the person who constantly shouted excitedly in practice, even at the smallest things. nishinoya yuu.

he walked over to you, placing his hands lightly on your shoulders as he led you away from the gaping students. “if you feel uncomfortable, i’ll stop right now,” he whispered, just loud enough for your ears to pick up. you shook your head, the only thing you could muster then.

he led you to an isolated space behind the gym, where only then did you release your tears. and he was there, not uttering a single word, just silent companionship, and that was enough.

as you regained your breath, a single flower petal floated delicately out of your lips. he noticed it too.

“thank you, nishinoya-kun,” you said, gaze not leaving the flower as it sailed on the wind. no blood or thorns, though, you thought.

“i feel like the word love has been taken out of definition with me,” you whispered. “but i want to give you a chance, at changing the definition with me.”

he smiled at you, his hands on your shoulder once again. “i’d like that.”

-

the sakura flowers were in bloom yet again, and for once, you found them beautiful.

“do you remember-” the boy started, but you cut him off.

“when you took me out as an apology for jumping on my shoulders? yeah,” you grinned.

“i always thought you were beautiful, you know. and never understood why you got made fun of for choosing to have the surgery,” he said.

“well, i’m glad they did. it led me to you, didn’t it?” you smiled at him.

his hand found yours, and the two of you walked down the same cobblestone path you did a year ago. maybe love wasn’t easy, but there were some people that made it bearable. like nishinoya yuu.

and that was the third time you fell in love.

-

[ cheese cult bbys: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @bubbleteaa @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei @pineapplekween @estherwritess @keiji-n @achoohq @badlywritten-hq @mochibeaa @oinkanna @chxrry-wxne @spudicide @airybby @asranomical @karmasuna @nekoglasses ]

[belorage]

Wes for the full clear on the OC asks? 😘😘😘

— OC QUESTIONS

BASICS

What’s their full name? Wesley Daniel Brooks

What does their name mean? Why were they named that? Wesley means “western meadow,” Daniel means “God is my judge,” and Brooks means “stream.” You can find my real world reasoning for choosing his name here. As for the canon reasoning, Wesley is a family name on his father’s side and Daniel is a good Christian name. 

Do they have any nicknames? Lots. Wes is the big one (Hwes if you’re Hurk Jr.), Rook, Dep (Deputy if you're as extra as John Seed), Bright Eyes (Raf only), Sundance (Nick only), Darling (Lyra, when she’s being cheeky), and probably a handful more that I’m forgetting.

How old are they? 28, almost 29 as of the start of FC5.

When’s their birthday? November 11, 1989

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance? Scorpio sun, Aries moon, Aquarius rising. Year of the snake. Birthstones are topaz and citrine. He isn’t aware enough of any of this to believe in it.

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities? He is a natural disaster in human form. His special ability is that he somehow manages to survive that for as long as he does.

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor? A revolver (Steel & Ivory), a sawed-off shotgun (Sin Eater), or basic hand-to-hand. Close combat is preferable to range. He also uses homemade C4 in his tireless crusade against cult infrastructure.

APPEARANCE

What do they look like? He’s 6′3″, has brown-ish hair (specifically, a warm golden bronze color) and hazel eyes with long eyelashes. Fit, moderate-to-lean build. Sharp features, angular jaw, a pronounced Cupid’s bow. He has the facial hair of a man who has forgotten to shave for two weeks, because he is—you guessed it—a man who has forgotten to shave for two weeks.

Do they have a face claim? Tomas Skoloudik

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup? Casual clothing—flannels (often tied around the waist), t-shirts, henleys, jeans, boots, jewelry (gold, leather), leather jacket, cargo jacket. His hair is messy and soft, just like he is, because he doesn’t overload it with hair products unlike some people. He’s got an ouroboros tattooed around the lower part of his right forearm and (universe-dependent) John and Lyra’s names on the inside of his wrists.

How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression? He attempts to project swagger and indifference, but to anyone who knows him and is paying attention, he’s an open book. In a comfortable environment, he’s loose and casual. His default expression is fixated if he has something to occupy his mind and distant if he doesn’t.

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities? No, but he’s got bruises and flesh wounds aplenty! He’s got bite marks and scratches galore! You want knife-slashing scars? He’s got twenty. But who cares? No big deal. Wes wants mooooore! 🎵

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment? Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into? ISFP

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)? I answered for his favorite films and TV here, and his favorite book is Watership Down. He likes the Beatles and bar snacks and black coffee. His favorite cultists are Lyra, John, and Shaggy—please don’t judge him.

What are they bad at? Dancing!

What kind of things do they dislike/hate? Hates being controlled, dislikes very sweet things.

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses? Impulsiveness, reactive behaviors. He smokes and drinks, although neither of those are done with a shocking amount of excess. Previously, harder drugs. 

What are their goals and motivations? Freedom and acceptance.

What are their manners like? Any habits? He’s not a jerk; he has passable manners when the situation calls for them, but Emily Post would like him not. His habits are covered in much more detail here, but the big one is that he tends to busy his hands and/or mouth with things wherever possible.

What are they most afraid of? Rejection, abandonment, enclosed spaces, death (specifically, the possibility of an afterlife). 

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like? Born in Hope County. He was an only child and his home life was suspect, but made moderately more bearable by his best friend. Once he realized trying to please his father was a losing battle, he said hell yeah to a downward spiral of rebelliousness and troublemaking.

What’s their family like? His dad was a jerk of the sort that would never be satisfied. Big on toxic masculinity, short on acceptance. His mother loved him, but she fell in line more often than not.

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold? Hope County Sheriff’s Office (probationary sheriff’s deputy), Hope County Resistance (figurehead, pot stirrer, problem magnet). 

How do they fit into their “story”? Barely. Next question. I hate to use this word yet again, but it’s the only one that fits: his story is mostly about acceptance—self, fate, fault, sorrow, joy—because as much as he desired acceptance from others, he denied a lot of it for himself.

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like? He grew up in the Silver Lake trailer park, way up on the northeastern end of Holland Valley, near the Whitetails. For the duration of the game timeline, I picture him spending more time crashing where he can—with the Ryes, in the woods, wherever—but his own place would be sparse and fairly untidy, with clothes tossed everywhere. 

How do they eventually die? Wesley intends to live forever. How dare you insinuate—

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend? Within the timeline of the game, he has quite a few. Raf is his best friend (and has been since they were kids), but Nick (and Kim) are both up there. He has a soft spot for Mary May; that seems to be reciprocal. He appreciates Grace because she doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. Sharky and Hurk offer unconditional friendship, which he appreciates and sorely needs. Adelaide is the vodka aunt who thirsts after his ex. She tries to rile him up sometimes (in a myriad of ways), but he likes her. And if you account for other universes, his friend count goes way up thanks to the various and sundry brat squad kids.

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it? When he was younger, he was the introvert-adopted-by-an-extrovert. He was a bit too withdrawn to have friends outside of that, though he wasn’t unfriendly. For a bulk of the current timeline, his friend group is “ragtag misfits” status and he basically gets ping-ponged between them as they try—with varying amounts of success—to fight a cult.  

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids? Depends on the universe. In canon, it’s messy but becomes significantly healthier later on. His previous relationship was promising and likely would have been ideal, except that they were young and unable (or unready) to deal with the realities of their situation. In AU, he is enemies-with-benefits but also grossly in love with the Judge of Eden’s Gate and her husband (who was a fun surprise, but it’s fine, because Wes got Lyra back by giving her a gracious two-for-one deal on children)!

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust? Whitehorse is something of a father figure, though Wes would never say that out loud. For the record, neither would Whitehorse (at least not directly to Wes)—mostly for Wes’s benefit. He trusts Raf, Pastor Jerome, and the rest of his friends listed above.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies? Joseph, because Joseph is daddy issues incarnate. Jacob, because Jacob understands Wes well enough to yank him around like a dog on a leash. By the time the Collapse hits, everyone is his enemy to some extent (as evidenced by the adorable��horns and pointy tails drawn all over his wanted posters). Notable exceptions are John, Sharky, Hurk, and Whitehorse; however, all but the first are functionally unknown to him.

Do they have any pets? Just Boomer, who is the best emotional support animal a disaster could ask for.

Are they good with kids? Animals? He’s naturally good with both children and animals, but he lacks practical experience, especially with the former (shout-out to the Ryes for finally adding that to his resume).

FUN FACTS

Which tropes do they fit? Which archetypes? Tropewise, he’s Troubled, but Cute and I can’t refute it; apart from the high school thing, it’s a full BINGO clear. He’s also Bruiser with a Soft Center, Inferiority Superiority Complex, Cosmic Plaything, Desperately Craves Affection, Hero with Bad Publicity, I Am Not My Father, and almost certainly a whole host of shameful others that I don’t dare brave the rest of TVTropes to find. Of the twelve classic archetypes, he’s some combination of The Hero and The Outlaw. Otherwise: fallen angel, antihero, byronic hero, prodigal son. 

Do they play any instruments? Sports? He can play guitar, but only at an intermediate level. He’s not big on sports, but he can ice skate and he likes to swim.

What are some items they always carry? Steel & Ivory and a lighter; later, Sin Eater. In New Dawn he carries John’s watch.

Do they collect anything? Bad decisions. Minicultists, apparently. Nothing in particular.

What position do they sleep in? His default position when he’s alone and in a comfortable place is on his belly. There are exceptions listed in greater detail here.

Which emoji would they use the most? Honestly, he’s not really the type to use emojis, but he will send his love interest pictures of things he likes or finds pretty with no context. Otherwise, his texts tend to be short, to-the-point, and lacking in punctuation or capitalization. Believe it or not, he’d much rather communicate in person. My most frequently used emojis for him are 🍰 and 🐍. (Awww, cake and snake... They rhyme. How precious!)

What languages do they speak? English. He knows a limited amount of Spanish, but he’s better at understanding it than he is at speaking it.

What’s their favorite expletive? Damn or fuck.

What’s their favorite candle scent? Pine.

What songs remind you of them? I have a playlist for him here, but it—much like him—is a bit of a mess. I also have a playlist based on his own taste in music here.

Which animal would you say represents them? Snakes, stags, swans, scorpions.

What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into? Loners or troublemakers, probably. Stoners on a technicality—he doesn’t fit the stereotype, but he does have a history. He has some of the soul of an art kid but, tragically, none of the talent.

What would their favorite ride at an amusement park be? At a real amusement park, probably the roller coasters. At something more lowkey like a carnival, he’d like the classic, aesthetically pleasing rides like the Ferris wheel or the carousel.

Do they believe in aliens? Ghosts? Reincarnation or something else? He’s not an “I Want to Believe” sort of guy, but he still can’t explain the Larry Parker debacle. He tries very hard not to believe (or at least not to think about) any sort of afterlife, because he fears it.

Do they follow any religions/gods? Do they celebrate holidays? His family was Catholic, but he endeavors not to be. He likely wouldn’t celebrate holidays as a bachelor overmuch, but he would take part in holiday activities with others.

Which Deadly Sin do they most correspond to? Which Heavenly Virtue? Pride and Fortitude.

If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, which would it be? The Tower, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune.

[halfgclden]

Camping and Cosmos and Crinitus (oh my) | Jordan&Caspar

Date: Late July, 2020

Summary: two bros, chilling at a campsite, zero feet apart cause they are gay

There was a certain nostalgia that came to Jordan as he walked through the woods, a small pack on his back as he followed Caspar to what he'd said was a great spot to see the stars from through the trees. This nostalgia was of course interrupted by the fact that he was with Caspar, holding a leash attached to a dog that kept straining against his harness, and in woods that he had not camped in before. This left it familiar with a slight edge of bittersweetness, which Jordan was unsure about, but still enjoyed. 

When they'd gotten to the campsite, they were eager to set everything up so that they wouldn't have to rush later. The process was not unfamiliar to them, but it still took time, and the sun was hanging low by the time they'd finished, not quite sunset, but early evening. Jordan enjoyed the fact that they were fairly far removed from camp, from deadlines and seriousness. Here it was still, and it was good. Jordan inhaled slowly as he took a seat on the ground in front of his tent. "Do you come out here a lot?"

Caspar had picked this particular spot for the clearing in the above treetops which happened to give way for a great view of the stars. It'd been awhile since he'd done camping like the way these two had planned for tonight. He had become used to opting for a cozy night-in instead, but this was just as much a part of him as taking a great nap was. Even though this little camping trip had been inspired by nothing more than clearly seeing the night sky, it began to feel like a proper holiday once everything was set up. Cas had finished poking at the small fire he'd managed to build and took a few steps back so that he could answer Jordan's question. "Not too much lately," He confessed and then joined his friend on the nearby ground. "I like being outside so much though, I should get back into it," He thought aloud and with a shrug. "Which is why it's so cool that you agreed to come out here."

Jordan watched as Caspar tended to the fire, and unclipped Crinitus from his leash when the puppy seemed calm enough not to immediately bolt into the woods. He nodded at Caspar's answer, pulling his knees into his chest and resting his elbows on them. "Ah, yeah, well, y'know." He pressed his lips together, annoyed at himself for being so inarticulate in response. "Sure love me some outside." He smiled at his friend and shrugged. "Nah, I just haven't been out camping in a long time, so you suggesting it was actually pretty cool. And these woods are different, so it's... I dunno, cool to change it up?" He laughed and shook his head. "We really said fuck being comfortable and having a mattress, huh? Time to sleep on the ground tonight."

Caspar was pleased to have the chance to be sitting there with the company they kept by their side. "Crikey, we defo did. Fuck mattresses, huh?" He chuckled lightly, but was still maybe just a bit self-conscious as well (and seemingly for no serious reason). Having listened to Jordan talk in the way he so naturally did made Cas feel better. His embarrassment was a fickle thing and he leaned back. Jordan's specific brand of humor was much appreciated. "Wait, what’s the scenery like back home for you?" He asked.

Hearing Caspar swear was always funny to Jordan. It sounded less than natural, but not exactly stilted, and combined with the Australian slang, he found it strangely adorable. He didn't seem to notice any embarrassment coming from his friend as he shrugged, watching the fire that Caspar had set up. "Depends on what you count. First place I ever went camping was in this place where in the winter we only had four hours of sunlight, and I shit you not, I went dogsledding more than once." There were few fond memories of the Yukon in Jordan's mind, but camping was some of them. "In the summer, there was all but four hours of sunlight, and that's when we went camping. When it was hard to sleep and we'd end up sleeping anyway because we were all sticky and tired from hiking all day." He smiled to himself, then looked down. "And then, where I'm... I guess from now, like, where home actually is. That's way more forest, way easier to deal with. It's in the Pacific Northwest. Got the whole temperate rainforest vibe, bears and cougars and shit. The West Coast Trail and the like. Trees bigger than you can probably imagine, half the firewood is wet." Jordan shrugged once again, feeling rather exhausted from talking so much. "What about you? How's it camping in Australia?"

Caspar listened to Jordan's answer and shifted his gaze from him to the fire and back again. "Wait, wait, dogsledding?" His interest was caught by the mere unexpectedness of it, or maybe it was only unexpected because Caspar hadn't seen snow until he came to camp. "Like that one cartoon feature where the wolf-dog saves the sick children?" He asked but then chuckled. "I love that. I didn't think people really did that. I think that's so interesting," He commented and continued on with his trailing spoken thoughts. "The vast differences in the places around the world are so..." He tried to think of the right word but he doubted he got the right one. "Astounding?" Cas shrugged. "I personally would love to see those giant trees. I bet they're nothing like I've seen," He said. "Aussieland's cool because there's... I guess you'd call them jungles? It's not wet like the Pacific Northwest. You can find firewood easily and there's so many places to walk and explore, but you gotta look where you're walking." He described.

Jordan couldn’t help but groan when Caspar mentioned the animated movie that had been etched into his memory. “Fuck off,” he snickered, shaking his head. “Yeah, just like fucking Balto.” He rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand, looking at and actually listening to Caspar as he continued to speak. “Yeah. You and me could wrap around either side of some of them and have trouble holding hands on the other side.” Jordan hummed, trying to imagine a hot jungle, but just kept imagining clips from Jumanji. “Because of wildlife? Or flora? Or both?”

Caspar watched as Jordan reacted to Balto being brought up and he giggled mostly because it wasn't expected. He then leaned back and his mind began trying to visualize how big the tree would really have to be. When it got to the point where he couldn't fathom the width any longer, he reached his arm over so he could give Crinitus a few good scratches. "Oh, uh, both? There's trails back home with different rankings that're supposed to let you know how rough it's going to be. Some are rocky, some are covered in roots or vines," Cas responded and sat normally again. "There's snakes and stuff too, but if you keep an eye out as much as you can, everything's fine. If you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone..." He shrugged. "The stars must be visible all the time there during the summer though, right? I think that'd be cool, not only the stars but to live like that without sunlight."

Jordan couldn't help but smile when Caspar giggled, laughing quietly as well, happy that his amusement landed well. "I get that. Like, fuck though, I know you said the coral got you, but you ever get bitten by a snake? I feel like that shit is hardcore, especially with how much wants to kill you out in Australia." He nodded. "Oh yeah, I can kind of tell what time it is from the stars. Or... I used to. It's harder here." He shrugged and leaned forward. "It's like, you know how some people can tell time from the position of the sun in the sky? Like that. But," he said, jumping to a new subject, "you have totally different constellations, yeah? I guess you know both by now though. You know much about the myths around the ones in the southern hemisphere?"

"Nope, no snake bites," Caspar proudly announced but listened to Jordan as he talked about the stars and the sky. "I'm not the best at telling the time from the sun, but I can usually spot a constellation in no time. I'm probably better at spotting the southern ones, but I don't know. It's been awhile since I've seen them," He smiled warmly. "But, down under, I don't know if things want to kill you. There's not... psychopathic spiders out there," He snickered and began digging through his nearby pack. "But, uh, yeah, I know some myths," He focused back on Jordan and held him out a bag of marshmallows, but kept talking. "One of my favorite's is a star cluster that used to be called 'the herdsman' back in ancient times. Everyone now thinks it looks more like a kite though, so it's cool because it's adapted with the times," Caspar kept the chocolate and the crackers in his hand, although raised them to bring attention to his idea. "I can tell you more, but should we make this camping trip official?" He questioned, smiling again.

"Yeah, also using a phone or a watch works better than anything. But when you're eleven and camping, you don't really have that shit." Jordan tilted his head at Caspar and raised his eyebrows. "Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me there's not spiders that have been premeditating my murder? Bullshit. They have eight legs for a reason. Six of those hands can hold guns and they can still walk. I know they're up to something." He grinned, clearly amusing himself as he eyed the marshmallows in Caspar's hand. "It's pretty cool how shit like that develops, yeah. It's like language and sayings that we have no idea where they come from." He sat up a bit straighter and stood. "Absolutely. I'll grab us some sticks. Keep telling me about the herdsman though, unless that was it," he said over his shoulder as he walked to snap a few sticks off of a nearby tree. "Sure hope this isn't a dryad."

Caspar chuckled at the mental image of a big spider holding guns while walking around at the same time. "Those little sayings are called idioms," He casually mentioned and then opened the bag of marshmallows. He left the fetching of the sticks to Jordan. He glanced at Jordan and chuckled again. "I think a dryad might let you know, if that's the case," Caspar set up two graham crackers and put chocolate on both. "But, um, the herdsman has a supergiant star that helps make up it's constellation. It's the fourth brightest star in the whole sky and it's an orange-red color." Cas described more about the topic of astronomy.

Jordan nodded. “I’m a fan of them. I think what I like best are malaphors, though.” He pulled out a pocket knife as he returned to sit down next to Caspar again, whittling away at the sticks so that they would be pointy enough to stick into the marshmallows. “That’s when you take two idioms and smash ‘em together. Like, ‘we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it’ or...” He held out one of the sticks to Caspar, then chuckled. “A bear in a glass house is worth two in the woods.” He nodded. “Fuck, that’s cool as hell. I’ve never been big into space, but the fucking vastness of it all is crazy. Like how half of those stars are burnt out, but we’re so far away we can still see them. That sort of shit fucks with my head, you know?”

"Those are ace," Caspar giggled at the malaphors that Jordan had prattled of. "You’ve opened this can of worms, now lie in it," He added his own with a proud little smile. His eyes then twinkled as he remembered something else that had seemed interesting about space and pertinent to the conversation as well. "They actually just discovered a new galaxy not too long ago, I think last year some time? But it's bloody far away from us and kind of hard to see because of space dust but they've got the tech nowadays," Cas said. "It definitely fucks with my head, but in a good way. I like contemplating different stuff though, I guess."

Jordan grinned, his own eyes glinting as Caspar added one of his own and he chuckled along. “Looks like malaphors are our piece of cake.” He nodded as he listened to Caspar and took one of the marshmallows to skewer on his stick. “Is it visible with the naked eye? Probably not, if it’s that far, especially with how much light pollution there is now. Have you ever listened to those things that are like ‘what the planets sound like’? There’s something going on with Jupiter that is just fucking nuts, man.” He shook his head and tilted his marshmallow towards the fire, sitting far enough away that he could barely feel the heat against his legs with his pants. “You seem thoughtful a lot of the time.” He smiled, watching Crinitus chew on a stick beside him. “Can call it spacey, if we ignore the negative connotations.” He leaned back a bit, but kept his marshmallow forward. “I was thinking about taking an astronomy class next semester for my science cred. I always really liked physics and shit like that, but I don’t know if I can be bothered to deal with quite that much work with all my other classes.”

Caspar shook his head to silently answer Jordan about the newfound galaxy being visible to the naked eye. He smiled while he did so because he simply enjoyed listening to his friend speak. He took the other stick Jordan had sharpened and skewered himself a marshmallow. Cas began letting it hover over the flames. "I like spacey, we can defo ignore the negative connotations. Tai actually calls me Cosmo a lot, so its kind of a perfect fit," He casually expressed as he watched his treat with intention. "I think that class'd be a beauty. I would help you if you really did end up wanting to take it. I wouldn't want you to overload yourself though," He shrugged after his offer, Cas was still smiling, and looked over at Crinitus. "—He's being such a good boy." He spoke as his trailing of thoughts shifted to the the dog for the moment.

Jordan rotated his marshmallow slowly, though it was too far from the fire to start browning yet. "Yeah, I thought that was pretty clever, actually. Very aussie of you guys." He smiled at Caspar. "That'd be ace." He squinted, unsure if the word felt right in his mouth. "I don't think it'd be too much of an overload. I hear the prof is pretty good, and we get to take trips out to an observatory." He pressed his lips together as he thought about something. "If we wanted to, we could probably look into making a trip up there, where the light pollution is less bad. Me you and Tai could all chill out and look at the stars up close." He glanced back over at his dog and smirked, shaking his head. "He's kind of an idiot, but he listens pretty well." He leaned back and grabbed his jacket from where it was sitting behind him, and pulled out a bag of jerky that made Crinitus's ears shoot up, his attention now on Jordan. He looked at Caspar and held out the bag to him. "Wanna give him a treat?"

"Ace?" Caspar repeated and lightly chuckled. "You're sounding more and more like a true blue Aussie bloke every day," He teased and bumped shoulders with Jordan, but made sure it wasn't too hard because of the fact they both were still roasting their treats. The idea that his friend had posed about taking a trip out to an observatory was too good to pass up. "I would love to do that... And with the two of you? I think that'd be a fantastic idea," He chimed back, fully agreeing to the proposition, but his eyes were on the bag of jerky. "—Oh, yeah, can I?" He asked with an excited expression but took the bag from Jordan as it was offered. "Crinitus," Cas called out even though it was redundant because the dog's attention had already been caught. Managing poorly to juggle his marshmallow stick, he opened the bag and picked out a piece. Caspar tossed it to the dog. "I think he deserved it," He confirmed to Jordan with a pleased smile. It lasted only a second longer because he then realized his marshmallow had caught fire. Caspar dropped the bag of jerky so he could tend to it before it got too burnt. He laughed as he attempted to blow out the fire and when it was done successfully, he began inspecting it. "Ah, what a fool I am." He joked regarding the state of his marshmallow.

Jordan nudged Caspar’s ankle with his foot as Caspar bumped him, keeping his stick in place as he rocked from one side to the other, an almost shy smile making its way to his face. “Shut up.” He laughed, ducking his head. “Catch me never fuckin’ saying that shit again.” He turned his stick slowly again, smiling to himself and not looking directly at his friend. “We can go some clear night or whatever, I can figure out the deets.” He reached over to grab a piece of jerky himself, smiling at how pleased his dog seemed from the snack. His eyes grew wide at the sight of Caspar’s marshmallow catching fire, and let out a small breath of relief when it was put out, pulling his own stick closer to prevent the same scenario from happening to him. He snickered at Caspar calling himself a fool. “Absolute buffoon.” He smiled, then held out his own marshmallow towards his friend. “Uh, we can switch if you want. I don’t mind burnt food,” he lied.

Caspar laughed and didn't take the other's words too hard and, when the marshmallow was not on fire any longer, he smiled over at Jordan. He realized Jordan was offering his own marshmallow and shook his head. "Oh, no, no, I can eat it. No worries," He assured him. "It's just a little bit more done than I try and go for, but I don't mind either. There's a fine line when roasting 'mallows." He said and began putting the rest of his treat together. When it was done, he took a bite and gave Jordan the 'ok' sign with his fingers and smiled with a closed mouth as he chewed.

Jordan smiled, happy that he didn’t actually have to trade marshmallows with Caspar. He’d regretted the offer as soon as he made it, but it wasn’t the type of thing he would have gone back on.  “Dope, I’m sure it’ll taste fine with everything else anyway.” He rested the stick between his knees and pulled the outside of the marshmallow off, stuffed the chocolate inside, and then put the graham crackers around that. He held it up to Caspar. “Mess-free s’more,” he explained before he took a bite.

"Whoa, you're a genius," Caspar pointed out as he observed how his friend put together his s'more. "Where'd you learn that?" He smiled, curiously as he began to eat his much more messy s'more than Jordy's. "Or did you just figure it out on the spot?" He chuckled.

Jordan brightened at the praise, and sat up a bit straighter. He took a bite of his s’more and spoke around it, holding a hand in front of his mouth. “My sister actually made it up. I was kinda fine with getting all sticky, but for some reason it seemed to bother her.” He laughed. “But she’s not here so maybe I should take the credit for being smart as hell.”

"Crikey, I'll totally give you the credit," Caspar said while finishing up his s'more. "I'll pretend I didn't hear anything but you being wicked smart..." He assured the other and, with eyes on Jordan, a smile grew warmer and wider on the pale boy's soft expression. "I want to know you more, Jordy," He commented; turning more to face the other. "Can I ask what your relationship with your sister's like...?" Caspar asked then immediately realized something. He exhaled although he barely let his content features falter. "—Sorry, I kind of assumed you weren't talking about sisters here, right?" He asked to confirm.

Jordan smiled at the compliment, dropping his hand since he wasn't eating and speaking at the same time. The sincerity of Caspar's next statement made Jordan shift slightly, turning his gaze to his dog once more in an unconscious effort not to make too much contact, though he did have to admit that such a comment was pretty funny next to what he found to be a rather ridiculous nickname. He raised his shoulders in a shrug. "Uh, yeah, not..." Jordan didn't always know what to call his relatives at camp, he supposed that someone else calling them sisters was fine, because when you got down to schematics, that's technically what they were. "Yeah, I... I dunno, I know everyone here except me is real close with their half-siblings at camp, but..." He shrugged, rubbing the side of his neck with one hand. "I don't know, me and my sister, like, my actual sister, we've been through a lot together, and I feel like counting these people that my godly parent who I haven't even met happened to also parent is... I don't know, it feels like it discounts things." He stretched his legs out in front of him and sighed, though it was somewhat of a groan. "Ugh, that wasn't even the question." He felt stupid, feeling the need to explain himself when he wasn't even being confronted, and turned his face away from Caspar. "We're close. Less now than we were, since we're... physically far, but she's one of my favourite people." His skin crawled as he thought about how vulnerable he felt, and he put the s'more down on his knee so he could pick up the sick again and dig it into the ground. "You don't have any siblings, right? Excepting your camp ones. That why you guys get along so well?"

Caspar understood what Jordan was talking about. He felt the need to assure his friend that his point of view was valued, especially after he heard him groan, but remained silent as to let him finish with all of his thoughts. When Caspar was posed with questions to answer, he smiled warmly under the crackling hues of the amber-colored fire. "Oh, no, I actually have two brothers, and a sister back home in Brissy, too," He shrugged, realizing he never revealed that information earlier. "They're all cool in their own way, I guess, but... I always felt like the odd one out around them?" With his hands free again, he dusted them off and cleared his throat. "With, um, the way you explain it, uh, makes sense..." Caspar expressed. "I was adopted so there's another reason why I felt like a black sheep," He casually added. "But I learned family's what you make of it. So, uh, we're obviously not exactly the same... But, in a way, your situation and my situation is flipped, yeah?" He observed. "I get along better with my family, or whatever, here and it's just not the same with you and I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of, you know? We're like puzzles pieces, we only fit in where we fit in." He said.

Jordan stole glances up at Caspar as he spoke, not wanting to seem like he was too interested in what the other boy was saying, though he was. He wiggled the stick into the ground and let go of it, leaning his hands back on the log as he gave Caspar a small smile. "Hard to think of you as the black anything," he quipped quietly, but let him continue. He twisted his finger around a piece of hair as he nodded at his friend, then looked down at the stick again, afraid that he was looking too long, or that Caspar might look back at him processing how well he could relate to his words. He felt somewhat bare, as though Caspar really was getting to know some part of him, and he didn't know exactly how he felt about it, but he could definitely tell that it wasn't all bad. "Yeah, that makes sense." He felt rather inarticulate after the speech, but didn't mind too much; not everyone could be a poet. "We're mirrors." He smirked a bit. "And that's not to say that I don't care about the people in my cabin. I think... I dunno, they're all my friends. It's just different, yeah." He rolled his neck. "But anyway, enough delving into my inner psyche. What about knowing you? Tell me something I don't know."

Caspar could empathize with the uncertain feeling that came with getting closer with another but, in this setting, he wasn't all that uncomfortable. He smiled at the comment about being mirrors. "Mirrors, I like that," Caspar expressed and then nodded. "And, I get it," He added with reassurance once again. He then chuckled lightly. "—But, wait, did you know my natural hair's a kind of dark brown? You can only see it in old pictures of me. I've been messing with hair colors for a long time though, and I've had tons," He described and then put more thought in regarding his past and a fact he could tell Jordan. "But, uh, let me think of something else," Caspar lightly and contently sighed. "Um, I don't know what's interesting, but I'm allergic to apricots? I believed in fairies when I was a little kid?" He offered up. "Um, sometimes when I first wake up, I think I only see in black and white? The colors come back right away but for a second, I swear." He chuckled again and shrugged.

Jordan pressed his fingers into the log, feeling the grooves as he continued to listen to Caspar. "When'd you start dyeing it?" He felt weird thinking about Caspar with dark hair; and though it was fairly obvious that his natural hair colour wasn't stark white, it felt like it suited his friend more. "Just apricots? How'd you find that one out?" He smiled. "I'm surprised you don't still believe in fairies. They seem like your vibe. And we know that monsters and shit are real, so why not?" The last fact made Jordan's eyebrows shoot up excitedly, and he reached out to rest a hand on his dog's head when he rested his head on his leg. "Does that fit into you seeing auras? Do you dream in colour?"

"I dream in black and white very rarely but, when I'm dreamscaping and in control, I try to make them all as colourful as can be. Although, I'm not sure if the lack of it when I wake is related to the whole aura thing..." Caspar explained to his friend. "It's an interesting concept to think about, it probably is related," He responded while endearingly watching Crinitus show affection to his owner. "I'm not sure exactly when I started with my hair either, uh... Maybe a year before I came to camp?" He thought aloud. "It was bloody impulsive when I chose to change it all, but ended up just sticking with it, so," With a proud little smile, Caspar's train of thought quickly shifted from colors to the next topic he wanted to reply to. "—Oh, by the way, my experience with apricot was only my worst reaction," He casually clarified. "I'll swell up and get hives if I eat certain types of nuts, kiwi, or peaches too. And, actually, a breakfast parfait got me officially diagnosed," He explained with a small shrug and pressed his palms down onto the log as well. He looked up at the stars now and leaned back slightly to do so. "Also, I think there's a part of me that still might believe in fairies, if I'm being fully transparent. There are stranger things in our lives, I agree..." Caspar then hesitated for a moment but eventually spoke again yet softer this time. "If you get tired, will you tell me?" He asked.

"I think it'd be kinda fucked up to dream in black and white. But, I guess I could do that and just not really remember. Colours aren't what I remember from my dreams. It's cool if it is connected to your aura thing. Kind of hard to see if it does though, I imagine that's hard as fuck to research." He glanced at Caspar once more. "I like the white. I think it suits you. Like a blank canvas." After a pause, he added, "or some shit" to sound less like he was waxing poetic. "A breakfast parfait?" Jordan asked incredulously, laughing. "Dude, you're telling me yogurt almost had you kick the bucket? Incredible. I would love for that to be listed as my cause of death, honestly." He nodded in agreement to the sentiment that there were things much stranger than fairies. "I dunno, why can't people with wings exist if I can just be..." He motioned indistinctly to the woods but didn't actually teleport, far too comfortable to. After Caspar spoke, he exhaled a small laugh, smiling at his friend. "I'm always tired." He didn't look away, instead resting his cheek against his own shoulder. "But yeah, I will. Same for you?"

"There's certain books on auras and such but it's hard to sift through what's real and what's just been guessed by the author," Caspar summarized but then readily blushed upon hearing Jordan's compliment regarding his bleached white hair. He tried hard not to react any further and let the conversation continue. "Crikey, not the actual yogurt," He chuckled, shaking his head but finding his friend very amusing. "Just the nuts and fruit and stuff," He clarified but was smiling nonetheless (especially as he watched Jordan rest his cheek against his own shoulder). "I'm always tired too," Caspar agreed and scooted closer to Jordan. "We can go lay down soon?" He suggested and had realized that he was probably done with snacking on s'mores for tonight anyways. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands. "You can also use my shoulder instead if you want, until then? I don't mind..." Caspar gently offered as the untended fire seemed to not be as bright as it once had.

"Yeah, I guess it's hard to do hard research on shit like that. Like dream interpretation. Not like there's a lot of hard science in what I do," Jordan said with a shrug of the shoulder he wasn't leaning on. "I'm gonna keep saying yogurt, I think, sounds funnier." He grinned impishly at his friend, then picked up the s'more resting on his knee to toss into the fire so that his dog wouldn't end up eating it. At Caspar's suggestion, he picked at a thread in his jeans, then scooted slightly closer, trying not to move too much as to not disturb a half-asleep Crinitus. "If you want, I can snuff out the fire, and then we can watch the stars like we planned to." He tipped his head to the side and rested against Caspar's shoulder, looking out at the woods. "And if you want, we can form a chain here. Since I'm on you and Crinitus is on me, you can get a dog pillow," he joked with a small smile.

"You need a Teleportation 101 class," Caspar snickered to himself at his silly little joke. He then playfully rolled his eyes at Jordan after hearing his comment regarding the yogurt. His expression was somehow still soft even as he rolled his eyes. He felt good in the moment his friend rested their head on his shoulder but, then again it always felt this way being there for someone. He tried to maneuver himself to get a look at a sleeping Crinitus by Jordan's feet and was pleased by the sight. "That's probably how it's going to be in the tent tonight..." He responded. "A cuddle pile, if you will," He commented "...And, I do still want to look at the stars, but we can do that whenever you're ready to put out the fire. I can wait, but I don't want us to get too tired beforehand." He explained.

"Hey." Despite trying to sound annoyed, Jordan's tone was much more amused than anything. "I'm at least in the 200s level, cut me some slack." He raised his head as Caspar moved, as well as to look at the fire. "Are you someone who just latches on to the nearest thing when you sleep? Or are you a starfish?" He raised his arms and cracked his knuckles, then wiggled his fingers in front of him, muttering a low incantation. Crinitus lifted his head to watch as the fire smoldered and went out, leaving a trail of smoke curling into the sky. "Alright, boy with white hair, tell me which planets are making me sad."

"Sorry, sorry," Caspar apologized for the silly '101' comment and bashfully ducked his head especially while Jordan raised his up once again. "I am usually one who clings to whatever's near," He smiled. "So if that makes me a starfish?" He rubbed his knees with his palms and then slightly shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I am one, watch out for my tube feet," He joked with a tone of voice where it was clear he was already becoming tired. Caspar wiggled his fingers along with Jordan in reference to their past conversation but eventually dropped his hands again. He shifted his eyes up to the stars in the night sky. He was smiling more-so now at the little nickname. "-Hm, well, you're an Aries, right? That means Mars rules you, it represents the beginning of all beginnings... It is our first breath and our first scream, being the one responsible for the body we have and the, um, incarnation we are in at the moment..." Caspar looked back at Jordan to make sure he really wanted to know this kind of stuff. "Uh, it's associated with karma and instinct, but I think it's really just an unconscious animalistic nature we don’t give enough freedom to..." He cleared his throat and quickly looked back at the stars. "I'd have to know more of your birth chart to tell you more."

Jordan laughed at the tube-feet comment and wiggled his fingers back at Caspar. “Oh my god.” He shook his head and looked up at the sky as his friend began describing what his sign meant, eyes flicking back to him after a moment. “First breath and first scream? Dude, that’s metal as fuck.” He laughed. “Animalistic nature. Dunno if that’s my deal, but the sound of it is cool.” He pressed his palms into the log and looked back to the sky. “Kendall knows my birth chart. Made me literally call my mom and find out what time I was born.”

"Oh... Yeah, I guess it is," Caspar chuckled a little embarrassed by how he had explained Aries energy. "But I meant more like, uh... Acting on impulse and doing what you want without abandon, not, um, running through the woods on your hands and knees or something silly," His palms had already been pressed down onto the log as well and he stole a quick glance of Jordan here and there as they sat and watched the stars. "That's what I would've had you done too," He smiled softly. "I can probably reach out to her to get a look at it? So I can tell you more of my, uh, interpretations?" Caspar suggested. "Unless you feel like she's covered it all with you already. If so, that's okay too..." He covered his bases in his reply then yawned but remained stargazing.

Jordan laughed at the idea of them running around the woods on all fours and moved so that he was resting on his elbows instead of his hands, more reclined as he watched the sky through the trees. “Yeah, you’ll have to find her for that. I don’t really remember any of it. I think she mentioned pretty much every sign at some point, and I don’t really prescribe to Greek zodiac and myth too much, so I didn’t retain much.” He looked at Caspar. “It’d be cool to get your take on it, though. But what made you so into Greek constellations when you were born in a place where you didn’t even see them? Unless you only started studying them here.”

"Okay, yeah, that's perfect. I'm excited to get a look at your chart," Caspar confessed and happily continued on in response. "I'll try and make it exciting for you to learn about," He explained with assurance and then shrugged because he wasn't sure of how to answer to the question that had been asked. "...Oh, uh, hmm,I guess that I was into them because I knew I was a demigod since I was young? I always have been in love with the stars too. Greek constellations came easier to me and I had already learned all the ones down in the southern hemisphere," He shrugged. "The cosmos are a constant in my life."

Jordan exhaled something that could be interpreted as a laugh. “Learning is always exciting.” He was serious about the sentiment; not entirely sure that the subject was up his alley, but willing to hear Caspar out. “Oh,” he said as he tilted his head to look at his friend. “Fuck, forgot some people just knew that shit. I didn’t know until I got here, and I was still pretty sure I was making the whole thing up or something.” He shrugged one shoulder and looked back up at the sky, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned. “That’s fucking sick. To be into something all the way from when you were young.” He let out a small “oof” as his dog put his head down on his stomach, and reached down to pat him as he yawned again. “Maybe... bedtime soon. But you can keep telling me about the sky. I promise I’m still listening.” The words seemed too sincere to leave it there, so he continued. “Maybe just slow down if you hear snoring.”

"I like that about you. You have an open-mind," Caspar complimented and sent a tired little smile over Jordan's way through the firelight. "Imagine all those feelings, but not being able to do anything about them. I couldn't get away from my family until I just turned sixteen? But I knew I was destined to come here as soon as I heard about camp... And, it wasn't getting safe in Aussieland, so, it was defo complicated all around," He shrugged as he explained a little bit more about his past and, maybe only because Jordan did, but Caspar yawned as well. He nodded before he could speak. "Yeah... I think that's a good idea. We can go lay down right now?" He stood and rubbed his eye.

Jordan exhaled a small laugh at Caspar’s observational compliment. He could his friend smiling at him from the corner of his eye, but kept his gaze trained upwards as he listened to him continue to speak. “I... can imagine.” His own perspective was much different, but he didn’t offer it, since it felt less like relating to Caspar and more like telling his own story. He finally tilted his head to the side to look back at Caspar and gave him a small smile as well. “It’s nice you had somewhere to escape to.” He followed his friend, pushing his dog’s head from his stomach so that he could stand as well, and stepped far enough back so that he felt comfortable enough to extinguish the fire. As he pressed his hands together and mumbled, it glowed bright for a moment, then smoldered, and Jordan picked up a water bottle to toss over it and put it out fully. He yawned and stretched, his back cracking as he did, and nodded at Caspar. “Crinitus doesn’t normally get to sleep with people, so he’s gonna fuckin' flip.”

Caspar moved away from the fire as well and, for the most part, let Jordan handle extinguishing the flames. He watched with tired eyes and, when it was fully out, turned to go over to the tent. "Awe, I'm glad then," He responded and the thought of falling asleep with a dog instead of several white cats made him chuckle lightly. He unzipped the entrance and climbed inside. He got all comfortable and knowing that he was going to get to dream only seemed to make him feel more tired. "Hm... I think..." He mused and, even though he had only gotten horizontal moments before, his eyes were heavy. "That today was a good day...." He managed to say before closing his eyes. For a little bit longer, he tried responding but it mostly came out as non-verbal little hums. After seemingly falling asleep, it only took a few moments before Caspar naturally nudged closer. Along with Crinitus, they cuddled up to Jordan in a warm little pile and that night Caspar dreamed of tide pools.

[aerascreamer]

Only if I’m with you

A Miragehound fic

Fandom: Apex Legends 

Genre: Slice of life (?)

Word count: 1343

Warnings:  A little bit of angst but mostly cuteness and comfort!

Additional note: My first fanfic for the Apex Fandom !! I hope you’ll like and maybe consider checking my ao3 and wattpad (@ aerascreamer) (I didn’t post this fic on these accounts but if you want, I’ll be glad to do it!)

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

The dropship landed on the small spaceport next to the Legends' dormitory.

Octane burst out of the exit without waiting, followed a few meters behind by Gibraltar and Wraith.

Everyone joined the building by groups of three or four, Crypto being the usual exception.

When he finally got out, Mirage stretched his arm to greet the bright sun and the clear azure sky.

"Oh, sweet home! Good to see you again! Talos's not bad but-"

He didn't even finish his sentence that Artur smashed on his face.

"What the- HOUND!!!"

A powerful whistle echoed in the air, forcing the crow to perch on Bloodhound's forearm, cawing.

"He's glad to see you, they translated with a serious tone

-How can you deal with him so easily? The trickster asked as he rubbed his scratched nose.

-Artur likes nobody except me, the hunter chuckled. And he can be very territorial.

-More like jealous of my perfect face!" he joked.

Bloodhound approached him and gently took Mirage's chin to examine the tiny cuts.

"It's nothing, your wounds already started to heal, they declared.

-So... Can a kiss speed up the process?" the trickster begged with puppy eyes.

The tracker let go of an amused growl and stepped towards the dormitory.

"Only if you catch me inside mo mhuirnín, they teased as they sprang.

-Come on !"

~~~

The night fell quickly and spread its darkness on the landscape.

Despite the late hour, some rooms still shined through the windows, with silhouette moving behind.

Scrolling down on his phone Elliott read some "juicy" pieces of information (as the journalists claimed) about the competitors, with ninety percent being speculations and false rumors.

Like on this page, some people said about Bloodhound that they are "fabulously wealthy" " a bloodthirsty murderer", "a Goliath whisperer", "a former slave", "half-bat"... Seriously? Half bat? Why not half-dog or half-Leviathan? Wait did that guy misgender them? And Hound never killed someone, just animals.

The trickster looks down to see his partner sleeping peacefully on his lap, inoffensive as a cat. No, the definition he would give to "bloodthirsty murderer".

He couldn't believe he was in a relationship again, especially after how the last one ended.

Even more incredible, he dated a competitor from the Apex Game while playing in this game where you basically shoot freely at each other throat.

And that competitor is none other than BLOODHOUND. Or the one who became Champion FOUR times and killed a Goliath with ONE KNIFE. HOLY F***** BALLS

But the hunter always listened to him, spend time in his company and took care of him so gently, with such patience while being the most humble person he ever met.

Elliot would often ask himself if he deserved someone like them as well as wondering how to give back the generosity Bloodhound offered to him.

But that kiss... The first one... The one where they took off their mask and pressed their soft lips on his...it brushed away all his doubts and strengthen even more his love.

"Hey birdie, wake up! I have to go now."

Bloodhound slowly sat on the couch, half-asleep, and curled back in when Elliott stepped away.

"You don't want to go to your room? he asked.

-I'm good here."

The trickster chuckled as he couldn't help but compare again his love one to a cat.

~~~

Silence.

An absolute silence ruled on the room.

And the temperature fell to the ground.

Only disturbed by the few little lights on the holo-tech devices, the darkness filled the narrow space in each of its corners.

Elliott couldn't sleep, lying on his bed eyes wide open.

Folding between his hands a corner of the blanket, his thoughts pushed each other in his mind without giving him any rest.

He sat on the edge of his bed.

A weight and a hole growing in his chest.

The world felt cold without the consent chatting of the Legends or all these sounds everyone is so used to that they fade into the background...

The TV, the people's walk, the glasses on the table, the clicks of a phone keyboard, the floor cracks, the seat movements, the kitchen growls...

Elliot felt the need to see someone... Not necessarily to talk to. Just having another person in the same room as him would be enough.

But everyone is sleeping and seemed so far from here... as if they were in another reality.

Maybe calling Mom? No, she's asleep too. Knock at Hound's door? They need to rest from the previous match... Same for Gibby, Bang, Ajay, Nat... Everyone!

H*ck, he would have spent the whole night awake with Pathy if this one didn't turn off to charge his batteries or the kid if he wasn't such a d*ck when woken up in the middle of the night.

Hesitant hits brought him back to earth.

He walked to the door, unlocked it and found Bloodhound in front of him.

Without their mask, Elliot could see the panicked expression painted on their pale face, their messy hair covering their right eye.

They nervously rubbed their finger, the short sleeves of the shirt letting their irregular scars on their arm exposed to everyone's view.

"You... You alright?" He stammered, shocked to his partner losing their composure.

They opened their mouth but couldn't say anything.

"Come in, everything is OK birdie."

Legs shaking, Bloodhound entered the bedroom, climbed on the bed and hide their face in their arm crossed over their knees.

Their chest moved up and down quickly.

"Can you breathe? Do you need your mask?" Elliott asked with worries.

One day, the hunter nearly blacked out in the middle of a gunfight because their breathing device shut down all of a sudden... He felt horrible at this moment, totally useless, only able to see his love one suffering.

Bloodhound shook their head, tightening their grip on their pant's fabric.

Elliot sat next to them, a hand on their shoulder, waiting for them (and him) to calm down.

Their breathing went back to normal slowly, the trickster's company reassuring them.

And when Bloodhound finally looked at him, he whipped out a tear holding on their eyelid.

"Feeling better?

-I guess..." Their low voice cracked "Thank you, Elli.

-No prob! I'm always here for you."

A weak smile appeared on their lips...

a smile so rare and so precious that Elliott always felt his heart melting when they appear.

This one making no exception, he wrapped his arms around their chest and pulled them closer.

Bloodhound closed their eyes and started counting the strong beats of Elliott's heart while this one brushed their silky smooth hair.

Comforted in each other's warm, the two back went back to sleep.

~~~

Elliott woke up next to Bloodhound nested against his chest.

It took him some time to first remember the event of the previous night and then calm down after seeing his partner's lovely face under the morning sunlight.

"How did I end up with someone so beautiful they seem to have been literally sent by the Gods?" he thought while rubbing their cheek.

Eyes half-closed, the hunter grabbed the trickster's wrist and intertwined their fingers.

Both remained silent and simply listened to the other breath while the outside birds began their songs.

Then Bloodhound noticed the worries that tinted their partner's eye.

"You seem troubled, they whispered.

-Well... I'm just concerned about what happened last night, he answered.

And especially what made you so upset...

But if you don't want to talk about it that's totally fine I understand!

-It was a very bad nightmare." Their eyes darkened.

"So confusing to explain... And to even remember in detail. I... I just want to forget it."

The hunter shook their head as if a bug landed on top of it, feeling again tension in their belly.

Elliott approached them and kissed his partner on the forehead.

Bloodhound purred with relief and pressed their lips against his.

"Maybe a walk around the woods would help you?

-Only if I'm with you."

[pyrotic-goat]

Minecraft au Achievement city is basically a small settlement the three gents built together. --- Geoff and the creeper boy He finds the burnt up kid, Gavin, after a run in with creepers that explode. Creepers always ignore Gavin as do many other mobs, Gavin has black and green skin splotches like a creeper. It’s suspected that Gavin could explode and after some science is done, he’s definitely able to blow up. -- Ryan and ‘wolf’ Michael Ryan teaches the boy to speak basic english while feeding the pack and him. He also made a hide jacket for him. Michael very much has the whole wolf pack ideals where he tries to act like an alpha but always bows to Ryan. One night Michael comes to Achievement city during a terrible storm. He’s bloody and tells him the entire pack was killed. Ryan remembers the day he met the boy well. He had befriended by letting them stay close to achievement city where they could receive easy food from the farm and Ryan. In return they keep other, less passive violent wolf's away from the city, and kept the monster’s in the woods at bay. Ryan had planned on collecting bones from the area for Jack and the farm, when he came across the pack in a clearing. They didn’t pay him much attention, so long as he kept his distance. To be extra safe he had left an offering of cooked chicken near them. While he collected bones, he noticed the wolves approach the chicken out of the corner of his eye. He also noticed that one of them was hairless. He watched it out of curiosity as it approached the chicken along with two other wolves, it was shorter and skinnier than the other wolves, and was covered in fresh as well as faded scars. Then he noticed the hair on it’s- his head. Ryan had to do a double take. One of the wolves hunched over the chicken was a boy, a human. Ryan stepped forwards a bit, wary of the wolves he kept a large distance, before calling. “Hello, young man?” Several of the wolves tilted their heads to Ryan, including the wild naked boy who’s brow arched. “Boy, can you understand me?” Ryan asked. He tilted his head and furrowed his brow, nodding in response. He glanced at the wolf nearest to him, then Ryan again. Like he was evaluating what he seeing. It was someone like him. He had wild curly red/brown hair that mopped down to his shoulders. Ryan took another step forwards, voice softening. “Buddy, can you speak?” The wild boys eyes narrowed again, but didn’t flinch from him moving closer. He slowly bent forwards for a bite of the chicken. He bit into the chicken while watching Ryan intently. All of the wolves were watching Ryan now. Ryan knew he had to play this carefully, he’d never seen the man before, he was either nuts or raised by animals. He was also surrounded by wolves who would, more than likely, not hesitate to attack him if he pissed off the boy or moved to aggressively. “Can you speak? Do you talk?” Ryan carefully asked. The man swallowed and thought for a moment, before opening his mouth. “Speak. Understand.” He grunted, low and guttural like it was foreign to speak. Ryan relaxed a little. So he did understand. Ryan took off his shawl, it was a large red wool one he had made himself, it was mostly waterproof and warm. He gently set it down on the ground in front of himself before taking several large steps back. “Warm.” Ryan motioned to the shawl, then like he was wrapping the shawl around himself. He watched silently as three wolves and the wolf boy slowly stalked over to sniff at the jacket. Michael looked back at him. Ryan made the motion again and the man sat back on his ass, Ryan glanced away for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wolf boy drag the cape to his chest as he felt it, and sniffed it. And sure enough he wrapped it around himself. The three wolves sniffed at him an barked. This got the attention of the rest of the pack, who were watching the situation carefully. One day there’s a terrible storm, and a pounding on the door that scares the gents and Gavin. They assume it’s the wind, but when it persists Geoff goes to the door, ready to stab at whatever is outside, and opens the door. Outside is a soaked, shaking, hurt, mostly nude curly haired man who collapses when the door is opened. Geoff screams in shock, Jack and Ryan run out to help. Ryan immediately recognizes him, running over and helping him, telling the other gents he’s not a danger. They care for him, patching up his wounds and feeding him. And try to put pants on him. He complains, but doesn’t fight. Especially when Ryan’s around. Eventually He explains that the dogs were killed in a flood, Only able to survive by clinging onto a branch. He’s very nervous around water and anytime it rains he gets really antsy. Ryan gives him a great many pets. While he’s willing to compromise on wearing pants after he’s eaten, agreeing to shorts. He refuses to sleep inside past the first two nights. Ryan makes a bed for him out in the barn where Edgar and Edgar 2 live. Ryan hums to himself as he drops the fresh Hay bale on the ground, spreading it outs in a large circle as Michael interacts with Edgar. Sniffing the cow and grunting at them. Ryan adds a final blanket on top of the pile, nodding and turning to Michael. “Alright, bed’s done. Hope it’s nice.” Michael lays down and groans, rolling onto his back and stretching. “It’s very nice.” He grumbles. “Good to hear, well, i’m going to go inside, the back will be unlocked if you need anything.” Ryan opens the barn door. “W-wait.” Ryan turns to look at Michael, tilting his head. Michaels sitting up and rubbing his arm. “Stay with me tonight?” Ryan lays down, groaning quietly as he gets used to the feeling of the hay. After a moment, Michael shifts, pressing against Ryans chest. Ryan sighs, resting a hand in the curly red hair. Ryan yawns and sits up, rubbing his face. Michael is already up, the doors propped open and sitting in the entryway. “You opened the door on your own?” “The Geoff did it. To check on you and let Edgar out.” Michael bumps his head against his leg and make him jump a bit. He looks down at Michael, who’s squinting back up at him. Ryan sighs softly, ruffling Michaels hair as he bites back a ‘good boy’. Michael can’t walk on two legs, he can crouch and crawl pretty fucking fast but he can’t completely rise up on his back legs without loosing his balance. Michael follows Ryan around all day as he does his chores, often giving Michael things to carry and help. Michael has a hard time around the other guys. He gets snarly sometimes when they touch Ryan or get to rough with Ryan. Ryan always finds it more amusing than anything else. Ryan touching foreheads with Jack and talking and being gentle, Michaels seeing this. After seeing and hearing how much Ryan cares about the others, Michael eventually accepts them as pack as well. Gavin really likes to make Michael agressive, but Michael does try to avoid him when he can smell the gunpowder. “I don’t smell like gunpowder!” “You smell like you rolled in it.” “Do not!” “Do too.” Gavin likes to make him growl and bare his teeth and play fight. Michael likes to lay out in the sun while Geoff and Jack garden and tend to the animals. Michael eventually explains his story. He was a kid abandoned in the wounds, around 12-13. He was lost and starving. And the dogs, for whatever reason, took a liking to him. His english isn’t great and he can’t read but Ryan is patient and teaches him, giving him books and such. Eventually Gavin sits in on these lessons, while having been taught a bit (like the alphabet and his name) He doesn’t know how to read and gets jealous when Michael reads outloud or writes. -- Jack often receives gifts from his Dragons, usually shiny things stolen from distant lands. Jack and the kid the dragons bring him. The dragon decides the little princey boy, covered in gold, purple, and orange, is his now. And by extension, Jacks. The prince was furious. Unable to break free of the dragon that had snached him off his balconey he shouted and punched the monsters huge talons. He slowly became more and more terrified, clinging to the Dragons talons as they flew over the kingdom, and farther and farther from his home. Jack was kneeling in the garden, plucking fresh carrots. Distantly he heard the flap of one of his larger dragons coming home, he looked up and saw something in its claws, it was purple and orange and yelling. Then when the dragon drops the fancy boy in front of Jack, right outside of the garden. Jack stands curiously, the man is very fancily dressed and the Dragon is holding him down as he weakly fights. The prince is PISSED. Jack is like SHRUG you aint no prince here, the yelling gets the attention of Ryan and Geoff who come to see the fuss, Michael not far behind Jeremy is tired, he mentions he was carried for a couple days. He’s hungry and thirsty, Jack offers him food and water and after a moment, he takes it. Stuffing his face. The Dragon has gifted Jeremy to Jack and rejecting the gift would probably not be great. Jeremy wakes up in a bed he doesn’t know, groaning he sits up, he’s a room full of other beds. Someone else is there, mixing something. “Ah, morning.” He’s got a deep voice, similar to the bearded man, yet different. “Where- who are you?” “I’m Ryan. How are you feeling? We treated your scratches and claw marks.” “Sore, hungry.” He grumbles, sitting up. “Easy there, don't hurt yourself.” “I want to go home.” “We don’t know where that is. We live far from any civilization and don't often go across the mountains. Jack could try and help you but-” Jack does try to figure out where the boy came from, but can’t. He spends two years mapping out the area beyond the mountains on dragon back, clearly guilty. Jeremy tries to stay positive but he actually starts to like living there. He’s got siblings to take the throne. He doesn’t talk to Jack about staying until he and Ryan are deep in the mines and Ryan opens up about being an ex king, and how his kingdom fell into ruin. Jack winds up adopting him. Into the family. Matt is a dragon slayer, with many misconceptions about how dragons are. Matt is a knight of Jeremys and one of his best friends, he is searching for his prince when he gets snached as well while crossing the mountains. He gets dumped, unconscious due to hypothermia and other issues. On his way through he meets an Iron golem, Trevor, who got lost during a blizzard Trevor knows the human is hurt, and cold. So he carries him to a cage and holds him until he starts to wake. Matt and Trevor. Trevor doesn’t understand. He pets the friendly dragon, while Matt suddenly jumps up, grabbing his sword. “TREVOR GET AWAY!” “Why?” “That- that’s the dragon!” “This is the dragon? The dragon that stole your prince?” Matt can barely keep his arms up. “Yes.” Matt collapses and Trevor recognizes hurt, darting forwards to lift him, Trevor stares at the dragon, who’s sweetly confused. “Can you help him?” The Dragon tilts it’s head, then nods. Trevor wraps up Matt and holds him against his chest while they ride the dragon. Jeremy is really happy to see Matt again. -- Alfredo got a lot lost in the mines while down there, finally managed to get out, only to be chased up a tree by the feral Michael. Ryan Stares for a long moment at the spooked boy in the tree, before looking at his boy Michael beside him, who looked very proud of himself for, er, trapping the threat. “Where are you from?” “T-he coast!” “The coast?” Ryan says it more to himself. “We’re miles from the coast, we’re in the mountains.” “And i'm in a fucking tree!” “Sorry about that, Michael is a bit of a, dog.” Ryan rests his hand on Michael's head. “You can come down, alright? We’re not going to hurt you.” “Really? Because ‘Michael’ Sure sounded ready to kill me!” “He’s not gonna hurt you, as long as you don’t attack him, or me.” Alfredo tries to get down, but panics. “Actually, i think i’m okay up here!” “Are…. are you stuck?” “....No?” “For- alright.” He drops his bag beside Michael, who looks at him with confusion. Ryan lifts himself into the tree and sits beside Alfredo. “C’mon.” -- Ryan catches Michael trying to walk while watching Jeremy and Gavin run around in the distance and teaches him how to properly walk on two feet. Michael stares from behind the tree and the two other lads run around the clearing. He can do this, he’s human, more so than gavin, even! All he has to do is plant his feet on the ground. He leans against the tree as he balances on the balls of his bare feet. He can’t stand on his own, without the tree. It feels so strange. “What are you doing?” Ryan says in amusement finally. Michael jumps, dropping down to all fours and turning to Ryan. “Nothing!” “C’mere, i’ll help you.” Ryan holds Michaels hands and helps him stand, patiently explaining where to put his weight and standing until Michael can’t keep his back up like that. Ryan is a gentle mentor to michael and it’s great. Gavin and michael Gavin sitting in a tree teasing Michael, who’s at the base of the tree ‘angry’. -- Jack and Lindsey While Jack is collecting stuff from the could islands he meets a fiery harpy. “Oh, hello.” Jack says with a cocked eyebrow, slowly reaching for his bow. He’d delt with harpies before and prefered not to see them. He thought that he was far enough away from their territory that they didn’t come around here. Guess he was wrong. The women tilted her head at him. “Hey, your the dragon warlock, right?” “Er, i guess-” “Cool! Hey, can you tell your dragons to stop laying eggs in my nest?” she practically manifests a massive blue egg, “I have like, three baby dragons and while they’re quite cute and i love them, i don’t want any more.” Jack turns to his Obsidian dragon. “SO THAT’S WHERE YOUR EGGS HAVE BEEN GOING!” Lindsey flies with her babies to Achievement city, two redstones and a glowstone. “These are my sons, T, P, and L.” “They’re all females.” Michael is just like UHHH PRETTY BIRD LADY?

[tastelikesleepdeprivation]

Domestic Human!Jack Headcanons featuring his three dads:

-Sam : no dessert after dinner, it will rot your teeth and we don’t have dental insurance because, legally, Dean and I are dead and Cas isn’t human so he can’t have insurance

-Cas: *sneaks Jack a cookie under the table during dinner, winks*

-Jack, with tears in his eyes, “thank,,”

Jack sneaking back into the bunker:

-Cas sitting in a chair and turns the lamp on: “where have you been?”

-Jack: “uhh with Dean”

-Dean, sitting in a chair next to Cas, turning on another lamp: “wanna try that again”

-Jack: “uhh with,, Sam?”

-Sam, in another chair next to Dean, turning on another lmap: “wanna try that AGAIN?”

-Jack likes it best when Dean cooks cause Cas can’t taste anything but “particles” so it’s always bland and Sam just can’t cook but Dean makes the best burgers Jack has ever tasted

-Jack sometimes has nightmares about Lucifer but if it’s a really bad one it’s about Dean, Cas, and Sam dying while Jack is standing by, unable to do anything cause he doesn’t have his powers and he wakes up panting and in a cold sweat with Cas right by his side because Cas doesn’t need sleep and will always be there to make sure to wake up Jack and comfort him during his night terrors

-Sam introduces Jack to books and tears up when Jack gets super excited about them because finally someone else who reads (not countering the literal one book Dean has read) and his favorite thing is sitting by Jacks bed side while reading The Wizard of Oz cause Sam told Jack all about their badass friend Charlie and her girlfriend Dorothy who saved all of them and Jack loves hearing about this apparently very real magical world

-Jack is actually really observant for his young age so when he sees Dean shuffling into the kitchen, scratching at his two week old beard with bags under his red rimmed eyes from fitful rest he announces a vacation day which Dean originally objects to but when Jack gets Cas and Sam on board he caves and so Dean hops in Baby with Sam to his right, Jack behind him and Cas behind Sam and they just drive. Dean puts on some classic Rock and Roll to “culture the kid right, Sammy” and they stop at some greasy diner and Dean laughs over his burger while Sam grumbles into his salad, Cas flashes his gummy smile and Jack hides his grin behind his drink and looks at his family and just living in the happiness he helped create and is a part of

-Dean got to be a father twice before technically but it never really felt like this. Never really felt like anything with Emma and while he got to be with Ben for a couple months it never felt permant, not like this, not like with Jack. So Dean cherishes every small moment he gets to teach and pass on something to Jack, whether it be through how to rile up Sam with a quick joke, or how to correctly wash and fold Cas’ trench coat, or do some work on Baby. Teach him something that doesn’t involve killing or hunting. Something normal, something a normal father would pass onto his son

-One of Jacks favorite occurrences between jobs is when Dean would cook all of them dinner and he would be wearing the apron Sam got for him as a joke (but secretly loves) and Dean would put on some music and would loudly sing along, shouting the lyrics while wildly waving the spatula in the air.

-Sometimes, Jack would pretend to be asleep when he would hear footsteps outside his door because he knew that Cas always comes and checks on him after he goes to bed. Cas carefully cracks open the door, and while Jack pretends to be asleep, Cas will put a gentle hand in his hair and place a chaste kiss on his forehead and Jack would wait until Cas pulls the door closed to smile into his covers

-Shopping with Sam was Jacks favorite. Sam usually did the shopping because Cas would forget the human stuff like tooth paste and toilet paper and Dean would buy pie instead of vegetables because he “forgot ‘em, sorry Sammy” so Sam always did the grocery shopping and would let Jack tag along, letting him get ONE candy (he always got nougat)

-Watching marathons with Dean is one of Jacks favorite passtimes because while Dean was a closeted chick flick watcher, Jack was an out and proud chick flick fanatic so both boys would sneak away for a night every so often when a new movie finally came out on Netflix

-One of Jacks favorite memories was when everyone went grocery shopping together when Jack was first turned human to find out what kind of foods he liked so he could have it available at the bunker, Dean grabbed the chips and junk food for him to try while Sam grabbed the fruits and vegetables, Cas gave his opinion now and then about what he rememberd from when he was human, especially his like of pb&js.

-Jack would go through bouts of insomnia to keep away the nightmares and this was the beginning of his midnight trips to the kitchen for snacks where he was joined sometimes by Sam but mostly Castiel which he preferred cause they would stay up late talking about the beginning of the universe and the thousands of years Cas has lived and what he has seen.

-When he turns One on May 18th, Dean, Sam, and Castiel decide to throw him a party, in their own way of course. Dean bakes the cake which is chocolate and has writing in icing on the top which says “baby’s first birthday” and they have streamers from toilet paper and first-aid gauze hung up all over the bunker. Sam gets him a new flannel so that he “can officially become part of the team” and a new book called The Great Gatsby which he can’t wait to start. Cas gets him a mixtape he made from all the songs he noticed Jack bobbing his head to when Dean would blast the radio. And Dean. Dean gets him a necklace. Not like the one Dean had, he told Jack all about the one Sam gave to him. But a necklace just for him that had the angels symbol for protection hand carved into the wood

-Sam is the first one to call Jack son to his face. Sam had just finished the last chapter of The Great Gatsby and Jack was crying because he thought that Gatsby didn’t deserve that kind of end to his life. Sam had closed the book, set it on the bedside table, wiped the tears from Jacks face, kissed him on the forehead and said “ it’s alright son, his story isn’t over, just moved to a new place”

-Cas first called him son on the night of one of Jacks worst night terrors. Jack heard screaming and woke up in a cold sweat to Cas at his side holding him close and whispering “I’m here, Jack, I’m here son, it was only a dream, I’m here” in his ear. Only until the screaming in his ears stopped did he realize it was coming from him and it wasn’t until he had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder from exhaustion and woken up the next morning to feel Cas still running his fingers through his hair did he notice that Cas called him son

-Sam and Cas had called Jack son early on and while Dean knew in his head and in his heart that Jack was his son he couldn’t say it to him. Experience and pain had taught him that once he said it, it would be real and so would the pain he will feel if, when, Jack gets hurt or killed. So he avoided it, calling him kid, kiddo, sport, and every other dumb nickname under the sun but still not that word until one hunt. It was supposed to be a normal job (famous last words, Winchester) until it went sideways and the werewolf got a claw into and up Jacks stomach. Only when Dean had shot the bastard in the chest until his gun was clicking empty did Dean fall to his knees next to Jack, holding his hands over the kids wound shouting at Sam to “hurry up and get the damn car!” Only when he looked at Jacks closed eyes and the shallow rise and fall of his chest and sees his pale face did he whisper for only Jacks ears “come on son, hold on. You gotta stay with me Jack, you gotta wake up son, you gotta wake up, you have to wake up”

-When Jacks hair starts curling around his ears does Sam decide to give him a haircut. Well, it was Sam at first until Dean grabbed the scissors and hip checked his brother out of the way saying “with your mane, I’m surprised you even noticed Jacks hair getting long. Move over, Sammy, I cut your hair for twelve years I’ll cut the kids hair”

-it’s Fourth of July and Dean insists on taking Jack to see the fireworks. One of Deans best memories is of him and Sammy shooting them off in some abandoned parking lot decades ago so he thought that he could give Jack a memory just as precious. Sam packs a picnic with some snacks and Castiel stuffs the impala with blankets. They drive out to the nearest town and set up shop in front of a closed grocery store across from the park where the towns show was set up to go off. Castiel hadn’t seen fireworks up close before so he was also excited. Jack was practically bouncing in his seat asking “ are they really made from fire?? How do they work??” And Sam and Dean would laugh and tell him they were really loud and colorful. When the fireworks officially started, Jack was terrified. It was so loud and he could feel the reverberations in his chest, they would come in no random order so he was suprised by the POPS. But after a while he was soon enraptured by the colors. Cas was just as enchanted by the way they would appear one moment and be gone the next. Jack and Cas loved the show so much they asked when the next one was and both were just as confused when Sam and Dean just laughed saying not until New Years

-Since they can’t exactly call a cleaning service to come and mop their underground bunker filled with weapons and proof of the supernatural, Sam established a chores list. Some chores depended on the day, like if Dean cooked he didn’t have to do the dishes but every person was given a chore, no matter what. Dean always grumbled but everyone knew he preferred a clean bunker. Cas would simply nod and go about his work, sometimes humming whilst doing so. Jack was just glad he had something to do that was of use to his family. And ironically, Sam was the one who forgot to do his chores most often

-whenever Jack manages to join the older three men on a hunt he always gets stuck in the back seat of the impala. Dean always drives, Sam always gets shotgun, Cas always sits behind Sam and Jack sits behind Dean. He doesn’t mind that much because on the truly long rides, the cross country rides, Cas lets him put his feet in his lap so he can lean against the door or sometimes he puts his head in Cas’ lap while Cas runs his fingers through his hair, falling asleep to the sound of the impalas engine rumbling, the quiet humming of the radio, and the muffled rapping of Deans thumbs on the steering wheel.

-Now that Jack is fully human, his body starts being fully human too which involves shaving. Sam pointed out his stubble first and offered to pick up razors and shaving cream next time he went to the store. Jacks first attempt at shaving began and ended quickly as he had no idea what to do, so he went to Cas. Cas,, tried. Being an angel and his vessel remaining the same he had no reason to shave (besides the one time after purgatory which still doesn’t make any sense) but he doesn’t know how to manually shave, just, angel shave. And that’s how Dean finds them later, in the bathroom both with their faces covered in shaving cream and staring at the razor like it would come alive and attack them. Dean chuckled but refrained from making a joke and helped to teach both boy and angel how to shave.

-Cas’ signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks shoulder. He’ll just hold his hand there on Jacks shoulder for a couple seconds longer than necessary, pat twice and then walk away. Sams signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks head or the back of his neck. Most of the time it’s a solid weight, a comforting weight but sometimes it will be a playful weight, a ‘you did something good and this is how I show it’ weight. Deans signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks back, right inbetween his shoulder blades. Most of the time it’s more of a slap than a pat but when it really counts, when Jack yearns for a physical sign of a reassurance, Dean always seems to know and just holds his hand steady

[waitimcomingtoo]

Captains Orders (reupload)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you go through the process of finding out Peters secret, losing him in the snap, and reuniting with him

authors note: tumblr is giving me all sorts of problems lately and now its not tagging people 🙃sorry if you weren't tagged last time but hopefully this time works

Masterlist

Finding out

“You never know what’s out there. Be ready for anything. That includes an extra pair of underwear in your child’s backpack. Lucky for them, I have my own brand.” Captain America, clad in his old fashioned uniform, held up a pair of underwear on your TV screen. Being as a big of a fan as you were, you tended to leave on his old commercials when they came on.

“I don’t know about the underwear, but I’ll take your advice on being ready for anything.” You smiled as you turned the TV off and climbed out the window that lead to your fire escape.

“Ready?” Venom’s metallic voice filled your ears and you nodded.

“Ready.” You confirmed and jumped off the terrace. You shot a black tendril at a nearby building to anchor yourself as you swung through the streets of New York.

Like you usually did, you encountered Spiderman while you were out on patrol. No matter how many times you explained to him that you only hurt bad guys, he always came after you to try and stop you. In turn, you sent him away with a few broken bones and a couple bruises to keep him at bay. When he approached you on this particular night, you and Venom were in no mood for the usual banter. Venom picked him and and hurled him against a wall before he had a chance to speak.

“Woah woah woah, what did I do? I haven’t even said anything yet.” Spider-mans youthful voice came from behind his mask as he rubbed his head.

“Leave us alone. You have been a thorn in our side since we started patrolling the streets.” Venom growled. “Don’t make us hurt you. We would have no problem crushing a pesky bug.”

“Crushing seems a bit extreme.” Spiderman insisted as he stood up. “Perhaps we could compromise on a simple smush.”

His sarcasm only angered you further, making you charge at him. Spider-Man skillfully slid under you and shot a few webs at your feet, cashing you to fall and roll along the pavement. You angrily ripped his webs off of you, causing Spider-Man to let out a surprised squeak.

“No ones ever broken out of my webs on their own before.” He gulped.

“No one gonna get through chance again.” You threatened as you lunged towards him. As much as you hated to admit it, Spiderman always put up a good fight. For every time you threw him against a building and knocked the wind out of him, he got in a few punches or wiped you off your feet. Growing tired of the nightly routine you had with him, you decided tonight was the last time. You shot a tendril at Spiderman, pulling him towards you at full speed and punching him in the face when he got close enough. This disoriented him enough where you could grab him by the neck and hold him up, grinning wickedly as he struggled to breathe.

You pulled his mask off at the same time he yanked Venom off of you. You immediately looked to Venom, who was laying on the floor, unharmed. You only looked back at Spiderman when you heard him making gawking sounds. Your eyes traveled up his red and blue suit until they landed on the face of your best friend. His jaw was dropped and eyes wide, and your face quickly did the same. You both pointed a finger at each other and froze, now knowing what to do or when. Venom crawled to you and bonded with you but stayed inside as you stared at Peter. Finally, you broke out into a laugh.

“Yo!” You laughed in happy surprise.

“Dude, no way.” Peter looked you up and down, unable to process what he was seeing.

“You’re Spider-Man? The Spider-Man?” You whispered so it wouldn’t catch anyone’s unwanted attention.

“And I take it you’re Venom?” Peter said as he nodded.

“We’re Venom, but yes.” You corrected as Venom rested on your shoulder. “What are the odds?”

“This has never happened before. There are no odds!” Peter exclaimed.

“I can’t believe I’ve been beating the life out of my best friend every night and I had no idea.” You scratched your head in amazement, suddenly feeling guilty about all the bruises and scratches you’d seen on Peter that you now knew you gave him.

“I can’t believe it either.” Peter remarked “Especially since you still ask me to open jars for you.”

“Venom can open jars. I can’t.” You informed him.

“So you’re two different people?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Yes, in one body. Two minds, two personalities.” You listed.

“One love.” Venom spoke up.

“Okay, Venom.” You laughed and patted her head. “What about you? If you have all these crazy abilities, why aren’t you the captain of every sports team by now? You’d crush all those meat heads.”

“If I couldn’t play those sports before I was bitten, I can’t play them after. It’s not fair to everyone else.” Peter told you his philosophy.

“Bitten?” You asked.

“Radioactive spider.” He confirmed. “And you?”

“Symbiote from another planet.” You pointed to the sky.

“Symbiote? So you guys are a host and parasite situation?” Peter couldn’t keep from geeking out a little.

“We don’t like that word. We call it a buddy system. Cause we’re buddies.” You shrugged with a happy smile.

Infinity War

You were at home, eating a big bowl of Cheerio and getting left on delivered by Peter when a rather large space ship pulled up to your window. You dropped your spoon into your bowl in shock and stopped chewing as a bridge extended from the ship onto your fire escape.

“Hey space balls, think you can do something for me?” Tonys voice came from the ship, though you didn’t see anyone inside except a pilot.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded slowly. “What is it?”

“I need you to help me with something. Get on the ship. And bring your little monster friend.” Tony continued. You swallowed your mouthful of Cheerios and blinked a few times to snap back into focus.

“Sir, I can’t get on that ship.” You said apologetically.

“Why not?” Tony asked.

“Stranger danger.” You said weakly.

“Listen Space Jam, there is a much more imminent danger at hand than the stranger steering the jet. Get on it, or die. Simple really.” Tony quipped.

“Okay.” You nodded confidently and got up. “Should I bring a jacket or-“

“Get on the jet!” He interrupted.

“All right! I’m going, I’m going.” You blew out a nervous breath and walked onto your fire escape. The jet was hovering outside your terrace and you contemplated what to do. Mr. Stark needed you, yes. But you were not equipped to fight the battles he was typically caught in. You could let him down in a big way if you went, and a bigger way if you stayed. The TV caught your attention and you saw one of Captain America’s informercials playing. They were usually dumb and pandered mostly to kids, but you admired him and often found yourself tuning in to what he was saying.

“Go out there and be brave.” Captain America saluted on your screen. Your face lit up in a smile and you stood up straighter.

“Captains orders.” You saluted the TV and ran to board the jet.

Wakanda

The space dog stalked up to Cap, pinning him against a tree with nowhere to go. When the dog was about to pounce, Cap put his arms over his face to protect himself. Just when the dog was about to get to him, you dropped down it front of him. You punched the dog out of the way and turned to asses Cap.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked. Before he could answer, another dog came running at you. You shot a black tendril at a tree, yanked it from the ground, and used it as a bat to ward off the remaining dogs. Once the area was clear, you turned to Steve and pushed him higher against the tree for support. You shot a web at his shield and handed it to him as he watched in admirable confusion.

“Yeah, just locked the wind out of me. Where’d you come from?” He asked as he looked you up and down, not recognizing the giant white spider symbol on your suit.

“Mr. Stark sent for us and flew us down here. We haven’t fought too many people before but he thought we could help.” You explained as you pressed a firm palm against the gash on his thigh, covering the wound with your black goo. When you took your hand away, the gash was gone. Steve watched you in awe as you did the same to other cuts of his.

“Right.” He nodded as he began to watch your face instead.

“Have you seen my friend Peter? He’s my age and kinda short, but if you ask him he’ll tell you he’s average height and I’m like yeah, average height of a woman.” You nervously talked as you healed a cut on Steve’s forehead. “He was supposed to text me when he got to MOMA but he never did.”

“I haven’t seen him.” Cap shook his head, watching you heal a scrape on his elbow.

“Shoot. He better not be here. It’s not safe.” You fretted as you looked up and saw the raging battle all around you. “If you’re okay to keep fighting, we’re gonna go find him.” You looked him over to make sure he was okay to leave.

“You can’t go alone. Thanos will be here any minute. You should stick by me if you’re an inexperienced fighter.” Cap insisted, grabbing your arm so you wouldn’t leave.

“Trust me Captain, I’m never alone.” You smiled gratefully at him for showing concern for you.

“Who are you?” Steve asked in wonder, still not having figured it out.

“Well, my name is Y/n, but we,” you said before turning around and catching an alien about to attack, throwing it across the woods, “we are Venom.”

You turned up to leave, only getting a few paces away before you heard his voice.

“Hey.” Steve shouted after you. You turned to look at him and he smirked.

“You mind giving me a ride?” He asked.

“Hop on.” You smiled. You turned into Venom and let Cap climb on to your back.

“Run as fast as you can.” He commanded.

“Captains orders.” You said as you took off towards the battlefield.

In the battle

You and Venom were punching as many space dogs as you could when a large axe landed a few feet away from you. You went to pick it up to swing it at the dogs, but found it impossibly heavy and unable to be moved.

“Why can’t I lift this?” You called out as you tugged on the handle. Thor ran up to you and picked up the axe with ease, using it to send a wave of lighting towards the advancing group of dogs.

“Because you’re not worthy.” Thor said smugly as he cut an alien in half.

“Why am I not worthy?” You asked as you punched a space dog and sent it flying. “Because I eat people?”

“You eat people?” Steve and Thor said in unison, making your face redden in embarrassment.

Endgame

You sat next to Scott as Steve and Tony argued, quietly looking around to admire the cabin he had moved in to. Peters face flashed among the ones lost in the snap, making you grimace and wipe a stray tear.

“We gotta do this, Tony. I lost Bucky.” You heard Steve plead.

“Who the hell is Bonkey?” You whispered to Scott.

“Some girl I think.” Scott whispered back as he munched on a pop tart. He saw the distraught look on your face as you stared at the montage of people dusted and offered you half of it.

“No. Not happening. It’s over. We lost. I gotta shave.” Tony shut down Steve’s idea of looking for Thanos.

“Please Mr. Stark.” You stood up and everyone looked at you. Your legs trembled as you walked towards your mentor. “Please. We’re the only people with the power to fix this. How can we not?”

“Look, Rocky Horror, I’d love to bring everyone back as much as the next guy. But there is no protocol for this. We have no idea what could happen if we snapped again.” Tony reasoned with you.

“But we know exactly what will happen if we don’t.” You countered. You and Tony stared at each other for a moment. He couldn’t deny that every time he looked at you, he saw the empty space by your side that Peter used to take up. He looked at his feet and sighed.

“Give me five days. If you don’t hear from me, the Time Jinx-“ Tony began.

“Time Heist.” Scott corrected.

“Time to go Eff yourself.” Tony snapped. “If you don’t hear from me, it’s off. Sound fair?”

“Thank you.” You nodded and ran to him to hug him. “Thank you so much.”

~

“Thanks for sticking up for me back there.” Steve looked at you in the rear view mirror as you drove home from Tony’s cabin.

“I can’t say it wasn’t for selfish reasons.” You shrugged. “I need people back too. For the first time in my life, I’m all alone.”

“Who are you doing this for?” Steve asked you.

“Peter Parker. My best friend in the whole world.” You smiled sadly. You did your best not to think about the fact that he was gone.

“I’m doing this for my best friend too.” Steve told you with a kind smile.

“Right. Bucket.” You remembered.

“Bucky.” He corrected.

“Bucky.” You repeated.

The snap

“I have to do it.” You interrupted the argument over who would be the one to snap after being quiet since Clint broke the news about Nat. “It has to be me.”

“Not now, the adults are talking.” Tony tried to dismiss you but you didn’t let him.

“I’m serious. I lost Venom in the last snap. That means I’m the only one hear who isn’t enhanced in some way. That makes me expendable.”

“No. It’s going to be me.” Thor shook his head.

“Wrong, Lebowski. It’s going to be me.” Tony told him.

“It can’t be either of you.” You insisted. “If Thor does it and dies, we lose our best fighter. If Mr. Stark does it and dies, we lose Iron Man and the only person here who can make another gauntlet. It has to be me.”

“No.” Tony said firmly. “I’m not about to let a child kill herself for this.”

“Nat just gave her life for this.” You raised your voice at him. “Are we gonna come this far to only come this far? You know I’m right. You know I’m expendable. It has to be me.”

“We don’t trade lives.” Steve said, looking at you with his Steele blue eyes from across the room.

“We don’t have the luxury of morals right now.” You told him. “Trillions of people died. You can afford to lose one more to bring the rest back.”

“No.” Tony snapped. “It’s out of the-“

“Let her do it.” Thor cut him off.

“What?” Tony looked at him with anger.

“She’s right, Stark.” Thor said solemnly. “It’s a horrible fate but it’s true. When Thanos comes, and he will, we’re gonna need every fighter we have. It has to be her.”

Tony stared at him for a long time before his face softened as he realized he was right. Without looking at you, he handed you the gauntlet. You gingerly took it, your heart racing as everyone took precautions, stepping away from you and putting shields up. You looked to Steve for comfort and he gave you a somber salute.

“You better come back from this.” He told you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smiled softly at him and saluted.

“Captains orders.”

Thanos comes to earth

Right as you got out from under the rubble of the Avengers tower you saw Thanos beating up Steve. His shield was in pieces so you grabbed the nearest item to you and ran to his aid. You stepped between him and Thanos and planted your feet.

“Don’t touch him!” You cried as you swung a baseball bat in front of you.

“Is that a baseball bat? Did you seriously show up to this fight with a baseball bat?” Steve asked from the ground.

“Hello, trying to save your life here.” You shot back at him.

“Sorry. Carry on.” Steve said.

“Give it up.” Thanos sneered. “There’s no use fighting anymore. I’ve done what I had to do and I’ll do it again.”

“No. I will never stop fighting.” You heaved. “You took everything from me. Until there is no air left in my chest, I will never stop fighting.”

One swift kick the head and you were knocked to the ground. You saw stars for a moment rad your head spun. A tall man with long brown hair came into your sight and stood over you.

“Hey, get up.” He held out his hand for you to grab.

“Jesus?!” You gasped, thinking you were dead.

“No.” He sighed as if he got that a lot. “My name is Bucky. You gotta get up.”

“Bonky!” You cheered, grabbing his cold, metal hand and standing up. You immediately heard an explosion to your left and an array of screaming from your right. You and Bucky looked at each other and nodded before running opposite ways towards the sounds.

You ran towards the yelling and looked around for anyone you could help, even though you were still without Venom and pretty much defenseless. Ebony Maw saw you looking vulnerable and floated over to you.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in the middle of a battlefield? Don’t you know there’s a war going on?” He said as he approached you.

“Really?” You stopped to ask. “I thought this was a Febreeze commercial.”

“Just for that, I’ve decided to terminate you.” He began to make rocks around you float and threw them at you. You were hit in the arm and began to ran until you were knocked over by a boulder.

“No, wait.” You help up your left arm to protect your face as Ebony piles rocks on you, all with just the flick of his finger. Your right arm was still out of commission after snapping, so you didn’t have much of a defense system. He dropped more rocks onto you until you were gasping for breath and could barely speak.

You could see Cap in the distance, just out of earshot. You opened your mouth to speak, to call out to him, but no words came out. It was like every nightmare you’d had as a kid when you lost your voice and couldn’t cry out for help. Hot tears fell out of the corner of yours eyes in frustration as you tried to scream, yell, talk, anything. Instead of words, blood spilled over your lips, filling your mouth with a metallic taste.

“Help! I need help! Cap!” You tried to scream but it came out as a hushed whisper.

“He’s not coming.” Ebony said as he began to pile rocks closer to your face.

“Cap! Mr. Stark! Please! Can anybody hear me?” You wheezed.

“I’m afraid no one can hear you, my child.” Ebony Maw said as he dropped a rock onto your head, silencing you. “Not anymore.”

He turned around and began to float away when he heard the sound of rocks tumbling and moving. He turned back to where he left you and no longer saw you under the pile. As soon as he turned back around, he was met with Venom towering over him.

“We heard.” Venom snarled before biting Ebonys head clean off.

“Nice work.” Steve’s voice came from behind you and startled you. You turned back into yourself and faced him. “I was just on my way to help you, but it looks like you got it handled.”

“Thanks. I had help, though.” You said and Venom slid into your hand, as if to hold it.

“You find your friend yet?” He asked you.

“Not yet. I met Bucket, by the way.” You said as you brushed some debris off your suit.

“He told me.” Steve smiled. “Go find your guy. I’ll cover you.”

“Captains orders.” You saluted him and turned into Venom before running off.

The reunion

“I got this! I got this! I don’t got this!” Peter realized in fear as space dogs piled onto his faster than he could fight them off. He instinctively threw his hands over his face and curled himself into a ball. Thanks to his high tech iron spider suit, he barely felt the blows from the bad guys. It wasn’t until he felt himself being thrown onto his back that he began to worry. An alien with sword for a hand tilted Peters chin up with the edge of his blade. Peter felt fear rise in his throat, not knowing how to use his suit yet and not being able to put his mask up to protect his neck.

“Help! Someone help!” He shouted, but it fell on deaf ears. No one heard.

“Someone, please! Can anybody hear me?” Peter cried. Like a hand coming down into Peters open grave to pull him out, he heard a voice.

“We got you.”

The alien on top of Peter was knocked off in a blur of black. Peter scrambled to sit up and looked in the direction of his savior. He tried to catch his breath as he watched Venom ripping the alien to shreds like it was made of paper.

“Venom?” Peter panted, making you snap up to look at Peter. You slowly got off the alien, still in Venom form, and began to run towards Peter. You melted back into yourself as you ran, tears streaming down your face as your legs carried you. Imagine My Tears are Becoming the Sea as you run towards each other. You meet Peter in the middle and throw your good arm around him, tangling your fingers in hair at the back of his head as pressing him as close to you as possible. You dry heaved a few minutes as the scent of your best friends shampoo filled your nostrils for the first time in five years. Hot tears of joy poured from your eyes when you felt him rubbing your back for comfort. You pressed a kiss to his temple, before saying screw it and kissing every inch of his face and neck that you could reach as he laughed. You pulled back and kept your left hand on his face as your right arm hung limply at your side. Your thumb stoked his cheek as you took in your best friends face.

“Is this a trick?” You whispered, searching his face for comfort.

“It’s not a trick.” Peter shook his head with a childish smile, loving all the affection he was getting from you.

“What if it is? What if I wake up and this is just a dream?” Your voice broke. “I can’t take it if it’s fake.”

“It’s not a dream. It’s real. I’m real.” Peter assured you as he took your hand and pressed your fingers against his neck. “You can feel my pulse, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can feel it.” You nodded as you felt the rhythm of his heartbeat under your fingertips.

“Then I’m real.” Peter said gently, making your lip tremble and rendering you unable to speak.

“What happened to your arm?” Peter asked when he caught sight of your right arm, still red and sizzling from the snap.

“Oh, um…dragons.” You said the first lie that came to your head. “It was a fire breathing dragon.”

“Wow, really?” Peter looked at you in amazement. “Did it hurt?”

You broke into a smile at seeing your best friend excited again after so many years of not seeing him at all. His eyes lit up just like you remembered.

“No. It didn’t hurt.” You lied through a genuine smile. “I’m all right.”

“I missed you, Y/n.” Peter said suddenly. “It’s only been a few hours for me, but I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You said through your tears.

“I had a few hours to think when I was in the soul stone and ran out of questions to ask Dr. Strange.” Peter began, looking nervous for the first time. “I think we’ve been wasting a lot of time.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him.

“I love you.” Peter said firmly. “I have for years. For whatever love is at my age, that’s how I feel. I know I’m 18 and you’re 22, but Knives Chau was 17 and Scott Pilgrim was 23 when they dated so I just-“

You cut Peter off by pulling him into a kiss using your one good hand, feeling a sob rise in the back of your throat when he kissed you back. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his, only feeling him in the middle of a battlefield.

“I love you too.”

Funeral

You stood apart from the crowd after Pepper sent Tony’s memorial into the water, watching from a distance while fumbling with the bottom of your dress. You watched Peter talk with the other Avengers, a newfound sadness in his eyes as he once again put the “e” in “dad”. You sighed as you watched him, feeling a guilt you didn’t know to explain. You told Mr. Stark the snap would kill him, and he did it anyway. Feeling uncomfortably hot all the sudden, you attempted to pull your hair into a ponytail. Ever since your arm had to be amputated from snapping, little tasks like doing your hair seemed impossible. Hot tears of frustration filled your eyes as you struggled to get all your hair into the ponytail. Right as you were about to give up, you felt someone’s hands take the hair tie from you and gather your hair into a ponytail. They secured the hair tie around your hair and stood beside you, all without saying a word.

“Thank you.” You said quietly as you touched the ponytail, surprised to find it was well done.

“It’s all right.” Bucky nodded as he stared off at the lake. “I owe you one.”

“Who told you?” You asked him, feeling a sharp pain where your elbow used to be.

“Someone had to snap their fingers and you’re the only missing an arm. I took a wild guess.” Bucky smiled half heartedly. You folded your lips into a line as the pain worsened in your phantom limb.

“Are you gonna tell anyone?” You asked in a hushed voice. You hadn’t told anyone that you were the one who snapped. It seemed almost insulting to speak of it since the very same action had killed Tony. It made you sick to your stomach to know both of you had snapped but you were the one to survive and attend his funeral.

“I take it seriously when people risk their lives for mine. I’ll keep your secret.” Bucky assured you. You stared at him for a moment as tears filled your eyes until you brushed your sleeve up to look at the remainder of you arm. It had to be taken off right below the shoulder, so all you were left with was an immobile nub. You looked back at Bucky and saw him silently staring at your residual limb with a look of understanding.

“Does it always hurt this bad?” You whispered, never having vocalized your pain from losing your arm before. Bucky sighed sympathetically and slowly looked up at you.

“The pain gets easier with time.” He told you. “Mine still hurts when it rains or snows.”

You nodded at his words and looked at your residual limb again, pain evident on your face. Bucky could see you struggling with your new body and remembered how hard it was for him when he first lost his own arm.

“You think it’s ugly.” He spoke, making you look at him. “I thought my stump was ugly too. It’s not, though. Steve told me what happened before Thanos came back. You snapped thinking you were going die. You risked your life for us, and you haven’t even met most of us.”

“Someone had to do it.” You mumbled, not wanting to take the credit.

“But you made sure that someone was you. I think that’s beautiful.” Bucky shrugged, and a small smile appeared on your face. “So don’t look at it like its ugly. It’s not ugly.”

“Thanks, Buggy.” You said softly, looking at your stump in a new light.

“Bucky.” he corrected.

“Thanks Bucky.” You repeated.

“Well, Steve sent me over here to get you, so I can’t leave empty handed. He wants you to meet the rest of the Avengers.”

You looked at the group Peter was in and let out a nervous breath before looking back at Bucky.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Captains Orders.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @maybemona @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort   @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr  @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines  @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop  @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @quaksonhehe @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @goldfishinahat @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @quacksonfics @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona​ 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

no more wasted opportunities

Summary:  “Friends are all we’ve got, and I’m glad we have each other.” She believed those words to be true; Louis is her friend. Aside from AJ, he’s the one person she’d deem her best friend within the walls of this school. However, to say her feelings halted there behind the line of friendship would be a lie. 

Based on Louis’ friendship route.

Author’s Note: Hello. I’m still seriously sick. I forget what being healthy feels like because all I feel is bleh. But, while answering asks the other day I was reminded of this in my drafts and thought, “Haven’t posted a story in a while and I remember really wanting to write this one after ep4 dropped and then I went and abandoned it because I’m the worst ahhh!” 

Still working on [with you] but that’s taking forever and I don’t wanna be inactive in my story writing so here’s a thing.

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | Wattpad

Clementine thinks about that night in the music room a lot.

The soft song lulling through the dark hallways, Louis’ comforting smile at her uneasy silence and the tenderness she showed when speaking to her, trying to pry the smile out of her. Every so often, his foot would brush hers, their knees would press together, and despite a faint chill brought upon that music room, his touch was warm. Everything about him emanated warmth; his voice, his smile, his eyes, this touch.

She remembers taking the knife from him, their fingers brushing sparingly. Knife in hand, eyeing the L he carved into the old wood before adding her own, the thought to carve a heart around their initials quickened the pulse in her neck. It would’ve been so easy to lean forward and do it.

Of course, her embarrassment was only inflated when he reached over to carefully take the knife out of her hand, calling her, “Charming, but also sometimes scary.”

Now, every time he brings her to the music room to play for her, her eyes wander to those initials and she can’t help but wish she had taken the chance. Perhaps if she had, she would’ve had the courage to tell him how she truly felt.

The opportunity was there. He’d opened up to her, stared at her with those dark, hopeful eyes with a steadily falling smile, and the words were there on the tip of her tongue.

“I like you, Louis. A lot. As more than a friend.”

But, on that night, even with the knowledge that the raiders could come knock on their doors any moment and all hell could potentially break loose, Clementine choked.

Instead, all she could manage was, “Friends are all we’ve got, and I’m glad we have each other.”

She believed those words to be true; Louis is her friend. Aside from AJ, he’s the one person she’d deem her best friend within the walls of this school. However, to say her feelings halted there behind the line of friendship would be a lie.

Hell, saying those words, hearing them dissipate in the air… they didn’t even scratch the surface of what she felt for him.

And she could see it- the disappointment furrowing his brow, fluttering his eyes shut as if he’d been hoping for something else. Something more. Something she wanted to give him.

That sullen look was brief, soon covered with a smile and a joke. And a fist bump.

A fist bump.

“Clem?”

Broken of her thoughts, Clementine glances over at Louis.

She’d asked him to help her sit on one of the tables outside, allowing her to rest her good leg down on the bench seat while her injured leg hung over carelessly. From the high spot, she can feel the cooling evening air press against her skin much better.

Louis sits beside her on the bench with one leg under the table and his cheek resting in his palm. She notices the bandage around his thumb; apparently, he sliced it open doing something, but he was rather dismissive about telling her what that something was. His gaze darts down to her leg before meeting her eye.

“Are you hurting?”  

“Hm?” she blinks down at him. “Oh, no, I’m okay.”

Louis frowns, cocking his head slightly, the concern prominent in his brow. “Your face says otherwise.”

“It’s not my leg, I’m-” she sighs, shifting to stretch her good leg out, “-just thinking about things.”

He nods, offering her a comforting grin. From the deck of cards beside him, he pulls the top one off and offers it to her. “Joker for your thoughts?”

She smiles at that, taking the card and studying it. The corner’s bent and the Joker's face is smeared on one side, likely from water damage. Running her thumb over the damaged corner, she says, “I was thinking about the piano. You promised you’d teach me to play.”

“Ah,” he grins. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

Something strange dances over his face, a thoughtful expression of hesitation and something else she couldn’t pinpoint before it’s gone, replaced with another smile and a soft, “I’d love to teach you.”

That tingle in her gut is back. Her fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and lock their hands together as a thank you. Her skin feels warm despite the setting sun, likely due to a combination of the hot, setting sun and the effect of the boy beside her.

“Just give me a time,” he says. “Morning, noon, night... Perhaps all three? A full day of nothing but piano and very sore fingers.”

“In the morning,” she says. “After breakfast.”

With a smile, Louis twists his body around to peer about the yard. Most everyone’s gone inside with the exception of Omar and Violet.

It’s Omar’s turn for the first night watch, and while Violet’s sight is anything but the 20/20 vision it used to be, he still brings her up with him, insisting she’s good company and a terrific listener.

Even AJ isn’t out here, instead inside with Ruby for his weekly medical lessons. Learning how to fully and properly treat any sort of wound became a clear interest for him after he cut her leg off and watched Ruby work over her. He wanted to be more prepared for anything thrown at them in the future.

Seeing that it’s only the two of them out here, Louis takes a deep inhale of the summer air, floral from the blooming flowers surrounding the school grounds.

“Speaking of pianos…”

He swings his leg back over and stands to climb up beside her. He’s close enough that their forearms press together and their knees knock softly, and Clementine has to bite her lip to repress a smile at the closeness.

Clearing his throat and shooting her his flashiest smile, that cocky, happy-go-lucky persona surfaces again.

“I made you something.”

Her brows shot up, eyes widening as she watches him reach into his coat to pull out a small, gray pouch with a cinched drawstring keeping it closed.

“Think of it as a ‘sorry you lost your leg, but that leg was going to kill you so I’m glad it’s gone and you’re still alive’ gift,” he says before his grin falters. “Uhm, I mean, not that I’m glad you lost your leg, per se. If it were up to me, you’d be alive with both legs but, uh… It’s just that if I have to choose between you alive with one leg and you dead with two, I’d pick one leg every time, so...”

His shoulders slump defeated as his voice trails off. His flustered expression makes her smile, a giggle shaking her shoulders.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, then elbows him. “And for the record, it wasn’t my favorite leg, anyway.”

A smile of his own resurfaces at her somewhat dark joke. They stare at each other, and in those seconds Clementine takes in those features of his that she’s grown to love, gaze darting from his kind eyes to the freckles scattered along his nose and down his chest.

Louis, realizing the intimacy of such a shared stare, glances away.  

“I wanted to wait until you were up and outta bed, and mostly outta pain.”

She runs her fingers over the velvety material, briefly wondering where he found such a pretty bag.  Slipping her fingers inside, she hooks a thin piece of leather cord and pulls it out. At the end to form a necklace is a small block of wood painted white. It only takes a moment for her to recognize it as a piano key.

Her eyes snap up to his, lips parted in a silent, questioning gasp, but she can’t find any words. Seems to be an unfortunate habit she has whenever he’s around.

“It’s the C key. Y’know,” Louis grins sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder, “for Clementine.”

While small, it’s carved smooth, the hole drilled through the perfect size for the black leather cord to slip through, and the paint has very few visible brushstrokes.

“You made this?”

“With my own two hands.”

No one’s ever given her a piece of jewelry before, especially not something beautifully handmade like this. Her cheeks, surely rosier in color by now, strain from her smile as she says, “I- thank you, Louis.”

“You’re welcome,” he grins. “I just… wanted to make you something to prove that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll have your back no matter what. You-” a nervous chuckle catches in his throat as he looks away again, “-You’ve done a lot for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. I see a lot of things differently now, y’know? About the world, about our home, about myself, and you made me see it.”

“You made me see things differently, too.”

“Me?”

Her eyes dart down to his lips.

“Life’s about more than just survival,” she says, holding up the necklace to him. “Help me put it on?”

She turns away from him as Louis brings the necklace over her head and begins to fasten it behind her neck, struggling with his shaky fingers. She touches the wooden piano key against her chest.

She can’t be the only one feeling this. It’s thick in the air between them. How could they keep ignoring it?

While Clementine isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to boys or dating or romantic feelings in general, she knows that by those endless stolen glances, those nervous fingers, those tender words… he has to feel this, too.

After they escaped the cave after defeating the delta, he’d come looking for them. The way he looked at her, so elated to see she and the boys survived, brought back that desire to kiss him.

“...but you came looking for us?”

“Never would’ve forgiven myself if I didn’t.”

Hug him, kiss him… something.

So many opportunities were wasted, and thinking about what could’ve happened to him on the bridge…?

What if it had been too late? What if AJ hadn’t reacted the way he did, as fast as he did? Losing Tenn had been heartbreaking, but losing Louis as well would’ve been devastating. 

And if he had died on that bridge, she never would’ve forgiven herself for not being honest with him.

Hell… she hasn’t forgiven herself, anyway.

Clementine turns to glance behind, taking a risk in leaning back against him. His fingers pause, then finish securing it before resting his hands on her shoulders.

“There,” Louis says.

She holds the key in her fingers, twisting it around to admire it.

“I love it,” she beams.

“It suits you,” he grins.

“I wish I had something to give you.”

“Nah,” he waves his hand dismissively at that. “I don’t need anything. You’re enough.” Then, as if realizing he said that out loud, his eyes widen as he faces fully forward, stuttering, “Uh, shit, I mean-” he sighs, contemplation knawing at his lip.

When he doesn’t continue, she quietly asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… your friendship is enough.”

Somehow, that sinks her heart just a bit.

While being his friend is something she’d never reject, she still wants more than that. Is the possibility of them being close friends and together romantically so far fetched? Certainly, it couldn’t be…

That is, unless he really doesn’t-

“You’re important to me, Clementine.”

His voice is barely above a whisper, narrowly drowned out by the noise of the nature surrounding their walls, and the urge to kiss him is strong.

It’s stronger than the moment they shared before infiltrating the delta when he asked her to slap him. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impact. Holding him in that moment, telling him he’d be okay…  

All she’d have to do it lean forward and press her mouth to his, maybe even sneak a hand behind his head to deepen the kiss. Would he be okay with that? Would he kiss her back, or would the shock of it leave him dumbfounded, frozen until she pulled away?

Louis’ warmth is gone. He’s on his feet, reaching down for her crutches and saying, “We should go inside. It’s late and we have morning watch. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not sleep in and have to deal with Ruby’s wake up call.”

She didn’t realize how dark it’s gotten. While not totally nighttime, the sun’s fallen completely and the air is skin-tingling cool.

Clementine peers around. It’s still just them, again with the exception of Violet and Omar on watch.

Louis nudges her, offering the crutches.

As she stares at them, something’s bubbling in her throat.

This isn’t working.

Ignoring her feelings- both of them ignoring it… She has enough to deal with; the loss of a leg, worries about AJ being more independent and going off on his own most of the time, keeping everyone fed, the lack of Violet’s sight, working up a trade with the traveling caravan…

And she could argue that pursuing this with Louis would bring up more worries, more potential to be heartbroken, but the idea of never giving it a chance only hurts more.

It’s like what Louis himself told her once.

“There’s only one guarantee: this moment.”

“Clem, c’mon-”

“-Might as well enjoy it.”

“Lou?” she interrupts. “Can… can we stay out here a little longer?”

Louis quirks a brow. “You don’t have your jacket. Won’t you get cold?”

“-this moment.”

“Not if you’re here with me.”

Her words have a small effect on him, she can see it in the way his hands grip the crutches tighter and how his brows furrow. She can see the debate playing in his eye of if he should argue.

“Only for a little while,” she says. “Please?”

His shoulders slump.

“Can’t say no to a face like that,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay, but if you get sick I’m putting you on bedrest for an entire week.”

“A whole week, huh?”

“Yep!” He sets the crutches aside again, moving back to his spot beside her on the table. This time, though, he’s more aware of how close they were and scoots away to give her more room.  “And don’t think you’ll be able to escape. There’ll be top security watching your every move.”

“And where exactly will you find this top security?”

Louis smirks. “His name is AJ and he takes his job very seriously.”

That gets a laugh out of her.

They laugh together as they sit on that table, peering out at the trees hanging over the walls. They remain out there until goosebumps rise along her arm and she has to control her body from shivering.

Louis seems to sense her tensity regardless of her efforts.

“Are you cold?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you wanna go in?”

With her heart thumping so damn loud against her ribcage, Clementine shakes her head and scoots closer to him until their arms and thighs are pressed together. He watches her closely, exhaling shakily through his nose. He doesn’t move away, and he doesn’t say anything. She takes this as a good sign.

“We don’t have to stay out here if you’re cold.”

“It’s a nice night,” she says. “Peaceful, like the dead aren’t out there walking around. I just want to enjoy it a little longer.”

“Well,” he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “Do you want my jacket?”

“Won’t you be cold, then?”

“Nah, I don’t get cold easily. Here-” Louis leans away to shrug off his jacket and helps wrap it around her shoulders. The warmth soaks into her chilled skin, making her smile as she pulls the material closer.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Louis nods up at the sky. “Stars are starting to come out,” he says.

She follows his gaze up to the one lonely star occupying the darkening sky. The more she gazes, the more stars seem to appear until they’re all scattered across an inky sky. She finds herself peering up at the moon, or rather the half moon, and thinks of how dark the world would become if it weren’t there, how cold it would be.

Clementine anxiously picks at her cuticles, glancing over at him and speaking before she loses her nerve.

“Lou?”

“Hm?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

He cocks his head to look at her, blinking in confusion, clearly wondering if he heard her right.

Clementine reaches over to run her fingertips over the top of his hand before flipping it over and lacing their fingers together. His hand is much bigger than hers, rougher. Not that she has silky smooth hands, but they’re different. Slimmer, more delicate, and not nearly as warm.  

“Is this okay?”

“Oh, uh, heh-” Louis shakes his head, nervously chuckling. “Yeah, no, I don’t mind. We can- we can hold hands.”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but she knows he’s thinking it: Friends can hold hands! It’s no big deal!

But, rather than genuinely thinking that to be true, it’s an excuse.

Clementine moves even closer, taking his hand in both of hers and resting her cheek against his shoulder. This gets another anxious chuckle out of him, so she runs her thumb in calming circles along his wrist and hums lightly to herself. She lets her eyes fall, savoring the closeness as she racks her buzzing mind for something to say.

She hadn't been completely honest with him back in the music room those many weeks ago and has had nothing but regret ever since. 

It's time to take the risk and change that. 

She won't miss another opportunity.

Clementine turns so that her chin rests upon his shoulder, her nose nearly grazing his cheek. If he were to look at her now, they'd barely be an inch apart. He doesn't, fully aware of her every movement, fully knowing that if he did, everything would change.

Within the quiet of the night, she whispers, “You know you’re important to me, too, right?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand tightens around hers.

"You're one of my favorite people."

That makes him smile.

"I'm honored."

He doesn't look away from the sky, forcing a fascination with the stars.  

Clementine pulls back to see his face, catching his glance towards her movement. 

"Louis?"

Another glance.

"I like you."

Silence.

"A lot."

Then, he says slowly, forcibly light, "I like you, too."

Her heart drums in her ears, heat vibrating in her cheeks. 

"You-" Louis' eyes fall shut, and with a sigh, he says, "You're an amazing friend."

"...So are you."

His eyes fall shut as he slips his hand free of hers.

Before Louis can move off the table, she asks, "Is that all you want?" 

"What?"

"An amazing friend?"

"I- ... we should go inside. It's late."

This time, Clementine rests her hand on his knee, stopping him from getting off the table. He finally looks at her, and she can see it again. That disappointment mixed in a cocktail of melancholy and frustration, trying to hide beneath a cheery exterior. However, it seems that said exterior is starting to crack as he glances down at the hand touching him.

"What do you want, Clementine?"

"You."

Louis searches her face, trying to find something to doubt, looking for a double meaning behind that single word. 

All he manages out is, “...We’re friends.”

“We are, but…” Quietly murmuring, just loud enough for him to hear, “That’s not all we have to be.”

“What, uh-” he clears his throat, scoffing and attempting to joke only for it to come out somewhat bitter, “like we could be super awesome best friends?”

“We can be that, too-" she removes her hand from his knee, trailing it up his neck to press against his cheek, "-and also be something else."

His hand moves on top of hers, conflicted on what to do here. 

"Like what?"

That thought blares in her mind again as her gaze darts down to his slightly parted lips. He notices, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting. 

"Louis?"

A glance. 

"Can I kiss you?"

A shaky sigh. 

"Please."

An experimental press, there and back again, quickly turns into the kiss that continued to linger in her mind after that night in the music room. Warm, slow and unsure, but comforting yet thrilling. With every kiss, Clementine grows bold, keeping on hand on his cheek while the other pulls him closer by the nape of his neck. A pleased sigh escapes her, and she feels his lips curl into a pleased, giddy smile as he kisses her. 

When they break apart, Louis' giggling to himself and staring at her with those dark, loving eyes. 

"Didn't know best friends did this," he jokes.

"They don't," she smirks. "But boyfriend and girlfriend's do."

"Well, too bad we're super awesome best friends then, huh?"

"Louis."

He laughs, so happy and warm.

She can’t help but kiss him again. 

And as she kisses him, she makes a mental note to fix those initials during their piano lesson tomorrow. 

[magic-and-myths]

Summer Nights

When I was little, we’d visit my grandma in the hills an hour east of our home. We went every summer and stayed for weeks. Cassie and I would run around that old house, stomping on every creaky stair and whipping around corners plastered with flowery wallpaper, almost knocking over all the priceless family heirlooms. My mother would always send us out before we could do too much damage. 

“Girls! Take your shenanigans outside before the entire house comes crashing down,” she would always say. Then Grandma would shrug her thin old shoulders and give us a wink as we bounded out the door and scampered off into the rose garden. We didn’t appreciate the garden much in those days. Sure, the roses were pretty, but for our purposes they were merely bushes we couldn’t touch. Looking at them now is a very different experience. Grandma was so dedicated to them. Even as her arthritis got worse, she never stopped pruning them. It showed. Each bush was a monument to dedication, a thorny tribute to hours spent in gardening gloves under the hot sun. They reminded me too much of her.

But when we were little we didn’t care about any of that. We just cared about the feeling of the wind in our hair and the grass under our feet. Past the garden was a great big lawn, much too big to ever be mown. Wild flowers burst untamed from the fertile ground, and he grass grew tall enough to tickle my nose, though now it would only come up to my waist. Cassie was too short to see over the grass, so she would charge about blindly until she happened to run into me, or grew tired and collapsed into a pile of giggles. Whenever we came back in from the field, inevitably scratched all over and thoroughly exhausted, Dad would say something about ticks, and how we should be wearing long pants. 

“Oh phooey,” Grandma would say. “I was playing out in that field before you were born, and I’m still here to tell the tale.”

Dad would nod begrudgingly, and Cassie and I would grin from ear to ear. The next day we’d be back out in the field, in our colorful shorts, with the grass nipping at our legs.

Beyond the field were the woods. We weren’t allowed to go into the woods without an adult, much to our young chagrin. Instead, we'd poke our heads out of the grass and stare longingly up at the birches that guarded that forbidden land. And when the longing grew too great, we'd run back inside and beg Grandma to take us on a faerie hike.

Most of the time she'd decline, and give us each a lemon drop for our trouble. But sometimes, on particularly windy days, or days when the clouds rose taller than mountains, or rain dripped gently from the treetops, she’d rise out of her chair and say, “Well alright. Let's see if we can find any today.”

Cassie and I would titter wildly while running circles around her feet. She would grab her walking stick from its place beside the door, and we would set off. 

Grandma walked slowly, especially on uneven ground, and Cassie and I would always be tempted to dash on ahead, but we never did. We had to listen to Grandma’s story. It was always the same; the same cascading syllables, the same dramatic pauses, but no matter how many times we stayed dead silent and strained our ears to hear every last word.

“When I was a little girl, no bigger than you two here, we lived in this very house. My brother, your great-uncle Henry, and I would run around like wild things, just as you do now. But some days we would get bored of the house, and the garden, and the field, and we’d take each others’ hands, and we’d step into the woods. It feels different under the trees. Calmer, older, more magical. Can you feel it?”

We would nod vigorously, and Grandma would smile. She had the type of smile that would reach all the way up into her eyes.

“Good. I can too. That means that the faeries are still here. Long ago, before humans had conquered the forest, there were a great many wild things that lived there. Great dragons slept in their massive nests of pine needles and dirt. Spirits made out of starlight wandered the night, and dryads whispered secrets to each other in the dark. Owls large enough to carry off a cow roosted in pines bigger than you can possibly imagine. Great big stags, taller than most houses, silently roamed beneath trees that scraped the clouds. The only creatures to rise above these trees were the forest giants, who were so tall nobody had ever seen their faces. Fairies lived among these creatures in the nooks and crannies of the wild. In the hollows of rotting logs, the knots of ancient trees, the cracks between lichen covered rocks, the fiddleheads of baby ferns, the shade of colorful mushroom caps, this is where the faeries made their homes. They flitted about in clearings and glades, frolicking in the sun, and drinking nectar from flowers.

“But as humans began to populate the world, they ventured into the forest. Humans are brave creatures, you see, and just as we are now, they were curious as to what lay beneath the dappled sun beams. However, some humans were not as strong of will as the two of you, and they were overcome by greed. They came with their axes and engines and cut down the tallest trees. With each one that came crashing down, the forest grew shorter. And as the forest shrank, the great big creatures who called it home began to disappear. The giants went first, of course. Some say they just sat down and gradually became covered in earth and snow. Others say that they simply walked in the ocean, and kept walking until even their heads were hidden beneath the waves. The dragons went next. Some were hunted for their horns, and the rest hid in fear. They sealed their caves, and vowed only to emerge when the trees regrew and the humans were gone.”

Cassie and I would stare at grandma, eyes wide, scared to even breathe too loud lest we interrupt the story.

“The stags and owls remained, but as the forest grew shorter and shorter, they shrank with it, eventually becoming the size that you know today. As wilderness disappeared, so did the spirits, their starlight outshined by the artificial lights of humans. But the faeries did not disappear. They were the smallest of the wild creatures, and the best at hiding. The forest was still plenty big enough for them, and the humans hardly noticed them. No matter how many roads were paved, flowers still bloomed . As years passed, the faeries became better and better at hiding, but they never disappeared. They’re still here, and you can find them if you know where to look, step quietly, and have a little bit of luck.”

Exactly at this point we’d arrive at our destination. It was a flawless process, no matter how fast we walked or who stopped to tie their shoe; the story always took just as long as the walk. We assumed it was because Grandma was magical. Our destination was a sort of clearing in the center of a grove of poplar trees. In the clearing was a circle mushrooms, small orange ones with cute round caps. My seventh grade science teacher said this perfect circle was because of something called mycelium, which the mushrooms put underground. Grandma said it was because of faeries.

“That’s why it’s called a faerie circle after all,” she’d always say.

Various flowers also grew around the faerie circle, mostly violets and lily of the valley. A rock stood in the center. Cassie always called it the bean bag rock, because it was about the right size and was covered in the softest moss our tiny hands had ever felt. When Grandma’s story finished we would walk to the bean bag rock and sit down. We would sit there for hours, Cassie and I intently watching the clearing’s edge, and Grandma gently stroking our hair. 

Sometimes Grandma would start to sing. We would always shush her, saying “Grandma stop, you’re going to scare away the faeries!” She would laugh and hug us tight, and we would turn back to our vigil. We’d stay until the sun dipped below the horizon and the first splashes of purple appeared in the sky.

At that point Grandma would sigh, get up from the bean bag rock, stretch, and say, “Now come along dears, it’s time to get home. You’re going to want your dinners.”

We would wail that no, we weren’t hungry, and couldn’t we just stay for fifteen more minutes? 

But Grandma was adamant, and she’d say “If the faeries haven’t come out to play yet they aren’t going to. We’ll have to try some other time.” We’d yawn and drag our rumbling stomachs back through the forest, now cast in the soft orange glow of the sunset. Most nights we’d be too tired to eat dinner sitting up, and our parents would bring it up to us tucked into our beds. 

We slept in the room at the apex of the house, where the ceiling sloped away to form a narrow room with a triangle window on the far side. Our beds were short cots on either side of the room, the ceiling gently sloping into the wall above us. The heat from the house rose, and this room would get ridiculously hot. 

Some nights we wouldn’t be able to sleep. On those nights Cassie and I would open the triangular window, and stick our faces to it, desperately trying to catch a whiff of the cool night breeze. We’d stay there all night, listening to the crickets in the grass, the wind in the leaves, and the owls in the trees. It was on these nights, our faces pressed against the screen, the moon shining down, the breeze flickering through the window, that we’d see the faeries.

There was a trellis leaning against the back of the house that came almost up to our window. Morning glories clung to its painted wooden rungs, their tendrils stretching towards the sky. And on summer nights, as the first stars began to wink in the dark blue sky, the morning glories would unfurl their flowers. They were tiny parasols, popping open under starlight rain. And it was to these flowers the faeries came. 

They came from the forest, just as Grandma said, flitting on wings of purple and blue, green and orange. They glowed gently in the dark, and we could see them flapping across the field until they reached the base of the trellis. From there they grew more cautious, and would slowly creep up it, floating from flower to flower. Cassie and I would hold our breath, trying our very very best not to make a sound. After what felt like hours, and maybe was, they’d reach the top.

The faeries were the most delicate creatures we had ever seen. From their backs sprouted glowing wings, midnight blue and sunset purple, forest green and autumn orange, similar to butterfly’s wings, but not quite. They were more pointed, and moved faster, almost like a hummingbird. Their bodies were softer colors than their vibrant wings, light yellow or green, silver or pink. 

The faeries weren’t silent, like you might expect. They made little chirping noises, and tittered amongst themselves. When they flew, their wings buzzed with brilliant energy. They behaved a lot like bees, flying into flowers and crawling around their stems. The glow from their wings would light up the flowers, casting brilliant rainbow lights along the side of the house and turning the trellis of morning glories into a strand of Christmas lights. They would reach their hands, barely the size of the head of a pin, into the flowers, grabbing fistfulls of pollen and stuffing it into their tiny mouths. The faeries weren’t dainty little princesses with table manners, they were hungry creatures, glad to have a meal. And for our part, we were glad they came.

Of course Cassie and I told Grandma that we saw the faeries outside our window; she gave us a big hug and congratulated us, saying that we had been “graced by the wild,” but we were never sure that she actually believed us. We never told our parents. Nevertheless, we knew what we saw. And we knew that we were graced by the wild. We had seen the last traces of the wilderness, looked directly into their tiny black eyes, and they had looked back.

Cassie and I didn’t talk about the faeries much. It never seemed appropriate. It wasn’t something you could talk about over dinner while on break from college, or brought up over the phone. It was something you whispered across a campfire when everyone else had gone to sleep, or mentioned when the last box had been moved out of Mom and Dad’s attic and dust motes filled the air. But even when we didn’t bring it up, it was always there. It was a constant bond between us, in our looks, our laughter, and today it was in our tears. 

It wasn’t always easy to be graced by the wild. It doesn’t fit very well on a high school transcript or a job application, and sometimes it even gets in the way. Once you’ve seen the faeries, it’s hard to see anything the same way again. Every person on the street seems ignorant, like they’re walking through life with their eyes half closed. Every building seems pointless, a monument made to shield us from the sky. Once you’ve seen the faeries, it’s hard to fight the instinct to run off into the woods and never come back. 

So as I grew up, I sometimes forgot about the faeries. Never for too long, just long enough to get on with my life. Later I’d go back into my head, take the faeries out of their box, dust them off, and become the girl who had seen the faeries. It wasn’t too often, but when I went on a hike on a day off, fell asleep to rain pounding against the windows, walked to work in fresh snow, got home from a particularly bad date, or just drove off into the wilderness because I could, that’s who I became: the girl who had seen the faeries.

And today, in Grandma’s house, staring out the window in the too hot room at the peak of the house, with my family crowding around a table downstairs, the world feeling a little bit emptier, that’s who I am. I am the girl who’s seen the faeries.

I feel arms wrap around me from behind. It’s Cassie. Her jet black curls press into my cheek as she squeezes me tight. I start to smile, but before it can break across my face she tightens her grip and I let out a strangled gasp. She laughs at me, but doesn’t let go. At a glare from me she loosens her hug and she goes back to nuzzling my shoulder.

“She’d be proud of us you know.” Tears immediately spring to me eyes.

My response is barely a whisper. “I know.”

We stand like that for a few minutes, with the sun shining through the window, and morning glories waving in the wind, their closed flowers tapping against the glass. Cassie walked over and opened the window, before turning back to me.

“Did you bring a sleeping bag?”

I nodded.

“Want to sleep up here? Just one more night?”

The tears broke free, dripping out of my eyes. I couldn’t manage a sound, but I nodded vigorously. Cassie gave a wistful smile. 

“Alright faerie girl, pull yourself together. You’ve got to make a speech in a few minutes.”

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will....

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

“From the Navajo to the Ancient Greeks, shapeshifters have been a staple in folklore from all over the world for several thousand years.”

Professor Kim pressed a button on his handy little stick, switching the picture shining out of the projector onto the whiteboard behind him from a regular wolf in high definition to a strange hybrid drawing on animal skin. The man in the drawing was hunched over, his back covered in fur and his fingers coming to sharp, clawed points. A few seats down from you, a girl sighed, leaning in deeper with her chin in her palm, as the teacher pushed up on his rolled up sleeve for the millionth time this period. You could have sworn you even saw her eyelashes flutter.

Professor Kim was not bad on the eyes. He had a pointed chin coupled with a strong jawline, deep brown eyes, and was in very good shape that was shown off by the tight-fitting button down he was wearing tucked into tailored slacks. But it was also hard for you to call him “professor” as he was only a few years older than you. Considering his credentials were over-the-top impressive, you still respected him. The word “professor” to you was just ingrained with middle-aged guys with thick glasses and receding hairlines in tweed jackets. However, you weren’t sure if the female-majority classmates around you felt the same way.

The World Folklore class wasn’t actually considered a credit-worthy elective for most of the majors at the college, but the class was always full anyway. Girls (and boys who swung that way) clamored to get a spot in the hundred-seat lecture hall to be able to stare at Professor Kim for an uninterrupted hour and a half. You were lucky that, as a world history student who needed this class to get full credit, you were able to get priority over someone else who was just going to throw away the money. You couldn’t entirely blame the student population for being enthusiastic for the class. The subject matter was fascinating. Starting off with mermaids and sirens, the lessons only grew in excitement, especially the three weeks spent on dragons.

Legends like that always fascinated you; the things frightened minds can come up with to explain the random bump in the night. But what captivated you more was how universal the legends could be. Different cultures that never met or crossed paths could have similar stories about creatures that could shift into humans or vise versa.

“The one thing that the legends can never agree on however,” Professor Kim rounded his desk so he was now standing in front of it, leaning back on the edge, “is if these types of creatures are just a strange natural occurrence or if there’s magic involved.”

A few students snickered at the mention of magic, the current generation used to Harry Potter and flying brooms.

“(y/n).”

Your pencil froze in the middle of your notes. Without even looking up, you could already feel all heads turning to stare at you, wondering what you did to gain the professor’s attention all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter.

Professor Kim gave you a kind smile. “Your papers are always fascinating. Please, tell us what your take is on why so many cultures have made up stories about people turning into animals.”

Great. You were not the kind of person who participated in class discussions. The fear and anxiety of being completely wrong or made fun of for your opinion was overwhelming and it kept you quiet. That’s why you sat in the middle level, just off to the right side. It was an inconspicuous spot; not too far up front where eye contact could be made, but not in the back either, where avoidance was obvious. You liked writing papers, however. It gave you time to think, to go over your words carefully as you constructed your argument. In that medium, you could be intelligent and fearless. This was horrifying.

“Um, well–” you cringed internally. Way to be articulate. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, stealing from the research paper you had already started that wasn’t due until the end of the semester. “Most people would argue that something man is most afraid of is the monster within themselves. Something that is uncontrollable. And these legends are a manifestation of that fear. That while there are scary things out in the world, the most frightening is the one hidden inside.

“However, another argument could be made if you focus on the animal itself. While humans consider ourselves the top of the food chain, that’s based mostly on our level of intelligence rather than our physical traits. How we hold ourselves doesn't stop a starved tiger from mauling you. So, you could say that the fear that created these stories might have actually come from a worry that maybe someday our only true weapon we have against the animals – our brains – could be lurking within them. So, instead of it being about the beast inside the man, it could be about the man inside the beast.”

During your little speech, Professor Kim had crossed his arms, still leaning against his desk, and stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“That,” he smiled, “is the kind of thinking I’ve been waiting for in this classroom.” He pushed off the wooden edge, walking around the open area near the front row. “The thing about worldwide folklore is you have to think outside the box. You can’t just create one argument for all these different civilizations who have their own stories to tell.”

To your relief, all the attention was back to the front. Sinking down in your seat, you tried to focus on your breathing, getting your system back down to calm mode. As you did that, your eyes wandered around, perhaps searching for anyone who might still be staring at you. And there was one.

A student several rows down and to your right was staring at you openly, his face blank of any emotion. When your eyes met, he slowly turned back to the front, not ashamed that he was caught, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You shook off the strange encounter, trying to not dwell on it.

Professor Kim dismissed the class ten minutes later, ending it early. Some girls pouted while others shrugged it off. Ending class early was nothing new. Slowly and neatly, you placed your notebook and other papers into your messenger bag, careful to not jam them into your laptop.

“(y/n)! Can I talk to you for a second?”

You groaned quietly enough so no one could hear you. You’d had side conversations with the professor before. Outside of the classroom, occasionally bumping into him on your way to another class or just roaming around, killing time. He was always nice to you, interested in whatever conversation he decided to start up with you. This, however, was different.

Instead of up the steps and out the doors to the nice cool autumn day with the rest of the students, you fought the tide to get to the bottom where Professor Kim was waiting for you. He’d put on a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses, adding to his charm.

“Yes, Professor?”

He looked down at you sympathetically. “I know I put you on the spot today, but I wanted to let you know that it’s because I know how smart you are and you need to not be afraid to contribute to the discussion.”

Pulling on your bag strap, you shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate that, Professor, but I live my life in the shadows. It’s where I prefer to be.”

That made him frown. It was almost angry. “The shadows is not a wonderful place to preside.” He turned off the projector, sighing. “(y/n), what exactly is it you plan on doing with your degree once you graduate?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hesitated, looking away. You hated that question. You hated it because you didn’t really know. You didn’t want to be a teacher like everyone assumed. Too much attention. A thought that had been brewing in your mind since you started taking this class was researching different legends around the world and compiling them into an academic book. It was a bit of a fantasy you played in your head, locked away in a cabin far from the city, in the middle of the woods near the mountains, where you could breathe fresh air and feel the open space. But that wasn’t exactly a career that could pay the bills.

In the end, you simply shrugged, keeping that information to yourself. “I don’t really know, to be honest. History was just the only thing I was really interested in during high school so it seemed logical to further my studies there.”

Great. You sounded like a cover page for a resume.

“Well, why don’t I recommend you for a teaching assistant that’ll be open with me next semester?” Professor Kim suggested. Your jaw nearly dropped. “It’ll be a paid position – minimum wage, of course – you’ll earn credit towards your degree, and you might even gain some insight to what it is you want to do.”

“Oh, um, well….” It wasn’t exactly an offer you could say no to. Teaching assistant positions were rare and fought over like the Hunger Games. You scratched behind your ear near your hairline, a nervous tick of yours.

“You won’t be teaching any classes,” he promised. “Research assistant might be a more appropriate title for the position. And the occasional test grading.”

Now that sounded much more intriguing. But you still needed to mull it over. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Just let me know of your decision when you turn in your term paper.”

You nodded, nearly incoherent now. He was giving you nearly two months to make a decision. What the heck?

“Have a good day, (y/n).” He dismissed you and you took the opportunity to get out, perplexed about what just happened.

Eun Na was waiting for you in the student center at your usual table. She already had her laptop out and was bobbing her head along to whatever weird psychedelic music was pouring out from her headphones.

While you had a few other friends at the university, Eun Na was stuck to you like glue. Your freshman year had been a total nightmare. Evenings and weekends were spent alone as your dorm mates were never in and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask if you could tag along. Making friends was hard to do with mild social anxiety and your friends from high school had gone off to different colleges leaving you on your own.

It was harder to make friends here. In high school, you saw the same people day in and day out so you naturally gravitated towards certain people. But in college, you had to put more effort into it. You had to actually approach people and start conversations. Group projects were your worst nightmares.

But the first semester of your sophomore year was considerably brighter. In your European History 201 class, Eun Na had sat down next to you and introduced herself. And it didn’t stop there. She constantly asked you questions about the homework and the material. Soon, the questions turned personal and you didn’t even realize you were giving her answers that you’d normally withhold. Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out outside of class and have since became inseparable. She helped introduce you to other people who made college life seem not so lonely anymore.

When you sat down across from her, sliding into the booth while trying to not let your exposed skin from your shorts stick to the vinyl, she pulled out her earbuds and frowned.

“About time you showed up,” she pouted.

You just chuckled. “Sorry. Professor Kim held me back to offer me a teaching assistant position for next semester.”

Eun Na pursed her lips, obviously bothered by your news. “Well, that’s…. random.”

You shrugged. “Not entirely. I mean, sure I don’t really talk during class, but he likes my papers.”

Professor Kim really liked your papers.

You nearly had a panic attack when you got the first one back. There were red marks and little notes all over every single page. You were to the point of tears until you actually read what they said. There was nothing but praise in them. And it happened with each of your papers. With today’s events, you began to suspect that you were possibly his favorite.

“I’m not sure if you should do it,” Eun Na said suddenly.

You knit your eyebrows together, confused. “Really? Teaching Assistant positions aren’t exactly just handed out like that.”

“Exactly,” she countered. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that he just randomly offered it to you? No strings attached?”

You nearly gagged at her implication. “Seriously, Eun Na? He’s not a perve. Besides, if he really wanted to, there’s plenty of female students who would gladly be in that position.”

Eun Na rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She closed her laptop with an ear-stinging slam and threw it in her bag, making you flinch. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“He’s giving me plenty of time to think about it.”

She gave you one more pointed look. ���Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you in psych.”

You shook your head, unable to believe what had just transpired. Eun Na was usually the most supportive person you knew. She’d never shut you down like this before.

Tapping a pencil against the table, you gave up. You decided that you would think over the offer another time, by yourself, weighing the pros and cons. Until then, it would be on the back burner. After checking the time, you decided it was time to pack up as well. Just before you could zip up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to look, you found a very handsome guy leaning towards you from one table over. His tan skin glowed under the harsh lighting and his sharp jaw rivaled Professor Kim’s. Odd, as you usually went ignored by his type.

“You really should pick new friends,” he said in a tone that was completely serious. You didn’t know this guy at all and he had not a flicker of amusement or teasing in his eyes. Who was he to be telling you how to live your life?

“Excuse me?” you said with a scoff.

His face didn’t falter for a second. “You should hang out with other people. You’re going to get hurt.”

Rolling your eyes your stood up and started to walk away. Eun Na came running back up, clearly out of breath. After swiping up her headphones that you never noticed had fallen to the floor, she tilted her head at you.

“What’s up?” she asked, studying your irritated expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you replied, looking over your shoulder to the nosy stranger. He’d gotten up and was walking past the two of you, not even glancing in your direction as your eyes followed him. “Some people just need to learn to mind their own business.”

Eun Na followed your gaze and a fire lit in her eyes. Her jaw clenched with a sharp noise as her teeth clashed together and she grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the exit. “Come on. We should get you to class.”

[ghostmartyr]

Done more x fandom please? I love reading what happens to you and your thoughts, it's fascinating!

Aha, this was in response to more cheerful one than the usual fare, so I’ll do what I can to stick with that theme. :)

Uh. Though it starts with sad? Dog-dying sad. Literally.

Then it goes back to happy.

A few years back, my family had to put our dog, Luke, down. He’d been diabetic for a couple of years, and we were working our way around that as much as we could, but scratches he picked up on his feet weren’t healing, and then bone cancer came along.

He was still himself when the time came, which made it better and worse. Better, because he could enjoy eating pizza with all of us for the first time in years, and worse, because he always hated not being with us, and there was still room for a few more great days. Watching him go to sleep one last time was hard. It’s still difficult to think about.

Luke was really my first dog. My family had two others before him, but I wasn’t around at an age to know them. Luke, we got when I first got sick. The idea was that I’d have a companion.

Luke was a black lab/pit mix with a bright red collar. Very smart, very energetic, very much not a lapdog. One of the things that still hurts is that when we got him, I was sure that by the time he was out of puppyhood, we’d be running around together all the time.

That never got to happen. I recovered a lot during his lifetime, but not enough to be part of his life in the way I really wanted to be.

Words cannot do justice to how much we loved this dog. He was part of our family. On car trips, he’d sit up in his seat like a human. An upright sitting position, looking out the window. He had a very firm grasp on seat hierarchy, and would always try to keep the front seat, even when there were other people in the car.

Sometimes we let him. First dibs is first dibs.

We have wood floors. His claws clacked along on top of them every single day for years. The first time after Luke passed and my brother brought one of his client’s dogs over, they walked through the house and my heart almost stopped at the noise.

When we’d all go out to dinner without him, the first thing we did when we got home was go to the backyard gate and open it, and he’d charge out, so happy to see us that he couldn’t sit still long enough for petting. He’d run back and forth across the driveway and the lawn, making kind of a racket, and always come back to us, trying not to jump up because he wasn’t allowed, but so, so happy we were home.

We gave him our restaurant leftovers when we had some. He clearly liked us more than the food, but sometimes it was a close thing.

We didn’t go out very often all together, which was part of why our return was always such a huge event. He was used to someone being at home with him constantly, or going with us when we had somewhere to be.

That was what was hardest, after he was gone. We still don’t go out very often. Forget together, just going out at night and coming home to all the lights off is an unusual experience.

It’s been a few years, and every single time I’ve come home to a dark house, I expect a dog to be waiting for me. There’s a momentary disconnect when he isn’t there. Every single time, it’s strange that he isn’t there to bark (loudly) at the door, and race to greet me.

I watch people’s pets sometimes, and for months, it took active effort not to call them Luke. Watching any dog out on the street was hard, and suddenly it seemed like our neighborhood had too many black labs.

In the time before we got Luke, we would all point out any dog we saw out in the world. “Look, one of those things we don’t have! Hint hint!” We knew we were going to get one. We knew there wasn’t really a plan, but the foundation of setting up for a new addition to the household. We were all excited.

(Except my mom. She cried the night before we got him. She had a sick child, and thanks to that, she was going to end up with a dog she had no time or energy for who would be up at the crack of dawn, ruining her precious sleep.

Luke liked to sleep in. We were always the ones to wake him up.

My mom was the one who was home most often, besides me. She took him to the store. She took him everywhere she went, because he was always so sad when he didn’t get to go on our outdoor adventures.

Luke was her dog.)

I didn’t know we were going to end up with a dog when we did. Like the rest of us (except maybe one of my brothers, who was very surprised when we picked him up from gymnastics and there was a dog in the backseat), I knew the dominoes were falling that way. But I’d never really gone through the process of getting a pet, except for with some fish that I tried and failed to not kill.

So when we stepped into a pet store on a day they were doing adoptions, I didn’t think we’d end up with one. That wasn’t how it worked, right? It wasn’t something so simple as showing up on a day and saying there, that one.

Except for this time where it was.

He showed up late, with his brother. They’d been stuck in traffic. We hadn’t really fallen in love with any of the other dogs there, but then they showed up in their crate, very, very sleepy. I remember reaching through a hole in the crate to pet his paw. For years, that was what I thought of whenever I touched any of his paws.

I picked him out of the two because when the light hit his fur, he had some chocolate in him. And he was adorable. Skinny and a bit malnourished, with his fur not as sleek as it could have been, but just… perfect.

My memory is that we took him home the day the sixth Harry Potter book came out, because I was devouring it in the backseat nearest to his crate on the way to pick up my brother.

After Luke was gone, dogs on the street, happy and full of life, hurt too much to enjoy. There was such a massive hole in our lives that we thought about doing the thing of immediately going out and finding another one to love, but the dog-shaped hole wasn’t just about a dog. It was about Luke. There wasn’t another Luke out there.

When my brother and his wife started planning to buy a house, we’d had some time, so what the rest of us were most excited for was that they’d have space for a dog. We weren’t ready for having one that wasn’t Luke, but… dog. Dogs are good. Need dog to visit and pet, if not own.

Naturally, my brother and sister-in-law ended up with three cats instead.

Not really on purpose, but still. The traitors.

Around this time, I was starting to have a few unfortunate spikes in mental health problems. As a side effect, I discovered that while I wasn’t looking, my body had relearned how to handle walking. Like, reasonable distances. I was wandering around aimlessly outside, and covering a lot of ground doing so. Often in the middle of the night.

My parents are getting older. They’re trying not to, but what can you do. One of the major obstacles of getting another dog (if we wanted one) was who would walk it. My other brother, who is not responsible for cats, has decided to take up living with us for a year, then running off to some other country for another year. He can’t be counted as consistent help even when he’s here, since he has to work to save up for his trips.

So me being able to walk meant that one thing on the hypothetical, “if we were to get a dog, these things would have to happen first,” list. And more and more, missing Luke was coming second to missing having a dog. Plus, I was majorly depressed. Something warm and possibly cuddly had its appeal.

(Luke was never cuddly. He was a dignified creature who was smart enough to feel embarrassed when we laughed when he did something we found silly. He was the most human dog I have ever met.)

We started to float the idea a little. Dogs on the street looked more like possibilities than painful reminders.

My parents were possibly also more than a little concerned that I was wandering around in the middle of the night, sort of kind of hoping someone might murder me.

The most glaring problem with getting another dog would be the fence. The fence that is almost twenty years old. It had holes that neighborhood cats were already taking advantage of. It would not hold a puppy for any safe amount of time, and my father is a firm believer in not paying anyone for work he can do himself.

(This is how my family has multiple stories involving my dad drilling holes in their personal computers.

In fairness. He did fix them.)

Again though, parents getting up in years, and my dad especially is very busy. Building a new fence takes time, planning, and physical labor.

Enter me dissolving into tears on a regular basis, and my father having no clue whatsoever how to comfort a living person beyond very rudimentary hugs at peak misery, so hey, time to fix the fence.

(Exact sequence of events or not, he did once spot me at peak misery and immediately dragged me outside to help him with the fence with a thing he did not need help with even a little. It was honestly more helpful than him hugging me and then walking off awkwardly because I am a problem he can’t fix and I think that causes him a great deal of stress.)

It becomes the thing. Fix fence, get dog.

It’s starting to get exciting, by the time we bring out the power saw that my parents have owned for thirty years and not once taken out of the box.

Even a little scary, because oh hell, what if it’s too much like Luke?

What if I can’t love it?

What if I can’t play with it the way I want to because I’m still too sick?

What if it picks up on the complete disaster I am and it gets hurt by being near that much negativity?

We start talking about what kind of dog we’d like, and we don’t really come up with any conclusive answers. We agreed it would be a rescue, and my mom didn’t think we, as a family, could survive a dog with long fur, but we were pretty much open to whatever creature God decided on for us.

Well, mostly.

I, very specifically, said that I didn’t want something too much like Luke.

Black lab/pit mix. That was off the table.

My dad finishes the fence.

Because he is this sort of person, he immediately goes to investigate what sort of puppies might be presently available.

You will never guess what he found.

He, being him, calls me over to his computer with, “look, it’s exactly what you don’t want!”

I, being me, start to have the anxiety problem I am prone to where I just shut up and go with whatever flow is ruling the day. I go over, I look at the mama dog, and she looks so much like Luke. Like… so much. But then my dad switches over to the puppies, and they’re cute, and they aren’t all solid black, and one even looks like it might be a yellow lab.

They have pretty great names. Trip, Barbecue, Picnic, Frisbee. Good grief, how can you say you have no interest in a creature named Frisbee. Names had been one of the things I wondered most about, since I could hardly even remember how we came to naming Luke. It was perfect for him, but what little I could remember told me we couldn’t be trusted to name things.

(My mom maintains that he is named for the Biblical Luke, the rest of us know Star Wars was involved.)

These little guys and their mom had been left in a kill shelter, then picked up by the rescue group. Their foster home had their own dog that looked a lot like the mom, and they couldn’t say no.

The way this rescue group works, you fill out an application, do a phone interview, then meet the puppies. Then they’ll decide which one you’re best suited for, though you can list a preference. They also request that you read a specific puppy training book.

My parents are annoyingly good at picking up my moods these days, so they knew I wasn’t fully with this, but they really like the way this group does things. Just looking at the way they’re set up, and how much thought and care they put into finding puppies homes, my parents figure that it won’t do any harm to fill out an application and establish ourselves as Not Horrible. Even if this litter isn’t the one for us, there will be others down the line.

Application happens. Phone interview happens.

We have a regular game party my parents do with their high school friends and family. The day the meet and greet for the puppies was originally, we were busy with that. Only the day had been changed right before the phone interview, to the following day.

So. Puppies.

I’m still finding everything wrong with this that I can. Knowing how much my dad loves labs, and my brother wants a dog before he’s in Australia… it does not help. I don’t want to be the only holdout, but it’s a living thing. If we’re doing this, I have to be in, so if I can’t, I’ll have to say so.

That’s not horrifying at all.

But hey, worst case, we get to play with puppies for a few hours. There are worse ways to spend your time.

We show up, and naturally, the puppies are all adorable balls of fur and shyness. With their mom out there with them, looking exactly like Luke, and nudging her puppies out of the way for a chance to say hello and be greeted in turn by the humans.

Luke did that a bit. He was never around puppies, much, but when he was around people, he was determined to have every one in the room petting him at the same time.

The puppies don’t do much for me. Really, I’m scared to touch them. They’re so incredibly tiny, and it’s hard not to imagine me breaking one.

But the mom, and the foster family’s dog…

Oh. I really do miss having a dog.

They wriggle all over when they wag their tails, they chase after balls, they just eat up the attention these complete strangers are handing out by the bucket. They’re alive and solid, and so, so friendly. Truly excellent dogs, and geez, if the mom hadn’t already been snatched up by a family, I don’t think any of us had the willpower to say no.

With the puppies, though, I’m having trouble.

I don’t remember how, but I end up providing a lap for one of them. Barbie, aka Barbecue (all of the puppies hid under the barbecue at one point; they were very tired from all the humans). She was one who hadn’t been listed on the site, because they weren’t sure she was going to make it. She’d gotten a cut on her nose, then went septic. Basically, where you’d expect a black spot of nose to be, there was a fleshy, healing wound.

I can’t do even mild gore and related stuff, but… it was weirdly cute? It changed the shape of her face, a little. And this one was smaller than all her littermates, so I wasn’t so concerned about dropping her. She was really easy to carry, and then hold.

That’s how they get you. Thirty minutes of holding warm puppy fluff.

My family was relatively popular with the puppies, because we were willing to be quiet and not bother them when they started napping. Picnic and Cruiser spent a lot of the afternoon next to us, and Frisbee was pretty much comatose under my brother’s legs the whole time.

By the time we leave, it’s… these are fantastic animals. Their mom is a wondrous creature, they’ve all been so well taken care of, and we have the opportunity to adopt one. It’s something to leap at. Maybe a little scary still, but oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. We could have a puppy.

We’re encouraged to list preferences in the follow-up email. Having held her and fallen in love several times over, I’m leaning towards Barbie, but we’ve never raised a female dog, and we don’t know what kind of medical complications might come up thanks to her injury. We. really have enough of that in our lives. She’s very cute, and isn’t that storybook, for the sick to find the sick, but we had so much tragedy with Luke by the end.

It comes down to the two we spent the most time with. Frisbee and Barbie. We’d be thrilled with any of them, but heck, just watching my brother watch Frisbee would be enough to settle it for me, and Barbie’s adorable. We put Frisbee first on the list for the familiarity factor, and expect a verdict in a few days.

The foster family gets to decide who gets who in the end, and we’re all pretty much vibrating in anticipation. Toys, collars, beds. Dog. We’re going to get a puppy and hopefully not screw it up too badly.

Much earlier than expected, the verdict is reached.

We’re taking home the puppy with the greatest name on earth.

Frisbee.

So I naturally start quietly being terrified that I won’t love him enough, because Barbie was technically my first choice, and oh no will he be able to tell what if I don’t properly bond with him what if what if.

(What I didn’t know at the time was that Barbie briefly went back up on the adoption site, probably because the other people who met the puppies had the same concerns we did about if she’d really be okay. My dad felt quietly horrible about this, and wasn’t going to ever tell me, but it turns out! a lady in Santa Cruz with a house full of dogs and cats wanted her, so she will have a wonderful life with a very large family. :) )

One of the things that came up between us at the meet and greet was how a name like Frisbee could be a little awkward, so when we were rewarded with his care, I had resigned myself to having to come up with a new name. Exciting, because I do like names, but how the heck do you beat Frisbee. That is one of the most perfect things you can call a new puppy.

Somehow, despite the fact that I know the ‘problems’ of his name came up, and I know the consensus among the group was that they were indeed problems, everyone was perfectly fine with keeping the name. As they should be, but a changing of opinion happened.

Good.

Because we have Frisbee now, and he is everything you could ask for in a puppy. He is bouncy and curious, barks at one specific waste basket because he saw it move once, hates being confined, tries to trick us into walking away so he can go up the stairs or through a door he’s not supposed to, plays soccer, and loves having a human to lie on for his naps.

I have thought it many times since bringing him home, but I think one of the last things Luke did for us was show us exactly what sort of dog we needed in our lives.

And because you can’t just talk about your pets without pictures, let’s have some of that.

Luke:

Frisbee:

Two of the greatest dogs anyone could ever hope for.