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flowersandbigteeth · 8 months

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Your Naga Lord saves your Mother

A/N: I've had this oneshot sitting in my drafts in a while, combining some old asks

Naga Lord (Leander) x F Maid reader

Word Count: 6K

General Plot: You and your family are staff in the house of a Naga Lord. Things go sideways when your childhood friend's father falls for you mother.

W: Description of murder, yandere behavior, spitting, otherwise sfw soft yandere fluff

More SFW fics here

“Hurry up now,” your mother said brightly as she ladled a bit of porridge into a bowl for you to eat. “Master Dervin will be cross if you're late with his breakfast.”

Though the two of you were mere servants in the Naga Lord’s home, she always fed you first before you had to do your duties for the morning.

She glanced up as you scarfed down your breakfast, her eyes warming as they met your father’s.

“Good morning, my favorite ladies,” he said, kissing her and ruffling your hair.

“Papa! I have to work!” You pouted, but he just snickered, stealing your spoon and taking a bite of your porridge.

“Don't bother making yourself neat for that snake bastard,” he chuckled as his hands slid around your mother’s waist.

“Charles, please. Someone might hear, and we'll be out on the street!”

He shrugged. As you finished your meal, your mother arranged the morning dishes for the Naga family on a silver cart, taking a moment to smooth and repin your hair before you were to serve them.

Your father was sure to spit in Dervin’s bowl when your mother looked away, making your eyebrows jump. He put a finger over his lips, winking at you.

“I'm off to the stable,” he said, grabbing an apple as he went. “Have a nice day, my pretty girls!”

You blinked at the contaminated bowl, wondering if you should throw it out.

“What are you staring at?” Your mother chided, pushing the cart towards the door. “Get along; I can hear them coming down the stairs.”

You hurriedly fixed a pleasant but distant look on your lips as you wheeled the cart into the dining room.

“Good morning, Mr. Leander,” you said to Dervin's only son, as he was the first to enter the dining room.”

“You’re radiant this morning as always (Y/N),” he beamed, taking his spot at the table. “but stop calling me ‘mister’ you never used to.”

Your ears heated as you placed his breakfast in front of him.

“It's not appropriate, sir. We were children then. You're to be the master of the house and will be married soon. I'm sure your fiancee wouldn’t appreciate-”

He cut off your words with a sharp hand.

“Don't speak of unpleasant things,” he grumbled.

“Apologies, sir.”

“Stop calling me-”

The arrival of his mother cut off his own words. She was a lovely Naga, sharing Leander’s white hair and sapphire blue eyes. Like his, her tail was a shocking electric blue.

“Stop prattling with that servant, Leander,” she snapped. “She has work to do. You're bothering her.”

Mrs. Elanore was not a pleasant woman, but she didn't like you servants to be harassed by the males of the house. Whether it was actual concern or jealousy, you didn't know, but your mother, especially, appreciated it.

Dervin, her husband, took every opportunity to corner her, trying to ply her with gifts and sweet words. Your mother was having none of it, which is why you delivered their meals, not her, and why your father spit in his food.

You nodded, thanking Elanore as you served her the tea she liked.

“Where is that imbecile?” she muttered, referring to her husband. “There are so few things I ask of him, but he can't manage the simplest tasks. He is to arrive on time for every meal. There must be some decorum in this household!

Her sharp blue eyes flicked to you.

“Go get him (Y/N).”

Leander slid in front of you like a vibrant blue flash before you could even respond.

“I'll go, mother. (Y/N) has her work, as you said.”

She gave him a tight nod, and you took the opportunity to finish setting the table for their return.

“I should fire your family,” Elanore mused. “your father would be happier, don't you think?”

You glanced up for a moment to find her eyes traveling over your form.

“You and your mother are too pretty to be maids,” she snorted. “You'll only cause trouble wherever you go.”

“Our family has served yours for generations,” you muttered, scared she might put you all on the street. “My grandparents died here, and so did theirs.”

“Just like a human,” she hissed, baring her teeth. “Servile and obedient. You’d think you’d have found something else to do in all those years.”

“Apologies, ma’am,” you said, looking at your shoes.

She waved a dismissive hand at you, sipping her tea.

“It’s in your nature. There’s nothing to be done. You and your mother are good at your jobs at least.”

Your cheeks warmed at the backhanded compliment. It was different when Dervin or Leander complimented you. She acknowledged the skill that had been passed through generations, not how you looked. You and your mother knew how to run a house. Your masters needed structure to maintain their dignity. With little to do, they would become depressed slobs if you didn’t keep everything running efficiently. At least, that’s what your grandmother told you.

Slithering through the wide doorway, Dervin and Leander settled into their spots at the table, and you took your place in the corner, waiting in case one of them needed something. The two male Nagas looked very similar in their features, handsome with a strong jaw and wide shoulders, but Dervin’s hair was jet black, as were his eyes. They always appeared blank and cold, which frightened you. Elanore wasn’t warm, but her gaze reflected an expressive nature, not a monstrous stillness.

Your eyes watched him take a bite of his breakfast, trying to hide the disgust that roiled in your stomach.

“Where’s your mother?” he snapped after a few big bites.

You didn’t speak at first, your eyes drifting to Elanore for permission. She answered for you.

“She’s in the kitchen where she ought to be. The servants are my business as the Lady of the house. Don’t bother yourself with their whereabouts.”

“I pay them,” he barked, but she ignored him, turning her attention to Leander.

“You’re to visit Iris today, Leander. I’ve purchased a gift for you to bring your fiancee.”

She snapped her fingers at you, and you hurried to her side to take the small package and walk it around the table to her son.

“I don’t wish to bring her any gifts,” he snorted, not even taking the gift from your hand. “She’s not my fiancee.”

Elanore rubbed her temples.

“The two of you are infuriating, you know that? You have one job, Leander. You have to marry well and produce an heir.”

She waved a finger at you.

“You can keep your little maid as a comfort doll if you like, but you will do as I have arranged.”

“I’m a grown man, mother. I don’t have to do anything.”

Electricity crackled between their eyes as they engaged in a silent power struggle. You stood awkwardly to the side, still holding the gift.

“I’m sick of this! I do my very best to advise you two idiots on the proper way to conduct yourselves, and you act like spoiled children!”

Her tail snapped faster than you could see and struck Leander across the cheek with a crack. Blood dribbled down his pale skin, and his eyes hung on her, the warm blue turning to ice.

“I should have never married a common husband like you,” she snarled, turning her ire toward Dervin. Vulgarity and Mediocrity are in your blood, and you’ve infected your son!”

Dervin’s black eyes flashed.

“My mediocre blood saved your foolish noble family from destitution. Thanks to my benevolence, you are able to live in the house your family has owned for generations. If not for me, you’d be begging on the streets, pleading with your relatives to take you in as a servant.”

“Fools,” she snarled, picking up her tea and slithering out of the room.

“Bring your mother to me,” Dervin demanded when she was out of earshot.

You let out a trembling breath as you thought up a lie.

“She went into town this morning for groceries, sir,” you said, knowing he’d never lower himself to search for her in the kitchen.

You screamed as the bowl he was eating from sailed across the room, shattering beside your head.

“Father!” Leander shouted.

Dervin gave him an amused but cool smirk before turning his attention to you.

“Send her to my room when she returns,” he barked and stormed out.

You leaned against the wall, panting as you mentally checked yourself for harm. Leander’s warm hands cupped your cheeks, looking you over.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Your gazes met, but words wouldn’t come, so you shook your head.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his warm arms wrapping around you and pressing you to his chest.

You inhaled the spicy scent of the soap he used mixed with his own natural fragrance.

“I won’t let any harm come to you.”

When he pulled away, you found yourself looking at your feet, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I dropped the gift,” you muttered, picking up the broken box.

You plucked the pretty hairpin from the shards of ceramic, seeing it was still whole.

“I’ll find a new box,” you said, trying to slide around him.

He stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, curling the other around your fingers.

“Keep it,” he said. “I’m not marrying Iris. My mother has no say in the matter, despite how she likes to posture.”

Your gaze shifted to the red slash bisecting his cheek.

“Let’s get this cleaned for you, sir. It will be a problem if it gets infected.”

He frowned but followed you to the kitchen.

“Is everything alright?” your mother asked as you pulled the first aid kit off a shelf.

“Good morning, zhingha,” Leander said, greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The word meant “mother” in the Naga’s old language. He had never considered his biological mother his; when he was a boy, he got quite attached to yours. He spent most of his time in the kitchen with you, playing and avoiding Elanore’s tantrums when you were children. The two of you had made the pantry your fort, and you’d put on little shadow plays while you lay on the floor together.

Your mother’s eyes focused on his wound, and she clucked.

“Poor thing, come bend down where I can reach you. You’ve grown into such a tall man,” she said, taking the kit from you and pulling out the correct supplies.

You hopped on the counter, swinging your feet as you watched her disinfect and bandage the cut.

“What mother in their right mind would do such a thing to their son,” she muttered as she worked.

She already knew who’d done it because she treated Leander’s wounds often. When she was done, she patted him on the head like when he was a little boy.

“That’s better.”

“We should go into town today,” he said. “My father is looking for you.”

She frowned, a flash of fear streaking across her face.

“Don’t worry. I’m supposed to be visiting Iris. We can take the carriage, and you can visit with your friends instead. Go have Charles ready it.”

She nodded, giving him a wan smile before she hurried to find your father. You hopped off the counter and headed to do your chores while your mother was safely out of the house.

Before you could make it out the door, Leander’s thick, electric blue tail coiled around you.

“Ah, ah, you’re coming too, saiya,” he cooed, dragging you into his arms.

Your heart thumped at the silly nickname he’d given you as a child. The word meant “little bear. " When he was young, he was fascinated with your round ears compared to his, which pointed at the end. As they had so often back then, his finger traced the arch of one as he hummed his pleasure.

“Sir, you shouldn’t,” you whispered, but Leander was too pleased with you in his arms.

He dipped his head, nibbling at your ear.

“I should eat you up, sweet little thing,” he whispered, making your body explode in butterflies.

He carried you out the back door to the stable, where your father was busy arranging the horses to pull the carriage. When he saw you tucked behind Leander’s large biceps, he frowned.

“Put my daughter down. She’s not your doll,” he said, his tone more curt than he probably should have been with a family member of the house he served.

Out of only politeness, you were sure, he set you down. Your mother let out a light, silvery giggle, patting your father on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be so strict, Charles,” she said. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it.”

As Leander tugged you by the hand into the carriage, you heard your Dad lower his voice, so he thought the Naga couldn’t hear.

“I don’t like those snakes touching her. They are far too familiar. Miss Elanore’s grandfather would never have allowed him to fondle her the way he does. Things were the way they should be when he was around.”

Beside you, Leander snorted, rolling his eyes.

“He also drove the family to bankruptcy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Listen,” your father went on as he helped your mother onto the seat next to him, and still unaware you could hear him quite clearly. “I’ve been talking with the Willards about (Y/N).”

“The Willards?” she asked. “The tailors?”

“Yes, they have a boy about (Y/N)’s age. Apparently, he has taken an interest in her, and his father approves. He thinks a girl raised as a maid will make a dutiful wife. I think we ought to consider it. We can visit while we’re in town today.”

You remembered the Willard's son Joshua from when you were sent on errands to pick up clothes for Elanore. He was a handsome young man, though a little on the skinny side. He seemed nice enough. Still, your cheeks burned, and you folded your hands tightly, hearing your parents plot your marriage.

“I don’t know, dear,” your mother hummed. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

He let out a grunt.

“I’d do just about anything to get our girl away from that snake. He’s only going to ruin her, string her along, and throw her away when he’s bored. They’re all the same. The Willard’s can give her a good life.”

You felt Leander stiffen beside you. As the carriage took off, his tail wrapped around you so tight you whimpered. He glanced down, his face darkening to a cool blue.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, loosening his muscles but not letting you go.

He gently unwrapped the hairpin, clutched in your palm, and busied himself fastening it to your hair.

“So pretty,” he murmured, greedy eyes eating you up. “I won’t let anyone else touch you (Y/N).”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to be comforting. You’d always liked Leander. He was very handsome, and as children, you’d been inseparable. However, you also realized the massive gap between your two worlds. You were just a maid, and he was the only son of a wealthy lord. It wasn’t meant to be. Your father had explained to you many times before that Leander only doted on you because he was immature and unwilling to grow up. He thought he could still play make-believe with your life, and he warned you to be wary of him.

Feeling raw and confused, you tried to keep your eyes out the window, focused on the passing countryside as you made your way toward town. When your father stopped to park the carriage, he nodded to your mother as you climbed out.

She held out a hand to you.

“Darling, I need you to come with me. We’re going to stop at the tailor’s,” she said, carefully avoiding Leander’s gaze.

He, however, would not be tricked.

“How convenient. I need to stop there as well,” he said with a grin, tugging you back towards him with his tail. “(Y/N), keep me company as we walk so I don’t get bored.”

Your father gave him a deep grimace but was silent as he finished tying up the horses and escorted your mother by the arm down the busy avenue, walking a few steps ahead of you. You watched the two of them whisper to one another as you made your way to the Willard’s shop.

“Greetings!” Marshall Willard said with a grin when he saw you and your parents enter the shop.

His eyes jumped to the large Naga next you, and he winced just slightly before calling his son.

“Joshua! Come greet our guests. I’ll help the customer.”

Joshua appeared from the back, giving you a pleasant smile.

“Mr. and Mrs. (Y/LN). It’s wonderful to see you,” he said politely. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Meanwhile, his father greeted Leander.

“Young Lord Szake! What can I help you with this morning?”

You moved to follow your parents to the kitchen with Joshua, but Leander pulled you back by the shoulders.

“I’m here to buy (Y/N) some dresses,” he said, pushing you gently in front of him.

Everyone in the room looked at you, and your cheeks burned.

“What? Why, my lord?” you stammered.

He tipped his head at you.

“If you’re to be my personal attendant, you can’t follow me around in threadbare wool dresses. You ought to represent the Szake family well.”

“Personal attendant?” you parroted, confused. “But I’m just a maid.”

“Not anymore,” he declared. “Every Lord has a personal attendant to handle the paperwork and their calendar…those sorts of things.”

“But isn’t that normally a man?” Mr. Willard asked.

Leander beamed at him, a cold smile full of hate.

“(Y/N) has known me since I was just a child. She knows everything about me. I wouldn’t dare trust anyone else with my personal affairs.”

Your father frowned.

“Nonsense,” he barked. “(Y/N) is going to be married and have a domestic life, as she should. You’re a wealthy Lord; I’m sure you can find a qualified candidate.”

Joshua nodded beside him. You looked up at Leander, eyes large.

“I can’t be your personal attendant, sir,” you added. “It’s not proper. What will people think?”

He smirked at you, his long, strong fingers pinching your chin so you had to look at him.

“Fine…If your father insists you have a domestic life, you shall.”

Your shoulders wilted with relief, and you let out a breath.

“Oh, thank goo-”

“As my wife.”

Everyone in the room’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“What?!” they all said at once.

Leander gave Mr. Willard another bitterly cold grin.

“Measure her for dresses fitting the station of a Lord’s fiancee.”

“Absolutely not!” your father said.

“Lord Szake will never allow of this!” Mr. Willard pointed out.

“She’s to be my fiancee!” Joshua hissed, taking an incensed step towards Leander. “My father has already approved it!”

Leander’s gaze shot to him, danger reflected in his irises.

“There are not words on this plane to describe how little I care about whatever arrangement your families have worked out. (Y/N) will marry me, and you will dress her properly.”

He sank into his coils, pushing you in front of Mr. Willard, snapping his fingers.

“Now.”

You saw the man’s jaw tick, but refusing Leander’s request would only be bad for his business, so he pulled out his measuring tape and approached you. Not sure what was happening, you gave him a pleading look, begging him to say something. Reading your confusion and fear, his stare shifted to one more gentle.

“Lift your arms, please, miss,” he said quietly.

The room was dead silent while he did as he was told. Joshua and your father glared at Leander, who seemed entirely unbothered, while your mother appeared uncertain. You watched her suck in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before she approached the Naga, speaking in hushed tones.

“Sir, are you sure this is wise? I’m not opposed to this match. I-I know…I can see you love her…I’m only worried for (Y/N)’s safety. Such arrangements between classes rarely work out well. Your fellow nobles will never accept her. Would you subject her to their cruelty?”

For a moment, he seemed to be considering her words, eyes sliding to you.

“My family has never been accepted into our peers good graces. You know my father was a common merchant. My mother married him out of desperation. She traded her noble title for his fortune. People’s opinions are only that. Opinions. (Y/N) and I will face the same prejudices together. Do you wish your daughter to continue her life as a maid or-?”

He gave Joshua a dirty look.

“Or become a servant to a husband who can never love her as I can?”

Your mother sighed. She lifted her hand and smoothed a bit of hair that had come out of place as if he were her own son.

“Please…for me, be serious about this if it is what you intend to do.”

He tipped his cheek into her palm.

“I will never betray your daughter zhingha.”

Your father let out a strangled noise, marching out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Joshua, who had been pacing in place, stomped over to you, grabbing you by the arm to face him.

“Is this what you really want (Y/N)? A snake for a husband?”

Before you could answer, Leander’s tail shot out, jerking him away from you and tossing him into the wall.

“Don’t touch her!”

The young man climbed to his feet, clutching his ribs.

“You nobles can’t just take whatever you like! (Y/N) belongs with us!”

Leander slid across the room like an elegant blue river, lifting Joshua up by his throat.

“Do not address my fiancee by her first name again. If I see your eyes on her, I will gouge them out!”

Joshua’s furious face told you he didn’t plan to back down. His father dropped the measuring tape, hurrying to rescue his son.

“Of course, he wont’ My Lord,” he said. “You’ve made your intentions quite clear. Yes, Joshua?”

He gave Leander another long look before he gave in.

“As you say, My Lord.”

Leander dropped him, returning to his seat near you, and jerked his head at the tailor.

“Continue,” he snarled.

“Go to the back and help your mother,” Mr. Willard said to his son.

Joshua gave you a last lingering glance before he disappeared.

–

You arrived back at the mansion in a very different dress than when you'd left. Leander had insisted on buying you and your mother matching readymade dresses from the shop window while you waited for the fourteen others he ordered to be made. The soft peach satin fabric was the nicest thing you’d ever worn.

The first thing you heard as you walked in the black door was the smashing of ceramic.

“Stay here,” Leander said.

Your eyes quickly flicked to your mother, who grabbed your hand and pulled you into the pantry, peeking out through a crack in the door.

“Father?” Leander called, opening the door to the dining room.

He ducked as a vase flew past, smashing to pieces on the stove.

“That bitch!” You heard him screaming.

He shoved past his son, dark eyes jerking around the room.

“Father! Calm down! What's happened?”

“Where is the human woman?” he snarled.

You and your mother slipped back into the shadows, trying to be as silent as mice.

“Father! She’s not back from shopping yet. Please, tell me what’s happened.”

His eyes narrowed, but seemed satisfied with his answer.

“It’s your mother,” he snarled. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

He bared his fangs at his son.

“Don’t parrot me like a dumb animal. The damn woman left! She stole the gold in the safe and disappeared! No one’s seen her!”

He paced on his thick tail.

“She must have paid off the townsfolk. No one will tell me where she’s gone!”

“Has she made off with our fortune?”

His father glanced up at him.

“Of course not; I keep the majority of our money in the bank. Only you and I can access it. I planned for this possibility but never expected her to do it! She only got off with our emergency fund…but it was enough to live well for a long time. When will the human woman return?”

“I don’t know, father,” he said. “But whatever you need, I can help you with it.”

He waved a clawed hand.

“I don’t need anything done! I’m going to marry the woman. I should never have agreed to marry Elanore. I won’t make that mistake again. An obedient human wife will suit me better.”

Leander let out a cold chuff.

“She’s already married, father!”

“Easily fixed,” he hissed with murder in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious!”

He tried to push past his son toward the door leading out to the stable. Leander blocked his way, his icy irises determined.

“I can’t let you do that, Father,” he said, his tone low and even.

Your father came marching through the door a moment later, unaware of the drama playing out. He froze where he stood, eyes immediately focused on the two Naga, staring one another down.

The opportunity in front of him was too tempting for Dervin to resist, and his tail shot out, a victorious smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay the scream that erupted from your throat, your mother rushing past you to protect her husband.

Dervin’s focus shifted to her, and Leander lunged at the same second. Caught off guard, he threw his father to the floor, and they quickly became a writhing ball of tails and arms.

“You’d betray me too, son?” he gasped as he tried to overpower Leander.

You smelled the coppery stench of blood as sharp nails scraped each other's skin. More than willing to help, your father picked up a heavy cast iron skillet, making his way around the hissing Naga, quiet on his feet.

There was a resounding crunch as the skillet descended on Dervin’s head. He flopped to the floor, limp. Blood leaked in a pool around him, but he still dragged in a wet breath. Before anyone else could move, Leander snatched a kitchen knife from the rack, jamming it through his chest. Dervin let out his gurgling last breath and then was still.

You and your mother clutched one another, sinking to the floor. Neither of you knew what to say or do, but your father and Leander didn’t need any prompting.

“Help me with him,” your father said, slipping his arms under the dead Naga’s. “We’ll bury him under the pig pens.”

Leander grunted his assent, lifting the majority of the weight as they maneuvered the body outside.

“Come,” your mother whispered, trembling. “The blood.”

You nodded, filling the mop bucket with water before pulling every towel from the cabinet to mop up the mess.

“What now?” you found yourself whispering, though there was no reason to.

She shrugged.

“That’s for Leander to decide. He’s the Lord of this house.”

By the time they returned, you’d scrubbed everything to a sparkle, the only blood left staining your new dresses and the towels.

“Take those off,” your father said. “We’ll burn the linens.”

The two of you nodded, slipping the heavy dresses over your shoulders until you only wore the thick shifts underneath. Leander helped you out of your shoes and slipped the red-splattered stockings off your feet.

Your father gave you and Leander a long look before he spoke.

“Take your fiancee to bed,” he said. “She shouldn’t have seen all this. I trust it won’t happen again.”

Leander returned a tight nod, and something passed between their gazes. They’d forged a silent agreement.

It wasn’t until your mother and father left out the back door to burn the rest of the evidence that the tears came. It was a relief Dervin was gone. He would have killed your father and hurt your mother, but it was still horrific.

“Shhh,” Leander hummed, scooping you up in his arms.

He carried you upstairs to his bedroom, curling into a tight ring to settle you in the center. His arms wrapped around you, and he pressed your head into his chest.

“Everything is going to be okay now,” he said softly, carding the strands of your hair with his long fingers.

“Lei, are we all going to jail?” you sniffled, his childhood nickname falling past your lips all on its own.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling when they met yours.

“No. My mother did us a favor. If anyone asks, they’re touring the countryside until they're entirely forgotten.”

“What happens now?” you asked.

He tipped your chin with his thumb, dipping his head to slip his lips against yours. They were so warm that you felt your jaw's tension melt away. His eyes searched yours when they parted, carrying a lightness you hadn’t seen in many years.

“I’m going to marry you, and your parents will move out of the servant’s quarters. Your father and mother have earned their place in the Szake family. We’ll find some new staff.”

You nodded, his hair forming a smooth curtain blocking the world.

“Sleep now,” he hummed. “All is as it should be.”

Despite how you wanted to keep your eyes open, they slid shut against your will.

—

“Would you like lavender or rose tea, Miss (Y/N)?” your new maid asked as she opened the tea box in front of you.

“Rose,” you said, turning your attention back to the catalog in front of you.

You sat comfortably in the rose garden, enjoying the sunshine as you planned your wedding. It had been a month since the terrible night that Dervin died. When Leander had informed the merchants of the town that he was getting married, they’d sent piles of samples and booklets for you to look through. You’d never realized there were so many options! It was a little overwhelming. Since you’d come from humble beginnings, it felt strange spending so much money on decorations and lace, but Leander informed you it should be a grand occasion and not to spare a cent.

“Um…Miss (Y/N)?” one of your maids said, looking slightly frightened.

“What’s wrong, Lily?” you asked, concerned.

“Well…there’s a Miss Iris at the door looking for you. Should I bring her?”

Leander was out for the day, meeting with one of his importers, so you weren’t sure what she could want.

“Of course, bring her here.”

A minute later, an elegant Naga came slithering into the garden. Her curly violet hair was pinned in a pretty updo and she wore an elaborate pink dress, covered in ribbons.

“Hello, Miss Iris,” you said, waving for her to take a place at the table. “Can I offer you some tea?”

Her brow was drawn, and she looked you up and down.

“So…you’re who he picked,” she pouted. “Over me.”

Your ears burned, realizing you were speaking to Leander’s former fiancee.

“There’s no competition,” you said.

She snorted.

“Obviously not.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, and you expected a verbal lashing. You were a mere maid, after all. It was absurd Leander would take you as his fiancee. She sucked in a deep breath, and her expression suddenly softened.

“How…How did you do it?”

Your eyebrows jumped, confused.

“Do what?”

She looked around, uncomfortable.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You took a breath as your maid politely poured her a cup of tea.

“I suppose so…If you’d like.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Relieved…why?”

She sipped her tea, thinking before she spoke.

“Because I don’t particularly care for Leander. In fact, I don’t like him at all. He’s…very…intense. He kind of creeps me out. He only spoke of you when we were out on dates; it was incredibly boring and awkward. Not to mention…the way he talked about you…He was fixated on all of your little ticks. Did you know he carries a lock of your hair around with him? And sometimes your stockings! He showed up one day elated because you’d accidentally sneezed on him and used his handkerchief to wipe your nose! He was cuddling it like a treasure!”

Your ears heated. Where had he gotten a lock of your hair? You’d never given it to him.

“He what?”

Iris waved her previous statement away.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t. He’s just…too much like a Naga male. Once they have something in their mind, they get…obsessed.

Our parents arranged our marriage. I hate that tradition. I’d never force my child into a marriage without love. That’s how you get murdered by some enterprising mistress!”

You blinked, unsure if you should be offended or not, but she went on.

“Honestly, there’s…someone else who has my interest. Only…he’s not a noble Naga.”

“Oh! That is a puzzle, isn’t it?”

She nodded, stretching her hand across the table to touch yours.

“That’s why I need to know how you did it! How did you win over Leander’s parents? Maybe if I can tell Joshua how to do it, I can…I don’t know…”

You giggled.

“Joshua…Willard?”

Her violet irises flared.

“You know him?”

“Ah…yes…but not well. He seems like a very nice man.”

Her eyes glazed over, wistful thoughts playing in her mind.

“He’s so kind and considerate. I’ve never met anyone like him, so gentle. A few weeks ago, I went to pick up a dress, and he helped me. His hands were so soft, and his voice was so sweet. Every night since then, we’ve been meeting in secret! I know he’s the right one and he thinks so too!

I don’t want to brute of a husband. I want a kind person who I can talk to. That’s why I have to know how to convince my parents not to marry me off to some…stranger!”

You weren’t sure how to answer.

“I think…You should do whatever you must to protect your beloved,” you said. “I can’t tell you exactly what to do because it will be different for you. We’re all different in different circumstances.

She looked a little disappointed.

“What I do know, though, Iris, is that if you love one another, you will find a way You two are adults, not children. No one can make you marry someone you don’t want to. It’s only a matter of how far you are willing to go, what sacrifices you will make to have the life you want.”

She nodded, thinking.

“But…” you started, pausing to sip your tea, “What if your parents went on a little vacation?”

“A vacation?”

You shrugged.

“Once you’re married, you’re married,” you said. “Maybe by the time they return…if they return… you’ve sorted your affairs.”

The two of you shared a knowing look, and she brightened.

“I like you (Y/N), you’re very clever! You’ve given me hope! Is there anything I can help you with in return? I want us to be friends!”

You smiled, picking up one of the catalogs.

“Yes, actually. I have no idea what is proper for a lady. Can you help me? We can plan our weddings together.”

She beamed at you, taking the catalog.

“Of course!”

A few hours later, Leander came slithering through the garden.

“Iris? What are you doing here?” he asked, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought I made it clear…”

Iris snorted and waved him away.

“I’m not here for you,” she said, raising her nose at him. “(Y/N) and I are planning our weddings.”

“Your wedding?” he asked, and she grinned.

“Yes! And now that you’re here,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “I think I’ll be off.”

She leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you for your advice (Y/N). I’m going to talk to Joshua,” she said before sliding past Leander without saying goodbye.

“What was that all about?” Leander asked when she was gone.

You shrugged.

“True love, I guess.”

He pulled you into his coils, peeking over your shoulder at the catalogs on the table. He ran a finger over the things you’d circled.

“Lei, can I ask you something?” you asked.

“Anything, love.”

You twisted around to look at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Did you tell Iris that you were excited I sneezed on you?”

“Ah…noooo,” he lied, his whole face darkening to a deep blue. “Wh-Why would she say something silly like that?”

You giggled.

“Of course not,” you said, patting his chest. “I must have misheard her. Can I borrow your handkerchief? It's a little warm out here.”

He passed it to you and you daintily patted your forehead, handing it back. His eyes widened at the little scrap of fabric in his hand and he hastily stuck it in his jacket pocket.

Leander might be a weirdo, but he was your weirdo and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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revasserium · 2 months

Text

hurricane

sakura haruka; 1,189 words; fluffy fluff fluff, first love, sakura learns the meaning of friendship, no "y/n", lapslock, mindless fluff tbh

summary: after all, the rain is still just... the rain.

a/n: inspired by clementine von radics poem mouthful of forevers, and also wow sakura is adorable

when he tells you that anger is a language that he’s never needed to learn to know, that loneliness and rejection are dialects as near to him as his hometown used to be, you do not run away.

maybe it’s this place — maybe the blue of the sky from the rooftop garden. maybe, he thinks, there’s something in the water here that makes people kinder, makes them so damn comfortable with splitting open their skins to show him their insides, while asking for nothing in return.

“the summers are hot here,” you say, pressing a cool, dripping bottle of water to his cheek, laughing as he jumps and jerks back, holding it out as he looks from you to the bottle and back again, “make sure to hydrate.”

“why do you care?” he asks, because sometimes, it’s the only way he remembers how to say thank you.

“here, take it,” you say, offering him your handkerchief when he comes back from yet another fight, blood still trickling down the corner of his forehead, “it even matches your hair.”

“don’t need it,” he says, glancing down at the black and white checked piece of cloth, but he doesn’t push you away when you reach out to dab at the drying blood, your hands soft and careful. he never knew hands could be such things, but he supposes there’s always time to learn.

“isn’t that what schools are for?” you say, giggling when he plucks up the courage to tell you one day, when the nights slowly grow longer and the days are clipping own tails, tucking in earlier and earlier. the wind is just on the other side of biting and he’d stared down at his own hands for a solid half minute before reaching out to offer you his scarf — a present from the old lady from the musubi store for putting up her brand new awning.

“y-yeah. guess so,” he says, pulling back to admire his handiwork, the thick knit of the scarf now wrapped snuggly around your shoulders. his blush is more than enough to keep him warm the rest of the way home.

when he lashes out — because its the only way his body remembers how to react to the act of kindness — he sees the hurt flicker like fireflies behind your eyes. but still, you don’t turn away. instead, you sit back, you sigh, and you tell him you’ll wait.

“why?” he asks, because it’s the one question that keeps on echoing through him, like the tolling of a hundred thousand bells, reverberating through him till it’s all he can hear — why?

“because,” you tell him, “sometimes people just need time — and lucky for you, we’ve got a lot of that here. so…” you shrug, sitting back with a sweet, knowing smile, “take your time. that’s what friends do for each other — sometimes, we’re there, but sometimes… we give each other space and we give each other… time.”

time, he thinks, turning the words over his head. how long has it been since he’d had to sleep with one eye open, to always look over his shoulder, to wake up knowing that he’s gotta hit the ground running. how long? what was it that he was running away from?

and sure, he still doesn’t quite have a setting between off and a hundred, but he thinks… maybe with enough time, he can learn. and you teach him.

slowly, he learns the weight of laughter, pure and sweet and joyous, the power that tenderness can bring, the way that sometimes a smile is more potent in a fistfight than as well-aimed punch, that somehow, your hits always land harder when you have a thing worth fighting for. and it should’ve been obvious, but maybe it’s not — that love is a thing of viciousness and vengeance, but also a thing of delicacy and light.

when he holds your hand for the first time, he thinks his entire body might burst at the seams, shattering into a million and one pieces if ever you tried to pull away, but still, there comes a time for letting go.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” you say, the pair of your teetering on the front steps of your house. behind you, the warm glow of your living room lights paints your outlines in gold. sakura swallows, your fingers still laced in his. he reaches for a reason — any reason — not to let go.

“unless… you wanna come in for dinner?”

he whips around so fast he almost cricks his neck, but he nods before he can psyche himself out, and the next second, you’re tugging him into the house behind you. it’s not the first time he’s met your family, but it is the first time you introduce him as your boyfriend. the word has a strange ring to it, a one-two punch that knocks the breath from his lungs every time you say it.

and it’s only really been a week.

later, in the dim halo of your bedroom lamp, your legs dangling over his as the pair of you read manga on the floor of your room, he reaches out to pull you into his arms.

“i — i’m not a — hm,” he clears his throat and tries again, fighting the urge to bury his face in your shoulder from behind, “i’m not good at… this kind of stuff…” he admits, though your tinkling laughter tells him that yes, you know. still, he forces himself to go on —

“so… uh — if i like… blow up over something random just… like slap me or… or something.”

for a second, you’re quiet, your steady breathing and his much less steady ones the only sounds in the room.

then, you twist slightly to face him, peering up at the profile of his face in the burgeoning dark.

“do you remember that one day — when it rained this summer? and it was so, so nice because it was so freaking hot that whole week?”

“uh… yeah?”

“and then… like three weeks later, there was a hurricane warning, and everyone had to stay home?”

“sure. umemiya made everyone run to put away his stupid planter boxes —”

“but… if you think about it, the rain is still just… rain, right?”

sakura frowns, pausing, “i… guess so.”

“yeah. so… it’s kind of like that with you, i think.” you smile, settling with your back against his chest, his arms around your middle, “the rain is still the rain, whether is light or it’s heavy. and… i’ve always loved the rain.”

sakura makes a soft noise, letting his head fall back against your bedframe.

“it doesn’t matter to me… cause, i think i’d still feel the same about you either way,” you say, turning around once more to fix him with a smile —

“i’d love you if you were summer rain… i’d love you, still, if you were a hurricane.”

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker fanfic #wind breaker x y/n #x reader #sakura haruka #haruka sakura #sakura haruka x reader #sakura haruka x you #sakura haruka x y/n #sakura haruka fluff #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker imagines #floofy floof floof #nothin better than a boi learning to be gentle for the very first time u__u

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devildomwriter · 11 months

Text

Satan Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Satan was born from a combination of Lucifer’s intense wrath and him tearing off his wings, this gave Satan flesh for a body

2. Physically, Satan is the youngest but he is ranked fourth as he is fourth strongest of the seven brothers

3. Satan often fears he is nothing but a lesser copy of Lucifer

4. Satan’s wrath was so out of control after his birth his brothers did anything they could to stop his rages, including tying him in chains and stuffing him in a locker, knocking him out, or holding him underwater until he passed out

5. When Satan discovered cats he burst into Levi’s room demanding to know more about this

6. Satan believes Leviathan is mature in the way he focuses on other people’s opinions

7. Satan has always been a demon and accepting wrath as part of who he was so he did not struggle with his sin like his brothers did

8. Satan treasures the first things his brothers ever gave him

9. Satan’s tail is spiky and you can be injured touching it if you aren’t careful

10. Satan gets angriest over petty inconveniences

11. Simeon believes that Satan always only wearing one sleeve of his jackets is his way of rebelling

12. Satan has a tendency to overthink things

13. Satan does his best to avoid arguing with his brothers even when they annoy him

14. Satan is compared to a cat by his brothers due to his tendency to show up in completely random places when you least expect

15. Satan has connections in almost every industry as he’s easily able to socialize and make friends

16. Satan claims his books are organized in a way he understands

17. Once Satan’s books collapsed on him and he stayed there for several days relaxing

18. Satan enjoys the fine arts and likes going to art museums

19. Satan enjoys theatre and the opera

20. Satan easily gets his hands on rare and cursed objects to the point it impresses Lucifer

21. Satan has successfully cursed Lucifer several times. The worst of them being when he transferred his pain from Solomon’s cooking to Lucifer.

22. Satan originally looks down on manga but changes his mind after reading a bunch of manga Levi switched out in his room as a prank

23. Satan loves watching dramas and mysteries, especially Mid-Fall Murders

24. Due to watching crime shows regularly Satan believed that when dining in the human world you tell the waitress you’d like “the usual” and they’ll know what you mean

25. Although originally Satan complains he’s never beat Diavolo in chess, it’s implied he finally beats him in season 3

26. Satan has a major inferiority complex when it comes to Lucifer which causes him to often doubt himself

27. Satan is subscribed to Monthly Devil Architect’s Digest

28. Satan was once cursed to see everything as cats, he wasn’t the least bit bothered

29. Satan gifted Lucifer a scarf that was cursed to grow eternally

30. Satan doesn’t seem to realize how terrifying his anger is when he is visibly confused as to why his brothers are hiding

31. Satan has hoarded cats in the past and is no longer allowed to have any

32. Satan feeds a local cat he has named Sir Cat

33. Satan gives MC instructions on feeding many of the cats who come by serenity manor

34. When attempting to turn Simeon’s cafe into a cat cafe he “borrowed” a bunch of cats from witches. He was distressed when they were all returned to their owners.

35. Satan once fell asleep with a cat in public and ended up covered in Hell Zakura petals. Solomon thought it was cute.

36. Satan cursed a pizza deliverer for putting pineapple on their pizza

37. Satan desires to be on the receiving end of a loving headbutt by a cat in full force

38. Satan checks cat blogs before he goes to bed as they give him energy for the next day

39. Satan has to be told to stop using cat stickies as he puts them everywhere

40. Satan covered his and Belphegor’s laptops in cat stickers

41. Satan enjoys classical music, symphonies, and Ska music

42. Satan prefers food chunkier than smooth because it has more bite to it

43. Satan enjoys the bitterness of Dark chocolate

44. Satan has said his type is someone he can have a mutual understanding with when it comes to anger

45. Satan has had things thrown at his head multiple times in the game, some of these items include a pillow, a piece of trash, and a pile of pancakes

46. Satan hates baby talk, more specifically when Asmodeus uses it

47. Satan has inherited some of Lucifer’s memories and emotions

48. When Satan was cursed to stay close to Lucifer he would just stare and growl at Lucifer from the corner of the room

49. Satan’s antagonistic behavior towards Lucifer is somewhat compulsive as even he wishes he didn’t dedicate so much time to Lucifer but cannot stop himself

50. Satan let’s Belphegor sleep on his lap even though it annoys him

51. Satan learned how to read ancient human text from Solomon

52. Satan considers Mephistopheles an ally since they both dislike Lucifer

53. In a love survey on B’s Log Satan says he wants to “bind and monopolize” his lover and is the active one pursuing love

54. Satan cherishes relationship anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

55. In a relationship with obstacles, Satan chooses to face the difficulties with passion

56. When it comes to a lover, Satan said he would get jealous easily

57. Satan originally did not understand humans and assumed they’d all be fine receiving expensive items and gems as gifts and was angry when MC did not

58. Satan has ranked his favorite cat positions as stalk-straight tail, slow blink, making biscuits, head butting, and bellyflops

59. Satan secretly dislikes Green Peas

60. Satan is annoyed by the RAD Newpsaper Club account and has the notifications for it turned off

61. Satan says he tends to sleep on his stomach to avoid being hit in the face when his books randomly come avalanching down on him

62. Satan starts all his baths by washing his left arm

63. Satan’s daily activity is petting a cat

64. Satan’s dream is to have a cat

65. On sleepless nights, Satan calls MC because he finds their voice soothing

66. Satan’s motto is “Wisdom is the treasure of all generations.”

67. Satan’s rage emits so much energy it’s too much for humans to handle and can shake buildings and break things without getting near them

68. Satan sends cursed chain mail to Lucifer daily

69. When Mammon could only speak cat, Satan was called to help and he spent the day happily playing with cat toys with Mammon

70. Satan became enraged with Raphael when he was compared to Lucifer

71. Satan is very knowledgeable when it comes to the constellations and the specific stars among them

72. Satan believes Easter is the perfect excuse to throw eggs at Lucifer

73. Satan looks forward to fall as he believes it’s the best season for reading

74. Satan has trouble eating something if it looks like a cat

75. Satan always has a bag of cat treats with him wherever he goes

76. Satan seems to remember exactly where he left off in a book when he falls asleep reading. In an interview with B’s Log he says “Yesterday I was in the mood for The Complete Book of Cat's Paws, but I fell asleep on the Havana Brown page, around line no. 27.”

77. Satan sometimes hums the theme song to mid fall murders

78. Satan’s compliments often sound more like insults

79. Satan originally took Levi to be a nobody with no powers.

80. Satan once used Diavolo as a hostage

81. When Satan wanted to get MC a gift he offered to kill someone for them

82. Satan enjoys a railroad building mobile app

83. In the baseball game in the anime, Satan’s team lost 0 to 666 but Satan still claims it’s the game where he trumped Lucifer

84. Satan owns a book that can enter the memories of whoever first opens it

85. Satan built a life like snow sculpture of Lucifer out of spite, knowing Lucifer would feel uncomfortable

86. Satan once decorated the backyard with cat towers hoping it’d become a cat colony

87. Satan is the secretary of the RAD student council

88. Satan is the one who introduced the idea of second-hand/used bookstores to the Devildom.

89. Satan has a collection of priceless jewels that are rare in both the human world and Devildom. It’s not stated how he got his hands on them but he is alluded to being very wealthy by Leviathan

90. Believing they were lost deep in the forest, Satan initiated sex with MC but they were immediately after found by Beelzebub

91. Satan said if he was in a horror movie he’d be the silent killer “helping” the detectives and frame Lucifer for all the murders

92. Satan once got into a fight with Beelzebub over who liked Devilcat most

93. Satan once went to a riddle event with Solomon and MC

94. Satan bribed Barbatos with rare tea to let him go to the human world alone

95. In an interview with B’s Log he said his everyday small happiness is gaining new knowledge

96. Something Satan believes is absolutely not allowed in front of him is disrespecting cats and is quoted saying “Dare to make disrespectful remarks about cats in front of me. I’ll **** and **** your ****.” — B’s log

97. Satan’s three rules for his daily life are — Read books, play with cats, and make time for yourself

98. When asked if he prefers mature or child-like people, he states he prefers mature people and then immediately references Simeon

99. Satan is skilled with cooking stews and enjoys working with the variety of spices and herbs Barbatos gives him

100. Satan believes his composure makes him “cool” and that he only “very, very occasionally” loses his temper

#obey me fun fact #obey me fun facts #obey me satan #om satan #happy birthday Satan #omswd Satan #obey me shall we date Satan

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sleighhethereal · 5 months

Text

Shit, shit, shit!

Macaque ran through the city, frantically looking through alleys and accidentally bumping into a few strangers- some of few who yelled at him, but he didn't care.

He had to find you.

He didn't know why he didn't just use his ability to shadow himself to where you were. Maybe it was because he'd gotten used to not using them around you.

After a whole hour, he checked the spot he least expected you to be in.

The mountain where he betrayed MK.

...Were you secretly still hating him for that?

He gulped and approached your crouched figure, standing beside you. He knew you knew he was there.

"...Can I sit here?"

Your nod was all he needed.

Macaque sat down next to you, and there was silence.

Then, you spoke. "I thought you trusted me."

Macaque instantly perked at that, waving his hands side to side in a panic. "I do, I do! You're one of the few people, I swear!"

"Then why were you so distant this past weeks?"

He paused, and you frowned.

"You refuse to talk to me about it. I know we made those boundaries, but you just seemed so deflated and depressed, I can't just stand by and watch you be like that." You inhaled sharply, "I wanted to see you atleast smile today, but—"

"I yelled at you." Macaque finished for you, turned his head away.

You stared at him, noticing how his tail curled. He was distancing again.

"...Does this have something to do with MK? Wukong?"

Macaque sighed and placed a fist to his heart as a way to calm himself. "Alright, alright... so, um.." He pulled at his scarf and reached for a white piece of paper before handing it to you.

You took it, staring at the faces of Wukong and Macaque. It was them from the past, for sure, Wukong was making a goofy face, probably the one who took the picture while Macaque was caught rolling his eyes.

You flipped it and found the date. The date was today.

"Today is the day I died."

You looked up to see him.

"The day me and Monkey King fought. You know the story..." Macaque mumbled as he played with his black hair, before raising a finger. "Of course, this isn't an excuse for me yelling at you, I just.." He trailed off when he turned to you.

Your eyes were wide, soft tears began to brim those gorgeous eyes he loved so much. It made Macaque instantly begin to sniffle, looking away.

"I-I didn't want to bring it up." He continued, "He and I just... fuck, he was my best friend. For so many years, and it's just gone, it always blows my mind. I just... I sometimes wish I can share a peach with him again, and just talk... fuck.."

You moved close for a hug, and he returned it, burying his face into your neck as he cried. You cried with him.

"I miss him, [Y/N]..."

"I'm so sorry, Macaque.."

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tenderleavesbob · 3 months

Text

Set after this fic.

Warriors lived. Despite the violence, despite the blood, despite Warriors's terrifying stillness, Warriors lived.

Legend sat by the campfire, pretending not to watch as Wind fluffed Warriors's pillow for the hundredth time. Warriors was shirtless, which was an odder sight than Legend had expected. He only realized this evening how rarely Warriors wasn't covered from head to foot. Warriors wasn't even wearing his scarf: it was wrapped around Wind's neck, and anyone who tried to touch it earned a snarl worthy of Wolfie.

Wolfie himself was curled up beside Warriors, helping support his bandaged arm. The broken bones required both Hyrule's magic and a potion to fix them, and the arm still looked fragile to Legend. Time was on Warriors's other side, staring at the white bandages covering Warriors's torso as if he expected blood to stain them again at any moment. Legend couldn't blame him. He kept waiting for the same. For blood to bloom like a sickly flower and for the light to fade from Warriors's eyes.

Hyrule had reassured him for almost twenty minutes straight that Warriors would be fine. He just needed rest and to take it easy for several days. Hyrule wasn't awake now to assure him. All of the green potions in the world couldn't keep Hyrule awake after both the battle and the effort he put into keeping Warriors alive.

Sky sat on the log beside him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. "He'll be fine," he said softly. Taking over for Hyrule, Legend guessed. "No one would be so quiet if he wasn't."

Legend grunted and didn't answer. It was embarrassing that not only Hyrule but Sky felt he needed the comfort in the first place. He looked away to where Wild was making dinner. A light soup, so as not to distress Warriors's battered stomach. Beyond Wild, Four sat with the remnants of Warriors's bloody shield in front of him, a look of rare, quiet devastation on his face. For once, something besides Wild's weaponry was too broken for him to fix. Legend had to look away.

"Thank you for holding Wind back," Sky continued, voice still soft. Too soft in Legend's opinion. "It must have been rough. I'm sorry we couldn't help more."

"You helped enough," Legend said shortly. Unwillingly, his gaze returned to Warriors. Warriors was still pale but grinning at Wind. He said something, too low for Legend to hear, but it made Wind laugh and Wolfie's tail wag. It didn't change Time's expression at all. "Someone had to protect our backs."

Like Warriors protected Hyrule's because Legend was too slow. He was always too slow. Too slow to fight, too slow to protect, too slow to realize the effects of his actions and choices. How many people died because Legend was too slow?

"Legend!" Warriors croaked. Time and Wind both tried to shush him. Warriors waved them off with his unbroken arm. "Come here! Everyone is being too nice to me. I can't stand it. Help a guy out!"

Legend scoffed and stood up. He heard Wild grumble something to himself about the need for protein. "I thought you would love it! Only you would complain about being spoiled!"

Warriors grinned at him and extended his hand toward Legend. There was still mud under his fingernails. "I need a little spice to go with my sugar. Do you still have some of those cinnamon candies Ravio sent you?"

Several voices yelped in protest. Legend rolled his eyes and walked over to Warriors. "Like I would share them with a lazy guy like you."

Warriors beamed at him. He was pale but his eyes were bright and his bandages remained a clean white. He was fine. He was going to be fine.

Legend settled beside Time and Warriors and braced himself for Warriors's pathetic pleading for his cinnamon candies. He had been too slow before, but he could be here for Warriors now. He could keep him safe.

Like hell was he going to play nursemaid, though. Or share his damned cinnamon candies.

...well. Maybe one. Later.

#lu warriors #tl scribbles #lu legend #lu chain

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azurem · 1 month

Text

I wrote this thing in a single run at 4 am (inkmare)

“Pf. Did you see their faces?”

Nightmare had to stop the smile that raised to his face as the sound of Ink’s snickers filled the empty room, yet he didn't fight the way that Ink leaned onto him, untangling him from his tentacles so Ink could hug his neck. He leaned right back onto his touch, hugging Ink’s waist back. He glanced at the closed door one last time before focusing his attention on Ink’s face, his amusement as infectious as a summer’s cold. “I did.”

“They looked so–” Ink choked a bit, hugging Nightmare’s neck tighter as if the possibility of him falling if he didn’t grab onto him was a real one. He shook his head, a permanent smile embedded onto his face by then, “-confused! Have you ever seen Blue look like that?”

“Never,” Nightmare answered truthfully, his tentacles swaying slowly behind him as Ink hid his face onto his shoulder, his own shaking with the effort to keep his voice down. He patted Ink’s back, sighing contently just from being able to experience the texture of his spine against his fingers. “They don’t suspect a thing, do they? Have they asked anything… suspicious?”

“Pf, no,” Ink said back, his snickers finally calming down a bit as he stopped hugging Nightmare’s neck with both hands, his now free hand reaching down to tug on the tail of his scarf, his gaze gliding through the surface of the cloth before it returned to Nightmare’s eye, the mirth in it softening to the always welcome fondness that Nightmare already got accustomed to. He drops the tail, letting it fall to its place before fully leaning onto Nightmare once again, a fox-like smile setting into his mouth as he tilted his head, half-lidding his eyes. “Why, worried I’ll tattle on us?”

The idea is so absurd on itself that Nightmare can't help but snort, his hold on Ink getting a bit tighter as he resists the idea of dipping him as if in a dance, just to daze him for a moment, as short as it were. The idea makes the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, but he decides against it just to avoid risking ruining the lighthearted moment. To humor him, he plays along, acting a more serious tone, even if he can’t have it on himself to get his smile off his own face yet. “Do I have reasons to be worried?”

“No,” Ink said, but his grin didn’t falter. As Nightmare decided to reward the simple answer with a chaste kiss, their mouths meeting together in a motion that by now felt as natural as breathing, he made a pleased hum that seemed almost relieved in the way it often did when Nightmare’s hand cupped his heated cheek. He sighed as the contact stopped, his eyelights changing in a blink to a soothing green and a pale pink. It seemed that whatever plan he had in mind was forgotten to favor the softer sides of him. “No reason at all.”

Nightmare let out an amused huff, more than satisfied with the fact. He leaned down once more, just to spare Ink from the extra effort that would be to try to get to his level. When the gesture got repaid with Ink nuzzling his cheek with his own, not unlike a cat, he couldn’t even think of fighting the smitten, foolish smile that plagued his expression, a pleased sigh leaving his lips. As one hand wandered up, caressing the top of Ink’s head, he muttered, “You’re just…”

“Be creative,” Ink tutted, his eyes turning into half-moons when even the teasing words couldn't bring down the dumb expression on Nightmare’s face. “If you say beautiful again, I’ll get upset.”

“...pretty cheeky,” Nightmare finished, a moment of hesitation snitching on his initial choice of words. When he caught onto Ink’s expression, he added, his voice light, “I will think of more compliments.”

“Well, you better,” Ink said, frowning. By the way his eyelights remained red-less, Nightmare knew that his anger was nothing but for show. He blew a soft raspberry before looking to the side, glancing at him one last time before closing his eyes. “Really. You’re starting to get pretty one dimensional.”

“Oh, how your words wound me,” Nightmare said without missing a beat, gently swaying from side to side, taking Ink with him. He leaned down to kiss his cheek. “But I guess I deserve them. How can you forgive me, when I have wronged you so?”

Ink seemed to think about it for a second, his frown already gone from the soothing touch, a slightly wobbly smile on his lips. He glanced back at Nightmare, his eyes twin half-moons. “...You’re so ditzy.”

“You have turned me into a fool,” Nightmare said. There would have been a time where the words would have come sharp, almost a weapon themselves, but by now they have mellowed to the point it almost sounds like he’s just saying his name. The thought may have worried him once upon a time, but he had since long grown past that. Nightmare swallowed as he found his throat suddenly dry. “The biggest of fools.”

Ink’s eyes welcomed him in shades of the softest pink, so Nightmare couldn’t help but kiss him again. The way his mouth met his, pliant and eager, was more than enough to make Nightmare feel as if he had been set ablaze in the best of ways, for the flame itself felt like it was cradling him. That time, it was Ink who broke the kiss, panting against his mouth. Nightmare couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks were flushed, revealing the unique sight of his freckles, resembling the most lovely set of stars. “Nightmare…”

“I love you,” he interrupted. There wasn’t anything special about it, for those words had been already said many, many times–Nightmare himself had used them way before he fell to the realization that he could love the way he does– but Ink stills, as if he was stricken. The words felt somewhat too big yet too small as he released them to the wind, but Nightmare already got used to the knowledge that they may always feel that way. Even so, he insists on them, unable to do anything else, “I love you.”

Ink blinked, his eyes widened. He was about to say something, maybe the same thing, but Nightmare stopped him with a second kiss, as short as a passing thought. When they separated, Ink pulled back in just as quickly as it was over, less graceful as they couldn’t keep down the twin smiles off their faces.

(It wasn’t hard to convince their teams that his negotiation attempt had went well, but not well enough to avoid them both ending up more disheveled than before they left.)

#undertale au #utmv #sans undertale #undertale #ink sans #inkmare #nightink #nightmare sans #sanscest #zu yapping #setting here is them going elsewhere mid fight for “negotiations” lmao #fic-like

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lostinforestbound · 3 months

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Can I ask for HCs of Rolan with a partner who's big on surprising him with gifts? Not the 'getting him the most expensive and lavish stuff' but the 'takes notes of all the stuff he likes and gifts it to him even without any big occasion' kind

YES YES YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! This idea is so sweet and I am in desperate need for Rolan fluff!

Giving Gifts to Rolan

Rolan, outside of Cal and his mother, never receives gifts from anyone. When he became the new master of Ramazith's tower, he was given gifts by the people in celebration. Potions, Tapestries, all these lavish things he never cared for. He usually puts them in a closet and forgets about them.

When Tav and him finally get together officially, he's not sure how to react when they start giving him gifts out of nowhere. He's confused by it even; why would they get him something out of nowhere? What did he do to deserve it? He didn't earn this.

He will start reciprocating, giving gifts in response to the ones he's receiving. Surely they're expecting something back? He would be a fool to not try and match them, but gift giving isn't something he's good at.

When Tav eventually asks why he's also getting them gifts, and he responds with "well, it's a nice exchange, is it not?" and they'll quickly realize that this man thought he had to give something back every time.

They explain that this is their love language. They love giving him gifts, without expecting anything in return. He immediately asks why if he hasn't earned it: "Well, I love you, and I love getting you things. It makes me feel good to see you happy."

He doesn't argue it further, but it still feels strange to him. Though he can't deny his heart flutters a little when they get him something thoughtful, like an item he was looking at in the market and they got it for him in secret.

Some gifts he ends up loving: Magic books (despite his infinite library in the tower), peerless focus elixirs, a sweet baked treat, horn jewelry, earrings, new robes, nice smelling shampoos for his hair, and facial care ointments.

What he would find so sweet (or funny depending on context) is the certain gifts coming with enchantments on them. He loves having small magical items in collections. Earrings that give him a boost in charisma, rings of protection, and scarfs that keep him extra warm in the cold months.

Funnier magical items he has received thus far: Sweater of Calming, a Ring of Rock Eating, Seal of Approval, Book of Mispells, Cookie of Hunger, and a Giggle Dagger.

Sometimes they give it to him directly, but he's always delighted to see when wrap it in a bow or they put it in a little box on his desk. It makes it a little extra special and he adores it. It's an instant mood lifter for him!

It takes him a while to realize his tail visibly flicks about happily when he sees that he got another gift. Tav never says a thing when they see it since they find it both adorable and endearing. The secret is revealed only when Cal and Lia tease him about it, and now he actively tries to control his tail.

Rolan starts responding to the gifts again, but in his own way outside of gift giving: spending time with them, cooking them breakfast or dinner, setting up more romantic dates, and anything he can to show he appreciates them. That he loves them dearly, and they are the true gift to him.

#forest-writes #rolan x tav #rolan #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3 #rolan nation #rolanites

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whumpinthepot · 7 days

Text

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 15. Photoshoot

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, nonsexual nudity, dressing/posing/handling like a doll, ptsd, fear, swearing, being kept against their will, pet trope, cages, dehumanization, power dynamics, baby talk, ableism, selective mutism, slight bullying, being filmed (lmk if i missed any)

Pov: Hamster

Poll Winner: Pirate and Mermaid

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!!

—-

Today is the day Ashley wanted Soap to model with you. She didn’t mention what the theme would be yet, and when she puts you on the counter where the props are set up you can only gaze in wonder at the chest full of gold coins, silks, and jewels. It's as big as your cage, and you have to crane your neck to try to see the top of it.

There are wooden paneled walls put up around the set, presumably so Soap has nowhere to try to make a run for it. You look around while Ashley goes to retrieve Soap Scrub. The costumes are there in two piles and you pick up a random scarf to look at while you wait.

Ashley comes back and places Soap’s shaking frame in front of you. When he doesn’t move she nudges him in the back with her finger, causing a yelp from him.

She’s scaring him.

You have to protect him from her! she’s made her point already. You frown at her and put your arms around Soap protectively, looking up at her with disapproval.

He’s warm, and still trembling. You tighten your grip and it's clear on Ashley’s face that she gets the message. Ashley bites her lip and looks away from you. That’s right, she would never upset you. You can stop her from scaring your friend.

Soap doesn’t hug you back, nor does his shaking settle. You can feel him looking around for a place to run or hide. Of course Ashley blocked off all exits so you’re not worried about that.

Slowly you let go of him, glance at Ashley who has backed off, and take his hand to guide him to his costume. He numbly and stiffly follows you.

Now that you’re standing next to him you can see that he’s about a head taller than you. It makes your heart flutter for some reason. Not like the humans who tower in comparison, just a bit taller but still your size. You smile at him to reassure that you’ve got him. He’s safe with you.

His nerve returns when you hand him his clothes, and his face twists up as if holding back a rude remark. His sour eyes say it all, and he doesn’t take them from you.

You push the fabrics into his arms, and when he pushes you back without a word Ashley clears her throat from above you both.

Soap nearly jumps out of his skin, snatching the costume out of your hands at lightning speed. Suddenly it's like he’s racing a clock, keeping an eye on Ashley’s hands and face while he tries to figure out how this costume works.

You’re ready to help him if he needs it, and wait patiently for him to get dressed, in what looks like a pirate costume. He struggles with some of the extra fabrics, unsure where they fit but so far he has baggy brown pants with rips above his ankles with a long shaggy grey jacket with no sleeves.

When Ashley instructs him on what to do with the extra cloth he jumps and looks just about to cry. You want to go comfort him more, but Ashley scoops you in that second to help you get into your own costume.

“You’re going to be the cutest tiny mermaid!” She kisses your face, and presents you with a shimmering orange and green mermaid tail that slips on over your legs. “You won’t be able to walk with this, so mummy has to help you with it, ‘kay?”

You don’t answer because there's no need. She’s already helping you into it, along with tape to cover your bare chest. She shifts your hair over the tape to make it look like it's naturally covering any private areas, and mists your hair with water.

She squeals at how cute you are and sets you down on top of the pile of treasure. Some of it tumbles down to the floor with a sharp clatter, and you don’t move in fear of falling. Ashley takes your glasses off, and the house is back to the familiar blurriness it always has been. You can still see where Soap Scrub is though, and you squint at him.

Ashley is pointing and telling him to fix his costume, and before long he’s being guided towards the treasure chest to stand close to you. You can’t tell if he’s shaking but you can only assume he’s still on edge about the whole thing. Even if he got plenty of warning throughout the week.

When Ashley shines lights on you two, you really become blinded, so you let her physically pose you how she wants for each photo. She doesn’t touch Soap at all which is a relief because you know that's what he’s really scared of.

At one point Ashley tells Soap to climb up the coins towards you, and when he says he doesn’t want to she reaches for him as if to grab him. He scrambles away from her, and angrily shouts at her. “Alright! Alright. I’ll do it, don’t fucking touch me.”

You’re flabbergasted and your jaw drops but he’s crawling towards you. He’s slowly getting clearer, and he looks so, so handsome. You lean towards him with a big smile, one that he doesn’t return, and then the coins slip from under his hand.

The first coin causes the second to slip, then the one above that, and now you’re slipping off of the top of the pile with them. Everything falls with you, and kindly enough, Soap is the one that catches you when you fall towards him.

Your breath hitches initially but once you’re able to suck air in you cry in fear. Even though it was a very slow, very anticlimactic, very short fall, it still made your heart skip a beat and your limbs freeze up. Your arm throbs with phantom pain from when it was broken, and you cling onto Soap for dear life, crying from shock.

“Whoa, ugh. It's okay, Hamster. Stop crying,” Soap says, and pushes you off of him gently to sit up. He definitely looks uncomfortable but he lets you keep holding his hands. Until Ashley’s giant hand gets close, then he makes a break for it, and jumps a foot away from you.

Ashley picks you up, and presses you close to her chest. “I’m so sorry honey bunny, was that scary? I would never let you get hurt again. You’re safe, it's okay. I got some good shots. How about we stop for today. How does that sound?” She completely ignores Soap Scrub and wipes your tears away with her soft finger.

She puts you back into shorts and a tank top, but she keeps holding you against her chest while she cleans up. Her heart hammers against your cheek, and you close your eyes, relaxing until she puts you back into your cage for the night. By then you’re calm again, and thrilled to go talk to Soap Scrub once Ashley goes to bed. You want to know what he thought about the whole photoshoot. He probably hated it, but you’d like to hear his thoughts anyway.

Ashley is watching the news, and you dully listen to it while laying on your back. Something about pet liberation, but you don’t care enough to understand it, it's boring.

Ashley shows you some of the pictures before she goes to bed and you’re happy to see how beautifully they turned out. Soap’s grumpy demeanor actually played into the role quite well, and you do look beautiful with the shimmering tail. You’re excited to hear about the comments you get when Ashley posts them.

Once Ashley’s in bed you happily climb out of your cage, keeping well away from the counter ledge, and rush to where Soap lives.

He’s expecting you, and already leaning against the bars to greet you. “Don’t you ever get sick of her talking to you like you’re a baby?”

You shake your head with a smile, and give him a chocolate chip. He deserves a reward for participating today.

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Do you know what conditioning is? If you looked it up in a dictionary your face would be there.”

You don’t really, but you do know he’s being rude so you roll your eyes. You don’t care about his questions. You want to know what he thought of the whole thing.

You point at him.

“Right, because I can totally understand what you’re asking right now,” he retorts. He bites his lip while looking down and gets more serious. “Were you listening to the news earlier? I wonder if it's real… You know, people breaking into places to ‘rescue’ pets. Maybe they’d help me, or maybe they’d just make things worse. Who knows…”

You’re shocked at his dialogue and shake your head in horror. You do NOT want that to happen.

“Hamster, if you let me out you could come with me you know. You don’t have to stay here with her… I know you love her, but it's messed up. People don’t belong in cages. I don’t belong in a cage. I don’t want to be someone's doll. I don’t want her touching me all the time. I don’t want her making money off me, and dressing me, and taking away my freedom. Fuck, she doesn’t even like me.” He laughs out of reflex, and says, “With you it’s different. She’s nice to you, but she’s using you.”

You feel bad. He still hasn’t adjusted it seems, and besides, he had a point. Ashley isn’t as nice to him for some reason, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to lose your only friend. You can’t let him go, at least, not yet, not while you’re confused and conflicted. Besides, Ashley is nice to you, and Soap is usually a jerk, so really why would you want to go with him?

You shake your head sadly and look away from him. You need time to think about all of this. Maybe someday you would like to explore the world, but not today. Not when Ashley still needs you. You couldn’t imagine breaking Ashley’s heart like that. Not in a million years. Still, the thought of people coming in to ‘rescue’ you has you a bit shaken. Especially if they wanted to hurt Ashley in the process. You will have to actually start paying attention to the news before making any sort of decision.

“Alright then.” Soap sounds done with trying to convince you. One last thing he mumbles before you leave for bed is, “You looked good in your costume today by the way…”

You absolutely beam at the compliment and wave goodbye at him for the night. You think about everything while you swing in your hammock. If Soap was around for so long before Ashley found him, you wonder if more tinies will ever show up. The thought both excites you and scares you.

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump p @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti i @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169

Clumping the tags together, Lmk if theres an issue with tagging! Also thank you @alittlewhump for helping me out with this chapter:))

#hamster interactive story #pet whump #tiny whump #whump writing #cyoa whump #interactive whump #whump poll #g/t writing #lady whump #lady whumper #breezys writing #breezys post #whump art #g/t art

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firenati0n · 3 months

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wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends <3 sorry for the late upload. thanks to all the sunday and wednesday tags (will tag below the cut), love you long time :)

here's the only thing i have written in like a month and it's not even for proposal au whoops sorry (hopefully proposal ch 4 shakes out soon)

idk what the fuck this is because i wrote it at like 3am so enjoy david and his friends ganging up on a stuffy poodle.

David's best friend Milo's tail is wagging before the three of them have even fully entered the dog park. David's tail starts to swing in return on instinct. Every day is exciting for him, but Thursdays at the dog run are for people watching with his friends—gossiping is pedestrian, but everyone must fall victim at some point. Before David can even greet Milo with a bark hello, the insufferable poodle Cleo next to him goes, “My, Henry's looking rather submissive and breedable today, wouldn't you say, Milo? That scarf, oh!” David growls in the back of his throat, moving to stand guard in front of Henry's ankles as he chats amiably with Cleo’s owner. Henry’s always showing everyone kindness. David is not inclined to do the same. He's historically selective, it's practically in his breeding. “Don't be weird, Cleo,” Milo's brother Leo snaps. “Henry is a gentleman. He doesn't let just anyone on the street pet him.” He side eyes her with rampant disdain. “Maybe we should all learn and take notes, hm?” Cleo sniffs, nose upturned. “Don't get your paws in a twist, boys. I didn't know it was a crime to say someone was pretty.” “Speak on Henry one more time, and I'm gonna bite your mom's ankle,” Milo threatens. David is so lucky to have a friend like him.

xoxo roop

p.s. my eventual vision for this fic is that david sounds like david attenborough and narrates some of alex and henry's life like a nature documentary. anything is possible.

+ open tag and all the people who tagged me this and last week:

@thinkof-england @thedramasummer @thesleepyskipper @stellarmeadow @getmehighonmagic

@saturntheday @seths-rogens @priincebutt @judasofsuburbia @miss-minnelli

@welcometololaland @littlemisskittentoes @sophie1973 @suseagull04 @porcelainmortal

@eusuntgratie @tailsbeth-writes @myheartalivewrites @kiwiana-writes @stratocumulusperlucidus

@duchessdepolignaca03 @blueeyedgrlwrites @14carrotghoul @benwvatt @leaves-of-laurelin

@cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @onthewaytosomewhere @toadsdrool

@wordsofhoneydew @anincompletelist

#fic: david attenborough #roop writes #wip wednesday #rwrb fic #rwrb #thanks for letting me immortalize your dogs kore #ily

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wanderersbell · 2 years

Text

lost and found

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff, modern!au

warnings: none

word count: 4444

✧.* when a lost cat drags in your very snarky and attractive apartment neighbor, you end up with a bit more than you bargained for.

for the modern au writing event at @yae-publishing-house

it’s nearly the middle of the night when you see her for the first time - a little white cat huddled up by the staircase of your apartment building. your feet are aching from running around all day and your knees are on the brink of giving out from exhaustion, but you don’t even hesitate to approach her and crouch down to get closer the moment you take notice.

she chirps in surprise and stands up to greet you right away, brushing her cold pink nose against your hand and dragging her body against you affectionately with her tail twitching happily in the air.

“aww, sweet girl,” you whisper in a soft voice while scratching lightly around her ears. “aren’t you cold out here?”

the cat of course does not understand this, but she still meows once you finish talking before bumping her head against your hand in response. her fur is lightly covered in dirt and dust from being outdoors and she isn’t wearing a collar which would normally indicate a stray, but she’s so friendly that you can’t help but gnaw your lip in worry.

it’s not abnormal to see homeless cats in the area, and all of which are well taken care of by the people in the neighborhood, but what if she’s somebody’s lost pet? what if she hasn’t eaten in days and nobody has seen or fed her?

these thoughts are what have you ignoring the pain in your legs and jogging to the convenience store a few blocks away to pick up some cans of wet food. thanks to it being ridiculously late on a tuesday night the building is entirely empty aside from the cashier, so in record time you’re able to secure the goods and return to the little white cat that’s still waiting patiently under the concrete steps where you left her.

as soon as the lid is off the can she’s circling around your feet and meowing so you’re quick to set it down and let her at it. just as you had feared, she scarfs it down in under a minute before turning to you with her big green eyes like she’s asking for more. she probably hadn’t eaten for a while, and your chest flutters with anxiety about what to do in this situation.

animals aren’t allowed in this complex, so if she’s a pet she’s likely from the neighborhood nearby and ended up here after escaping her house. surely they have some sort of community group where everyone in the area can report things like porch thefts and lost animals, so you take your phone out to snap a few pictures of her while she continues to lazily brush against your legs.

“i’m sorry i can’t bring you inside,” you say to her sadly, slipping off your jacket to fold up and place under the steps for her to lay on. “i’ll make sure people know you’re missing, so stay here okay? i’ll bring you food again tomorrow.”

she once again meows very politely when you finish, and it takes everything in you to start walking up the stairs to your door and leave her behind knowing she’s stuck out here in the cold all night. when you finally get inside and kick your shoes off the first thing you do is download a neighborhood forum app and make a missing animal report, and it’s only seconds after that when you flop down on your bed and are out like a light.

the next morning, she isn’t there.

your jacket is still where you left it and covered in white fur from her laying on it, but the cat herself is nowhere to be found. you still leave an open can of food for her anyways, but the rest of the day while you’re out all you can think about is whether or not she’s safe and if you’ll ever see her again.

nobody has responded to the report you made last night yet, not even a single like left on the post despite the page having gotten multiple views, and you’re tempted to post in a few other neighborhoods nearby by decide to hold off and see if she comes back before jumping the gun.

later that night when you finally return, she’s curled up on your jacket under the stairs again. a tidal wave of relief rushes through you as you reach into your bag to pull out a can of food and peel the lid off.

alerted by the sound, the little white cats’ head shoots up and she’s already padding her way over to you before her eyes have even fully focused on the source of the noise. when she realizes it’s you, a series of delighted trills leave her throat and it takes everything in you not to scoop her up into your arms and baby her.

you sit with her for a bit longer after she finishes eating before bidding her goodnight and reminding her to stay put until tomorrow.

it’s only minutes after you’ve fled the scene that someone else who had also taken up the task of looking out for this cat for the time being approaches the stairs and clicks their tongue in annoyance at the sight of an empty can of food.

when tomorrow comes around, if she’s still there and nobody has responded to your post, you make an oath to yourself that you’ll sneak her inside and risk the consequences of doing so. it’s certainly more trouble than it’s worth, but you can’t sleep knowing she’s out there all by herself and the fleeting thought of her being taken by someone else and stuck in a shelter fills you with dread throughout the night.

she’s not there in the morning again, but you still leave an open can out for her like yesterday and have a little more confidence this time that she’ll still be waiting under the stairs when the day is over.

as expected, the sight that greets you as the moon hangs high in the sky when you finally reach the entrance to your complex is a sound asleep bundle of white fur on a jacket.

tonight is the night that you’ll take her up to your apartment and look after her, but you decide to let her eat first while you think up a backup plan in case picking her up and carrying her won’t work. a small smile sits on your face as you kneel next to her and watch her eat, lazily scratching up and down her back while she purrs between each bite.

“so you’re the one who’s been feeding my cat.” a male’s voice rings out from somewhere behind you.

you jump at the sound and snap your head around to face the source, the white feline slipping away from your hand to slink over to the person who spoke and meow at his feet expectantly. about ten feet away, with his arms crossed over his chest, stands the most attractive guy you have ever seen in your life.

the first thing you notice is his eyes - a vivid violet ocean encapsulated in his irises as he glares down at your hunched form. there’s a small amount of bright red eyeliner smudged under his waterline in a tiny wing that perfectly compliments his complexion and distracts you so much that you almost don’t see the two black rings in his bottom lip, to which your stomach does a little flip upon noticing. cropped indigo hair frames his face delicately, a sharp contrast against his ivory skin that looks soft and unblemished from where you’re crouching.

when you finally recover from how unfairly gorgeous he is and process his words, your brows crease together in a frown.

“your cat?” you can only watch helplessly as the white feline stretches up on her back legs and balances herself against his shins until he reaches down and scoops her up.

“yeah, obviously.” his tone is sarcastic as he gestures to the animal in his arms with a nod.

“then why does your cat live outside?” when you finally push yourself to your feet you realize he’s no taller than you are, standing at perfect eye level as you regard him with a suspicious look.

what kind of terrible person leaves their pet outside? it’s clear to you that he’s bullshitting and the cat isn’t really his, but if he’s so keen on being a jerk about it then he can have the same energy in return.

he purses his lips (curse those metal rings glinting under the fluorescent stair lights) and tilts his head back in a mocking manner. “she’s mine because she likes me the most.”

we’ll see about that.

“c’mere kitty, pspspsps.” at the sound of your voice the cat squirms out of his hold and pads over to you with a series of sweet little meows. the smug look you send him as you lean down to scratch her ears has his jaw visibly clenching with irritation.

“also, what’s so wrong with me feeding your cat?” you continue. “shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“grateful? she’s going to end up fat if we both feed her.” the man huffs.

“okay? so then stop feeding her.”

“no,” he retorts. “you stop feeding her. i was doing it first.”

“well that’s a shame. what do you want me to do about it? shall we take turns?” your tone is heavily sarcastic as you suggest this, and you’re positive that if looks could kill you’d be six feet under by now.

“what, like divorced parents? isn’t that always rough on the kids?” he counters and shakes his head. “she deserves better so just let me handle it.”

you look him up and down suspiciously, trying your best to ignore how hot he is. “why should i? i don’t know you.”

“are you-“ he releases an aggrieved sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “fine, then let her choose.”

the cat, who’s sitting patiently watching you both exchange heated remarks, doesn't move a muscle. thirty tense seconds pass while she just looks between you and him with mild confusion, her tail flicking softly behind her until she gets bored and slinks off to go curl up on your discarded jacket, leaving the two of you standing in defeat.

“just let me take her inside.” you sigh, too tired to keep this up.

the man looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “inside? are you crazy? we aren’t allowed to have pets.”

“okay, and?” you shrug. “you’re telling me that wasn’t also your plan?”

his eyes close and he seems to be contemplating something for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“one more night.”

“what?”

“one more night and if she chooses you tomorrow, i won’t argue.” he explains carefully, red lined violet eyes watching you closely. “but if she picks me, i’m taking her instead.”

reluctant to agree but unwilling to back down, you give a short nod and the deal is set. you both turn away at the same time without another word.

the next day, as the two of you meet under the stairwell at the same time and the tiny white cat beelines past you towards the man who wears a grin so smug it has your hands clenching into fists in irritation.

“have you even had a cat before?” you begin interrogating him, failing at trying not to be jealous over the whole thing. “do you even have everything you need? do you have electrical wires hidden and things she could eat and choke on picked up?”

he looks like he wants to argue, but instead shuts his mouth in a thin line and turns his head the other way, bangs falling into his eyes with the action.

“…no.”

with a defeated groan you drop your head into your hands and heave a large sigh.“we’re going to the store then. you need a litter box so she needs to stay out here until you do.”

“wait- we’re going to the store?” he asks, clearly against the idea of you tagging along. “why can’t i-“

“c’mon.” he pauses when you turn on your heel to start walking the other way, leaving him momentarily perplexed while staring after your retreating form.

there’s a place open for another hour down the road that should have everything you need, and you’re determined to not let the cat sleep out in the for cold another night so even though you can’t stand this guy, you may as well do it for her.

after swearing under his breath the man speed walks to catch up to you. the walk there is completely silent and neither of you acknowledges each other once, but once you walk through the sliding doors into the building you look over at him and wait until he meets your eyes.

“i’ll grab the litter, you grab the food. it’s that way.” you say while pointing to the isle. without another word, you take off towards your destination and spend a few minutes checking prices on different brands.

it’s not long before the man returns to your side with a small bag in his hand and you realize a little too late that of course he would have no idea which kind of food to pick.

“put that back,” you tell him while grabbing a case of litter.

“what? why?” he asks sharply, looking slightly offended.

“that brand is bad for them.” you explain while following hin back to the food isle. he’s visibly vexed as he trails after you.

“if it’s bad for them then why would they sell it?” the man deadpans.

“good question. here, grab this one.”

silently, he takes the bag from you and you lead him down a few other isles to grab things like food and water dishes and a small pack of mouse toys with bells before taking everything to self checkout. he’s strangely quiet the entire time, just letting you do your thing after having no choice but to accept that he knows nothing on the matter, and you can’t help but find it a bit endearing.

when you scan the items, the man hovers behind you silently until you pull out your wallet to pay. he rudely shoves you aside with his shoulder and swipes his card before you can even begin to protest, but anything you were about to say dissipates into thin air and is replaced upon seeing the name on his card.

“kunikuzushi?” you ask with mild surprise, reading the letters out loud.

the man’s shoulder tense up at the sound of his name coming from your lips but he’s quick to recover and clicks his tongue.

“don’t call me that.” he grumbles, typing in his pin with a little more force than necessary. despite his irritation expression, there’s a hint of amusement in the way he speaks that makes you think he truly is just putting up an act.

you watch him for a few beats to figure out if he’s serious or not before humming and nodding like you’ve just come to a conclusion.

“kuni it is then.”

kuni snaps his head around to glare at you, but the pink flush that stains the tips of his ears and cheekbones gives him away. “don’t call me that either.”

you give him an innocent smile and reach around him to grab the receipt and bag before heading to the exit, not bothering to wait and see if he follows. as expected, his footsteps approach from behind.

“cant believe i’m stuck living in the same complex as you.” kuni hisses under his breath when he catches up. you find yourself staring at his lip rings for a moment before ripping your eyes away.

“speaking of that,” you start to say, completely ignoring his prior words. “how long have you lived there? why haven’t i seen you before?”

kuni looks like he’d rather not answer, huffing an exasperated sigh. “around five months now.”

he won’t tell you much, but you force a little more small talk out of him until the two of you finally arrive back at the complex and scoop up the cat to bring her inside. she doesn’t make a sound once on the way up, and you can’t help but thank her silently for keeping quiet since you’re definitely not supposed to be doing this.

when you step inside, kuni’s apartment is clean and organized and dark just as you had expected. the walls are almost completely bare save for a few band posters and the only things decorating the small living room are a black leather couch and a tv on a simple glass stand. it takes no time at all to set things up while the white cat sniffs around the house and takes in her new surroundings.

the litter box gets tucked into a corner of the bathroom, the food and water dishes set on a mat by the kitchen counter, and a few toys are laid out around the place where she can bat them around as she pleases.

“you have to let me come visit whenever i want.” you demand when you’re finally being shooed out of the front door by him.

“what? absolutely not.” kuni snaps, turning back to give you an offended look.

“you have to! wouldn’t she be sad if she never saw me again? divorced parents both still get to see the kids.” you insist with full seriousness.

kuni watches you quietly, absentmindedly moving his lip rings back and forth with his tongue before sighing in defeat.

“fine, whatever.” he concedes. you’re about to pump your fist in delight, but he stops you to finish. “you can visit once a month.”

“one a week.”

“no.” he argues.

“please.”

your begging seems to do the trick, because kuni’s shoulders quickly drop in defeat when you look up at him with pleading eyes. “are you serio- fine. once a week.” he grumbles. “just get out now, it’s late.”

and so, because you’re fairly certain he’ll let you get away with it, you start showing up every night to see her.

kuni acts like it’s the biggest inconvenience ever when you turn up at his door every time after that, but he never denies you entry, begrudgingly stepping aside and letting you coddle the little white cat that lives with him.

you tell him about your day even if he insists he doesn’t care, and still listens intently and tells you about his when you ask in return. you learn more about him this way. he won’t tell you exactly what his job is, only that he works from home and occasionally takes small trips to collect something from people. it’s vague and makes no sense to you, but you don’t pry more than that.

he’ll sit on the couch while you kneel on the floor and throw her toys around, watching you laugh and fawn over her until he eventually kicks you out.

you discover that he’s actually incredibly easy to get along with, nowhere near as cold and unapproachable as he looks at first sight. he’s attentive and clever and loves nothing more than to laugh at your expense, but you find that you don’t mind letting him if it means you get to see the frown slip off of his face, even if just for a moment.

this little routine continues for almost an entire month before one night, kuni shoves his phone in your face with a grim expression. after pushing it away a bit to actually be able to see the screen, your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach.

it’s a missing pet post, with images of the little white cat attached.

after reading a bit, the situation becomes clear. her family had gone on vacation and hired someone to watch her, but that person let her escape and never said a word about it. her family didn't find out until they returned to her being gone, and were now clearly frantically searching for her and hoping she was still alive.

“oh no,” you whisper sadly, looking towards the feline who’s happily curled up on the couch. when you meet kuni’s eyes, he almost looks a bit torn.

“i’m calling them tomorrow.” he informs you bluntly.

“wait, but-“ you start, trying to ignore the stinging burn of tears that threaten to fill your eyes. seeing the cat, seeing him, has become something to look forward to in the last month. the thought of seeing her go has a lump forming in your throat, bringing with it the selfish urge to keep her for yourself instead of doing the right thing and taking her back.

“her family needs her. she needs to go home.” kuni says in a way that shows he’s trying his best to be sympathetic.

even though he seems fine for the most part, there’s no way he isn’t going to miss her. he took the risk of letting her stay with him, and went out of his way to make sure she was comfortable and well taken care of.

“i know, you’re right. i just…” you trail off quietly, fingernails digging into your palms.

kuni meets your eyes, and a moment of silent understanding rushes between you like a heavy current.

“i know.”

the next day, she gets returned to her very relieved family. kuni takes care of it since you’re not home, and then a week passes by, as slow and miserable as ever. you have no reason to go over to kuni’s apartment anymore, so you haven’t spoken to him since, and every night you go straight to your own place and spend the evenings by yourself.

it’s impossible not to miss the sweet little cat, the pleasant trill of her meows and the softness of her sides rubbing against your legs.

but it’s even more impossible not to miss kuni. the way he always waited for you to stop talking before he answered, the way he would open and close the door for you even while telling you to get out of his hair, the sound of his stifled laughter when you would trip over a cat toy or mess up your words.

one night, when you come home late as per usual, kuni is sitting at the bottom of the stairs appearing bored out of his mind. you don’t even notice him at first, but when you do your whole body freezes in fear until you realize who it is.

“you scared me!” you accuse sharply, slightly irked by the unapologetic look on his face.

he’s as attractive as ever, his red lined eyes creased together in amusement as he watches you gather your bearings. it may just be a trick of the light, but kuni seems almost nervous as he stands up and approaches you.

“did you eat dinner?” he asks while shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“um,” you respond intelligently, willing your eyes not to stray away to his lip rings. “no?”

he clicks his tongue and turns to start climbing up the stairs. “then come on.”

you follow after him wordlessly, having an internal battle the whole way up over whether or not he just asked you out or if you’re reading way too much into this.

why was he even waiting for you tonight? he barely managed to put up with you whenever you came to pester him and the cat, so there’s no way he’s actually interested in you… right?

“you eat meat, yeah?” kuni asks as he opens the door for you and waits for you to step inside. his apartment is the same as you remember, the only difference being one less cat and a navy throw blanket folded over the back of the couch.

brushing off the way it makes your heart twinge sadly, you take off your shoes and nod. “yeah, i do.”

“good.”

in the next thirty minutes of comfortable silence that pass, you find yourself sitting on the couch and helplessly watching as kuni moves around the kitchen and prepares something with practiced ease. the sleeves of his sweatshirt are rolled up to his elbows as he works, showing off his pale forearms in an all too distracting way.

his bangs keep falling into his eyes and every time he tries to blow them out of the way you have to fight back a smile. his hair was a bit shorter when you had first met, so he must be due for a haircut by now.

it’s strange to think that in the last month you had managed to become so fond of this grumpy stranger who nearly tried to fight you over a lost cat, but there’s no denying the way your heart rate picks up when he glances over and catches you staring every now and then.

as the delicious smell of stir fry fills the place and your mouth water uncontrollably, you make your way over to the small dining table and take a seat at one of the chairs. kuni carries two plates over and places them down before sitting opposite of you.

“sooo,” you finally break the silence. “what’s all this about?”

“eat.” kuni ignores you, gesturing to your plate with his fork.

“but i-“

“eat.” he repeats himself, a bit louder than last time. his violet eyes narrow in your direction when you raise a teasing brow at him.

“fine.” you huff. when you stab some of the food with your fork and shovel it into your mouth, you can’t stop the shock that spreads over your face as the flavor hits your tongue.

“it’s good!” you gush in genuine surprise. you never would have thought he was good at cooking.

“of course it is.” kuni says proudly, finally digging into his own portion. he gives a small satisfactory hum as he chews, and you feel your heart twinge again - this time for another reason entirely.

“come over again for dinner tomorrow.” he says with no room for negotiation before taking another bite and avoiding your eyes. the tips of his ears are visibly pink despite the low light and you agree easily with a muffled laugh.

“why are you looking at me like that?” kuni asks suspiciously after he swallows his mouthful, realizing you’ve been watching him a few moments later.

you smile knowingly and look away. “no reason.”

it seems that as fate would have it, finding that little lost white cat was only the beginning.

#yaepublishinghouse #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #kunikuzushi #genshin impact #my writing

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bokettochild · 8 months

Note

What about Wars and Wind for day 6??

Sure thing, luv!

I hope you enjoy this one!

Wordcount: 8,780

Rating: Teen

Summary: Warriors has a mission from Impa and the princess, one that is "military business" and thus not the responsibility of the Chain of Links. Even so, every time the captain's gone off without a brother, as far as Wind can remember, something goes wrong, so can he really let warriors leave without backup?

It’s hard to miss when Warriors is gearing up for a mission.

Thers’s this certain air about the man, a lack of the warmth and ease with which he treats the group. Instead of twinkling eyes and warm smiles, there’s a distance behind bright blue, a guarded way that he holds himself, a certain set to his jaw and stillness to his hands, like he’s steeling himself to walk out into hell yet again and face the flames. Wind had seen it a lot during the war, and while he doesn’t see it often anymore now that the Chain of Links has gathered, he still knows it in the blink of an eye.

So, when the group of them land in the captain’s era, once again, and their second night there sees the captain adopting that air, it’s a sure sign, to him at least, that there is some task needing completion. He’s not the only one who sees it either. When Warriors returns from his meeting with the princess, eyes hard and with not even a word of greeting for the rest of them before he moves for his things, most of them look up.

“Everything alright?” It's sort of strange that it’s Legend who asks that, sitting up from the couch and his book to stare at the captain, his own shoulders stiffening, ears pricking forwards, but then again, the vet is highly attuned to nearly everything, or so it seems.

The captain hums somewhat but doesn’t verbalize an answer. No, instead, a blue streak of light buzzes out from his scarf to do that for him, startling most of them but all too familiar to the sailor and their leader. “Link has a mission tonight and will not be able to stay with you all,” Proxi announces.

The rest of them move to get up but the captain turns from where he was gathering his things, one hand raised to the rest of them. “No need to get up. You’re all staying here.”

The vet’s brows raise.

“This isn’t monster related,” Warriors tells them, belting his sword over one shoulder rather than at his hip as he wears it about the castle. “Just military work.”

That seems to be enough for the rest of them, and even though Legend does give the man a brief once over, he follows the lead of the rest in settling back in their places. None of them really go back to what they were doing though, instead watching the captain curiously. Well, except for Wind.

“I’m coming with,” he announces, standing up and moving to stand at the captain’s side, his normal place since meeting the man. During the war, he and Mask had been the captain’s shadows, on his tail and watching his back no matter where it took them, even if that meant following him into the most terrible of battles. There were times, of course, where they had orders to attend to issues on other parts of the field, inside the fort or tending something in camp, but the idea of Warriors going out into anything without having one of his two charges aiding him somehow is unthinkable.

Not so for the captain it would seem, a heavy hand settling on the sailor’s shoulder as distant eyes fix on him. “No, not this time, kiddo.”

“What?”

The soldier’s stare is heavy, hand heavier as it claps his shoulder once before lifting, the heavy scarf the other wears being pulled free and set aside in favor of a cloak and hood that the man pulls on, fabric hanging low over his face. “This isn’t a mission you can help with.”

“But-”

“No, sailor.” Warriors’ voice is hard, but not harsh. “I need you to stay here, can you do that?”

The expression on his face must betray frustration, maybe his confusion too; Warriors hardly ever tells him to stay behind, not ever so directly and never without some other order or responsibility: take care of Mask, protect Marin, watch the prisoners, keep lookout. Being left with nothing is new, and he doesn't like it. Warriors must see that, because he drops to kneeling, which honestly feels a little degrading because Wind isn’t that short anymore, but when heavy hands find his shoulders, his focus is fixed on blue eyes, flickering briefly to the faint scars that still crisscross over them.

“This isn’t something you can help with, and I wouldn’t feel right dragging you into this.”

“What is it?” he demands, not liking the tone or the situation.

Warriors just smiles, not a real smile, but a guarded little thing that says he knows what the sailor is up to, and that he won’t be tricked into sharing anything more than he intends to about what his job will be entailing this time. “I need you to stay here and stay out of trouble, can you do that for me?”

Staying out of trouble isn’t doing anything though.

“Link,” he doesn’t realize his face has dropped until one callused finger is hooking under his chin and lifting it to meet the captain’s stare. The man’s bangs are a mess, and already they’re starting to slip over his eyes. “Promise me you’ll wait here?” Saying no to that earnest look is nearly impossible, not when Warriors has dropped the soldier stance, has dropped the grace and strength and is just staring, hopeful and worried and so, so tired, up at him.

“Okay.”

“Promise?” The stare shifts, guarded, wary, knowing how often he’d be tricked by some wordplay from their little fairy-boy.

“Promise,” he agrees, hating the word even as it slips out of him. Still, it earns that thankful little smile as the captain pulls himself up to stand again, reaching briefly to the side for a shield, not his usual one, but a darker colored one like the royal guard uses.

“I’ll be back,” he can see the captain’s walls raising, guard slipping up again and sharp eyes going cold as responsibility settles over broad shoulders like a heavy cloak, “probably.” The little smile does nothing for his worry.

“I’ll be here,” he sighs, watching and useless as the other moves for the door.

A raised hand is the farewell for the rest of them, and well wishes sound from the rest of their brothers, all worried and tense, but equally unable to do anything as the captain bids them a goodnight and then leaves. He hates it. He hates watching the older man leave, heading out to face things he has no clue about. Meanwhile, they will sit here in the castle, in the rooms the princess had appointed for them, comfortable and warm, safely resting in soft beds and enjoying warm meals while the captain is out there, alone. It makes his stomach turn.

Despite all that though, the others return to their own matters, speaking softly with each other in worry or letting their books and hobbies distract them. Wind can’t though. Instead, he finds himself watching the door until Time’s hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy but not the same steady, firm grip as the captain uses, draws his eyes up to the man looking down at him. “You alright?”

He shrugs it off, heading away to the room he’s sharing with Four and Hyrule. “’m fine.”

He doesn’t doubt that they don’t believe him, not anymore than he actually believes those faked smiles and confidence from the captain.

He tries to sleep that night, he really does.

It was past dinner when the captain had set off, and they’d all already shed their gear and weapons for the day as they’d prepared to wind down, hence why Warriors leaving at such an hour came as that much of a surprise. Warriors works by day, in the open, in the light, guiding his men and leading the way for Hyrule as a whole; their beacon of hope and strength. Matters of the night, of the shadows, fall under Impa’s purview, the Sheikah being the ones to creep about and tend to matters out of the sight of the kingdom, quiet and un-noticed, unheard, unseen.

He doesn’t understand why Warriors would have to set out at such a late hour, but it bugs him. Even after Sky has come to check and make sure that they’re all settled for bed, even after Hyrule and Four have both long since dozed off, he’s left lying awake, staring out the window into the dark sky. It’s overcast, although not raining, nor will it rain anytime soon, he thinks. Still, there's no sight of the stars, and the moon drifts in and out from behind the heavy clouds, making shadows flicker and fall, only to spring to life again over the bedspread, the floor, the walls.

He knows Warriors is capable. He knows the captain had faced his adventure with all the strength a hero must, and that, unlike himself, the older man was chosen by the Triforce of Courage, hand-picked by the goddesses to wield the Blade of Evil’s Bane. Still, even with that, he feels uneasy, knowing the captain is out there somewhere right now, without any of them to back him up and doing Nayru only knows what.

He rolls over. Staring at the dark room makes it worse.

When the war was over, Warriors had let both he and ask sleep with him, as none of them felt easy about sleeping alone after everything, and it was no secret that Link didn’t sleep easy if he didn’t have someone to watch his back. The dark circles under his eyes most of the time told anyone who saw that the man hardly slept as was, but having his two charges close, safe, where he only needed to wake up to see them, seemed to help. Mask’s uncannily good hearing made up for their loss of hearing from cannons lasting off beside them, and at the smallest hint of danger, the youngest would be up and hissing at them to wake up too, like a little guard dog.

He’d suggested Link get a dog, when it came time for them to leave, but he doesn’t know if anything ever came of that. He hadn’t asked.

Regardless, trying to sleep in the big bed, Four beside him and Hyrule curled up at the bottom (where neither of them are likely to touch him), isn’t the same as curling up, safe, in the captain’s strong arms, or even with Mask in his own. It feels wrong, being in the castle without Link, and staring at the fading and returning shadows, the silent room, the grand furniture and thick rug, it sets him ill at ease.

Link could be in danger right now, and he’s lying safely in bed, unable to do anything about it.

He promised, but his mind flickers back to all the times he hadn’t been at the man’s side. The time a camp doctor had tried to put an end to the war by killing his own patient, leaving Warriors blind for the next week until Lana had been able to heal him. The time the fort on the far side of Hyrule Field had fallen, and the next he’d seen either the captain or Mask, it was with Link clutching ahold of the dust covered youngest hero, shaking and too relieved to speak after the walls had nearly crushed the kid. There was the time he’d charged off ahead, confident he could take on Cia, and the next time either of them had seen him, Link had been listless, wary, and flinched at the slightest of touches.

Everyone refused to explain to him what happened, and even now the older man won’t speak of it, not to him at least. He knows it was bad though, because the man he so admired, looked up to, and even saw as a father had never been the same since.

There were other times; battles, missions, scouting expeditions. He’s long since learned every scar that traces the other’s skin, so used to helping patch him up, but half of them happened when he wasn't there, couldn’t help. He'd hated it, standing back and watching the captain sew himself back together, no longer willing to risk visiting a doctor or proper medic, and not knowing what had happened, not being told because Link didn't want to burden him. He’d promised himself if he could stop it, he would, but he’d never had the chance.

Now though, lying in the dark, the thought hits him that he can. He can go out there, and the captain wouldn't ever have to know. He could creep out and track them down, watch from a distance and, if needed, take out an enemy or two. He could watch their backs, cover their steps, make sure whatever mission has taken the man away from him doesn't return him in yet more shattered pieces.

Warriors would never have to know.

Mind set, he slips out of bed, shifting a pillow to fill the abandoned place he leaves behind, just in case Four reaches out in his sleep, like he does, seeking another person to cuddle with. He tucks the blankets too, so no draft will sneak beneath, and then he’s padding softly to the chair he’d set his things. He doesn't have a heavy cloak, not like the captain or the others, but the scarf left hanging by the door works as well as one to hide him, and while the color stands out more than the cloak it was traded for, it’s a lot better than the pale blue of his own tunic.

Wrapped tight and moving quietly, it doesn't take too much work to sneak past the guards patrolling the halls. He’d only lived in the castle for a short while, but while Link had been tending to papers and reports and meetings, he and Mask had spent their days mapping the little passages and corridors that spiderwebbed through the stone, and he’s able to make it outside without so much as a glance from the staff. Finding the captain is another issue, but he’d paused in the man’s office, picking the lock briefly and turning his attention to the papers left on the man’s desk.

Reports of activity amongst a rebel cell that’s established itself in the city had been on the top of the pile. He can’t read all of it, but he understands enough to know that, likely as not, the captain has gone out to meet with planted spies to gather information, as well as potentially intercept a messenger, whom, based off the file, Impa seems rather eager to get ahold of. He doesn’t read much more than that, just scans the papers for any hint of a location, a time, anything at all, before sneaking out and heading down the streets.

It being a city, Castle Town doesn’t sleep at night. Most honest folk have gone off to bed, but pub regulars are out at their chosen haunts or cast out into the streets, and travelers headed in or out of town, returning patrols of soldiers, and the occasional merchant headed home still populate the streets. Kids sneaking out from their homes, working girls, petty thieves and the occasional sheikah lurk in the shadows, but his size marks him neither threat nor target to them, and he’s left alone as he heads towards the rougher side of town.

Pidgeon Row, officially known as the south gate district but nicknamed what it is for the jailbirds that live there, is quiet at this time of night. If anyone is out, they keep their heads down and shuffle between houses and establishments. The exceptions are the occasional drunk, but again, he goes unseen, flitting about on top of roof-tops as he does.

Link told him and Mask once, back before things took a turn for the worse, how he and his friends would sneak around this part of town when they were kids. Gassun would whisper about the antics and Bav would shudder while describing the residents back in their day, but Link would be all mischief and grins as he’d share about roof hopping and “spying missions”. The stories were more about what they got up too, but he’d picked up bits and pieces from the three of them about how to navigate the town, how to watch your step and calculate a leap between roofs. They used to argue about technique mid-way through the stories, and he thinks he’d learned more about how to creep about unseen from those tales then he actually did about the captain’s childhood.

It’s only those stories that allow him to recognize the captain though, the man’s lanky frame jumping across an alley just to his left, slipping down with all the ease of a cat into the street. If not for the dark cloak he remembers seeing Link don before leaving, or the briefest flash of messy blonde, he wouldn’t know the man, but as he closes in, he sees the faintest flash of blue eyes, and though the manner, stance and general air of the other is nothing like the noble captain he knows, the voice that speaks into the darkness is definitely his.

“Oy, pidge, ‘s me.” The heavy accent he only ever hears hints of it fully on display, masking the voice the rest of the world would know, blending the captain in with his surroundings as much as the old clothes and guarded, defensive stance does.

Another man slips out of the shadows, far more bulky and less agile looking, but if planted by the sheikah, Wind doesn’t doubt their skill or speed. “Chess,” he greets.

“Wheesht!” The captain hisses, glancing around fervently like he’s afraid of something, but to anyone who knows him, it’s clearly an act, one to make him blend in with the other street rats and jailbirds that will be out and about. The captain doesn’t need to look to know if an enemy is there, and he most certainly would not be so obvious about it if he did. “D’ya want all Hyrule hearin’ ya noo? Wut I say ‘boot names?”

The other man twitches, put out, or pretending to be, but drops his voice low enough that Wind’s ears can't catch what’s said between them any longer. That doesn’t matter though, because the captain seems pretty intent on it, and definitely notes down anything of importance. From his rooftop, Wind can see them easily, although he doesn’t dare move closer lest they realize he’s there, but their conversation isn’t the only one of its kind happening in this part of town right now. In fact, he can clearly see another a few alleys over, two men trading something between themselves, looking over their shoulders all the while and speaking in hushed tones. As far as the residents are concerned, the captain is just another low life meeting to buy or sell goods, and not likely to draw attention from anyone who wants to keep their head down. Honestly, Wind would be impressed with the act if he didn’t know the captain grew up around here and thus isn’t acting so much as slipping back into old behaviors and habits in order to blend in.

That said, he’s not sure why the man was so insistent on his staying behind. So far, nothing dangerous seems to have happened, and while there was definitely time between the captain leaving the castle and then arriving here, he seems no worse for wear, or any more strained than he’s pretending to be. Why leave behind his little shadow when Wind is clearly doing a fine job of watching his back and also going unseen? Even by the captain himself?

Needless to say, he’s a bit miffed, but he keeps his head down all the same.

Link pays his contact and slips away, not on the roofs this time (thank goodness, because he’s definitely quicker than Wind) but down the streets, side eyeing anyone who moves too close to him as he hurries along. You’d think, not being a known face, they’d stop him, but Wind supposes new faces are normal now, in this district, what with the city still such a mess as they recover after the war. Regardless, the captain is allowed to pass, and Wind slips after him, watching from the roof-tops but hanging back far enough to not set off the man’s warning bells.

When Link slips into a pub, he lingers for only a moment.

On one hand, Warriors isn’t known for taking it easy with the alcohol, but on the other, this is a mission, he’s probably not even going to actually drink, and if he does, it will be for cover and cover only, and not anything as strong as he usually would go for. Still, letting the man go into a bar doesn’t sit right with him.

Following after is his downfall.

He doesn’t go for the doors, he knows better than that. No one in Castletown lets teens drink, and the only kids allowed in bars are usually the ones whose parents are such regulars that they need help getting home at night. The thought makes him wonder if the barkeep here will recognize the captain as the kid who used to come at closing for his old man, but he dismisses that thought, he has a mission to fulfill after all. Anyways, Warriors lived a bit further out in Tater Town, and if his dad had come to this bar, it wouldn’t have been frequent enough for people here to recognize him or his son.

Door not being an option, the window is the second-best choice. He slips for the one upstairs, less likely to be seen, but of course, of course, the room is occupied. Worse still, it’s very occupied, and the people in it take one look at him, one look at the scarf he’s all bundled up under, and sharp smiles and even sharper knives appear in an instant.

Well, shit.

He immediately moves to drop back out the window again, but one of the men is faster, catching hold of the scarf wrapped around him and somehow, getting the thing enough over his mouth that he can’t even call out for help, can’t make a sound to alert anyone downstairs that something is wrong up here. If anything, the faint groans and shuffling will be disregarded, considering what sort of a bar this is, and not even Link will think to check up here.

“Isn’t this the hero’s scarf?” One man murmurs to another. Even from downstairs, Legend would have caught that, but Legend’s not here and neither are the others. No one can act as the captain’s ears right now, and Wind’s left only able to flail against large hands that catch hold of him and keep him still while the rest stare at him.

“Seems like,” another of the men hums, “wrong size though.”

“’t’s one of his brats,” another figure murmurs, giving Wind a once over. "Why he’s here though...”

“They don’t never leave his side,” a wary glance from one to another of the men in the room, and the breath in his lungs drains all too quickly at their words. Shit, they’ve put it together, haven’t they? Is Link a good enough as an actor to fool these men? He’s shit when put on the spot, even if he can play into parts of himself that already exist, as proved with the street-rat “act”, but will he be able to blend in enough that out of all the potential blondes downstairs, they won’t realize it’s him?

One of the other men frowns though. “That’s as may be, but at that age I wasn’t ‘xactly tied to me da’s belt.” Raised brows and curious stares turn on the man who had spoken, and he quickly explains. “He’s what, fourteen? It’s a pub, mates. Seedy side of town where his da won’t look?”

There’s a snort from the first speaker. “Sneakin’ out, was you?” Dark eyes fix on him, grinning some as he’s given yet another once over. “Yeah, me too at that age.”

And while it’s well and good that they believe he’s just having his rebellious streak (and a small part of him whispers that they’re not wrong), the fact that they’re holding this tight to him, gagging him on the scarf, means that they don’t have the best of intentions either. No one’s first instinct when seeing a kid is to try and stop them getting away, not unless they have ill intent or something seriously wrong with their minds. The fact that the scarf, and the captain, matter so much to them doesn’t mean anything good either.

His thoughts flicker back to that report on Link’s desk. Gods, he hopes these men aren’t part of that rebel cell, or he’s screwed.

It’s official: he’s screwed.

The men had gagged and bound him, stripping away the scarf quickly in order to do so, and then left him in a corner for a good while. Murmured conversation of “not lettin’ the kid hear” had led to most of them leaving the room, but one or two had stayed, carefully not close enough for him to touch and both with their eyes on him while they traded boring stories and terrible jokes in an effort to smother any noise he did manage to make. That, or maybe to stop him hearing the talking in the next room, but it’s not until the bar downstairs goes quiet that the rest come back in.

And then it starts.

Questions, demanding on where Link is, what he’s doing out here, was he alone? The fact that they ungagged him long enough to ask says there's not a chance that anyone not within their group is around anymore, and he doubts the captain lingered any longer than he had to complete his mission.

Link will be long gone, so he’s at least able to be truthful when he says he has no clue where the man is, even when pressed.

“He said he’d be working late,” he tells them, trying to wriggle out of the knots at his wrists but finding very quickly that they’re a lot tighter than he’d like. Still, he plays into the alibi they’d practically handed him. “I thought I could just sneak out for a bit.”

“Really?”

And while they’d come up with it themselves, they still press and push. The questions about the hero’s whereabouts quickly turn into questions on what Link’s been doing, where he’s been, who he’s met with and all sorts of other things. They don’t take his petulant “I don’t know” as an answer either. It seems he’s not the only one fixed on the idea that Link can’t go about without at least one of the others with him, and the more he denies, denies, denies, the harsher they press, the more they threaten, and at last, a knife driving into his leg sends the point home.

“You’ll tell, or we’ll be sending your dear dad a real awful message.”

He’s a bit too busy choking back tears at the pain blossoming in his thigh to even try to answer that.

Luckily, that’s the only instance involving a knife, and while the pain doesn’t exactly stop, one of the men declaress that “he’s just a kid, stabbing isn’t okay” although they say nothing to the occasionall slap or kick, which honestly, what sort of crap standard is that? Not that it matters, because the throbbing pain and the ever harsher slaps are making focusing rather difficult, and eventually his jaw in genuinely swollen enough that they seem to give up on trying to talk to him at all. Instead, they leave him, laying on the filthy floor and move off downstairs.

He doesnt care how old he is, how much of an adult he wants people to see him as, Wind can’t help but cry when they’re gone. It hurts! Its so bad and he can’t even do anything except press one leg over the other and hope it kills the circulation and stems off the blood flow.

Time seems to take forever to tick by, made all the worse by the lack of sunlight even as day definitely breaks. The windows remain unblocked, but the overcast weather from the night before has carried over and there’s not even the faintest hint of sun beams to track the time by as he lies and sobs and gathers himself only to break again later.

It was late when he trailed the captain to the bar, maybe the wee hours of the morning, but his best bet is that it’s noon before he hears anything again. This time though, it’s shouting, harsh and loud and angry. There’s scuffling and what sounds like a clashing of blades, the thudding of feet darting up the stairs and then the door of the blasted room being flung open. It slams against the wall, rattling nearly hard enough that he thinks it might fall off its hinges then and there, but it doesn’t matter because standing in the door frame is a panting and bloodstained Legend, the captain’s heavy cloak hanging loosely off his shoulders.

“Wind,” dark eyes fix on him as the twin blades in the vet’s hands are slipped away to Hylia knows where.

There’s a scream from downstairs, and it makes him wince as booted feet dart to his side, the vet kneeling to inspect him, but Legend doesn’t so much as blink. No, the vet’s eyes are focused on him, and ewen when another set of booted feet pound up the stairs , headed their way, Legend just flicks a wrist to send one of his knives flying towards his persuer.

The moment the gag is out of his mouth, he’s gasping, sobbing still, just a bit, but mostly just numb as Legend shifts him and starts binding up the stab wound in his leg. “Vet?” he wheezes, not so much deselieving as confused.

“Better believe it, kid,” the man’s voice is clipped, distracted, motions just this side of frantic as they stop his bleeding and then cut his bonds. He’s missing most of his gear, only in his under-tunic and boots and Wind knows for a fact that the cloak on his shoulders is the captain’s and not the vet’s own. He hates that that means Legend hadn’t even bothered to dress himself before heading here, that more likely than not the other had been pulled out of bed to come directly here, or at least start looking for him.

How had the others taken waking up and finding him missing? Especially after all of them had witnessed him promising the captain he’d stay behind? Sweet Sages, the sailor winces, they probably think he was kidnapped right out of his bed or some other such thing. Unless they know. Unless they suspect that he would break his promise, as he’d done, and go after the captain anyways, regardless of his word. He's not sure which is worse, them believing him helpless enough to be kidnapped, or them coming to the correct conclusion that he can’t even keep a simple promise. Whatever they think though, none of its clear on the vet’s face as he works, soft, detached words falling from his mouth in what the sailor thinks might be three or four different languages, but all of which sound vaguely assuring. The stream of comforting words doesn’t stop either as the vet finishes his work, violet eyes heavy with lack of sleep turning to at last fix on his face rather than his wound.

“Any other injuries?”

He shakes his head. There’s another scream from down below, steel clashing loudly.

Legend nods, firm, quick, distracted, Long ears keep flicking between him and the stairs, and the vet’s mind clearly isn’t just on him. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? Wars has them busy downstairs.”

Which means all the noise, the raised voices, the clashing steel, the shouts and cries and sounds of battle are because the captain is busy fighting off the men who’ve been keeping him here, and potentially any others. He doesn’t miss that the vet hadn't mentioned the others either. “We need to help him!” His aw is swollen enough that the words slur, but he thinks the point gets through.

“We need to get you out of here.” Legend corrects, pulling him upright but supporting him so there’s no pressure put on his injured leg. “He can handle them.”

“He needs backup-”

“He needs you to listen to orders, kid.”

That shuts him up for the moment. Legend looks like a wreck, tense, nervous, and very, very stressed. He knows better than to push that, but even so there’s still a part of him that detests the idea of letting Warriors face off against enemies alone. The vet doesn’t appear to care though, instead pulling him up over his back and moving for the stairs, teeth sawing faintly as he darts down them as quickly as is safe, each step granting Wind better and better a view of the fighting down below.

It’s a mess. Warriors is caught in the midst of it, sword locked with that of one of the sailor’s captors while several others try and get hits in. There’s blood everywhere, on their clothes, their skin, their faces, and it’s clear as day that skill or no, the captain is outnumbered.

“Got him!” Legend calls out, stopping briefly at the foot of the steps, panting slightly.

Blue eyes dart towards them, all fire and fury and harsh, brilliant light, and the captain nods, dropping his lock with the other blade to fall back to the vet’s side, shield lifting to catch a blow here and there from enemies who strike out at either side.

Faint sparks of magic dance over the room, Legend’s teeth gritting and sawing even louder as Wind feels the hands holding him to the other's back warm with the surge of magic, keeping the enemy at bay if only for a moment as Warriors cuts a path for them through the room. If Legend’s hands were free, Wind has no doubt that blood would be spilling much faster, but they aren’t, and try as he might, the vet won’t let him slip down.

“We should help him!” he insists, as the outside world greets them, still grey, still overcast, and still not raining. “We should go back!”

“I will,” the vet hisses, feet flying through the streets and carrying them ever further away for the pub and the sounds of battle, away from Warriors, “just as soon as you’re safe.”

”He can’t hold that long!”

“You’re my priority.” And try as he might to object, to fight, to squirm free or demand Legend turn back, shouts turning quickly to desperate sobs, the vet doesn’t so much as falter, just cling tightly to him, holding him in place as he moves through the streets, feet thumping and teeth sawing.

People dart out of their way, some shouting in anger, others in fear, some others still in horror. There’s no shortage of blood on the vet, nor himself, and despite Legend’s prowess in battle, his skills with wound-care aren’t the best, and Wind is still very much leaking blood all the way from the pub to the castle gates, where Legend hastily hands him off to the men on duty, voice still that sharp, dangerous whip-crack as it hisses orders to the two men standing there. “Take him inside and alert General Impa that Captain Link requires aid.”

One of the men makes to protest, but the other, one who’s familiar for some reason, nods, gathering Wind’s protesting form up in his arms without sapring him so much as a glance, eyes fixed instead on the vet’s flashing violet ones. “You got it, ma’am.”

He doesn't even have it in him to laugh at Legend being mistaken for a woman, again- he’s too busy trying not to cry at the thought of the captain still left alone in that pub against men twice as big as he is. Legends doesn’t appear to even notice either, instead whipping back around, stumbling only for a moment and then darting off down the street again, the captain’s cape whipping in the wind kicked up by pegasus boots as the vet shoots out of sight, no doubt headed back to the captain’s side.

Holly, the infirmary attendant on hand, bustles him into a bed the moment he’s handed off.

He manages to get ahold of hismelf between the gates and the infirmary, but it doesn’t stop the way worry twists and churns in his stomach enough that it’s a struggle to down the red potion she gives him after cleaning his injuries and checking him over. She tuts and fusses over him like anything al the while, just the same as she has a dozen times before.

She’s one of the few medics Warriors will consent to being treated by. She’s an old neighbor of his from his childhood and someone with nothing to gain from his death or injury. By extension, she’s their usual caretaker too, his and Mask’s, when they’d ended up needing medical care while at the castle. Unlike others, Warriors can talk with her with ease, and even relaxes somewhat, enough that his accent will slip through to match her own, their voices low as they would discuss treatment, severity of injuries and childcare in general. She’s a nice enough lady, but her determination to assure him, sit with him and keep him calm do nothing but get on his nerves.

Her attention stops though when heavy feet and rasping breathes sound outside the door, an hour or so later, and the sight of the vet, this time with Warriors’ arm slung over his shoulder, both of them bloody, both of them panting and neither of them processing his presence, steals her attention away. He only gets a glance in the time it takes the woman to haul ass and get the both off into the private room on one side of the infirmary, intended to be kept for nobles or the princess, but usually used quite frequently by one idiot captain, but one glance is almost too much.

There’s so much blood.

No one answers his questions as attendants surge into the infirmary and dart behind the shut door. Muffled sounds of pain escape from the other side, and its torture in its own right to be confined to a bed, watching the world buzz around him while white clad medics dart in and out, gathering terrifying looking tools and so, so many bottles and herbs and bandages. Gods, there’s so many bandages! He can hear the captain’s voice raised, panicked, he can hear Legend’s own, so much softer than it was the last he’d heard it; soft but clearly shaken as it soothes and assures, hitching here and again. He can’t catch the words, but that’s almost worse.

It feels like it’s hours before the ward is quiet again, the medics trickling out, bloody and tired looking.

Neither Legend nor the captain leave the room. Holly does, but she only spares him a sad look before moving for the door, returning a bit later with water which she offers to him first before slipping back into the captain’s room again.

The clock on the wall ticks down the minutes, hours, and when at last something happens again, it’s the rest of the Chain making their way through the doors. Their eyes fall on him first, and the relief that floods over their faces as Time gathers him in his arms, as Twilight catches his face in both hands and looks him up and down like Granny would, it’s overwhelming.

“Thank Hylia you’re okay!” The rancher gasps, pulling him in for a hug.

“You gave us a real scare,” Four adds, standing far closer than he usually would, eyes trailing over him repeatedly, as though the smithy still isn’t sure he’s actually in one piece.

Sky’s next to pull him into a brief hug, although, unlike the others, his face is still lined with worry as he pulls back, strained around the mouth and distracted as he adds his own say to that of the rest. “Never disappear like that again, understood?”

“Understood.” It feels wrong, falling out of his mouth, but there’s nothing else to be said as his eyes trail to the door he’s tried multiple times by now and still can’t get past.

There’s questions after that, and Hylia above he hates questions so much! He’s not even listening anymore, instead watching as Holly comes into the room again, shaking her head softly as she tuts under her breath, carrying yet another pitcher of water. “Holly!” His voice cuts off that of his brothers and has the medic’s eyes lifting to him, that sad little smile returning once more at the sight of him. It tastes disgustingly like pity. “How is he?”

She hasn't answered any of the other times save with a soft “can’t be sure” but this time she looks over the heroes gathered before her and just finally sighs, gaze falling and head shaking like it’s been doing all afternoon. “T’ain’t pretty, luv.”

“Let me see him?” It’s strained, nearly tearful despite his best efforts, but the image of all that blood, on the vet and the captain both, on the medics in and out of the room, and all over the tools Holly and the rest had been cleaning all afternoon- it makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn with unease.

Unlike the last time, when he’d caught word of Warriors getting stabbed while at the castle, where he’d run here from the inn and been let in without so much as an attempt to stop him, this time the medic pauses, glancing between the closed off room and the sailor boy whose spent all day lurking outside of it. His injuries are basically gone by now, the potion having taken effect no matter how much he’d struggled to keep it down, but leaving just won't sit right with him. Not until he sees Link.

The woman at last sighs, yet again. “I’ll see if yer mum’s alright wi’ it.”

No one has even a chance to ask what she means by that, although based off of previous experience they all already know. He’s not sure if the vet’s been being referred to as ‘Kit Taylor’ all day now or not, has no way of knowing, but it really wouldn’t surprise it if they’re rolling with that again. Regardless, he’s sure the vet is who Holly means, and who she must speak too as she slips into the room again.

The whole group of them wait with bated breath.

When the door swings open yet again, the answer given is slow and hesitant. “Ten minutes.”

He’s up off the bed before she’s even done saying it, the rest of their group at his heels, but Sky by far the fastest, by some trick of magic or another (because there's no way he’s that quick under his own power).

Entering the little room, they’re greeted with the sight of the captain’s still form laid out across the bed. He’s on his side rather than his back, although there’s blood staining the back of the shirt he’s wearing, and while it doesn't appear to be fresh, it’s clearly the cause of his odd positioning. There's a lot of blood all the same though, and even more splatters over the vet, seated at the bedside in a chair that definitely wasn't there the last time Wind visited this room. They can’t see the captain’s face, but Legend looks like a wreck. Hair a mused mess, eyes bruised from lack of sleep and worry both as he sits, stretched out so that one arm rests between his chin and the mattress, the other hand holding one of the captain’s own tightly. Between the two of them, Wind’s not sure who looks worse, and he’s not even seen the captain’s face yet.

It takes longer than he’d like for violet eyes to drag up to them too, and if the weight of the world looks like it’s resting on the vet’s shoulders, well, they all get a taste of it as his eyes fall just as heavy on the group of them.

“Is that the others?” Warriors voice is strained, but it’s his and its alert at least, even if the man hasn't moved at all since they’d entered.

Legend blinks, breathes a moment like even that is a chore, and then glances down to the captain. “Yeah. Guess they’re tired of waiting on us.”

“Told you to go rest.” The captain huffs, but Wind can’t miss the way the man’s hand squeezes the vet’s own smaller one (or the fact that both sets of fingers are still stained with blood).

A scoff makes rosy hair fly just a bit in front of dark eyes. “Yeah, no.” It’s said like they’ve had this conversation a thousand times already. Given how long they've been in here, Wind wouldn't be shocked if it has. Still, Legend’s voice is a good deal less rough than it was this morning, and while it still bleeds stress and strain, there’s an undercurrent of warmth in it that softens the sound against their ears.

In a sharp contrast, the captain’s voice is all tightly strung and strained when it next sounds. “Is Wind here?”

The vet’s eyes lift to them again; falling on him, holding his gaze as every emotion drops out of dark depths with a single heavy breath. “Yeah...”

The captain groans, shifting and lifting one hand. “Help me up.”

“Holly said to keep still,” the vet sits himself up, pushing Warriors back down in the same motion. The emotions flicker back over his face, worry and stress and pain, but the hand lifted, expectant, doesn’t drop.

“Either you help me, or I do it by myself.”

A soft ‘tsk’ sounds, but the hand is taken, clasped tightly as the captain lets Legend take the strain of pulling him somewhat upright, the vet’s other arm wrapping around broad shoulders while, somehow, the smaller man manages to maneuver a pillow or two around to support the other. Wind’s not sure how it’s done though, because his eyes are rather fixed on the captain’s face. Well, what he can see of it.

It’s like being back in the army camp, sitting in the medical tent for the last time in his life and realizing just how much Hyrule resented the man who’d taken him in. The bandages that wrap around the captain’s eyes are positioned differently then that time, covering more, but there’s no doubt in his mind why they’re there, and what’s hiding beneath.

He wants to be sick.

“Tune.”

Reflexively he tries to meet the stare that ought to be being leveled at him, but there’s only white cloth to meet in its place. His own voice feels small as it answers the steel of the captain’s own. “Yes?”

“You lied to me.” It’s worse than the stab wound, than the punches he’d taken earlier in the day. The captain’s harsh tone is worse than anything enemies have ever dealt him, and he flinches back under it. “You promised to stay behind, and then you intentionally snuck out.”

The gazes of the others are on him now, all shocked and surprised, except Legend. No, Legend just looks tired, maybe enough to just keel over then and there, even as he hovers at the captain’s bedside like he’s worried the other is the one that might falter. With how stately Warriors manages to look even while bandaged up and an utter mess, Wind has no clue where that worry is coming from.

“I’m disappointed.”

Wind’s pretty sure his heart stops for a minute.

“I trusted you to obey orders, and you intentionally defied them, risking not only your safety, but mine and that of the rest of our party.” He’s not sure if he should be glad that he can’t see the captain’s eyes or not. The stare he’d be fixed under, if the man still had his vision, is no doubt the same one that’s made men piss themselves in terror. He never thought it would be turned on him, but the anger that bleeds through the captain’s voice betrays the intent, even if his face can do nothing to express it. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He feels small. So very small. “I’m sorry.”

Warriors twitches, shoulders sinking as though new weight has been added to them. “Me too.” His tone hasn’t softened the slightest bit. “I’m sorry I believed you would actually follow orders.”

Tears prick at his eyes at the words. He’s already cried far too much today, but in comparison, everything that happened earlier feels so trivial and childish beside this. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you mean to tell that to everyone whose neck you risked by jumping in when I told you not to?”

“What else do you want me to say?” It’s half sob, half scream, but somehow it’s still so quiet in the echo of the captain’s own harsh tones.

Silence meets his words, but not a considering one. No, Warriors’ lips are pursed and his shoulders tense, so much so that even when Legend lays a hand on one, a wary look on the vet’s face and no doubt some sort of warning on the man’s lips, the captain doesn’t so much as twitch. “I don’t know. It seems my expectations were miscalculated.”

“I’m sorry!” It feels like the only thing that he can say anymore. “I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“And yet it did.”

“I was trying to look out for you!”

The next words are a harsh bark worse than anything Time could dream of. “Well look how that turned out!”

“Warriors.” Legend’s voice is strained, a warning as dark eyes lift to fix on the trembling sailor.

The captain hisses a breath, what’s visible of his face contorting in what Wind takes a moment to realize is pain. There’s a breath, the vet’s hands hovering and the captain’s shoulders trembling for a moment before one blood-stained hand lifts as though to rub the bandaged face, only to think twice when it meets soft cloth rather then flesh. “Get out,” it’s strained, but less harsh, just tired. “Just... get out, go back to your room.”

“You’re sending me to my room? I’m not a child!”

“Well, you certainly haven't been acting like an adult!” The captain snarls back, only to pause and turn away, hand twitching towards his face a second time and again pausing at contact with the bandages. “Look, I am too angry and in too much pain to be having this conversation,” heavy breaths color the words, shallow little things that shake through the form of the man he’s spent so log looking up to. “We’ll discuss this when I can control myself.”

He wants to protest, to apologize again, to say anything, but Time’s heavy, too big hand settles on his shoulder, holding him back. “We’ll leave you to rest then.”

“Is there anything you need?” Sky’s voice is warm, soft, sad, but kind all the same as the man glances from Warriors’ shuddering form to Legend’s drooping one.

The vet shakes his head, eyes slipping closed in the motion with a little sigh. Wind wonders, looking at him, if Legend has rested at all since hauling his ass out of that pub, or if the man’s been tending the captain at Holly’s side all the while, regardless of the fact that he looks ready to collapse.

Sky must see it too, because he frowns some, worry bleeding into his voice. “Get some sleep, you two. We’re just a call away.”

“Thanks, Sky.” The smile the vet shoots them is as fake as the captain’s had been last night.

Wind can only stare, helpless as their leader guides him out of the room. He trips over his own feet, but catches the way the vet catches the captain’s hand in one of his own, murmuring something he can’t hear but which has Warriors’ shoulders falling, sinking, a shudder running through the man that looks horrifyingly like a sob.

He screwed up.

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #linked universe fanfic #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #because legend decided to play sidekick #so he's here #easter egg challenge #how many of my old fics did i reference?

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brokenpieces-72 · 21 days

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Older arctic fox reader, a good friend of Nikolai's, helps the 141 with a mission in Russian territory, and meeting our little wendigo as well.

Do what you want with this.

The reader is male, since I don’t usually do male readers. I’m definitely not imagining this guy looking like the anime KFC guy with fox ears and a bomber jacket…definitely not. Also lets access a different branch of the military with Special Investigations unit.

Fäks

You and Nik go back, and pretty far back. You served together in Russia and when he started working more “freelance” you got him whatever he needed to get whatever he needed. How did you two meet well funny story…he flirted with you. In his defence this was some time ago. Nik wasn't exactly sober either. Your hair was longer then and your body shape was slimmer than most. You’d been called beautiful by more than a few men before they noticed you were male. You started hitting on him back to see if he would pick up on your masculinity, before just asking Nik if he had figured it out yet. Nikolai saying you were very foxy for man is what cemented your relationship.

Nik didn’t tell you everything, but he kept in touch even after you parted ways. When a mission came up, and your commanding officer told you to stand down or to let it go, you reached out to Nik. Off the record wasn't uncommon for you, to the point you'd acquired a few safehouses for your own safety. You contacted Nik to see if you could get some help with your business trip, and he could deliver. When he told you the hybrids he could invite to your vacation home, your tail flicked. A wendigo, a dragon, a werewolf. You had to keep the list a little short but Nik wasn't about to just chauffer.

You stood outside the small base as the chopper landed, a smile on your face, under your scarf. Ice flecks whipped up around you, forcing you to raise your arm to protect your eyes. You didn’t approach until the rotors stopped. The rest shuffled out while Nik wasted no time coming to greet you.

“My brother.” Nik said, clasping your hand and providing a bear hug, which you return with a grin.

“Good to see you again comrade. This must be your friends.” You said, turning your attention to the newcomers.

“Captain.” Nikolai said, inviting Price over. “Meet Fäks. A good friend of mine.”

The dragon hybrid came over and shook your hand. He was bloody big, his horns making it difficult to keep a beanie on his head. You smiled, regardless of being a little intimidated.

“Welcome to Russia captain. It’s a pleasure.” You says.

“Pleasure is mine, Private Fäks.” Price said, nodding. All business this one. You were introduced to each one as friends. If there was a human who could bring hybrids together, it was Nik. Sure any human could arrange a meeting but Nik was special, looking past the hybrid while showing respect to it as well. As the soldiers filed out you noted each one. Gaz came up behind Price, shaking your hand in respect. Another human, Rudy greeted you next before going with Gaz towards the safe house. The final two exited the helicopter. A werewolf with his tail sticking out, saying to call him Soap. Behind him was a smaller soldier, with antlers and rabbit ears, calling herself Spirit. As the wolf and jackelope hurried inside, you took note of how Spirit was tagging along after Soap.

“Recruiting rather young.” You commented. Price nodded, his expression tells you it wasn't exactly his idea.

"Those two are a vision in the field." Price assured you. You looked forward to it.

Once inside and rooms sorted you wandered about, being as good of a host as you could. Nik would be sticking around to assist with extraction for this mission. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see the men with their jackets, scarves and toques off. The next day would be plenty of planning and decision making, figuring out how to break into a facility that was extracting various illegal materials and bi products from hybrids. This was a little personal for you, as you’d nearly had your own tail cut off or someone shave it for some sick mink.

There is a small lounge that could pass as a living room and you see the men have made themselves at home. You smiled reclining in a seat and immediately being asked by the harpy, about how you and Nik met. Nik loudly groaned, and buried his face in his hands, as you leaned forward ready to embarrass the shit out of him. Kyle already had a grin on his face.

“I was minding my own business whe-how old are you?” You said, interrupting yourself when Spirit walked in. She had a book in her hands, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Uh…haven’t looked.” Spirit said. You looked at Nik.

“Not my idea.” Nik said shrugging.

“Apologies malen'kiy. Not used to such a young soldier.” You said. Didn’t mean to startle her.

“Come in Spirit, you’ll want to hear this story.” Gaz called to her. Spirit’s eyes went from wide to bright as she hurried to sit with Kyle. It’s cute how cozy she looked, with Gaz letting her snuggle up. Reminded you of someone else. You needed to focus on what was before you. Mission first, personal stuff later.

“Where was I…right I had a drink. Was enjoying some water, when Nik comes up and sits down like any old stranger.” You continued.

Originally Nik sent you a few files for the mission, since you would be leading it. Turns out he neglected to tell you what the wendigo was supposed to be. You were expecting a lanky humanoid, and when you were planning the mission that image remained.

“Wall here is pretty weak. I can find a hole nearby I’m sure.” You suggested when going over the plans. You looked up at Soap. “Unless a werewolf can?”

“I could do it.” Spirit suggested. “Wait, how much do I need to break it?”

You stood there for a moment, and looked up at the team. None of them said anything. The little jackalope just gave an expectant look. Were you missing something? You decided to take her at her word, but breaking the wall wasn't exactly what you were going for.

“On the other side is a lab. Not sure what’s in it but based on some of the cargo and shipments I’ve seen going in and out there’s a chance of explosives.” You continued.

“Door access might be easier.” Price suggested. Spirit looked a little disappointed.

“My thoughts as well.” You said.

“So breaking in from the outside is a no go?” Kyle asked. Certainly seemed more risky. So far breaking in with what access points you could reach would be more complicated with others but you couldn’t do this mission alone.

“I hate to suggest it, but could we slip in undetected?” Price asked. You considered that but didn’t like the idea.

“It would involve cages, some good acting, and a prayer.” You said. “Nik could drive a vehicle in with us in the back as cargo but the downside is we would need to either be drugged or knocked out. They won’t take “subjects” that are too active, and don’t want anyone knowing their way around in or out of the facility. Every stake out, all I could hear was breathing, no calls or cries. Overheard some drivers talkings about it with the guards.”

“Can we play dead?” Spirit suggested before looking at Soap. “No offence.”

Kyle snickered at Soap’s rolling eyes. You continued, “No, they test to ensure the hybrids are drugged. Guards will enter the truck for inspection before any of them go through.”

The young soldier seemed to shift from foot to foot. You could hear her heart picking up. When Soap put an arm over her shoulders she seemed to relax. The thought of cages made you a little uneasy as well, but it was easiest way.

“I don’t mean to devalue anyone, I have great respect for your work truly, but is bringing someone so young along a good idea?” You asked aloud.

“I’ll be fine.” Spirit said. You could hear her let out a huff, eyes firmly on the map. A strong malen’kiy.

Day before the mission you found yourself in the living space again, with Spirit sitting and drawing in her sketchbook. You had brought a sort of peace offering in the form of a muffin. She accepted it politely.

“Apologies for any offence I may have given you. It was not my intention.” You said. Spirit looked up a friendly expression on her face.

“I wasn’t offended.” Spirit said. You nodded and sat down, eyeing what she was working on. An arctic fox.

“Nik tells me you are a part of a program?” You asked. She nodded but fidgeted a bit. “Bad memories?”

“A bit.” She said, more focused on the sketch. You smiled.

“Do you need me to pose?” You teased. She looked at you smiling and shaking her head.

“I noticed you looking uneasy. While we were briefing.” You asked. When cages were brought up Spirit seemed to shift from foot to foot. Rudy would be a driver, along with Nikolai. You, Spirit, Price and Soap would be in cages and drugged. Gaz would provide overwatch. “If you don’t feel comfortable, you could always go in a cage with someone else, if it makes you feel safe.”

“You’re sure the drugs will be a lower dose?” She asked. You checked and double checked almost every hour, the doses were specific and precise, so they’d wake when they needed to, and wouldn’t be out any longer. You put a hand over your heart looking the young hybrid in the eyes.

“On my honour."

The truck is chilly but cold doesn’t bother you, nor does it bother Soap. Spirit had opted for staying in the same cage as Price who seemed a little chilly. Before the doses were administered, she curled up closer. Spirit also insisted on having her poncho. Soap was also adamant on this.

“You have a little comrade captain.” You commented. Price nodded while Spirit gave a proud and smug look.

“Always.” Price said, his wing covering Spirit. You hear a small laugh, and quiet words from Price. Gaz went to each of you, injecting the dose. It would put you all to sleep. When you woke it was go time. You and Soap would be in one part of the lab, while Spirit and Price would be in another. Horns and antlers were valuable, as were scales. Furs had value but only so much. You notice Spirit getting nervous, can hear her breathing becoming unsteady. Price was there to keep her calm.

“You got this milan’kiy.” You told her. The needle goes in, she winced and then leaned back against Price. Price adjusted her to keep her from falling before Nik injected him. Soap was fidgeting in his own box as Rudy put the needle in him next.

Then it was your turn…and you…fall……asleep.

When you awoke you were close by to Soap who was already assessing the cage. He was focused, and ready. There was an extraction team on the way, but getting the other hybrids to safety was top priority. You started to pick the lock when you heard the horrible screech of bending metal. Soap was half shifted.

“That works.” You said and hurried out leading him to some more cages to assess the situation and get some files. Import records, profiles, transactions, whatever you could do to get to the root. You lift blankets on cages to check and see plenty of younger hybrids. The program was about to have a long week. Soap was getting the security system turned off. You were a “late shipment” which meant you had some time. No one would come to assess you for testing or anything like that which made for a perfect opportunity to get as many out as you could.

“How are those cameras?” You asked.

“What cameras?” Soap responded. You gave him a chuckle as he joined you, peeking under a blanket. Another fox hybrid, shivering, and looking newly shaved. Seeing soap, fhe fox cowered. Soap backed off, as you hushed the young kid.

“Не волнуйся. Мы здесь, чтобы помочь вам. Просто держись крепче.” You said. The kid nodded, eyes a little brighter. The blanket goes back down, and you stand up.

“Aye, Fäks. Found some shipments.” Soap called over. You came up to him, seeing the crates with smaller containers. The labels were going to a few high end companies. Disgusting, all of it. There was a barking sound. The two of them turned and saw the white Cadejo. Rudy had returned, which meant the guards wouldn’t be an issue. Soap got to the door and knocked, getting a response from Rudy immediately and letting him in.

"Find everything?" He asked.

"Downloading now." You informed him seeing the loading bar come up. Of course their tech was old and slow.

"Nikolai is on the other end." Rudy mentioned standing next to you, to see the progress himself.

"How is fairing?" You asked. There was a loud bang which told you something wasn't going right.

"Soap, Rudy, stay here." You instructed immediately. If there was one thing you didn't like it was sitting and waiting, and right now there was a chance a good friend of yours was in danger. You don't wait for their response as you leave the room and see a couple guys in lab coats rushing out. You drew a knife from your boot, shanking them both with quick and simple agility. You can hear odd noises and when you get the chance to look inside, you see Spirit's wendigo form, roaring and growling at whatever guards decided to poke her with a stick. Or cattle prod. Clearly they'd taken her out of the cage, intending to do some last minute assessment or maybe to get her antlers off. Price was taking out any guards that tried to go for him while Spirit tried clawing at them. Nik still had a weapon from his disguise, firing from whatever cover he could find from the tables and empty cages.

You don't hesitate to get more primtive, your blade doing only so much when it comes to armoured gear. You claw and bite, yes you have teeth, and you aren't afraid to dive into smaller space to remove anyone wanting to use the element of surprise. Thankfully, the fighting doesn't last long and you don't have too much blood in your mouth.

"Anyone broken?" Price called, taking a moment to catch his breath.

"Good here." You said.

"Fine here captain." Nik called, as you gave him a hand up.

Spirit made a cooing sound, shuffling from foot to foot. You approached her and she looked down at you tilting her head. A jackelope wendigo hybrid. Certainly a new one. Seeing the scraps of her clothes, you understand why she wore the poncho. Spirit shifted back to her more human state, retrieving a weapon from one of the guards. Still seemed a little shaken, but ready and at attention.

"Files should be finishing up. We have plenty of hybrids to extract." You said.

"Let get to it." Price said.

Plenty of reports and paperwork to write and sign for this side mission. The hybrids were either put into a program like Spirit's or were waiting for their family to retrieve them. You checked up on Nikolai, and as always he was still holding strong. After completing your last signature for the day, you got up to go find him. Knowing him, he'd likely have a drink, and you could use one.

"Figured you'd need one." Nik said, offering you a poured glass. As always, he'd thought of everything. You took off your jacket, letting it rest on your shoulders as you sat with him at the table. "Long day."

"Indeed." You said taking a long sip. The two of you nursed your glasses.

"How are you?" Nik asked you.

"That's your best pick-up line?" You asked, recalling the night you two had met. Nik laughed. "I'll be fine."

"You see your little one at all these days?" He asked.

"I avoid it." You admitted. Nik shook his head, pouring you another.

"You should see them. Wait a little, but go see them." Nik said. You could never turn him down. Even when you two first met. He was right though. You should go see your little one. Spirit had reminded you of them, and they deserved to have you around even if you didn't think so.

"I will. They're still reading, and I've started doing it too. Plenty to talk about I'm sure." You said. Nik nodded, and you spent the rest of the evening, catching up, inviting the others to join, and remembering the good times.

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