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justalittlelilac · 1 month ago

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Merry Mishaps, Tinsel, and Mistletoe

Tamarack Baumann x Athena Suzuki - Step 3

My Secret Santa Gift for the wonderful @monicaeidolith! Big thanks to @olnfsecretsanta2024 for hosting this special event!

(photo from Pinterest this isn't your gift lol)

Athena stood in Tamarack's living room, staring at what could only be described as a Christmas decoration crime scene. Tinsel hung limply in various places, a string of lights had somehow tied itself into knots, and the artificial tree was leaned precariously to one side like a tipsy party guest.

"Stellar work," she muttered, dejection thick as syrup. "You can't even handle basic decorations without messing up." The familiar weight of self-doubt settled on her shoulders – she'd only wanted to help. Her bright idea – her master plan – had been to surprise Tamarack by decorating for tonight's Christmas party, but this was harder said than done.

For weeks, Tamarack had been a walking, talking Christmas radio station, bubbling with excitement about the party. When she'd mentioned feeling overwhelmed, Athena's imagination had run wild with Hallmark movie scenarios: them baking sugar cookies while sharing glances, decorating the tree while their hands accidentally brushed, wrapping presents while sharing hot chocolate. It was all enough for her to practically melt into a puddle of holiday cozy goo. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud – she had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"I mean…I can help if you want. It's not a big deal," she'd tried to offer cooly while scratching the back of her head.

Now, here she was, trying to reunite a family of scattered baubles that had escaped from the bottom of a decoration box. The front door creaked open, and Tamarack appeared, arms heavy with grocery bags, freezing in place like a deer caught in headlights. Her usual sunshine smile flickered as she absorbed the chaos before her.

"Wow, this is… certainly festive?" Tamarack commented, her voice tinged with amusement. By this point in their relationship, she was clearly used to Athena's antics. She glided into the room, gently placing the grocery bags on a side table.

"I swear I was trying to help," Athena mumbled with a slight smile that was more like a grimace, running a hand through her dark hair. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to help anymore. I can just leave."

Sweet as candy canes and twice as pretty, Tamarack rushed to her side without giving the decorations or her blunt defense a second thought, looking Athena up and down. "Are you okay? I know sometimes the tree can fight back. Happens to the best of us."

Athena felt her face blaze at Tamarack's close inspection and contact. "Yeah! I'm fine! I can fix it! It's just that the lights staged a coup, and then the tree started wobbling, and—"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Tamarack laughed. She reached out and grasped one of the bent branches of the tree. "Actually, it kind of reminds me of a Charlie Brown Christmas. We could make it a theme," she offered again with another chuckle, a sound as bright as tinsel to Athena's ears.

That was so typically Tamarack – always finding the bright side. It was one of the things that made Athena's heart do little somersaults whenever she was around, like Tamarack was a spot of sunny weather on a cold day. She'd never admit this out loud, though. Some secrets were better left as a gift that a distant relative gave you that sat in the back of your closet.

"But if we're not adding onto the Christmas theme, let me help you sort this out," Tamarack continued, already moving to untangle the lights. Athena nodded, and their hands brushed as they both reached for the same strand. Athena quickly pulled back, nearly knocking over a box of granny's antique ornaments in the process.

"Sorry! I'm usually more coordinated than this," she said, though evidence suggested otherwise. Get it together, Athena thought to herself. This was supposed to be for Tamarack, and she wanted it to be perfect for the personification of holiday cheer standing in front of her.

Tamarack raised an eyebrow, clearly remembering every clumsy moment they'd shared over the years. Her eyes trailed around the room, taking in the work they still had to do, and she sighed good-naturedly. "You know what? Let's have some hot chocolate first. I bought those little marshmallows you like."

Without waiting for a response, she headed for the kitchen, leaving behind a trace of vanilla perfume that Athena had always enjoyed. As she followed, her phone buzzed:

Qiu: Status report on Operation Christmas Party? 👀

Athena: Great! Disaster level: maximum. Tree almost became a casualty. She obviously hates me now 😀

Qiu: You're hopeless and delusional 🤦🏻‍♀️

The next few hours were an exercise in controlled chaos. Athena tried to help Tamarack bake cookies for the party, but her confidence of "no, I've got this. I've done it a thousand times" caused her to swap the sugar for salt. Luckily, Tamarack had extra ingredients to remake the dough. Then, she nearly put a hole in Granny's wall when they attempted to hang wreaths. Yet, each disaster brought them physically closer – catching each other during stumbles, reaching for the same ingredients – but Athena felt like she was sabotaging Tamarack's perfect Christmas party plans.

Athena was completely beside herself. The more she tried to help, the closer she got to Tamarack, the more her heart would race, and she'd end up fumbling something. She couldn't help the sinking feeling that this only proved to Tamarack that they could never be more than friends. Athena could barely help with a party; how could she ever measure up to being what Tamarack needed?

"Maybe I should just stay home for the actual party," Athena suggested after accidentally breaking one of Granny's favorite ornaments. It was useless. She just kept making everything worse. Tamarack was probably better off without her around. It made sense…

"What? No way! The party wouldn't be the same without you," Tamarack interrupted Athena's thoughts before they could spiral. She looked genuinely hurt.

"But I keep messing everything up."

"Are you kidding? This has been the most fun I've had preparing for Christmas in years. Usually, I just have Granny help, but I'm really happy you offered to do it this year." Tamarack said firmly, gathering the broken pieces. "Besides," she added with a mischievous smile, "this one needed to retire anyway. It had my seventh-grade school photo in it. You did me a favor."

The evening and the party had arrived, with a fresh blanket of snow outside. Athena was working on preparations, determined not to cause any more chaos. Guests arrived one by one, and eventually, the party was in full swing, filling the Buamann's home with Christmas cheer straight out of a Hallmark movie.

People milled about with cranberry punch, chatting and dancing to the holiday music. The whole house was draped in a golden glow from the obscene number of twinkle lights Tamarack had insisted be hung on every wall. Athena had to admit, it was cozy, especially the smell…that had an acrid odor on the tail end of it.

"Uh, Athena? The smoke coming from the kitchen isn't a feature, is it?" Came Qiu's voice next to her. Tamarack did a double glance, and her eyes widened as big as ornaments on the tree.

"The cookies!" She exclaimed, rushing out of the living room and down the hall. Athena followed, with Qiu trailing behind. She cringed when Tamarack yanked open the oven door to release a plume of black smoke and reveal cookies resembling more like coal pieces now than holiday treats.

Athena had forgotten to set a timer, distracted by Tamarack telling her the history of each historical Christmas ornament Granny had. "I'm so sorry," she started with a groan. "I can't believe I–"

"Hey, no," Tamarack cut her off, waving away the smoke with a dish towel. "I forgot, too. Besides, we have enough food to feed three parties. It's not your fault," she assured brightly. Except that it was. If Athena had been paying more attention, she wouldn't have added this stress on to Tam. "Let's get this cleaned up before the fire alarm goes off." Undeterred and with the brightness of a star, Tamarack continued on. Athena only shrank more.

The party was back in full swing later when the electricity flickered once, twice, and then went out completely. The whole living room was plunged into darkness. A few people gasped and pressed together for safety. Athena nearly fainted when she felt Tamarack jump and grab onto her arm.

"Nobody panic!" Tamarack called out cheerfully in the darkness. "I have candles somewhere..."

"I've got it!" Athena pulled out her phone's flashlight and headed for the kitchen where she'd seen the candles earlier. She didn't notice Tamarack had the same idea until they collided in the doorway, sending them both stumbling.

"Sorry!" they said in unison, steadying each other in the darkness. They stood close enough for a moment that Athena could smell the cinnamon and vanilla from Tamarack's holiday baking.

"Um, candles," Athena remembered, reluctantly stepping back.

Together, they managed to light enough candles to create a warm, cozy atmosphere. Tamarack's grandfather descended into the basement to investigate what had gone wrong. Rather than ruining the party, the power outage had transformed it into something magical. Guests gathered in small groups, sharing stories and singing carols by candlelight, laughing all the while.

As the evening progressed, Athena found herself relaxing. Maybe she hadn't ruined everything after all. Tamarack and her stood in the living doorway, observing the Christmas cheer they'd created.

"See?" Tamarack whispered to Athena. "Sometimes the best moments come from things going wrong."

Athena's eyes drifted down to her friend. Tamarack looked upon the scene with a twinkle in her eyes. The golden hue of firelight danced in them, making them look warmer—like coals reheating your bones on a chilly winter day. Her rosy cheeks were even more flushed from the raised temperature of the room or maybe something else; Athena wasn't sure. She smiled brightly, returning her gaze back to Athena.

Their eyes locked briefly, and something else flickered in Tamarack's ruby gaze. Athena couldn't quite place it. Still, the moment shrunk to just the two of them. The room's chatter faded, and the candlelight blurred in the corners of Athena's eyes, focusing entirely on Tamarack.

The house lights flickered back on, breaking the spell. The two blinked rapidly like they were waking from a dream.

"Fuse went out," Mr. Baumann said bluntly while shuffling past them toward the tree. "Yep. Just what I suspected. Tamarack, you can't plug all this into one outlet extender," he explained while leaning down and systematically unplugging extension cords and strings of lights, each one blinking out around the room.

Tamarack cocked her head to the side, confusion furrowing her brows. "Huh? I didn't–"

"Sorry. I thought it'd be easier if we plugged them all in at one place." Athena averted her eyes, feeling defeated.

To her surprise, Tamarack burst out laughing, tinkling like sleigh bells. A few others joined in, and Athena raised her head in surprise.

When she dared to look at Tamarack, she found her watching Athena with humor. Her eyes flicked up above Athena's head, then softened.

"You know what's funny?" she mused. "I was just thinking how memorable this party has been."

"Memorable as in traumatically scarring?" Athena asked dryly.

"Memorable as in perfect. Think about it – we now have the Great Decoration Disaster, the Cookie Catastrophe, the Blackout of 2024..." She counted each event on her fingers. "These are the stories we're going to tell for years."

Athena couldn't help but laugh too. "When you put it that way, it sounds almost planned."

"Exactly! And honestly..." Tamarack hesitated, looking slightly nervous for the first time that evening. "I've kind of loved every minute of it. Even the mess ups–especially the mess ups, actually, because they meant spending more time with you."

Before Athena could process those words, Qiu's voice rang out from the living room window.

"Hey, everyone! It's snowing again!"

Guests rushed to the frosted window to watch the snow fall, leaving the two in the archway.

While watching the scene unfold, Athena felt warm, soft lips grace her cheek, only to pull away quickly, taking the scent of sugar cookies with the sensation. Tamarack giggled, her cheeks flushed more red at the befuddled look on Athena's face.

"Look up," Tamarack whispered with a bashful smile.

There, hanging in the doorway, was a sprig of mistletoe that Athena definitely hadn't put.

"Merry Christmas, Athena," Tamarack murmured. "Thanks for making this the best holiday party ever – mishaps and all."

Athena touched her cheek where she'd kissed her, a smile spreading across her face. "Merry Christmas, Tamarack."

The two joined the others, standing close enough that their shoulders touched, surrounded by the warm glow of the remaining Christmas lights and music. Qiu looked over their shoulder, giving Athena a knowing smirk and thumbs up.

As they watched the snowfall, Athena realized that sometimes the best gifts don't come wrapped in perfect packages – they come wrapped in chaos, tied with tangled Christmas lights and decorated with burnt cookies. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Ahhhh!! I hope you like it, and that I represented Athena well! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

#olnf secret Santa 2024 #olnf #our life #tamarack baumann #Tamarack Baumann x OC #fanfic #fanfiction #our life now and forever

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frostedpuffs · 2 months ago

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sorry if you’ve gotten this ask too much lol but do you have any comic/fic recs? literally any genre i am running out

so i've had this sitting in my inbox for a while and i apologize, i don't really read fanfiction anymore simply for lack of time :< (which makes me sad bc i wanna read my mutuals beautiful writing but !!!! where is The Time these days. lol)

here are some fics i don't believe I've shared in a rec before! keep in mind these are all one-shots!

evil lipstick by @bittersweetresilience Summary: Toxinelle and Griffe Noire hang out in the bathroom of a concert venue.

Waiting For Our Happily Ever After by @coffeebanana Summary: Adrien wakes up in the hospital, unable to remember how he ended up there, wishing his father would leave, and wondering why his doctor is in such a weirdly cheery mood. But one question supercedes all the rest: where's Ladybug? If he's patient, she just might pay him a visit.

code blue by @wackus-bonkus-maximus Summary: Ladybug attempts to visit her husband in the hospital - if only she wouldn't keep being kicked out by security.

you don't even know me at all (but i was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle Summary: They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why. But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts. And in the apartment they share, there's only one bed.

A New Beginning by @fandomofone Summary: What happens after Marinette & Adrien return to their dimension after the events of the Paris Special? (The Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir) They've got to start somewhere... the dark street, right outside the bakery, in the freezing cold, seems as good a place as any. Nobody ever said that returning to life on the other side of the portal would be easy. For Adrien, things have taken an unexpected turn. After he finds out that Shadybug and his mysterious crush from the bakery are the same person, he’ll do anything to protect her from the Supreme’s wrath, endangering his own life if need be... Even if he doesn’t actually know her name.

also, even though I only listed one fic by each of these writers, I'd recommend all their fics. if you need more good fics to read that really pull you in, check them all out! they're really great. enjoy!!

#ash answers #Anonymous #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #ml fic rec #fic rec #fanfiction recommendation

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wayfayrr · 8 months ago

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I’m asking as a request but if u can’t or don’t want to it’s ok. Then maybe just a quick 1 sentence answer for each Link bc I’m curious? lol, So a little while back @luimagines wrote some divorce hcs. So…how would the yandere Links deal with a reader that wants a divorce?

Divorce? you think you can be rid of them? no, no hope whatsoever.

not even death can separate you

but I do think they'd be a little different in how they handle you suggesting it (also going to be using reader suggesting a divorce because they found a way home and didn't want to make the links choose between them and hyrule)

also pinky if you see this I absolutely adore your work but never actually read the divorce hcs dfbgdgbdbfcgb (got too sad like a fool)

[masterlist]

Legend would be the fastest to start outright panicking, immediately shutting down any hopes of you leaving. Barring windows and even going as far as to chain you to the bed so you can't leave. You're his and his alone.

Tears would break down, after thinking for a second that it's a joke he'd collapse onto you sobbing for you not to leave and forget him like everyone else does. But he won't force you to stay. If he learns why you did it? well remember this fic where wars lost himself a bit- Tears would kinda come to this conclusion a lot faster quickly following you into your world

Rulie takes after legend a little, in how he handles it after the first few hours. To start with though? He's a shaky stuttery mess trying to breathe and stay calm while failing but then he instantly jumps to keeping you away from society and tied to him.

Sky would laugh it off, seeing through you and the reason that you've even suggested it, divorce isn't even a potential for him. He's been reading your diarys and keeping a close eye on you - you think he wasn't aware of this beforehand? He promises you that it isn't even a choice to follow you to your home rather than staying here before kissing you silly and grabbing your waist so tight it almost hurts. Like he's offended you'd even think such a thing.

Twilight would freeze up to start, not, refusing to believe what you said. you have to repeat it a couple of times for it to really sink in, at which point he's already started snarling, wolfie starting to show in his actions and words. He could be rational and hear you out but he's just all over the place like he's been hit by a flashbang - take your chance to get away while you have it

Four would split instantly, the colours not being able to work together through it. Each wanting to handle it in a different way ( yes I know this isn't the most canon but it's more interesting sfvvsfvs) vio wants to plan out the why, blue is in charge of safe proofing the house while green and red are all over you, taking turns to watch you so you're never unsupervised. It'll take a lot of time and rebuilt trust to get him to rejoin.

Warriors would shatter, begging, pleading, sobbing and doing anything you ask of him to stay. even if you were to ask him to make himself bleed. he doesn't eat nor sleep for days on end as he tries and begs you to tell him why, why you would ever want to leave him. He looks more ragged than he ever did on the journey like he's seconds away from death. And when you finally do tell him- he breaks down all over again tugging you into his arms as he's begging for there to be more, that you didn't do all of this to him for something so small and that it isn't even a thought to him of course he'll choose you.

Time is in a weird place, he isn't entirely familiar to hylian/human traditions yet so the word divorce itself throws him for a loop, until you explain what it is to him. Which is where he turns ice cold, the more happy go lucky time you knew is gone, replaced by someone simply wearing his face as he goes through robotic motions. for time though I could also see him using the ocarina throwing himself into a pointless loop trying to stop you from suggesting it but he can't and it slowly destroys his sanity

these got longer as I went oops, I didn't think I'd write so much for it ngl got into the flow a bit

#yeah going with short answers #I am not really in a place to write breakups or divorces lmao #I will cry <3 /lh #ex's and parents are bitches lmaooooooooooooooo #although #now saying that #I wouldn't mind writing something involving ex's of readers meeting the yan links :3c #that could be fun #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #linked universe #moss✦answers #🐰 anon

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unformula1 · 8 months ago

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loscar prompt!: them with tis the damn season by taylor swift

’tis the damn season (LS2 x OP81)

oscar comes back to his hometown, with a regret he can’t find closure to. w/c: 3402 day 41 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium! (series masterlist) masterlist title from a taylor swift song a/n: HI! whoever gave me this, if this isn’t what you wanted PLEASE do not be afraid to reach out and ask for a rewrite lol!!!

Oscar drives down the street he used to walk past every day. The town he used to call home seems a little emptier now. It’s freezing, which fogs up his car windshield glass, turning it a foggy, translucent colour.

He gets out of his car after parking it, deciding to go for a stroll.

Oscar can’t remember the last time he came back here, it had probably been a few years. He throws on his coat and walks down the sidewalk, as he lifts his head, a familiar face comes into view.

Oscar avoids eye contact as he walks past, keeping his head down as he walks past him. It sends a shiver down his spine as he walks past; even with his jacket an eerie cold engulfs his body.

An ache covers his heart. Oscar wants to say something. He can’t.

He swiftly walks past, trying his best to suppress the flashbacks that keep coming back as the familiar perfume clings onto his jacket after walking past him.

Oscar can’t do this. He takes off, bolting as far as he can. He feels the eyes on him, piercing into his soul.

Oscar remembers everything. He remembers it all.

—

“You promised.” Logan says, an obvious attempt to hide his tears, “You said you wouldn’t go.”

“Logan. I know, but it’s a really big opportunity for me.” Oscar tries to reason, with both Logan and himself.

“You said you’d wait for me.” Logan continues, a pool of tears brimming in his eyes.

“Logan… I will.” Oscar almost feels like he’s gaslighting himself right now.

“We should’ve been going together.” Logan cries, a heavy emphasis on ‘together’.

“Logan please-” Oscar gets cut off as Logan runs out through the door.

That was the last time they ever talked. Oscar didn’t even bother going back to apologise. He just left… like the jerk he was.

—

When the coast is clear, Oscar walks back to his car, quickly getting in without being seen.

He takes a deep breath and leans back against his car seat.

He quickly starts up his car and drives further into the city, something in his body wants him to leave but he isn’t ready to leave yet.

He reaches somewhere nearer to the city, it has cafes, restaurants, libraries. It’s a simple life, which Oscar will admit he misses sometimes.

He gets out of his car, walking on a sidewalk which he vividly remembers used to be a mud path. They’ve really refurbished the place.

As he strolls around the place, looking back on the places he used to visit so often, and the people he used to always talk to.

Oscar can’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia hit him.

“Oscar?” his voice rings through and Oscar stones.

Oscar slowly turns around and comes face to face with the person he used to know and love.

He’s grown a lot by now, stubble and all. He’s definitely taller and slightly more buff, guess he’s been working out.

He’s so much more… matured.

One thing hasn’t changed. His smile.

It’s still… perfect. The smile that Oscar always loved, the things Oscar would do to see that smile forever. He missed that smile, he’s been missing that smile.

“Hi.” Oscar says as he gulps.

“I didn’t know you were coming back.” He smiles.

“Yea… uhm, well. Here I am.” Oscar manages. He’s not used to being this awkward.

“You have anywhere to stay?”

“My parents.”

“Cool.”

“I gotta… uhm head off.” Oscar says as he quickly walks past him and back into the car.

Oscar drives off.

He turns on the radio, hoping the music would dissolve his thoughts.

They don’t.

Everything they used to do together comes back. They stay afloat, no matter how much Oscar tries to push them down.

All the moments they shared, the memories they had.

The inevitable question finally surfaces in Oscar’s head.

Who replaced me?

“Shut up.” Oscar mutters to himself as he turns into his parents’ house driveway.

Stepping out, he’s greeted with a multitude of hugs. He chuckles as he returns the hugs to his parents.

“Ozzie!” His parents’ affectionate nickname.

They bring him into the house, letting him place his bags down.

“I’ll go get the cookies.” His mother says, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Oscar walks to the display case, it’s probably all really old stuff. It is.

It’s photos of young Oscar with young Logan. They’re happy, innocent, naive. Oscar places his hand on the display cabinet, slightly grazing his hands over the photo.

They were just teenagers when Oscar left like that, how horrible it must’ve been on Logan.

All those memories, the moments they shared, the experiences they shared, everything they shared just shattered to pieces because Oscar was too afraid to face his nightmares.

The road not taken looks real good now.

Oscar feels a wave of regret wash over him. As much as he hates it, he remembers everything all too well, crystal clear in his head.

“He’s not mad at you anymore.” His mother says.

“What?” Oscar asks as he turns around, quickly wiping the tears off.

“I don’t think Logan’s mad at you for leaving like that anymore.”

“He isn’t?” Oscar steps closer.

His mother just shrugs.

Oscar takes one of the cookies from the plate and eats it. He takes a seat on the couch, staring into blank space.

His mother sets the plate of cookies in front of him and sits next to him.

“You should talk to him.”

“I can’t.” Oscar mutters, “I just can’t. I betrayed him, I can’t just go up to him again.”

“Logan won’t hold grudges.”

“He doesn’t look like he does, but I know he holds them close to his heart.” Oscar rants, “I know he doesn’t just ‘recover’ from me leaving without saying goodbye properly.”

Oscar’s mother places one hand on his shoulder.

“Logan hates me.”

His mother takes a deep breath before revealing.

“Logan hasn’t found anyone else.”

Oscar almost freezes.

“He hasn’t gotten any new best friends or… anything like that.” She says, “It’s always been ‘I’ll be waiting for when Oscar comes back’.”

“What?”

“Logan hasn’t replaced you.”

“He hasn’t?”

His mother shakes her head.

Oscar doesn’t know what to think.

“Still has those photos of you two.” His mother says.

He does?

“I’ll talk to him… soon.” Oscar says. He doesn’t know when “soon” is but he knows it’s going to happen.

—

Oscar wakes up at 11am. It’s probably the latest he’s woken up in a few years. He looks into the ceiling.

He spent half his night thinking about Logan, thinking about him and Logan. He misses Logan’s smile, more than ever.

It takes him pretty long to get his morning routine out of the way before he goes down for food.

“You should go out for lunch.” His mother suggests, “Explore the city a little.”

Oscar nods as he picks out an apple and chews it.

He grabs his stuff and walks out the door, bidding goodbye first before walking toward the city. He’s decided not to use his car.

He reaches the city centre in a few minutes, it’s packed and busy. Oscar just brisk walks around the centre, finding somewhere which looks appetising.

God forbid he gets any peace because he runs into Logan almost immediately.

“Good morning.” Logan waves.

Oscar awkwardly flashes a smile, “Hello.”

“Where you headin’ to?”

“Finding somewhere to eat.” Oscar tries to maintain his calm composure.

Logan nods and smiles, “Okay.”

“Want to join me?” Oscar blurts.

Wait. What.

Oscar takes a few seconds to process the fact that he just invited Logan out for lunch.

Logan smiles, “Sure. Why not.”

Damn.

“Do you know anywhere nice?” Oscar smiles, “Haven’t been here in a while.”

Wow. What a horrible joke.

Logan’s smile clearly falters for a bit.

“I know somewhere.” Logan says, bringing Oscar to a restaurant.

It’s not any diner, it’s the one where Oscar brought Logan out.

Oscar can feel his heart clench.

“I remember this.” Oscar chuckles, but the chuckle feels forced.

Logan nods and opens the door for Oscar, letting him walk in first… just like Oscar did.

Both of them sit opposite each other at a table.

Oscar clears his throat, in an effort to disperse the tension building up… or maybe it might be just him.

“I’m sorry.” Oscar says softly.

Logan looks up from the menu, smiling slightly.

“I shouldn’t have left like that.” Oscar continues, the flashbacks replaying vividly, “It was a dick move.”

“It’s okay.” Logan says back.

“No.” Oscar takes a deep breath, “Please.”

Logan places the menu down as Oscar reaches for his hand.

Logan doesn’t shift his hand away, he lets Oscar touch it.

“I’m really sorry.” Oscar holds Logan’s hand, “I destroyed your life.”

Logan shakes his head as he holds Oscar’s hand.

“I’m happy for you Osc.”

Osc.

“I’ll pay for your lunch.” Oscar says, “Least I could do.”

“We can call it even then.” Logan jokes.

It’s a good joke but Oscar can’t bring himself to laugh, he doesn’t really know if Logan has gotten over it or not.

—

When their food arrives, Oscar’s too preoccupied staring at Logan to start eating. Logan hasn’t changed at all.

All Oscar sees is that small teenager which Oscar destroyed in seconds.

Oscar feels like crying, he can feel the tears brimming.

Oscar circles his food with his fork, not eating any of it.

“Are you not hungry?” Logan asks.

“I’m… thinking.” Oscar says.

The years in the spotlight changed Oscar, for the better or for the worse.

“Of?” Logan inquires further.

Oscar can’t form a reply, so he just shrugs.

Oscar doesn’t get many moments to think, he sort of just goes with the flow. Everything’s so fast paced and it all sometimes blurs. Nothing feels real out there, all his “friends” are really just people who will leech off him when he becomes famous.

He’s faked so many smiles, he doesn’t know which ones are real anymore.

Logan shrugs back before placing his hand over Oscar’s clenched fist “Well, you should eat.”

Oscar smiles. This one is real, he knows it.

Logan hasn’t changed.

The lunch ends quicker than Oscar would like.

“Do you… maybe want to eat together for dinner too?” Oscar asks as he walks out the diner with Logan.

Logan nods, “Sure.”

“Where do you stay, I’ll come pick you.” Oscar asks.

“Same place.” Logan replies.

Oscar almost freezes.

“Still… down the street?” Oscar asks and Logan nods.

“5pm.” Logan says, “I’ll be waiting.”

Logan bids Oscar farwell, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a slight hug before running off.

Oscar can feel his entire face flush red. He’s missed Logan. Everyone else in the world couldn’t compare.

He runs home.

—

Oscar is left with his thoughts for a few hours.

Logan’s not changed, everything else has changed, Oscar feels his heart beat faster every time anything reminds him of Logan.

They used to be in love. It can’t be happening again… right?

Oscar hasn’t felt love in a long time, since everything comes and goes so quickly, nothing is really constant, which includes anyone he’s ever tried to date.

Oscar doesn’t understand his own feelings anymore.

He’s only coming back for a week, he can’t possibly get together again and then break his heart again.

Oscar doesn’t get it.

He hates that he doesn’t get it.

—

5pm inches closer and Oscar has never spent this long deciding on an outfit.

He decides to go with casual wear, which is a sweater and long baggy pants. He grabs his stuff and walks out the door to his car.

He starts it up and drives off Logan's house.

It takes him a few minutes to get there. As he approaches, he sees Logan waiting by the sidewalk. It’s just like they used to do, except Oscar’s mum would be the one driving.

In Oscar’s eyes, Logan is still the teenager Oscar destroyed.

Logan gets into the front seat, right next to Oscar.

Oscar smiles as Logan gets in.

“Anywhere you’d like to go?” Oscar asks as he drives.

“Go somewhere, get takeout, sit by the lake and eat.” Logan says.

Oscar can swear Logan is playing with his heart. These are all the things Oscar would do with Logan.

Oscar nods.

“Okay.”

They get takeout and stop by the lake, both of them sitting on the trunk of Oscar’s car.

They eat in silence for a while, Oscar catches the occasional glance at Logan. The orange glow of the sunset makes Logan sparkle.

Oscar shifts closer to Logan and Logan notices it.

“How’s it been?” Logan asks, placing his food next to him.

“It’s…” Oscar thinks, “Been okay.”

Logan nods, “Mine too.”

Oscar knows it’s now or never, “I’ve missed this.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t stop thinking about how I left you.”

Logan nods subtly.

“It’s horrible, it’s been haunting me.” Oscar looks into the sunset, “Believe me I’ve been looking for closure everywhere, nothing has given it to me.”

“And what will?”

“I don’t know… but it still is.” Oscar can’t believe he’s admitting all of this.

Everything Oscar has done just led back to Logan and this stupid place. Oscar’s attempts at finding closure have failed miserably, each making him yearn for it more and more.

Logan nudges himself closer to Oscar and pulls Oscar’s head into his chest. Oscar can feel his cheeks heating up as his heart picks up the pace and butterflies flutter in his stomach.

Oscar sobs.

Logan continues hugging Oscar.

“Logan please…” Oscar says as he hugs Logan back tightly.

“I forgive you Oscar.” Logan says, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I still love you…” Oscar whispers.

Logan nods, which is a sign for Oscar to hug Logan tighter.

“I’ll be yours for this week.” Oscar says and Logan smiles.

“I’ll fix everything.” Oscar says between soft sobs.

Logan pulls Oscar back in.

A few minutes pass and Oscar finally gains back his ability to speak in full sentences.

“What now?” Logan asks.

“We could… go for a drive, in my car… and talk about life.”

Logan smiles and nods, hopping off the trunk. Both of them get into the car and Oscar drives off.

He can’t help but catch a glance at Logan every opportunity he gets. Logan’s never looked better.

Everything brought him back to Logan. Everything he’s tried made him yearn for Logan again.

Now he’s got him back (for the week).

—

“Stay with me for tonight?” Logan suggests.

Oscar nods as he texts his mum about his updated night plans, he quickly drives home to get his clothes and all.

After that, they continue driving around for a bit as Logan talks about how he’s been and all Oscar’s focusing on is Logan’s little smile he has every time he says anything.

Oscar feels Logan’s head fall onto his shoulder and he melts. He feels like a teenager all over again, he’s reignited some old spark which he’s tried to hide for years.

When they finally reach Logan’s house, they both prepare for bed as the night sky gets darker.

Logan throws another pillow onto his bed for Oscar and Oscar feels like his legs might just fail him at any moment. At least Logan will catch him.

They both get onto the bed and Oscar feels like he’s in high school again. He shifts closer to Logan and feels Logan’s warm arms wrapping around him.

Logan pulls Oscar closer in and they hug. The warmest bed ever, the warmest hug ever. For so many years, he’s been hugging but they’ve all been cold and emotionless.

He missed Logan’s hug. He missed Logan’s touch.

“I’ve missed this.” Oscar whispers as Logan chuckles softly. He feels Logan’s warm breath graze his skin.

Oscar melts.

“Goodnight.” Oscar says.

“Goodnight babe.” Logan says and Oscar feels his heart pound against his ribcage.

“You too Logs.”

—

It’s 11am again when Oscar wakes up. It’s his best night since he left Logan.

“I should’ve never left.” Oscar says groggily as he hugs Logan’s waist.

Logan woke up hours ago but stayed with Oscar.

Oscar doesn’t deserve this, he cuddles with Logan. Logan lets him do his thing while chuckling softly.

This is teenage love all over again.

“I don’t ever want to leave.” Oscar mumbles.

“Then don’t.” Logan says.

Oscar wants that too, but he knows he can’t break Logan’s heart a second time. He’s not willing to, he knows Logan deserves so much better.

Teenage love burns strong like tinder, but it’ll burn out fast.

They’ll fall apart again and Oscar will break Logan all over again.

“Can’t.” Oscar says.

The mood of the room darkens but Logan just smiles and chuckles.

“I know, baby.” Logan sighs but still keeping a smile, “I know.”

—

The week is filled with emotional nostalgia, Oscar brought Logan out every day to every place, to fix every scar and to heal every wound.

They kissed in the moonlight, in the sunset. Oscar made sure he didn’t drop Logan’s heart again.

“I’ve always loved you.” Logan says, “I never stopped.”

Oscar can feel time slow down and everything else becomes irrelevant.

“You never stopped?” Oscar says softly, and Logan nods.

“I never did either.” Oscar smiles.

“Love you.” Logan says.

Everything closed up properly, their chapters ending on high notes and the pages not burning up.

The emotional baggage was dropped where they left them.

Long story short, they re-lived all their moments, but Oscar made sure he didn’t mess up the end this time.

Here was the end.

Oscar throws his luggage into his car’s trunk. The week passed by just like that.

“It’s time to go.” Logan says, giving Oscar a slight nudge as Oscar closes the trunk of his car.

Oscar smiles, it’s bittersweet. Logan smiles at him, as Oscar holds back his tears.

“Osc.” Logan says and Oscar looks up, “I won’t ask you to wait for me anymore.”

Oscar knows what this means to both of them.

“Then I won’t ask you to stay here for me.” Oscar replies.

It feels like the final end, the chapter which Oscar had always needed to write but couldn’t. The words in the final paragraph which always stabbed Oscar.

“Follow me to the exit.” Oscar says and Logan agrees.

Oscar’s family joins them.

Oscar drives to the exit of the town, passing through a place which used to haunt him and the place where he first saw Logan, where the ache was ever so present in his heart.

Oscar feels Logan’s hand touch his shoulder and Oscar holds back the tears.

As they approach the exit, Oscar’s family and Logan exit the car. Oscar bids his final farewells to them. Oscar’s mother winks at Oscar before giving him and Logan time.

“I’ll miss you.” Oscar admits.

“I’ll miss you too.” Logan replies.

Logan places both his hands on Oscar’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

“Don’t forget me again. You have my number now.” Logan chuckles.

“I won’t…” Oscar replies, he shuffles his feet.

“Goodbye Oscar.” Logan says, hugging him tightly.

“I never thought I’d get a goodbye.” Oscar says, tears flowing out.

Logan chuckles and kisses Oscar’s forehead.

“Goodbye Logs.”

Oscar turns around and he feels a sting in his heart, like he wants to stay.

He gets into his car.

His life will continue, he’s closed the chapter for this, he’s gotten his closure with Logan.

Logan.

Logan who knew which smiles were faked and which smiles were real.

Logan who knew everything about Oscar.

Logan who knew Oscar better than he knew himself.

Logan who only wanted the best for Oscar.

Oscar smiles again as he looks at his feet, walking toward his car.

Everything just led back to Logan didn’t it.

Oscar stops, before turning around and running back to Logan for another hug.

Logan hugs him tightly, giving him one final kiss on the lips before they part ways.

“I’ll come back.” Oscar says, in tears.

Logan nods, “I know you will.”

It’s a bittersweet moment for them.

Oscar gets into his car and Logan waves goodbye to him as he drives off.

It finally felt like closure, like all the ache and sorrows had been drowned in love. It was their season.

’tis the damn season that left Oscar with a healed heart.

58 notes · View notes

froggibus · 2 years ago

Text

A Moment of Hesitation - Leon Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x F! reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining??

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: leon has always kept you at arms length in order to protect you, but after leading the two of you into a trap, the cracks start to show and feelings come to light

CW: kidnapping, violence, gun violence, knife violence, bindings (reader and Leon are tied up with ropes), interrogation + interrogation techniques (including torture), reader shoots someone (self defense), drugging, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, love confessions, leon and reader are coworkers, somewhere between RE2 and RE4 leon

you guys were warned ahead of time lol. this started after i watched criminal minds and my hand slipped and suddenly i had 3k words and had to finish it. kind of my first shot at writing anything like this (slightly inspired by my mammon fic tho) so sorry if there's pacing issues. enjoy <3

————

Leon knows he messed up when he wakes to a bucket of water on his face and ropes holding his hands behind his back. Three men haul him to his feet, holding him up even when his knees buckle. How did he even get here..? Wasn’t he on a mission with you—he freezes in his tracks.

Where were you? He squints his eyes, desperately looking for you in the dark room. He feels relief for only a second when he sees your crumpled form on the ground, bound in the same way he is before his blood runs cold. You shouldn’t be here.

It was supposed to be a simple mission: investigate a supposedly abandoned Umbrella Facility for more information on their newest BOW. Of course, nothing can ever go right for Leon S Kennedy, and somewhere along the way, noxious gas was released throughout the lab you were in. He had tried to push you out of the room, not caring what happens to himself as long as you’re safe, but seeing you here means you must not have gotten away.

He clenches his jaw in frustration. Ever since he realized he had feelings for you, he just wanted to protect you. Sometimes that meant taking on the harder missions alone, and when he couldn’t, he was watching you like a hawk. This was supposed to be easy, though, and he let his guard down. A major fuck up on his end.

Another man, another Umbrella lackey, emerges behind you, yanking you up by your bindings. Leon growls, instinctively moving towards you before being tugged by the men holding him. A woman in a lab coat splashes water in your face and you begin to stir.

You wake up wet, frigid water dripping down your face and running over your eyelids. You try to open your eyes only for the water to pour into them. It stings, and you reach out to wipe your eyes dry only to realize your hands are being held behind you.

“What the—“

“Nice of you to join us,” a woman’s voice echoes off the damp walls of the room you’re being held in.

Your eyes adjust to the water and the darkness and you manage to make out a few things. One, is that you’re in a small room, most likely underground from the dank smell. Secondly is that you’re restrained and the gun that was once tucked into your hip holster is gone. Thirdly is Leon, who’s watching you with concern, three men holding him back from running to you.

Right, you remember. There was gas in the room, and everything had gotten all foggy and dizzy. Leon had tried to push you out, you realize, and you had gotten out until you tried to drag him out of the room and passed out along with him.

Leon glances at you and you cringe under his gaze. His sacrifice was for nothing given that you’re standing here with him. He should have known that you never would have left without him.

“Mr Kennedy,” the woman crows, dark lips curling upwards. “Care to enlighten us on what you and your friend were doing in my lab?”

Leon frowns, “that’s none of your business.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she sighs, and signals to the man holding you, “I guess we’ll have to use other means to find out.”

The man drops you, letting you fall face first on the ground. You manage to land on your chest just before you hit and save yourself a broken nose.

Leon strains against his captors, screaming for you, “don’t you fucking dare—“

“Don’t I dare what, Mr Kennedy?”

He growls, jaw set hard as he narrows his eyes on the woman. But she’s right. He can’t do anything to help you in his current position, and he has absolutely no fucking clue how to get you out of this. So, he shuts up.

“That’s what I thought,” she smirks at his silence. “Now will you tell us?”

You guys share a look and you can see the conflict in his eyes. You know he can’t tell them, even if it means sacrificing you. But you can’t help but think that if you were in his position, you’d tell them anything they wanted to know. You’d burn the whole fucking world down for him.

She takes his prolonged silence as a ‘no’ and gestures at the man behind you. A boot meets the back of your head and you’re sent sprawling face first on the ground. The sole of his shoe plants itself on your cheek and grinds against it so hard you swear you hear cracking.

“Get your—“ Leon manages to land an elbow to the face of one of his captors. “Get your fucking hands off of her!”

You spit dirt on the ground and glare at the man above you. He grins back and the sight makes your stomach churn.

Leon is seething, his heart pounding worse than it ever has. “If you hurt her,” he says in a low voice, “there won’t be a place on heaven or earth you could hide from me.”

You’ve never found Leon so scary. Threatening, sure. But even when he’s interrogating people and shooting zombies, you’ve never felt the chill that you do now. The man holding you down must feel it, too, because he suddenly retracts his boot from your face.

Still, in different circumstances, in different contexts, his words would make you shiver. You try to shake the thoughts away. It’s because you’re his partner, y/n. Nothing else. Leon doesn’t see you that way.

The scientist woman, clearly dissatisfied with Leon’s silence, recalls her lackeys and slams the metal door behind her. As soon as Leon hears footsteps rescinding, he’s dropping to his knees next to you.

“Y/n,” he whispers, “y/n, get up.”

You whine, trying to sit up without your hands. Leon can hardly watch as you manage to prop yourself up on your chest and eventually fall back on your knees.

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

You shake your head, keeping your voice quiet,“I don’t…I don’t think so. Nothing aside from what you saw, at least.”

He seems to relax at that, shoulders sinking down from his ears. He wants more than anything to reach out and wipe the dirt off of your face, to check every inch of your skin and make sure you’re okay.

“I-I think I know a way to get us out of this, okay?” He shuffles closer to you until his knees are against yours, “but you have to trust me.”

“I trust you with my life, Leon.”

His chest warms at your words but it’s short lived. “They took my gun but I still have my knife in my pocket,” he breathes, “I just need you to grab it and we can cut the ropes. Can you do that?”

“I-I think so,” you nod, turning around so that your hands face his front.

You lean back, fingertips reaching out for his pocket. Leon leans into your touch, pressing his pants against your hand. He gasps when your fingers brush across his crotch and you freeze in your tracks.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he grunts, “just—a little more to the left.”

You somehow manage to get the knife from his pocket and flick it open. Leon moves his head down until he can clench his teeth around the hilt, ducking down until the blade is level with your bindings.

“Stay perfectly still,” he mumbles around the knife.

You try but it’s cold and you’re sore and he’s so damn close to you. Still, you manage, and soon enough you start to feel the bindings release until you can pull your hands free.

You hold them out in front of you and rub at your raw wrists, the red skin aching from where the ropes dug in. You turn to face Leon, taking the knife from his mouth and wiping his spit on your pants.

“Turn around,” you whisper.

He obeys your command, turning so that his back is facing you and his ropes are level with your hands. Your hands shake with every movement but you manage to saw through the rope and release him.

He gasps in relief, letting the tattered nylon fall to the ground. “Alright,” he stands up on shaky legs, “now to get out of here.”

You try to follow suit, pressing your hands against the floor to try and force yourself onto your shaking legs. You manage to get one leg up but as you stand, you pitch forwards.

Leon anticipates your fall before it even happens and catches you. “You alright?”

“The gas must not be out of my system,” you shake your head, “I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

You prop yourself up on his shoulder and push off, stumbling a bit before getting your footing. Leon watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to stand before approaching the sealed door.

He tugs on it and though the metal whines, it doesn’t budge. He pushes it and the metal gives way, opening to a dark corridor. You think of making a joke about him pulling a push door, but bite your tongue. Now is not the time.

Leon surprises you by grabbing your hand and leading you up the hallway. “Do you have my knife?” He asks. “We don’t know what could be lurking around these halls.”

“Yeah—do you want it?”

“No,” he shakes his head, blond hair flopping in his face, “you hang on to it.” I’d rather you be protected.

You reach the end of the hall and Leon pulls you to the left where more light seems to be coming from a staircase. There’s noises up ahead—just a shuffling of footsteps—but it has Leon instinctively tugging you closer to him.

You’re so close you can feel the warmth radiating off of his back and his heart beating in his chest. “Leon,” you say, pointing towards a shadow being cast from the top of the stairs.

He nods once, taking the stairs one step at a time, anticipating some sort of horrific BOW. Instead, it’s one of the men from earlier. Not just any man—the one who had stepped on you.

Leon can hardly contain his anger as he drops your hand and sneaks up behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck. He holds his head with one hand and uses his forearm to cut off his oxygen, and even after the man goes limp, Leon holds on.

You watch with wide eyes, not sure if you should intervene or not. He's hostile, after all, and he did step on your face. You don’t have to jump into action, though, because Leon sees the look on your face and gently lowers the unconscious man to the floor.

“Asshole,” he spits, and reaches for your hand again, “come on, we must be close to an exit.”

You place your hand in his and run your thumb gently across the back of it. A simple, silent gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon; a gesture that calms the fire inside him.

“I—do you think it’s only the guys from earlier?” You ask.

“I’d like to think so, but we should still be on guard…” I don’t want to lead you into another trap.

Leon swallows hard. You’re so close to him, he can feel you breathing. All he wants is to make sure you’re okay, really okay, and to hold you until you calm down. But he can’t do that, not until he gets you out of here at least. And even then, would you let him? He’s kept you at arms length for so long, would you even be willing to come closer?

It sure feels like it when you’re practically leaning against him the entire way through the halls.

“Leon,” you whisper, and when he doesn’t answer, you tug on his arm. “Leon!”

He jerks backwards, almost knocking you into a wall in the process. “What?”

You jab your finger towards two more shadows up ahead. It must be the remaining men from earlier. His eyes go wide, his lips forming an ‘o’ shape when they follow your gaze.

“You get the one on the right, I’ll get the one on the left. Okay? On three, two, one—“

You lunge forwards, brandishing the hilt of the knife. You smack the base of the hilt directly against the man’s head as hard as you can, and he crumples to the floor. Leon raises an eyebrow at your tactics from where he’s choking out the other guard, and you swear you see him smile.

You dig around in the man’s pockets, only to find your gun. You nudge his face with your foot, “fucker,” and click the safety off.

Leon lays the man on the ground, turning back to speak to you just as the final man leaps out from behind a corner. He’s holding Leon’s pistol, but before he can even shoot, there’s a hole in his head and your handgun is smoking.

Leon looks at you, then at the man, then back at you. “Y/n,” he breathes, bewildered.

“Don’t let your guard down, remember?” You try to quip, but your voice and hands are shaking.

Not because you just shot a man, no. You’ve had to subdue more than a few hostiles in your line of work. No—you’re shaking because had you been a second slower, or your aim a bit worse, Leon would be dead right now.

You swallow your feelings down. You can deal with them when you get out. For now, escape is all you need to focus on.

Leon picks up his pistol from the man and waits for you to cross the room to him. He can’t hold your hand now, not with his gun, but you’re still close enough that he can feel you.

He tries to ignore the way his face heats up at the contact.

—

It takes several more hallways before you’re back in the room you got gassed in, and then twenty minutes from there, but you finally get out.

It’s dark out, the sun having dipped down below the horizon hours ago, and the breeze bites despite being in a desert. You shiver, rubbing your bare arms.

The moonlight illuminates Leon’s face, letting you see the bruise that covers his cheek bone and the dirt all over his skin. Still, he’s as beautiful as ever.

He raises a hand to your face. There’s a small gash from where you hit the ground earlier, a streak of blood down your face. “This looks bad,” he moves his hand down to your jaw, looking at you seriously. “We’ll have to clean it once we get back to the motel.”

“O-okay,�� butterflies erupt in your stomach under his touch.

The walk to the car isn’t long, but the silence makes it seem much worse. Warmth lingers on your face from where Leon had touched you, and you find yourself rubbing at it. He’s being so gentle now—but why?

It’s not like he wasn’t before, but it was never like this. So what could explain the change in behavior? Was it guilt? Gratitude? Did he resent himself for the fact he couldn’t bring himself to leak secret government information to save your life, or did he want to thank you for saving him? Both? Neither?

The enigma makes your head spin, and the only thing you’re sure of is the warmth in your face and the butterflies in your stomach.

Even the drive back to the motel is strangely silent, Leon occasionally glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Examining your wound, you assume. It’s a lot more than that for Leon, though. He needs to make sure you’re okay. That you’re alive and safe and out of harm's way. Harm that he put you in.

It’s a miracle for him that he could even drive back to the motel with the way his thoughts raced. Still, he gets you there safe and sound, and suddenly the two of you are stepping out of the car on shaky legs.

“Are you—do you need help?” He asks.

You don’t want to admit it, and on a good day you wouldn’t. But this wasn’t a good day, and you do need help. You think about it for a second, and nod.

The position you fall into with Leon is only natural for the two of you. Something you’ve done on countless missions when one or the other or both of you got injured. An arm around your waist, an arm around his, leaning your body weights on each other. Stumbling desperately for your hotel room in the dark. If anyone saw you now, they’d probably just assume you’re a couple on vacation that had a few too many.

If only they knew how complicated it really was.

Leon has to release his arm from you to dig through the pocket of his pants for the keycard, but he lets you rest your full body weight on him in the meantime. You relax on him, the warmth and scent and curves of his body the only familiar thing in the world.

The lock turns green and clicks, letting Leon push the door open and help you into the room. You’re almost relieved to see the double beds and feel the brisk air conditioning. The only thing that would make it better is if it were your own bed.

Leon clearly shares your sentiment, kicking off his boots and leaping onto the mattress, “what a sight for sore eyes.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, slowly taking off your combat boots one at a time and spending way too much time fiddling with the shoelaces. “Tell me about it.”

You almost laugh at the words that just left your mouth. It’s just a figure of speech, but there really is something you want him to tell you about. You want to ask him about his sudden closeness and the mission and the brush with death and above all, his hesitation earlier.

A part of you knows why. He doesn’t want you to die, you’re his partner, but you know and you’ve always known, the job comes first. You might be willing to sacrifice everything for him, but he can’t do the same.

“We need to clean your face,” Leon sits up suddenly, the rustling of his clothes catching your attention. “It’ll get infected otherwise.”

You don’t feel like doing anything right now except for laying down and staring at the ceiling, but you know he’s right. You begrudgingly follow him to the bathroom. He’s already unpacking his first aid kit, digging out antiseptic spray, cotton pads and a bandaid.

Like every other time you’ve done this, you settle on the counter in front of him. It’s such a familiar feeling that it’s almost bitter. He wets a cloth with warm water and starts to wipe off the dirt and blood on your face. You flinch under his touch, the wound stinging with the water.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” His voice is soft, calm. Nothing like it was earlier when you were being stepped on. The contrast makes you shiver.

You feel like you’ve been here a million times but at the same time, everything feels different. “It’s been a long day,” you say quietly, “for both of us.”

He wets a cotton pad with antiseptic and starts to dab it across the cut. “We’ve had longer days.”

You don’t say anything to that, clenching your teeth together to keep from hissing in pain. You never do get used to the burn of cleaning wounds.

“Seriously, what is it?” He looks at you seriously.

“I feel like I’m going insane, Leon.”

He gently presses the bandaid to your wound, dropping his hands from your forehead to your forearms. “Why?”

“I—” your skin practically burns where he’s touching you. “It’s everything. It–it’s me and it’s you and the mission and my feelings and—God, we’re partners Leon, we’re partners and I’m going to fuck it all up.”

The way you say partners lingers in the air. You choke on the word like it’s painful, like it’s a curse, some sort of vile thing that haunts you. And in a way, it is. Your partnership with Leon has long been a curse complicated by your own feelings.

His brow furrows, “what are you…?”

“I would sacrifice everything for you. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way and it’s stupid and it’s selfish but…” You can feel tears pricking your lashes.

“But what?”

“Why won’t you do the same? You hesitated—earlier, you hesitated. You weren’t going to talk.” You burst into tears at the end of your sentence, the horrors from the day coming back to haunt you.

Your feelings are so overwhelming that they drown you. Your sadness and heartbreak and fear, and your anger and resentment. The bitter feeling whenever you’re reminded that Leon is your partner, nothing more.

Leon squeezes your arms gently, trying to get your attention. “Y/n,” he sighs, “look at me. Please.”

When you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, he slowly moves a hand to your face and wipes your tears away. His hand catches your jaw, tilting your chin up until your eyes are level with his. The way the tears catch on your lashes make the world look like a stained glass window, Leon the most beautiful mosaic you’ve ever seen.

“You need to understand,” his voice is soft, “I didn’t hesitate because I don’t care about you. I hesitated because I do. I keep my distance because I care about you so much, it scares me. Y/n, I would let the whole fucking world burn if it meant keeping you warm.”

His words stun you. They leave you warm and dizzy and lightheaded, your heart pounding against your ribcage, your skin burning under his touch. It’s all so confusing, so overwhelming. This whole time, did he really feel the same way?

“I meant what I said, doll. If someone hurt you, there wouldn’t be a place in the universe where they’d be safe from me.”

You’re staring at him and he’s staring back. His eyes have always been his most expressive feature, and right now they’re telling you exactly what you want. The warmth they hold, the concern and the affection, it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Leon…”

He leans in, ghosting his lips on yours. Heat spreads through your body. “We’re partners,” he whispers against you, and somehow that word sounds less venomous than it ever has.

“Partners,” you repeat, your lips catching on his as the words leave your mouth.

He presses his lips on yours harder, moving his hand from your face to the back of your head, holding you against him. He’s needy and desperate for your touch, as if he’s trying to keep you with him forever. And he is.

“Partner,” he mumbles, moving his lips down to your collarbone. “My partner. My brilliant, brilliant partner.”

You shiver at his touch and his words, the moment so raw and intimate it makes you wonder how long he’s wanted to do this.

“My brilliant partner,” he pulls away, staring directly into your eyes, “so brilliant she couldn’t even see I was in love with her.”

“I—” you start to say but the words fail you.

Leon strokes your hair, planting a kiss to the bandaid on your forehead. “I know,” he says. “I know.”

He pulls away from you and grabs your hand, helping you off of the counter and leading you to bed. Both of you are still in your uniforms—a mess of vests and cargo pants and holsters. It’s a slow process to discard the most uncomfortable parts, but it’s worth it when you’re left in just a plain white t-shirt and underwear. There’s angry red marks on your skin from where the straps were.

You shyly look over at Leon who is dressed the same way you are. His shirt and skin are still dirty, and you’re sure you are too, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter now.

All that matters is you and Leon, and the way he lays on the bed and waits for you to lay next to him. The way he draws you in, your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. The way he means everything to you, and you mean even more to him.

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil 2 #resident evil #resident evil fluff #resident evil angst #resident evil 4 #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #angst #fluff #re2 remake #re2 x reader #re4 leon #re2 leon

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hypersonic04 · 1 year ago

Text

'Tis The Damn Season

I know it's only september, but i just love writing christmas one shots so much lol. i hope you all love this because it was so comforting and cosy to write!!

word count: 3,574

Your boots crunch in the snow, muffled in the emptiness of the path you were dragging your suitcase down. You check your watch - half past two. You'd promised to be there by 1 o'clock, but work had kept you at your desk in London for an extra couple of hours.

If only they hadn't chosen a cottage in the middle of nowhere to be the family Christmas destination.

It was tradition: every year, on the 24th of December, everyone descended on your mother's best friends' cottage, hidden out in the snowy countryside. Fond memories of opening presents with your brothers and her sons, building their newly gifted race car tracks and trying to fit your Barbie dolls in their monster trucks. Now, though, things are different, evenings spent drinking wine and listening to how successful your brother's business is, rather than playing Monopoly and falling asleep on a 15 year old Ross Macdonald's shoulder. You cringe to yourself even now as you remember how clumsy and awkward you were - he was a couple of years older than you, and you vividly remember listening to him shyly talk about his band at the Christmas dinner table, cheeks turning pink and yours even pinker when he met your graceless, 14-year-old-crush gaze. You'd seen his success, and you were immeasurably proud of him, but there was always something that made your heart ache, seeing him on magazines and at awards shows, and knowing that your distant childhood memories were that, really: distant.

You almost cry with happiness when you spot the house in the distance. Your pace quickens, dragging the hefty suitcase along behind you. The sky is unbelievably clear and blue, the air crisp with December cold, a scarf wrapped around your neck and tucked into your coat. Your boots are rubbing at your ankles, your nose red and freezing - opening the door to the cottage you've been to every Christmas of your life has never felt as joyous as it does right now.

A room full of warm, lit up faces.

"She's here!"

The room glows with love. You're engulfed in hugs, kisses to your rosy, cold cheeks, your mum taking your scarf from you and a glass of mulled wine shoved into your hand. The Christmas tree stands in the corner, familiar ornaments hanging there like they'd been up since the previous year. You were the last person to arrive, one of your brothers sat on the sofa, Ross' brother attempting to kindle the fire, your other brother having an in depth chat with Ross' dad about Formula 1.

"You're freezing cold, my girl," Bella, your mother's friend, holds your hands in hers, "how have you been?"

She moves to hold you at arms length, looking at you like she did when you were a little girl. A fondness in her eyes, warm and homely, a sense of knowing.

"I'm okay! You know, busy with work and everything." Smiling at her, you squeeze her hands gently. Her eyes linger on you for a few seconds, lips forming a line.

"Well, you look as gorgeous as ever, darling." She tucks a curl behind your ear, tilting her head a little.

The creak of the stairs is what draws you away from her indistinguishable expression.

He's wearing a maroon knit sweater, dark wash, blue jeans, white socks padding down the staircase. His hair is what makes you swallow heavily, pulled back into a bun and his beard seemingly darker and a little longer than last time. He ducks his head under the beam when he reaches the last step.

"I've sorted the spare room, Mum-"

His face softens when he sees you. His mouth agape a little, stopping mid-sentence, the corners of his mouth curling upwards softly. He stutters over his words for a second before a string of 'hello's' and 'didn't know you'd got here's tumbled out of his mouth.

You can't hold back the smile that graces your face at the sight of him. It's Ross.

His mum steps to the side for a second as he makes his way over, raising her eyebrows at your mum like gossiping teenagers. You know exactly what they're insinuating, the same thing they've insinuated every year since you were about 13.

He smiles at you so softly, eyes creasing in the corner as he leans down to give you a hug. One arm wrapped around you shoulders, the other around your back, yours around his waist. The fabric of his sweater is so soft under your touch, his aftershave pleasant as you inhale gently. Closing your eyes for a second, you allow yourself to slot into his hold, the familiar pair of arms around you warming you up more than any fireplace or red wine ever could.

"What time did you get here?" He says, pulling away from you and shoving a hand into his pocket, the other coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

"About five minutes ago, I was running late anyway, but then the taxi driver wouldn't drive any further down the footpath." You laugh lightly.

"I'd have come to give you a hand if I'd have known, sorry, I-" He has an apologetic expression, eyebrows raising a little.

"No, it's fine!" You frown a little with a shake of your head, "I had no signal anyway, wouldn't have been able to ring you."

He nods in agreement, rolling his eyes, "I ask them all the time why they picked to live in the middle of a field." He laughs.

"Ross, did you take the turkey out of the freezer earlier?" His mum calls to him, the sound of her in the kitchen filling both your ears and nostrils, the delicious smell of Bella's famous Christmas Eve feast filling the room. He purses his lips, eyes going wide and a giggle escaping your lips, hand coming over your mouth.

"Shit." He laughs boyishly, "Didn't you ask Dad to do that?" He calls after her, walking off into the kitchen.

You stand there for a second, the grin on your face immovable, arms folded over your stomach.

"What are you smiling at, hm?" Your eldest brother raises his eyebrows at you teasingly, picking up your suitcase for you.

"Shut up." You huff, rolling your eyes in classic younger sister fashion.

The teasing about your crush on Ross had been a constant in your life. You'd never explicitly told anyone about it, but the way you reacted when they'd bring him up in conversation was enough.

"He's single, you know?" He mumbles as you follow him upstairs, into your spare room.

"Who's single?" You play dumb, keeping your eyes on the floor as he turns his head to you, scoffing.

"Oh, give it a rest. You bloody know who."

Setting your suitcase on the bed, he leaves you to unpack and get settled. It's the same room you stayed in every year - a singular, rectangular window overlooking the front garden, flowered wallpaper at Bella's persistence, her excuse being that she never had girls. The light blue bedspread brings back memories of Christmas mornings gone by, the boys waking you up because you were always the last one awake. Your mind wanders as you unpack, setting sweaters and mini skirts and sparkly New Years' dresses on the bed, so the tap at the door takes you by surprise.

"Sorry, 'didn't mean to make you jump." Ross stands in the doorway, greeting you with a creased grin.

"Oh, it's fine." You laugh softly, awkwardly even, playing with the hem of the pyjama bottoms in your hand. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering if you fancied going to the pub later? Rob said it's a pub quiz or something, thought you'd like it."

"Sure, yeah. I'll come." You nod with a sweet smile, watching as he nods back at you with pursed lips.

"We're leaving in about an hour, so..." His voice trails off a little, and you notice how his eyes move up and down your figure, blinking profusely. You suddenly feel conscious, standing there in a pair of old mom jeans and the most basic of t shirts, something you'd thrown on in a hurry. Christ knows what your hair looks like.

His eyes linger for a second, dropping down to the suitcase laid out flat on the bed. A smirk graces his lips, before turning on his heel and heading back downstairs, his footsteps light on the wooden floorboards. Your cheeks flush bright red when you turn back to the open suitcase - a pair of your laciest knickers, black with little frills on the sides, placed almost perfectly in his eye line, right next to a matching red pair. You stand for a second with your lips pulled inwards, closing your eyes. That did not just happen.

Post-unpacking, you head back downstairs and try to pretend that Ross seeing your underwear isn't the only thing consuming your mind. Everyone's sat around the living room, some Christmas special on the television, the faintest falling of snow like a picture through the window. It's getting darker, the warm glow of Bella's fairy lights in every nook and cranny bathing the cottage in the most festive light. It's freezing outside, but the company in the house makes it the warmest it's been all year.

Coats and scarves are donned, boots pulled on and hats on heads. It's the five of us, and the familiarity and nostalgia of it makes me feel warm. I look at their faces for a second, older yet the memories of our youth peeking through their boyish smiles and loud laughs.

"Be careful, you lot, it's really coming down now." Your mum looks through the kitchen window.

"And remember your key, Ross. I don't want you waking us up at God knows what time."

"Mum, I'm 34 years old, I've got my key." He rolls his eyes with a laugh, his mum fondly hitting his fleece-covered arm.

Your mum was right, the snow was really coming down now.

"Shit." You mumble as you stumble down the path a little, boots sticking in the snow.

The boys are a bit further ahead, as per usual, but Ross hangs back when he sees you struggling. He looks to them for a second, like he wants to tell them to wait for you both, but he decides against it.

"Shouldn't have worn those boots, you know. Docs are rubbish in the snow." He says, holding his hand out to you as you near him. You take it gladly, the material of your gloves sticking together. His hold is firm, keeping you stable.

"Alright, 'dad', bloody hell." You tease, the sound of his laugh heavenly.

"Sorry, sorry." He smiles, glancing down at you. He grins at the way the snowflakes settle in your hair, watching as you brush them off your eyelashes. "Always walking off and leaving us." He gestures to the three of them ahead.

"Some things never change, hm?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

He looks down at you for a second and you meet his gaze. There's something unspoken there, some ulterior meaning. He runs his thumb over your gloved hand, and you rest your head on his arm affectionately, feeling him squeeze your hand. There's a smile on both of your faces, knowing, just like his mum earlier.

"How's things with the band?" You ask after lifting your head from his bicep, looking up at him.

"Good, yeah. Really good." There's a look on his face that you don't always see when you're all sat around talking about work. He seems truly content, proud. "You should come and see us play. We're on tour in February."

Your face lights up at the suggestion and his stomach twists, the way your eyes widen and lips curve upwards making him toasty in the cold of the snow. It's darker now, street lamps lighting the path as you all trundle down it, but the glow that seems to exist when you're together is brighter than any of them.

"That would be wonderful." You smile sweetly and hold his arm with your other hand.

The boys wait up for you, and you find yourselves suddenly letting go of each other. They roll their eyes, surprised that the two of you are still keeping up with the 'we're totally not in love with each other' act.

The pub is bustling when you get there. Groups of friends who have evidently been day drinking laughing loudly, couples stood in dimly lit corners, music playing over the speakers. It's trimmed up with garlands and wreaths on every door, candles lit at every table. Ross heads to the bar whilst the rest of you find a table to sit at. You take the booth seat, as does Ross when he returns with five pints and a packet of peanuts, your favourite.

You do the quiz, and despite not winning, you treat yourself to a shot in the excuse of it being Christmas. Time passes on, people recommending songs and the night slowly turning into karaoke. You laugh into Ross' arm, slowly getting closer and closer to each other throughout the night until you're pressed into each other's side.

"I think I might go back, I'm shattered." Ross' brother yawns, your own nodding in agreement. You frown a little, looking at your still half full pint from the round that you'd payed for.

"We can stay, if you want." Ross nudges your side, your faces inches apart. "We're going to stay until y/n's finished her pint, lads."

They look between each other for a second before nodding in agreement, exchanging hugs with you and a brief "get back safe" before leaving. Your youngest brother pushes the door open with his back, giving you a thumbs up as he leaves, immediately making you roll your eyes at him.

"Do you want to stay for one more?" Ross asks as he watches you drink your current pint. You open your mouth and close it again, nodding perhaps a little too eagerly.

You never want the night to end. The rest of the evening is spent giggling together like teenagers over things that happened years ago, talking about past failed relationships, and everything in between. His arm is around you, the occasional kiss to your forehead or a hold of his hand.

"He didn't deserve you, y/n." He looks down at you with raised eyebrows and lips pulled inwards. "I knew it from the second I met him."

"Did you really?" You wince at the thought of everyone around you being able to see that your boyfriend is a dickhead, but you.

"Mhm, hated him. That was the worst Christmas of my life."

"Jesus Christ, Ross. I don't think he was that bad!" You laugh loudly and he shakes his head.

"What, watching him all over you for a week? Torture."

It takes you by surprise, and you can tell he's shocked at his bravery when he tales a rather large gulp of beer. You analyse his face for a second, a look of what might be panic on his face. He meets your gaze for a second before averting his eyes back to the dodgy singer doing a rendition of Last Christmas.

"Well, I never really liked any of your girlfriends, either." You quip, watching as he relaxes a little, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, really? Which one?" He cocks his head upwards, looking at you with intrigue.

"What was she called, the really tall one? She pretended I didn't exist the whole time I was here, Ross."

"Oh, yeah..." He scrunches his nose up, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, it was ages ago." You shrug.

You sit in silence for a few seconds, both of you pretending to watch karaoke, but rather pondering what the other had just said.

"I don't think I'd like any of your boyfriends, y/n." He says suddenly, looking at you intensely. You try to read his mind, to see if he's actually just said what you'd heard.

"Why's that?" You frown.

"You know why." He scoffs. Your eye contact is intense, immovable, the brown of his eyes almost like a honey colour in the light of the pub. Your eyes flick down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. You've been close to things like this before with him, sat perhaps a little too close together on the sofa on Boxing Day, or sharing a cigarette outside on the seat swing when everyone else is asleep, but never like this.

"I don't know why, Ross." You play dumb, the faintest smirk forming on your lips. He watches your mouth as it curves, his own mirroring you.

"Don't be like this." He laughs airily, his arm along the back of your seat, body tilted towards you.

The call for last orders takes you both out of your moment, almost like coming back down to Earth.

"We should probably go home."

"Yeah, you're right."

You stumble out of the pub, the snow still falling gently, your bellies warm from the alcohol and company.

"Come on, you." He teases, hooking his arm through yours.

"If I remember right, I think it was you that nearly decked it last time we went out, so I should be looking after you, really." You giggle, watching as he groans a bit, shaking his head.

"Why are you bringing that up, seriously?" He laughs, admiring how funny you find the memory.

"Wasn't it about here, as well?" You point at the street.

"Oh, give it a rest." He holds the hand that's hooked through his arm.

The walk back seems to take forever, the two of you laughing loudly and being silly, the smile on your face the biggest all year. The lights are still on when you get home, the cottage glowing like a beacon in the dark, white-covered field.

"Do you ever miss being at home? You know, when it looks so pretty, like this." You ask, walking hand in hand, a little drunkenly.

"I mean, sometimes. I think it's more about missing the people and what being at home usually means. Y'know, being with my mum and dad, and you and everyone."

You come to a halt on the path leading up to the house, turning to him for a second. He's illuminated by the warmth of the house, his coat zipped up right around his neck, cheeks rosy and eyes drowsy.

"Can't we just pretend for the weekend, Ross?" You look at him pleadingly and he frowns.

"Pretend what?"

"Like we're not terrified of ruining everything. Just for one Christmas, can't we just pretend that we're not scared of what might happen?"

He looks at you for a second, his eyes scanning over your face for some kind of secret, hidden message.

"Are you sure?"

You nod, your brow down-turned for a second as you worry that you have, in fact, ruined everything.

The kiss he places on your lips proves that wrong. He holds your face in both hands, yours firmly wrapped around his wrists, leaning into his kiss. It's even better than you ever dreamed of. It's warm, and gentle, and perfect. His eyes are starry when he pulls away, dazed even, and your heart feels as though it could burst.

"Can we stay together tonight?" He says lowly, faces inches apart and still resting in the tenderness of his hands. You hum with a nod, following him onto the porch and into the house. Bella must've left the lights on, because everyone's asleep. It's silent, TV off and bedroom doors shut, and it's like you're teenagers sneaking around.

You head upstairs and change into the checked pyjamas you'd bought especially for Christmas Eve. Looking in the mirror, your cheeks are full and aglow, curls soaked from the snow that'd melted.

The familiar knock at your door doesn't startle you this time. He's wearing a t-shirt and plaid bottoms, his hands on your hips already comfortable. He walks you back towards the bed, the backs of your legs hitting it and his hold keeping you steady. You can feel him smiling as he kisses you, pulling away for a second.

"I can't even tell you how much I've thought about this." He whispers, looking down at your lips. You run your hands through his hair, now down and making your stomach twist in ways you didn't know it could.

"Me too." You whisper back.

The opening of a bedroom door and feet in the hallway makes you freeze on the spot. Your eyes widen when the bathroom door opens, the room next to your bedroom, whilst his crease in muffled laughter. You hit his shoulder, hiding your face in his chest. The two of you stand silence until the footsteps have gone back the way they came and doors are closed.

"Oh my god." You sigh, shaking your head with a laugh.

The two of you settle in the single bed in your room, his warm hands under your pyjama top, calloused and rough fingertips against your smooth skin. It feels like making up for lost time, lost touches, nights when you've slept in an empty bed and wondered whether he's thinking of you too.

And although it's the same room you've always slept in for Christmas, the same bed sheets, its the warmest bed you've ever known that evening.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine

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whumping-valentine · 11 months ago

Text

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 5 🦌

"Cabin Colds"

Content: Sick Whumpee, Carewhumper

1100 Words

Hey it's part five! Who likes sick whumpees and caretaking whumpers? 👀

This part is short and simple, but it was a way for me to vent when I was sick last week, lol. The parts will get longer and more complex as we go though, so you can look forward to that!

I really wanna try and get this little story done, because afterwards I'm gonna be posting my story on Valentine, which I'm itching to share with you all. God, I can't wait for y'all to meet Valentine and Vittoria, man. It's gonna be great. But anyways, I hope you like this tiny little slice of sick whump!

Fawn barely slept a wink that night, how could they? Tied up and in pain isn't exactly the utmost form of comfort.

Ironically enough, it was warmer down in the basement. Though that's probably due to the numerous broken windows around the cabin, closed off with nothing more than wooden planks and tattered blankets. And last night they just added another one to the list.

That's how Fawn would sleep for the next week. Their days consisted of the same old things, being taunted, condescended, sometimes slapped and pulled by the hair. Being treated as some pretty pet, or lowly companion. Eating nothing besides venison. It was all starting to take its toll on the poor thing.

As the days continued to tick by Fawn slowly came to the realization that they were going to be here for quite a while... unfortunately. They didn't want to completely give up hope just yet, but Hunter was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so it was apparent.

One night, Fawn fell asleep with a sore throat, and woke up completely sick. It was freezing, but they also felt hot, all at once. Their head was pounding, their nose was running, and every muscle in their body was aching. It was pure, absolute misery, and worst of all they weren’t sure how Hunter was going to react to it. Whether or not they were going to be comforting or neglectful, Fawn liked neither option.

Though they’ll accept any help by this point, they couldn’t just lay here, they simply couldn’t. They tried to call out to their captor, though their sore throat didn’t allow it. All they could do was cough, and a short while later, it was enough to catch their attention. All it took was one look at the poor thing for Hunter to tell they were sick. They crossed their arms and leaned their shoulder against the door frame.

“Feelin’ bad, baby?”

Fawn coughed, “Yes.”

The sound of their voice made Hunter widen their eyes in surprise, “Oh, wow, you really are, poor thing." They said, still talking down to them, "Need some help?”

Fawn would normally bicker and bite, but in this instance said, “Please.”

Hunter didn’t waste a second going to untie them. Rope marks stained their wrists and ankles, which were growing more frail as the days ticked by as Fawn slowly lost weight and strength.

Hunter picked them up bridal style, and carried them down to the basement, into a new room that was previously kept behind a locked door. A secret, cozy place that was actually rather nice, and well kept. They laid Fawn down on a couch, lit a fireplace, then covered them up with a thick quilted blanket. They left for a few minutes and returned with a cold washcloth, which they placed on their feverish forehead.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Wanna rest?”

“Yes.”

Hunter gently lifted their head, sat down, and placed it on their lap. They ran slow fingers through their hair. They chuckled, “What, too sick to yell at me for this, are you?”

Fawn simply peeked their eyes open, glared at them, and closed them again.

“I see, I see. You can yell at me when you’re better.” They said, placing a hand on their head as they dragged their fingers through their now coarse hair. Fawn hated it, hated that their captor of all people was being so intimate and caring. They always hated it, but in this instance they were far too sickly to even think of biting back.

Their head was pounding, fever burning, body sweating. Their throat was sore, it was hard to breathe, and they found themself asking for a tissue every few minutes. Their body ached, they felt nauseous, their stomach was upset, and every muscle in their body hurt. Their skin was sensitive to the touch, and they were tired as all hell but couldn’t find it in them to fall asleep.

They weren’t sure what exactly they had, but it was probably the sickest they had ever felt in their entire life. Really, they probably had more than one thing. Being held out in an old, dirty cabin with deer carcasses all over the place is a pretty good guarantee that you’re going to catch something. Hunter was surely used to the conditions, but Fawn clearly was not.

Eventually Fawn managed to drift off to sleep without even realizing. When they awoke again they were still there, head in Hunter’s lap. Hunter looked down at their sleepy eyes, and took the washcloth off their head to check their temperature with the back of their hand. They asked, “You feelin’ any better?”

Fawn’s only response was a meek, hoarse, “Thirsty.”

Hunter got up, gently laying them back down as they went to fetch a canteen of water. When they returned, they helped Fawn sit up as they held the canteen to their lips as they gulped down the whole thing at once. It felt difficult, uncomfortable, and painful to swallow due to their sore, swollen throat, but they persisted despite it.

“Want me to grab you something to eat, too?” Hunter asked. Fawn thought for a moment, and slightly nodded.

Hunter left to the kitchen once again, and ravaged through the old, dusty cupboards for something to feed them that wasn’t meat. They grabbed an old soup can, checked the date, and to their surprise it was still good. They rinsed a dusty bowl and poured the soup into it. They warmed it up over the stove, and retreated back down to the basement.

"I thought you'd like something other than venison." Hunter said, sitting back down with Fawn, "How does vegetable soup sound?"

Fawn could practically cry tears of joy. “great.”

Fawn's head laid on Hunter's shoulder, one of their arms around them as the other fed them soup like a child. Fawn was far too sick to get upset about it, accepting the gesture with gratitude. They closed their eyes as Hunter fed them spoonfuls.

The warm, crackling fire paired with their fever made them just about ready to fall asleep. They were so feverish and tired that they even found it comforting when Hunter gently rubbed their hand up and down their back. If they had any sense of clarity in their head, they’d find the gentle gestures and caretaking insulting.

Hunter finished feeding them the soup, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table. They looked down at the sickly thing in their arms, "Hm. I think it's time for bed, Fawn."

"Says who?" Fawn mumbled, the soreness present in their tone.

"Says me. You’re already falling asleep. And more sleep will do you good.”

“What do you care.”

“I care because I’d like to take care of my pet, that’s what.” They said, grabbing onto them as they both laid down. Fawn wanted so badly to fight against the gestures, but couldn't. They weren't sure if it was because of how ill they felt, or if it was because they actually liked it.

They hoped it wasn't the second one.

Hunter held Fawn to their chest, their arms wrapped around them, both curled up under the blanket.

Well, I suppose it's better than being tied to a bed. And, I guess there could always be worse creepy serial killers to be taken by...

Taglist: @parasitebunny

^^ If you want added, lmk!

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump things #my writing #whump writing #sick whump #carewhumper

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devilish-parrot · 3 months ago

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What if you put the Beatles in a saw trap

waay ahead of you there. ive been thinking about this a few days lol

disclaimer, as of now ive only seen the first five films + saw 0.5. anyway im going to infodump now and include some photos so gore and spoiler warning. btw im not very good at explaining things so sorry if i leave out important context

heres ringo in the famous reverse-bear trap from saw 0.5 and saw i

hes even got his arms up trying to get it off

speaking of ringo, remember this from the 1965 film help!

well, ive been thinking of this alot because it reminds me of a few different traps, namely The Rack from saw iii, which is among one of the goriest and is jigsaws favourite (i think)

so if ringo were placed in a trap, itd probably be in this one ^, which twists ur limbs and head around.

question is. would ringo be able to save himself? well, this trap specifically (and really all* the saw iii traps) arent made for YOU to escape them, theyre made for someone to forgive you and get you out of it

to explain the saw iii traps, or at least the relevant parts so i dont just talk about the film in its entirety (cus 3 is so far the best one even though the traps arent the most interesting part), theres this guy named jeff and a few years ago his eight year old son was killed in a hit n run accident. he becomes consumed with rage and obsessed with taking revenge on timothy young (the man who killed his son and got six months of prison time for it).

jeff is placed in a saw trap wherein he is forced to either forgive a few key people and help them get out or let them die by doing nothing.

the first person he encounters is a woman who was the only witness to the accident. shes in a freezing cold room completly nude with cold water being sprayed at her. jeff has to get a key to unlock her or else she freezes to death

the next person is the judge who gave timothy six months prison who is tied to the bottom of a big silo. beside the silo is a meat grinder that keeps shredding up dead pigs and letting all the remains go all over the judge, so hed eventually drown in pig liquid. jeff has to burn his sons stuff to get a key

and the last person is timothy himself, who is placed in The Rack. jeff has to get a key off of a gun trigger, risking shooting himself (idk how to explain it very well, im a very visual explainer)

*idk if id count the yuri necklace thing as a trap but thats for another infodump

as for the other beatles, i have not thought of them at all because the movies (to my knowledge) have not placed them in crazy contraptions and also..... RINGO...

however, you said "what if you put the beatles in a saw trap".

beatles plural. saw trap singular. a trap with multiple people, that exists.

saw i has the two guys, lawrence and ADAM (<3) in the one beathroom together chained to pipes on opposite ends of the room

saw ii features like, eigth or so people in one big house with multiple mini traps for each person

saw iv has this one trap with two people standing back to back with spikes going through both of them, and one person (lets say, person A) has an advantage, meaning if A pulled the spikes out, person B would die due to how the spikes are placed

saw v has five people in a series of linear rooms with a trap in each room they need to work together on to get out. personally, i think this works best for the beatles to all be in.

so uhhh tldr, if ringo was alone hed be in the rack, but if they were all together theyd be in the saw v house

(im rlly sleepy and i want to get this out today so im not gonna bother trying to find any more images)

#devilish ask #the beatles #saw #combining my special interests #infodump #saw franchise #rlly sorry if i got anything wrong

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mintytealfox · 1 year ago

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here more writing from that one da capo AU im obsessed with cause I couldn't stop lol

Intro chapter: Here

Chapters 2-4

-------

Ch 2 Alice

Alice is bounding out of her living quarters, rushing through the bustling crowds of the city and throwing the doors open wide of the facility her target often frequents. “Today will be the day you say yes” a grin appearing on her face as she stands in confidence.

“Um…excuse me.” A timid gentle voice coming from behind.

Turning around, Alice looks at the gentleman, and notes she is blocking the way through. “Oh, I apologize.” quickly side stepping out of the way so walking traffic can resume.

“At it again are we...?” a familiar soft voice chimes in.

Swinging around once again she spots her target and smiles, “Frederick~”

Frederick is secretly amused behind that bored and tired expression he is sending her way. “The answer is still no” turning away and heading for his desired morning destination.

Alice swallows her gasp and follows him, “Please Mr. Kreiburg, your story would fascinate millions! Might even convince so many of your people to consider choosing the human way of living!”

Frederick winces, “they are not my people, I’m not a leader in any capacity.”

“I know this Mr Kreiburg, I simply meant you were once a giant but chose to come here and live amongst us. I want to know why; the world would love to know why.” Her voice is practically dripping with intrigue and thirst for knowledge.

“I am not the only one, plenty of others have done the same, go interview one of them.” Those soft tones becoming cold and closed off, once again.

The journalist grabs his arm and flinches at her poor form, internally cursing herself, after the look she receives as they now stand frozen in the middle of the grand center of the city, “I’m sorry, but it’s your story that intrigues me, what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen, where you came from. All that is uniquely tied to you and your perspective, and I want to know why.”

“Why what?” His stern retort missing any trace of amusement he had before.

“Why would you choose to come here? It’s not like you were escaping poverty, so…why?”

The business of the morning continues to rush and to swarm around them, occasionally bumping into them and adding to the growing tension of this conversation.

Frederick sighs, “this is not the place for a conversation like this, and we are not close enough for a conversation such as this. I do not exhume the past for just anyone Ms, Journalist….my answer is still, and likely will always be, ‘no’.” He lightly tips his head at her “good day” and leaves. Abandoning Alice to the swirling morning crowds, once again.

“Damn…then maybe tomorrow then…”

Alive hurries off to her office, thoughts racing about how that conversation went. “It was strange, he seemed more open today but immediately closed off after I said ‘his people’…. there is something there, but what? Does he resent who he was? Resent his past? Resent his heritage? Or maybe he is silently passionate about our two people finally coming together. But if that were the case then…wouldn’t he want to join me in this effort of discussing peace and equality? This must go deeper…and I need him to tell me what’s going on out there…what’s going on in that mind of his…what does he know…”

Before she even realized it, she had arrived at her place of work and had been pacing her office there for the past ten minutes. Coworkers just look in the window to her office, watching her pace, and placing bets on how long it will take her to notice.

Alice freezes and stares at them, “…….” And a collective ‘aw maan’ erupts as they all throw money at the one coworker who is basking in their glory of being right.

Alice huffs and presses a button to fog the window. Returning to her desk she opens a drawer to pull out her thought recorder. She places the sticky part to her temple and allows her thoughts to be recorded into the device. Words appearing in a holographic form floating in front of her. With a satisfied nod, she turns off the device and secures it back into the drawer to lock it away.

“There must be a way we can live in true harmony….”

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

Ch 3 Melly

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I suppose that’s a word for it…”

Melly is admiring a particularly rare sort of insect, and her human intern is a bit stressed about it. Her eyes now watch the intern instead of the insect crawling over her gloved fingers. “‘I suppose’ from your perspective a creature this size could be seen as…intimidating.”

“…you could certainly say that ma’am…” a twinge of uneasiness in their voice and refusal to look up at Melly. They could feel her gaze from behind her signature veil and it only multiplied their unease by the hundreds.

There was a reason interns didn’t last long out here. This woman tests the wits of them to their limits.

Placing the insect back into its enclosure, Melly smiles down at the intern on her desk.

Oh no, she’s smiling. The intern gulps waiting for the workday to finally be over and never return, these two minutes couldn’t be longer but somehow felt like eternity.

“Alright, run along…”

Those blessed words felt like the hallelujah chorus to that poor intern’s ears as they quickly ran off to return home.

Melly sighs and leans back in her chair. The exact outcome she desired, she didn’t like humans or interns here and enjoyed scaring them off. It’s not like she had to do much, ‘a threatening aura’ is often used to describe her. She simply must exist and the weak are scared. They have no business working with her insects; they have no respect for them. With eyes scanning her desk her image presenter flashes to her meeting with Alice a few years prior, now that is a human she likes. A genuine smile presents itself as she reminisces about the lovely article that was written about her work with insects and how vital it is.

“Melly…there’s a message for you.”

“How disappointing…send it through.”

Her coworker nods, sending it through and closing the door again as they head out.

The lounging posture is quickly straightening as her eyes take in the surprising information within the encoded message. “Very well then…”

Getting up from her chair she marches for the exit, passing by her coworker on the way out, “message Mr Kreiburg…I need to meet with him in the usual place. Use the secure channel.”

“Sounds fine. Enjoy your trip.” They place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get too deep into this.”

“I appreciate your concern. See you in a few days and I expect those monarchs to be healthy and ready to fly by then.”

---

Melly hears the tap of the familiar cane on the marble floor of the rundown gazebo. The one dry place out here as the rain pours. There is a peace that still resides here despite what happened. It has this sense of healing in the air that can only be truly appreciated when resting elbows on the railing of the gazebo and closing one’s eyes.

“Are you disappointed?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t…I enjoy seeing the bees that travel here.” moving from her leaned over position to turn to face Frederick. “Are you disappointed about being yourself again…?”

“It’s a simple change of size…it isn’t that deep.”

“A reminder then...”

Frederick shifts his weight at that, “I will give you that one…”

Melly smiles, “have you found it yet?”

“If I had I wouldn’t still be involved with all this.” He eyes her, “you wouldn’t be here either if you didn’t have your debts to pay as well.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she turns to run her fingers along a pillar of the gazebo, “I don’t know, I might have found this place without all of the drama…I find it works well as a…’happy place’..”

Frederick remains silent but is listening.

“…there is an individual on the outside that wishes to meet with Alice. An interview is being requested…we all know she hunts you down every opportunity she gets. So, you’re going to have to be the one to share this information.”

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

Ch 4 Frederick

Frederick arches a brow at the information Melly shared. “Me? Why not you? You two meet for tea once a month.”

Melly shakes her head, “I want her to still be able to trust me. I want to be able to share a word of warning with her…and remain seemingly uninvolved.”

“Lucky you, getting to have ‘wants’…” annoyance present in his tone. “I’m assuming this is you not following the plan then?”

Exasperated “yes, and do please keep it a secret…we are all monkeys in these invisible cages, instead of the real cages we narrowly avoided…”

“Hm….” his gaze falling to the ground.

“Oh Frederick…don’t look so downtrodden.” Melly frowns as she walks over to him. “…being human sized is such a bad look for you…you should stay like this, remember who you really are.”

“A forgotten unwanted failure? I think not. When I’m with the humans I’m unknown and it feels like I can start fresh.”

“You don’t really want that…you want to be remembered, celebrated. It’s why you’re putting all this effort in trying to locate that gem…so you can— “

“Return home and be welcomed…”

“With applause.” Placing a hand on his.

Frederick groans, closing his eyes. It sounds ridiculous when said aloud but it’s true…the applause he used to enjoy…he is simply average and lost in the sea of averages now, but if he finds the unfindable…that could all change.

Shaking his head, he pulls his hand away from Melly. “We’ve known each other a long time…you know full well that this is a lost cause of a path that I’ve been on. Maybe it’s time I just moved on from the past, run from it like you do. Why don’t you encourage that?”

Melly sighs, “running has brought me no peace…I only lose more of myself the further I get, and I don’t wish that on anyone.”

---

Frederick is seated in his nice living space in the human city, returned to human size and living, his conversation with Melly replaying in his mind as he looks out his window at the bustling city. Eyeing all this unfathomable tech, lights and screens flashing everywhere. He recalls how difficult all of this was to get used to, but found things he could appreciate, like the music and how they create it, the fascinating instruments and sounds they add…

“Maybe if we let bitterness go…and embrace all of this innovative living…” he quickly shakes the thought out, “ridiculous.”

‘His people’ have longer lifespans than these newer ones, so he was young, but very much alive when the war was on going, too young to be involved, but old enough to be completely aware. He knew what life was like before the humans showed up, even though those memories are difficult to recall, being just a small child then. So, this bitterness he feels is personal, not one handed down by older generations.

But maybe he should be thanking the humans. For providing a place he can go and not be shunned or endure constant looks of dissatisfaction and disappointment. ……..

His brows furrow and quickly downs some champagne. Enough thinking.

Grabbing his overcoat and cane he leaves his dreary thoughts behind and heads for his favorite art gallery, that always tends to cheer him up.

---

#will be nortalice its coming I swear lol #identity v #idv #alice deross #frederick kreiburg #melly plinius #idv alice deross #idv alice #identity v alice #idv melly plinius #idv melly #identity v frederick #idv frederick #idv au #zentradi au #I write Melly quite scary and intimidating whoops lol #Norton and Alice should finally meet in the next chapter 👀#identity v au

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years ago

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I Wish I Could Quit You

(Brokeback Mountain Nielan) Excerpt 1

Less than three hours after I started the document...how about 3k words of The Tent Scene?

(cut to me wailing screaming crying etc about why can't I have similar bursts of inspiration for my ONGOING WIPS?!?! anyway it's fine I'm fine it's GRAND, I'M SO COOL ABOUT IT)

anyway, @wincestielfttfwin, @scarlet-gryphon, and @wishthatiwasnessiesgirl - here you go lol

--//--

The cold comes in as bitterly as the afternoon’s hailstorm had promised.

A little over an hour after they separate to go to sleep, the wind howls through the crags of the mountains enough to rattle the tent nearly off its pegs. When it dies down again in the darkest part of the night, its howling is replaced by the sound of Mingjue’s shivering just outside.

Xichen sits up, reluctant to leave the pocket of warmth in his sleeping bag but unwilling to let Mingjue continue this ridiculous crusade of his, acting like he isn’t freezing his ass (or really any/every other body part) off out there trying to sleep alongside the dead black coals of the evening’s fire. So Xichen sits up and he shivers even before he unknots one of the ties holding the oiled canvas together and parts it enough to just make out Mingjue’s hulking figure by the light of the moon.

“Mingjue,” he calls, sleepy around the edges. The shivering and chattering cuts off abruptly, guiltily. Xichen fights not to roll his eyes. “Just get in here.”

For a long moment, it seems like Mingjue’s going to pretend not to hear him; his stubbornness has already been made painfully apparent in the month or so they’ve been up here, Xichen wouldn’t be surprised if he stuck to his guns on this one and shivered through the night just to prove some ludicrous point. But in the end, after a long silence, he shudders to his feet and drags his paltry excuse for a blanket with him, enormous shoulders huddling inwards as he accidentally kicks their water jug with a tin-can clatter on his way back around the fire. Xichen makes short work of untying the rest of the knots holding the tent flaps shut with deft flicks of his fingers, and then there’s more shuffling and jostling than the poor tent should ever really be asked to contain as Mingjue hurries into the promise of warmth.

Xichen ties the tent shut again over and around Mingjue’s bulk as the other man tries to fold himself into the too-small space, and once it’s firmly tied against the weather he lays down again to scoot a little further into the one-man shelter in an attempt to give Mingjue enough room to actually manage it. It’s clear immediately, though, that such a thing is great in theory, but the reality of their sharing the space is just inevitably going to have to be more intimate than that.

In all their shuffling, Xichen ends up turned on his side, Mingjue’s enormous bulk pressed against him from head to toe. Literally. Mingue’s cold nose is buried in his hair, chest pressed to shoulder blades (closer with every breath, still touching on every exhale); hips to ass, thighs cupping thighs and ankles knocking, boots tucked up against boots where they both have to curl up in a space never meant to accommodate even one man their height, let alone two.

Xichen’s heart thumps hard in his chest as they settle.

He can’t remember the last time he’d been held, even for something as basic as warmth.

Perhaps never.

Mingjue’s hand, he realizes after a few more rustling readjustments as Mingjue attempts to get comfortable, is on the curve of his waist, too light and uncertain a touch for Xichen to have any hope of sleeping beneath it. This is an easier decision than the one to get up and untie the tent.

He withdraws his hand from the depths of his jacket, his sleeping bag, Mingjue’s blanket tossed over both of them, to curl his fingers around Mingjue’s ice-cold hand and drag it forward. Up.

He curls his fingers around Mingjue’s and presses the man’s hand to his chest under the open side of his jacket. If Mingjue can feel the too-hard ba-dump of his heartbeat pounding against the press of his palm, under the layers of his shirts, he says nothing of it.

Kind of him, in that quiet way Xichen is learning he has.

Mingjue’s hand warms in his slowly until it isn’t just cold skin pressed to his, it’s work calluses and blunt nails; it’s dips and valleys between the tall, craggy ridges of his knuckles that Xichen cautiously explores with a fingertip — the mountains around them in micro, held gently in his one hand and traced in reverence.

In the strange place between sleep and waking, he doesn’t fight the urge to feel them with his lips, lifting Mingjue’s hand to his mouth just to brush them with the sensitive skin. He barely applies pressure, and Mingjue’s breathing stays even and slow behind him — asleep then, in the warmth, the quiet, the safety of a shared space with him? Xichen hopes so. He wants Mingjue to feel safe with him. There’s no one out here to look out for either of them but each other, after all. They have to trust each other for the length of the summer, at the very least.

Xichen presses his lips against Mingjue’s knuckles with more intent. His skin is rough from ranching, from calf-roping, from leather reins looped over them, from the sun that beats down on him every day of his life. Xichen lets the roughness of it catch on the soft give of his lips and he closes his eyes to better feel it reaching down into his soul, this stolen intimacy.

Lips, warm now and chapped from the wind, press against the back of his neck just above the stiff fold of his collar, too firm to be anything but intentionally done.

“What are you doing?” Mingjue asks against his skin, breath tickling and slinking its way down beneath Xichen’s jacket, his shirts, to shiver down his spine. Warmth pools low in his belly, unbidden and unexpected, but not at all unfamiliar.

At the volume he’d used, Xichen can’t tell what Mingjue is feeling, what he’s thinking.

He has to trust him.

He doesn’t have a choice.

Xichen doesn’t answer with words — what is there to say? He releases Mingjue’s hand and turns onto his back with as little jostling as he can manage, and suddenly Mingjue is right here, not shivering out by the remains of their fire, not an unseen solid presence behind his back. His eyes are open, glittering in the dim light of the lantern Xichen had left burning in the corner for the spare bit of warmth it throws off, and he doesn’t look like he’d been asleep at all during Xichen’s little exploration. He looks…wary. Afraid.

Xichen doesn’t think twice about leaning up to kiss him.

For a heartstopping, breathless instant that seems to last an eternity, Mingjue does absolutely nothing about it. His mouth is still against the insistent press of Xichen’s, lips softly parted in shock but Xichen doesn’t take the opportunity to slip his tongue between them. He nips at the curve of his bottom lip, hungry for something he can’t name, and that, at least, gets Mingjue moving.

Mingjue lets his mouth fall open wider around a gasp like a sudden dousing of ice water and tries to shove him away, but Xichen knows. He knows that Mingjue is like him. It has to be true. He can feel it, the ache of it, the empty yearning of it, and so he grabs Mingjue’s shoulders, his waist, and yanks him in closer until he can roll the other man on top of him, his bulk pinning him down in the tangled mess of their blankets. He slides his hand up from behind Mingjue’s shoulder to the back of his neck to yank him in for a bruising kiss this time, all passion with no finesse, and he doesn’t allow Mingjue the space to attempt to pull away again.

Xichen’s ridden rodeo his whole life. He knows that the best way to stay on a bronco is to move with it — to know what it wants before it wants it, to expect the way that it wants to protest, and to become, very briefly, an extension of it that cannot be thrown. He’s a damn good hand at it, he wins most any competition he enters, and as Mingjue wrestles him without seeming to know what it is he even wants beyond an excuse to touch him in the only way that’s ever been acceptable — rough, violent, hungry for something unnameable — Xichen rides it out with him until the urge to fight fades, and when Mingjue tries to pull away again Xichen lets him only because he’s doing it to trail desperate, biting kisses down the column of Xichen’s throat.

“Mingjue,” he breathes around the pleasure of it, the thrill of victory entwining with the sweetness of being touched like he’s something worth savoring. “It’s alright. It’s okay, it’s…we need it, that’s all.”

Mingjue doesn’t reply, apparently too busy where he’s biting and sucking at the juncture of Xichen’s neck and shoulder to use words (not that he’s a man of many of them anyway). But then again, maybe he does reply, in his own way. Xichen flushes at the sound of jingling metal, the feeling of a broad, firm hand down between their hips muffled through their layers that in moments, he knows, won’t be a problem anymore.

Mingjue manages to unhook Xichen’s championship rodeo belt buckle he’d turned his nose up at mere days ago, and when it’s out of the way Xichen arches his back to help Mingjue in his apparent quest to get Xichen’s jeans down his thighs enough for whatever it is he wants.

The wool blanket rumpled up beneath him is rough against his ass, the tender backs of his thighs. The denim waistband of his jeans is too tight around his knees, and Xichen yanks MIngjue back up to kiss him again with hard hands in his hair, both of them gasping each other’s air and their bodies rocking together without thought (at least Xichen certainly isn’t thinking about anything beyond what it feels like to have Mingjue’s broad hands gripping his naked hips tightly enough to bruise, and he can really only hope that the same is true for Mingjue).

When Mingjue turns him over Xichen hisses for the scratch of the unconditioned wool against his cock, hard and leaking already and far too sensitive for this. Mingjue presses him down harder with an arm laid across his back, an iron band of pressure that Xichen has no interest in trying to escape from.

They don’t speak as Mingjue unbuckles his own belt, nor when he shoves his own jeans down. Mingjue ducks in to bite at his ear before he leans up to spit in his hand and use it to ease his way, Xichen’s entire existence narrowing down first to the obscene and familiar rasp of a rough hand against much more tender skin, and then to the enormous sense of weight and pressure he barely has time to brace himself for before Mingjue forces his way inside of him.

It aches, too sharp, too insistent. Xichen groans and reaches back blindly with one hand, clumsy between all their layers and the angle and the way he shudders for the intrusion somewhere he’s never felt such a thing before (well that’s not quite true, but it’s far from the same when it’s like this so it’s true enough anyway). He finds Mingjue’s hip and wastes no time in sliding his hand under the other man’s loosened jeans and around the broad plane of his pelvis until he’s got as firm of a grip as he can hope for at this angle on his ass.

A single squeeze, a gasp of Mingjue’s name, and a strangled, “Please,” is all it takes to coax Mingjue into finishing what he started.

Xichen tries to muffle himself in his sleeve, in the blankets, something, but Mingjue buries a free hand in his hair to yank his head to the side so he can lean in to kiss him as they fuck and Xichen can’t find it in himself to complain.

It’s quick, and it’s dirty, and it’s everything Xichen has never allowed himself to want.

He comes on the horrible scratchy blanket with a bitten-off shout for the way it tears something loose inside him, something he already knows even now he’ll never be able to put back exactly as it was. It’s pleasure so intense it’s more pain than anything else, and it leaves him feeling raw and exposed as Mingjue’s hips snap too hard once, twice, and then on the third he stays there as deep inside as he can get as Xichen feels his cock jerk inside him. Within moments the place where they’re joined isn’t dry enough to burn anymore.

Mingjue pants in his ear and Xichen’s eyes prick with overwhelmed tears he absolutely will not allow Mingjue to see, but the other man isn’t paying that much attention to him anyway. He doesn’t pull out as he rummages around for something beside them. When Xichen turns his head with an effort he has to bite back a smile upon realizing that it’s the blanket from outside; Mingjue tugs it clumsily over the both of them laying there spent and too tangled up with each other to bother untangling again tonight. Xichen falls asleep with chapped lips pressed to his cheek and an ache in his hips he can already tell will keep him off his horse for at least a day or two.

Morning comes early, birdsong and the peculiar damp coolness of dawn both stealing their way into the tent. The sweat (and other fluids) from last night have grown tacky and cold; Xichen shivers in the gray dawn haze and tries to huddle into Mingjue’s bulk, seeking warmth. An arm curls around his shoulders, but through their layers of cotton and denim and leather it offers little more than pressure. He presses the cold tip of his nose to the little bare patch of Mingjue’s chest exposed by the open top two buttons of his shirt, and he thinks he might receive a kiss to the forehead in return, but if so it’s too soft and his mind too sleep-fogged for him to be sure.

He wakes again properly when bright sunlight cuts across his eyes with a blast of cool, fresh air that doesn’t smell like wool and sweat and sex, and he sits up on his elbow, blinking, to watch Mingjue unfold himself from the tent into the morning and stretch. Xichen glances down at himself, alone once again, to find that his pants are still around his knees, their combined mess dried to flaking trails of white on his hips, the insides of his thighs.

He lays there for long, hazy moments contemplating how the fuck they’re going to talk about this when getting Mingjue to say anything much at all that isn’t about the sheep or the horses is such a challenge (a welcome one, but a challenge all the same). When his thoughts bring him no closer to an answer, and his stalling makes it more and more likely that Mingjue will simply leave him there at their camp to go tend to the flock for the day, Xichen shimmies his jeans back up and makes his own way out of the tent, standing with a soft, startled groan for the expected ache in his body. It radiates from navel to knees, and he finds he can’t bring himself to feel anything but pleased by it.

“Listen,” Mingjue says from where he’s focusing on saddling up his placid mare for the morning’s ride. He doesn’t look up from the girth he’s tightening. Xichen tries not to think about how he knows the shape of the calluses that other leather straps just like it, wrapped around his fingers too many times to count, have left. “I’m not queer.”

The word — dangerous, taboo, electrifying in its naked honesty — sends a jolt through his belly, though of what emotion, good or bad, he isn’t exactly sure.

“I’m not either.”

Mingjue looks up at him then, his eyes unreadable. “It’s just for the summer.”

Xichen nods, something like hope flickering in his chest though he tries not to let it show.

“I’ve got a fianceé back home, when we come down in the fall. This’s got nothin’ to do with her.”

“Of course, Mingjue.”

Mingjue nods. Tightens the girth with a final creak of leather, his mare sighing her displeasure but otherwise making no complaint. Xichen watches Mingjue check over his pack job one last time, his lunch and his canteen in a satchel hanging off the saddlehorn, the shotgun strapped behind the high crest of the saddle at the back on the patterned blanket beneath it that he tugs straight next, ensuring there are no wrinkles in it beneath the saddle. It’s his usual pre-ride check, Xichen’s seen him do it plenty of times now and he knows all the beats of it.

Mingjue stops with one foot in the stirrup, and Xichen drifts a little closer when he doesn’t actually mount up, concerned by the sudden break in routine. Before he can ask, Mingjue drops his foot to the dirt again with an irritated huff and turns around so quickly Xichen jumps. He doesn’t have time to react before Mingjue has stomped across their tiny camp to grab him by the lapels of his jacket — leverage he uses to pull Xichen in for a kiss that stings his bruised lips and curls his toes as he grips Mingjue’s collar in both hands to hold him still right there, just like that, just for a little bit longer.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Mingjue tells him, mouths brushing together with each word. He knocks the tips of their noses together once, a gentle bump that might even be affectionate, and then he’s gone again, breaking Xichen’s tight hold easily to sling himself up onto the saddle and nudge his mare into a brisk canter without a glance back.

Xichen watches him go long past the time he’s lost sight of him between the trees.

#the untamed fanfic #nielan #Lan Xichen #Nie Mingjue #brokeback mountain au #I Wish I Could Quit You #does the Tent Scene happen so soon after the hailstorm? I can't remember #It does now #as per usual we're here for vibes y'all. Sad (and horny) gay cowboy vibes.

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hirukochan · 1 year ago

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WIP game

snape/barty/reader??? oooh as a servant of death reader this definitely catches my attention

but what intrigues me the most are ‘more than just a death eater’ and ‘Karina Snape’

tho not gon’ lie i’m cackling at ‘snape’s daughter x voldemort’ LMAOOOO HAHAH my homie really can’t catch a break from voldy i’m cryin 😂😂

Yesss! It's been sitting in my wip pile for forever lol

“I have big plans for you today.” He says and you give an euphoric nod with your head. The blindfold falls from your head and you blink, trying to get used to the light quickly. You freeze. Fuck Snape is leaning against a large four-poster bed, his arms crossed in front of his chest, face framed by his long black hair, like ink spilling down the sides of his face. Next to him is Crouch. He is wearing his usual three-piece suit, his hair perfectly styled back. He too has his arms crossed. Both of their expressions are cold, foreboding. You squeak. Helpless with the gag in your mouth and your hands tied and you know you are in trouble. “What do we have here?” Snape drawls. “I already knew you were a slut, girl, but oh how I underestimated you.” “Did you think we wouldn’t find out, princess.” Crouch’s nickname for you is sharp, lacking its usual oh so sweet teasing. I know you have another one in you, princess; you take my cock so well, princess; sit, don’t hover, princess… Snape comes closer, slowly, like a wild animal closing in on its prey. He loosens the gag. “Ok look- you were never meant to find out!” You say as soon as you spit the red ball out. Your eyes flick from one man to the other. “That’s your apology?” “I am not apologising!” You retort defiantly.

More than just a Death Eater, I just love that title so much. It's a Snape/OC fic (friends to lovers), following how Snape fell into Voldemort's clutches as a teen and later his life as a spy.

Teen!Snape is so adorable! (and kinda stupid, at least when it comes to Theodora)

It was the night before the Christmas holidays and the students of Hogwarts had, fairly last-minuted, organised a party. A bunch of snotty boarding school kids take any chance they get to get shit-faced drunk and high on the shit the seven-year Hufflepuffs grow in the abandoned greenhouse eight. Severus despises the lot of them and yet here he stands, hidden away in a corner with a beer in his hand, watching the colourful crowd. Snotty boarding school kids also use every chance they get to get out of their uniforms. A wild mix of 70s Muggle fashion and wizarding robes ‘dance’ as they’d call it, in the stuffy empty classroom in the dungeons. Pounding music comes from somewhere, Severus isn’t sure, though he knows who is in control of the playlist tonight. There is only one person at this school with such impeccable taste in music and only one person who’d combine Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Bauhaus and the fucking soundtrack to Grease on a single playlist! The same person that effortlessly switches from dancing to Helter Skelter like nobody's watching her, to singing along to You’re the one that I want with Barty, dancing on top of some tables at the edge of the room and yet she’s the centre of attention without even realising. Theodora O’Brian. She’s wearing a black leather skirt and her wild, light brown curls spill down her back, as unwilling to bend and get tamed as her. “Who the fuck let the druid choose the music?!” Snape’s head whips around at the all too familiar voice. Potter, flanked by his goons and one arm around Lily’s shoulders, walks into the room. He and Black tried and failed to dress Muggle. Why they continue to pretend to be something they are not, Severus will never understand. They have everything, pure blood, vaults overflowing with money, decently skilled in magic - why would they want to be Muggle? Theodora flips Potter off but deigns him no more of her attention. Severus takes one last bitter sip of beer and cucks the bottle aside, choosing to slip away before Potter and Black ruin his evening even further. He lights a cigarette in the hallway. Severus doesn’t even know why he fucking came. Avery and Mucliber fucked of to who knows where right after they arrived and he can imagine a thousand things he’d rather do than see Lily and Potter snogging. Or Theodora and Barty. Severus doesn’t know what would be worse. Not that he’s into Theodora. Of course he’s not into a girl who’s so painfully far out of his league - the mere notion someone like Severus would fall for someone like her is laughable.

“Severus!” He swirls around. Theodora’s heels echo on the stone floor. Her cheeks are flushed and a thin sheen of sweat is covering her skin. “You leaving already?” Severus shrugs, suddenly lost for words. She comes to a stand in front of him, so close, closer than usual. “Didn’t think anyone would notice.” “I did.” She whispers. Her lashes flutter, is it normal to blink that fast? Does she always? Is she having a stroke? Shit, Severus knows nothing about strokes. A garbled mess of vowels leaves his mouth, most eloquent. Theodora either doesn’t notice or gracefully ignores it. She plucks the cigarette from Severus’ lips and takes a long drag, staring off into the distance. “Are you leaving for Christmas?” “Yeah- I’d stay, but then mum would be alone with him.” He shrugs again. Why can’t he seem to act like a normal fucking person? “You?” “Druids don’t celebrate Christmas.” She says while blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. “Right.” That was stupid of him. This time she shrugs. “Grandpa invited me for Christmas dinner though. You should drop by, the Malfoys always make a ridiculous amount of food.” “I don’t think I will.” Her smile falters for a split second. She shrugs again. “Sure. It’s whatever.” “I might.” “Nah, not if you don’t want to.” Something changes in her eyes that Severus can’t quite place. “I’m glad you came today.” Before Severus can embarrass himself any further she leans forward and her lips meet his. He is too confused to do much. She weaves a hand through his hair, it settles at his nape and she pulls him in, pressing her lips clumsily against his. Timidly her tongue pokes against the seams of his lips and as though some higher power overrights the controls of Severus’ body he meets her tongue. It’s weird, it’s unfamiliar, it’s his first bloody kiss! His arms uselessly hang down the sides of his body and his stomach explodes with a thousand butterflies on crack. “Happy Christmas, Severus.” She whispers and gently wipes her deep red lipstick off his lips. “Happy Chrismtas-” He stammers like a fucking zombie, cringing at himself because she just fucking said she doesn’t celebrate! He knows that- why can’t he just be normal! She chuckles and puts his cigarette back between his lips. “Thanks.” With one last smile towards him, she skips away, rejoining the party to no doubt smash in Black’s nose for changing her music.

Karina Snape is Snape's little sister, she is around the same age as Tonks. Both Tobias and Eileen are dead, leaving Snape as her guardian. He's pretty hands off and basically doesn't know her until Karina blows up an entire wing of Ilvermorny and gets expelled. Snape forces her to attend Hogwarts, things don't exactly go well xD.

The Snape's daughter thing will be funny (poor Sevvy). She was born into a very secluded covent of witches. There are different lineages within the covent and their members draw power from the magical being they are related to (e.g Veela, Vampire, etc). The witches of this covent only give birth to girls and those girls, once of age, are encouraged to breed with the most powerful man. Snape's daughter takes that as a challenge and decides she'll have Voldemort's child. Meanwhile she is also planning a political coup 🤫

And she has a miniature pinscher familiar calles Atticus.

#ask #tag game answers #wip

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cryptids-lobelia-garden · 10 months ago

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Lol sorry this is a day late I was honoring the April 1 strike for Palestine and then yesterday my internet was really slow and Tumblr draft edit wouldn’t work

Anyway.

Warnings: idk how these work please lemme know if I need to tag anything else but uh. Manipulative/kinda creepy whumper, a conditioned whumpee and his self destructive/self sacrificial tendencies, caretaker was hurt by whumpee in the past (not in a whump way just in a whumpee tried to destroy the world and caretaker had to stop him way) but he’s grown over the time they’ve been apart and come to understand the whumpee’s actions, uh. This is Pokémon and I’m going with a nuanced take of some of them are sapient and some aren’t and caretaker is very much a Pokémon, also whumpee is a canon character and might act OOC for. Reasons that will hopefully be revealed over the course of this month if I can get this challenge done :D oh also I follow canon VERY loosely bc there’s like three different canons and I’m here to have fun not to police my story writing so uh. Ye

Anyway, there’s also some mind control in there, some frostbite, some.. It’s like a chemical burn sort of, some dissociative panic attack flavored stuff, uh. Animal attack? Oh yeah and dismemberment lol- this one is. A little. Uh. Yeah

Oh and if you see these characters on another account ask that account if it’s me before getting upset bc uh. I have posted abt them on my main before

Anyway. Yeah. Enjoy this, uh. Please don’t judge me I can’t get these freaks out of my head hsjdjdjd

Day 1: Limp

Reunited Arc Part 1

~~~~~

It was supposed to just be a normal day off.

Cheri was headed to Celestic City to meet with a historian, to answer questions about Dialga and the Diamond Clan.

He’s taking the train, since he didn’t feel like walking all that way or making any of his Pokémon carry him.

It was supposed to be a normal day, but he sees a familiar face, and he has to do a double take.

Long blond hair, one eye covered, tied in its usual messy bun in the back. A shining silver eye, which is currently focused on a watch on their own wrist. Cheri would’ve guessed that was Cynthia, but he’s a guy, and he’s wearing a form-fitting black turtleneck tank top, a denim jacket over it.

The modern clothes on him are such a foreign sight.

But there’s no mistaking it.

Volo.

Cheri feels his blood freeze near instantly. A few people step away as the space around him begins to grow cold, a breeze of malice brushing through the air.

Volo hasn’t noticed him yet, and Cheri’s debating between just leaving and confronting the man.

Celestic Town is pretty close to Mount Coronet, but Cheri has prior arrangements. If he decides to go after Volo, he might not make it to the city on time, if at all. And someone guards the mountain now after Cyrus, right? So it’s not like Volo will be able to actually get there.

Unless he takes a path that isn’t through the caves. But even then, Arceus will be fine, they’re a god, it’s fine.

Maybe Cheri should just avoid all this and ride a bike to town. He left himself enough time to, after all.

But the train doors close, making Cheri’s choice for him. He can’t just say nothing.

So he steps forward.

“Hey.”

Volo looks up from his watch, eyes wide. “Hello- I’m sorry, am I in your way?” Who is this? He looks familiar..

Cheri shakes no. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Volo stops, staring at the stranger(?) for a moment. He knows me. Who is this? Usually, when people are angry at me in this time, it’s because they’ve mistaken me for Cynthia. But it seems like this one’s here for ME, not her-

His eyes widen. He goes pale. Takes a step back, his voice quiet enough that only the man in front of him hears it. “Cheri.” The one of the siblings I ESPECIALLY did NOT want to run into.

I don’t have time for this! Not now- of all the times I could have run into him, it had to be this last mission?

He pushes his thoughts aside, putting on a grin and trying to act like everything’s fine.

“Haha, it’s fancy seeing you here! What a coincidence!” I can’t do this right now! I’m on a time limit- this is THE WORST possible timing for this to happen, so of course it does.

“What a coincidence indeed,” Cheri says, voice low, taking another step forward as Volo takes a step back.

Volo’s smiling, that same pleasant grin Cheri remembers from all those years ago. But Cheri knows it’s a lie, can sense the fear coming off the man.

“Why are you headed to Mount Coronet? You and I both know you shouldn’t be there.”

“Listen, I can explain, but I don’t have much time- but I am not here for Arceus.” Cheri doesn’t seem convinced, so he keeps talking. “I’m here to protect Arceus, actually, from someone much worse than I am.”

“Hm. A likely story.” Cheri starts reading his emotions a little more.

“I swear on my life, that’s behind me.” Please, please, please please PLEASE believe me. I know you have every reason not to, after what I’ve done, but please just listen.

Cheri hums, thinking this over for a moment.

He doesn’t sense any lies from the man, strangely enough. He lets his magic push forward a little further, sensing for Volo’s intentions.

He doesn’t sense anything to do with Arceus at all, actually. No lies, no deceit.

Interesting..

Volo shivers as he feels a cold chill brushing through him, though the pleasant mask of a smile stays firmly in place. They reach their stop. I need to get away. He turns on his heel. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around-” Cheri’s hand is on his shoulder, and he tenses, breath catching in his throat. Please have mercy. Whatever you’re about to do, just don’t hurt me too badly.

Cheri’s voice is quiet, his expression grim. “You’re on a suicide mission, aren’t you.”

Shock, surprise. He shakes his head, smile growing strained. “Wh- how did you-” Volo clears his throat, turning back to smile at Cheri. “It doesn’t matter. No matter what happens, whether it’s him who dies or me, the problem will be over. And I’m probably not going to die anyway. Why?”

Cheri frowns, thinking that over for a few moments. Him? I’m assuming that’s who he’s saying he’s protecting Arceus from? If Volo dies, doesn’t that mean the problem isn’t technically over? Because we still have someone out there who’s willing to attack Arceus to further a goal. And if Volo, of all people, thinks this guy could KILL him, with Pokémon as powerful as his.. “..I’m coming with you.”

Why? What does he want out of this? “He is dangerous. You shouldn’t come with, he could kill you, and I am not worth it.” How much does he know? How did he know?

“Well, that’s all the more reason for me to come with.” If this guy really is as much of a threat as Volo says he is, I need to make sure this guy doesn’t get anywhere near the creation quartet. The two step off the train, and Cheri crosses his arms, head tilting to the side. “If you’re telling the truth, it sounds like this guy needs to be taken out.”

Volo looks up at Cheri for a second, opening his mouth to argue, and Cheri ignores his own annoyance, interrupting before Volo starts.

“I’ve fought gods. I’ve fought you. I’m sure I can take this guy out just fine.”

Volo frowns. “You should want me dead, you know-”

“No. Nope.” Cheri pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shut up with that, I’m not gonna listen to you talk about yourself like that.” Because as angry as I am at him for everything..

I can’t bring myself to hate him. Can’t bring myself to hate anyone, really, but ESPECIALLY not him.

We’re the same, after all.

Volo shuts his mouth, keeping the surprise off his face. I betrayed him and his siblings. Am I not just speaking truth? “..okay. ..I’ll explain while we walk, but we need to hurry.” I really am not worth it. But.. I doubt I’ll be able to talk him out of this. He always was stubborn, even more so than his sister at times..

What does he want, coming with me on this? Perhaps he’s just making sure I’m telling the truth about not being after Arceus, but then if he knows how dangerous this mission is..

..What should I tell him? What should I leave out? He needs to know at least some of the situation. Maybe if he knows it’s no real threat to anyone except me, he’ll leave the situation be? He knows I deserve this, after all, was on the receiving end of my worst mistake..

Cheri follows the man, who seems to be lost in thought, and he soon gets lost in his own. Who is “he”..? I could look into his fears and see.. no, that’s too invasive. Even for Volo.

..I really don't know much about him, Hisui was so long ago.. And even back then, he tried to avoid being around me as much as he could. He could tell I didn’t trust him. He hung out with Ana and Keyo much more often. But..

He looks up at Volo. Volo looks back, smiling that pleasant smile again. But it’s tense. Almost strained. Cheri gives as reassuring of a smile as he can, but it only seems to make the guy more tense, so Cheri looks away.

I’m pretty sure that this isn’t like him. He manipulated my siblings and I into helping him collect the Plates, avoiding the dangerous work for himself; it isn’t like him to do something so dangerous like this.

Cheri carefully looks at Volo out of the corner of his eye, studying Volo’s face for a moment. His eyes glow as he looks into Volo’s emotions, grimacing when he feels a wave of anxiety and self hatred and quickly stopping, pulling his magic away.

Whoa..

..He doesn’t feel the same. I don’t feel the sense of untrustworthiness I did back then.

I wish I had a hold on my powers then, because I don’t have any idea how different he truly is, I have no clue if that self hatred was there before, but I know for a FACT the anxiety wasn’t. I can see it even without my abilities.

Volo’s looking around at every face as they walk. It’s hard to notice the nerves behind the pleasant smile, but Cheri can tell from how tense he’s holding his shoulders, a tenseness that didn’t exist back in Hisui.

And his eyes are.. darker, somehow, and his breath hitches every so often as people look at him.

And he looks sick. He has eyebags dark enough they almost look like bruises. He’s pale- even more so than he was back then.

He’s still smiling, but something about the smile is even more fake than it used to be; at least in Hisui, the confidence was real.

What happened to take his confidence?

They’re around less people now, and Volo takes a breath, turning to look at the trail. “So!” Volo claps his hands together with a fake chipper attitude. “The man we’re going after.. His name is Eclipse.”

With the name, Cheri notices fear.

Memories.

He doesn’t look into them, that’s invasive, but he can tell they’re there. That’s not good.

“He’s..” Volo thinks for a moment. “..Not a good man.” Then he points into the air, finger wagging as he talks. “And he’s leading me straight into a trap! And he likely knows that I know that it’s a trap. And he also knows that I’m going to come anyway, whether I know it’s a trap or not. But!” Volo turns to Cheri suddenly, pointing at him with a smile. “If I walk into the trap, he’ll stop everything he’s doing. He only wants me. I mean, he also wants to take revenge on- well, that doesn’t matter, but he’ll stop if I give myself to him.”

“If you what?” Cheri’s staring to get genuinely worried, eyebrows furrowing. “Volo, who is this guy?”

“Someone who gave me what I deserve,” Volo says quickly, then he shakes his head. “It really doesn’t matter. Go home, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Arceus is part of it, and you are too, so uh. Yeah. It does concern me, actually.” Damnit, that wasn’t supposed to sound so pointed. I’m WORRIED, about HIM, not about Arceus.

Volo shakes his head. “Really, it’s fine. I’m not here to do anything to Arceus. No plates, no flute, you can check my bag if you want. I’m just here for Eclipse. I’m here to try to take him down, and if that doesn’t work, well.. The problem will be gone either way!”

There’s a sour taste in Cheri’s mouth. Something’s very, very wrong here. “So, what, you’re just gonna let this guy take you and do Arceus knows what?”

“It’s deserved.” Volo smiles at him again, though it’s more strained and looks much more like he’s pleading. “Please, just leave, this is not worth your safety.”

“Nope. No, not happening. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, you’re not gonna talk me out of it now.” This whole situation.. Whatever’s going on, it really seems like it’s MUCH worse than he deserved. Prison maybe, I could see that. Maybe getting grabbed by a time traveler who could teach him about exactly why what he did was dangerous.

But something tells me someone went way too far.

Volo’s smile grows more strained. “..I was afraid of that,” he murmurs, then he shakes his head. “Well. Hm. ..okay. I.. suppose this might be a good thing. He probably thinks that I’m not coming with backup- I wasn’t planning to, so.” Volo shakes his head, smile fading entirely as he turns back to the trail up Mount Coronet. “Anyway.. He has been collecting legendary and mythical Pokémon from different times and places. We’re not sure what all he has- we know for sure he has Regiice, Azelf, and possibly the other two lake spirits, as well as the Red Chain.”

Who is “we”?? Wait. SHIT. Cheri’s neck snaps he turns to Volo so fast. “He has the red chain?”

Volo, fairly used to ghost-type shenanigans, barely bats an eye. He just nods, a grim look on his face. “And he’s going after Arceus with it.”

“That’s.. not good.” Cheri turns back to the trail, frowning down at it and kicking a few pebbles forward. “But if he takes you, the problem’s over? Why?”

Volo thinks for a moment. “He’s.. very angry with me, and it’s me specifically that he’s after, despite the situation,” he says. Cheri can tell Volo’s verbally stepping around details, so he stays quiet, waiting for Volo to explain. “..I caused him to lose everything he had.”

“..with the rift, or..?”

“Oh, no, not like that.” Volo quickly shakes his head, hands waving. “No, he just..” Volo grimaces, looking away, what Cheri would have been able to see of his face hidden behind his hair. “He.. Well. He did some pretty bad things to me. Which! That was deserved, really, you know I deserved them.” Cheri grimaces. He keeps saying that it’s deserved.. it’s putting a bad taste in my mouth. Before Cheri can say anything, Volo keeps talking. “But when Management saw what he did, they kicked him from-” He shakes his head. “You know, I actually don’t think I’m supposed to talk about that. Forget I said anything about Management.”

“Okay.” So, he was in some secret club or something, and this Eclipse guy hurt him and got kicked out over it. “..the hell you mean ‘it’s deserved’? What did he do?”

Volo’s lips press into a thin line for a moment, then he glances at his watch. “Oh, look at the time!” Volo grimaces as he looks at the cave through the mountain. “We should hurry, let’s leave the path and just climb it, this cave system must be new; I am unfamiliar with it.”

Okay, he’s avoiding the question. Cheri frowns, ignoring the annoyance stewing in his gut and following Volo off the path. Then Eclipse must have done something pretty bad.

Or maybe he’s just a very private person. He avoided questions a lot back in Hisui.

Then again, in Hisui, he had a lot of things to hide.

..What is this club he was in? Some sort of evil team? But if it is, why would they have sent him to PROTECT Arceus from this Eclipse guy?

Given our past, I’d think he was lying if I couldn’t tell. He is so incredibly lucky I have the ability to tell.

“..so. He’s got a bunch of legendaries. Why are they with him?”

“They’re not with him willingly,” Volo explains, finding a good spot on a cliffside to start climbing. “He has this device, it’s from the future- Ah! Did I mention he’s from the future? Anyway, he has this device, which is controlling them through technologically created psychic power. They don’t want this, so we need to try to avoid hurting them, so the hoppers can bring them home- they’re from different times, he’s been jumping through time to take them.”

Cheri blinks a few times, head tilting to the side in confusion. “Hoppers?? Jumping through time???” Holy shit, wait, was I accidentally right about a time traveler grabbing him?

I guess it makes sense how he’s here then.

“It’s a very long story.” One I am probably not allowed to tell you. Well.. I might be able to, considering the fact that technically, you’re a time traveler. One chosen by Arceus, no less. But.. I don’t want to drag you into this mess. Not any more than I already have, anyway. Volo shakes his head. “Anyway, we’re not sure what exactly he’s controlling them through, but we believe it’s his bracelet.”

“Gotcha.” Cheri frowns. “So, don’t hurt the legendaries, break his bracelet.”

“Exactly.” Getting to the top of the cliffside, Volo turns around to pull Cheri up, though Cheri waves him off, he doesn’t need the help. “And try not to get hurt yourself.”

Cheri nods, smirking. “Thanks, Sherlock.”

Volo blinks a few times in confusion. “..Sherlock..?”

“It’s a reference- there’s this book-” Cheri shakes his head. “Nevermind.” Noticing a sneasel sneaking up on him, he snarls at it, letting an illusion lash towards it. It squeaks in fear, running off. “Sorry, can’t risk it with dark types.”

“No, that’s fine.” I already knew he wasn’t human anyway, though it’s interesting to see him actually use his abilities.

However, it IS a little frightening.

Was that meant to be a show of power, or was he genuinely just scaring it off?

What exactly does he want with me?

Volo turns, and they keep walking, an uncomfortable silence falling between the two.

“..you know.. I have time.”

Volo looks over at him in confusion.

“For a long story I mean.”

“This isn’t one you want to hear,” Volo quickly says. Please don’t ask again.

Luckily for Volo, Cheri just looks at him for a moment, almost seeming to study him. Volo shudders at the way Cheri seems to be staring straight into his soul.

Then Cheri nods, turning to the next cliffside to climb in silence.

Volo watches him for a moment longer before turning back to climb. ..He doesn’t trust me. I can tell. He might never trust me again, and honestly, that would be warranted.

It’s really unfortunate timing, that this has happened now, of all times. Right now, when I’m doing something important. One last thing before there’s nothing left for me to do, nothing left that I can fix.

..I suppose if I survive this, I can let him and his siblings decide my fate afterwards. Those three were the ones most directly affected by my actions.. Then they’ll get the final decision, if it isn’t made here.

..for now, though.. I can, at the very least, try to give him closure.

“..I.. want to apologize,” Volo mutters.

Cheri turns to look at him, subconsciously checking his intentions, and oh, this is a genuine apology. “Hm?”

“For.. Not only the rift, and pulling you and your siblings from your home, but also for betraying the three of you. ..I hope you know it wasn’t just.. It wasn’t all just manipulation. You three were some of the few people I could genuinely consider friends, had I not been holding you all at arms length.” I might as well be genuine. Maybe in return, he’ll do the same..

No. I shouldn’t hope, I don’t get to hope, but..

It would be nice, if it was something I deserved.

Cheri blinks a few times as he feels the sincerity. Interesting.. “..They’re going to want apologies too, you know. ..thanks, by the way, that.. actually means a lot.” He looks up the mountain, thinking for a moment. “..You really have changed, haven’t you.”

Volo hums, making a so-so gesture. “I’d like to think so.”

“..I forgive you, you know.” Cheri shakes his head. “Honestly, I did a long time ago. What you did was fucked up, don’t get me wrong, and a LOT of people got hurt that shouldn’t have. But.. I dunno.” He shakes his head. “..I can understand your reasoning.” What I learned about him, about his people..

Volo stops, looking over at Cheri with confusion. He forgives me..? Why? It doesn’t make sense to me. What does he have to gain? I don’t know if I should trust this, that might be exactly what he’s aiming for. “Really?” Volo looks up to meet Cheri’s eyes.

Confusion, a hint of fear, and Cheri realizes he should explain. “I wouldn’t ever do the same thing you did, don’t get me wrong. But the world really is full of unnecessary suffering.” Cheri shakes his head. “And.. if I’m right about where you came from, you’ve dealt with a lot of it, right?”

How much does he know about me? And how does he know it? Why does he know it?

Volo doesn’t let his uneasiness show on his face, humming noncommittally. “It doesn’t excuse my actions. I ended up bringing harm to a lot of people.” I don’t deserve forgiveness. “..Thank you, though,” he murmurs.

Cheri studies him for a moment. So, the self loathing is probably from the rift and everything surrounding it, at least partially.. Not sure what the uneasiness is about, but he doesn’t like something about me. It might just be the whole zoroark thing, but it’s been growing, so maybe it’s something I’ve been saying or something? “Don’t mention it.” He looks up, getting to the top of the cliff they’re climbing and offering a hand to pull Volo up, which Volo takes.

They’re about halfway up the mountain now. The air’s growing colder- though Cheri can’t really feel the cold himself, Volo’s pulling his clothes a little tighter around himself.

..conversation topic.. Oh, the plan. “So.. About this Eclipse guy..”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Volo says quickly.

“No, I wasn’t asking what he did, don’t worry.” I don’t want to push him too much, he’s wary. “I just want to know, he’s trying to kill you, right? Do you want him alive, or? If you’re, uh.. taking him out, what’re we doing with him after? What’s the plan?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, he’ll be taken care of either way, and.. alive would be preferred, but if he dies, I.. don’t really care.” Maybe that’s a little harsh.. Well. Maybe I’m allowed to be a little harsh. Volo shakes his head. “However, I would like to be able to capture him and bring him in. I.. have some questions that I want to ask him, with prison bars separating him from me, of course.”

Cheri hums, studying Volo’s expression for a moment, sensing the emotions behind it. Is that.. Pain? Exhaustion?

Concern? ..Overthinking, maybe..?

“..What sorts of questions?”

Volo shakes his head. “..I just.. hm.”

I don’t know how to word this. I want to know why he did it. I want to know why, out of EVERYONE he could have chosen, every timespace criminal he had access to, he chose ME to hurt.

“..I want closure.”

Cheri hums, looking away. “..He might not give you that. Talking to him might make it worse, you know.”

Volo turns to Cheri with a glare, hissing “You know nothing about him, or my situation.”

Cheri’s a little surprised by the sudden anger in the air, though it’s understandable, he doesn’t blame Volo for it. After a moment of thought, trying to figure out what to say, he shrugs. “I might know next to nothing about the situation, but I know trauma when I see it.” He glances over at Volo, letting his eyes flash, a subtle reminder of his abilities. “He hurt you, yeah? On purpose, I’m guessing.”

..Just how much does he know..? And what is he trying to get out of knowing this about me?

He’s right, and it scares me. Does he know because of an ability? Did he look into my fears? Or did he figure it out on his own?

Volo turns away, the silence giving Cheri all the answer he needs.

Shit. It seems like trying to bridge the gap is just making things worse.. Honestly, I should’ve expected this, got too personal too fast.

Well. There’s no point in dropping the conversation at this point. He can try to make me leave, but it’s not gonna work, I need to make sure this Eclipse guy doesn’t fuck with Arceus. And besides..

I’m worried. About Volo, of all people. That’s saying something. “..And he’s trying to kill you even now.. I doubt he’ll give you closure.” Cheri turns away, frowning. “If anything, talking to him might make things worse.” It made it worse when I talked to Keyo’s bio parents, after all. Dickheads will be dickheads, it’ll always hurt to talk to em.

“Perhaps.” Volo shakes his head. My pain shouldn’t matter to you. You can’t actually care, especially not with everything I’ve done to you, so..

It must matter to you because you want me hurt.

“..Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” And if you do somehow care, you shouldn’t get attached to me anyway, you shouldn’t get attached to someone who deserves a bad fate. It’ll only hurt you.

“Hm.” ..yeah. He’s probably done talking now. Cheri looks up the mountain, squinting as the sun hits his eyes. “..Not much further now.”

Volo nods, checking his watch. “The readings said he will appear in the cave that leads to Cloudcap Pass.”

“Alright. So we get to the pass, then go to the cave from there?”

Volo nods. “And then we’ll wait until he arrives.”

“Right.”

They climb in silence until they reach the top, coming out near the destroyed temple. Cheri takes a deep breath, taking in the air.

This place feels as holy as it always did, the presence of the gods closer here than it is anywhere else in the region, and he feels the power of Arceus’s blessing within him shift.

They’re watching.

Volo glances over at the spear pillar, an unreadable expression on his face, and Cheri senses a spike of guilt. Then he turns away from it, wordlessly heading to the cave, a grim determination filling his gut as he lets his Pokémon out.

Cheri lets his own Pokémon out too. He hadn’t been expecting a battle today, but most of his Pokémon are pretty strong anyway, so it should be fine. He’s got Sprigs with him, and Sprigs doesn’t fight, so he was left in his ball. But Cheri has a few with him that do fight, some of the ones that he hasn’t spent much time with recently. Hydra, Eelectra, Zigzag, Tiktok, and Sylvie- his hydreigon, eelektross, linoone, galvantula, and sylveon, respectively- all can fight. And in the worst case scenario, he can fight too.

Recognition. Feeling a pulse of emotional energy towards him, he turns to look at Volo’s Lucario, who’s staring at him with confusion and a little bit of fear. Cheri takes a breath, summoning up feelings of forgiveness, knowing the other Pokémon can read them. After a moment, the Lucario nods, pushing another feeling towards him. Friendliness, a gesture of goodwill. That is SO much better than what I got from his trainer. Cheri smiles, letting the feeling rise in his chest and sending it back, then he looks over at Volo.

Volo looks normal on the outside, but Cheri can tell he’s terrified, can feel the feeling seeping off him even without reaching towards him with his abilities.

“Hey,” Cheri says, resting a hand on Volo’s shoulder.

He nearly pulls away when Volo flinches, but then Volo leans slightly into the kind touch, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He’s touching me. Why is he touching me. I..

Why am I.. not all that scared of it..?

“I’ve got your back. You’re gonna be okay,” Cheri mutters. If you’re gonna die, he’s gotta get through me first.

Volo stares at him for a moment, then nods, his smile becoming a bit more genuine, though there’s sadness in his eyes. Oh. This is genuine kindness?

I should have expected it from Arceus’s chosen.

..I really don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t get attached to me. He opens his mouth to speak, but then his watch starts to blare, an alarm that he quickly moves to silence, expression hardening. “He’s coming,” Volo says, pressing a button on his watch. A hologram pops up, indicating a specific location, and Volo turns it off and takes a step away from there, staring at it, getting low to the ground, ready to dodge at a moment’s notice. Okay. I can do this. All I need is to last long enough to break that bracelet. His Pokémon quickly surround him, protective. Cheri motions for his own to do the same, and they quickly get into battle-ready stances.

The group stands in silence, staring at the spot, waiting with bated breath.

And then a portal opens, and Volo’s garchomp snarls, dashing forward.

“Ah- Shark, wait-!”

But it’s too late. Shark is thrown into the nearest wall, a Mewtwo holding him there. He snarls, kicking at the walls, the ground, trying to escape the psychic grasp, but it’s no use. Should I recall him and let him back out? I don’t know if that would work, don’t know if I could move quickly enough-

“Well, hello there,” someone says.

The voice is unfamiliar to Cheri.

But Volo stiffens even further.

Goosebumps rise on his arms.

Cheri can feel the fear seeping off him as he turns to stare into the portal.

The strange man steps forwards, grinning. “That’s not the friendliest welcome.”

“Eclipse,” Volo mutters, shrinking back. Shrinking back.

What the hell did he do, to make Volo react like that? Cheri looks over to Eclipse, taking in the high-tech bracelets on his arms, the look in his eyes.

He’s immediately hit with the man’s aura as he reaches his powers out, a sense of complete malice washing over him, and his eyes narrow as he braces himself against it, subconsciously baring his teeth.

“I can’t let you near Arceus,” Volo says, taking a step forward despite his fear, his Pokémon moving with him.

Eclipse waves his right hand, and a few more legendaries appear.

Volo stops moving forward. The whole cave is at a standstill.

Cheri notices strange yellow wires around the legendaries’ forms, feels psychic energy coming off of them, and then his eyes narrow as he notices a small yellow bracelet on Eclipse’s wrist. It’s barely noticeable, but it matches the wires. That must be the one.

“You know what I want,” Eclipse says. Volo’s Pokémon growl, protectively moving between the two. “All you need to do is come quietly, and all this can end. You know you deserve what’ll happen to you. It’ll save the world, even; it’ll finally redeem you, to prevent the same thing you did from happening again.”

And his grin widens, the malice surrounding im grows stronger.

“Don’t you want that?”

The manipulation leaves a bad taste in Cheri’s mouth, but he looks over at Volo, waiting to see how the interaction plays out.

“..I..” I do deserve it, but I still have my Pokémon to take care of. I don’t want to leave them behind, but if this doesn’t work, if I attack him and it ends up being for nothing, will he hurt them as retaliation for my actions?

..If I just go with, I won’t have to worry. They will be at least a little safer. The land may be different in this time, but it’s still their home region, and I trust they’ll be able to take care of themselves if needed, but..

“Are you going to return the legendaries to where you got them if I do?”

Volo’s pokemon make sounds of protests, but he holds up a hand to keep them quiet.

“Of course. I only needed them for this, after all.”

Okay. Fuck this. Cheri steps forward suddenly. “He isn’t going anywhere with you,” Cheri spits, moving between the two himself.

“And who are you? His new toy?” Eclipse sneers. “He’ll only betray you, you know; he’s betrayed everyone he’s ever gotten close to. He’ll manipulate you and then throw you aside, like he always has.”

Cheri feels the way Volo shrinks back, feels the guilt pooling off the man, and he snarls. Gods. Why does every powerful man I meet have to be SUCH a DICK? “Shut the fuck up. You think I don’t know the risks? I’m one of the guys he betrayed, and you’re still wrong for treating him like this.”

Eclipse raises an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in his eye. “Oh really?” He tilts his head to the side. “Haven’t you noticed he’s better now? Haven’t you noticed he’s not going to try anything anymore? That change is because of me. Really, the world is better off with him in my hands-”

Cheri rushes forward. He’s reaching for the bracelet on Eclipse’s wrist, aiming to break it, and the other Pokémon in the cave rush forwards with him.

Within seconds, Mewtwo flings a bunch of their Pokémon out of the cave. Zigzag, Hydra, and Volo’s Spiritomb are frozen in a huge block of ice that Cheri narrowly avoids himself. Galarian Moltres flies past him as he dodges another blast of ice. There’s something glowing electric blue over there, but Cherry doesn’t see what it is before another ice blast blocks his vision.

Cheri can’t see Volo, but he knows Volo has Sylvie and his lucario with him, so he focuses on dodging Regiice’s attacks. With an angry scream, fire blasts from his throat, knocking Regiice out cold. One last blast of ice manages to catch his arm, and Cheri yelps as frostbite sets in-

Volo screams, a sound that reeks of agony, a bloodcurdling sound that makes Cheri’s heart drop, and he turns to Eclipse, letting his true form show, ten feet of pure protective rage aiming for Eclipse’s wrist-

Mesprit. Blast of emotion. Panic.

Frenzy.

Magic rushing in his ears. Time blurring together. Screaming, sounds so far away.

Blood flying through the air. An arm, mangled human arm, on the ground, blood pooling, blood in his mouth, between his teeth, on his hands, broken bracelet, mutilated flesh.

He tries to breathe. Everything sounds underwater, the world spinning, spinning, out of his control.

Out of control.

Out of control, he’s out of control-

Ribbon around his arm. A sense of calm pushes the panic away. He’s left on the ground, gasping, catching his breath, residual shakes leaving him exhausted, shifting back to his human form on instinct.

He looks up after a few moments, looking up at Sylvie, who’s staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“h.. Hey, buddy,” Cheri murmurs, gently scratching the top of Sylvie’s head. “You okay?”

Sylvie makes a sound, butting his head against Cheri’s chest before pulling away and dashing around the chunk of ice.

Cheri recalls the Pokémon who are still stuck in the ice, then stands on shaky legs, hurrying after Sylvie- Oh no.

Volo’s on the ground.

Cheri can’t tell if he’s conscious or not.

He rushes to Volo’s side, his uninjured hand hovering over the man, trying to figure out what’s wrong-

“Cheri,” a weak voice, and Cheri looks up at Volo’s face.

Contorted with agony. He reaches out with his magic to see where the pain is, burning blasts through his side. He pulls back.

“Is- is he gone?” Volo asks.

“Yeah, I- I think I got him, I think he’s gone,” Cheri mutters, rolling Volo over despite Volo’s cry of pain.

His shirt’s stained black in a large spot on his side. Cherry pulls it up to see a huge burn. It’s.. odd, though, it’s not a normal burn. The area around is stained black, but it isn’t charred, nothing is charred. It almost looks more like a poison than anything.

Cheri can feel the dark-type energy coming off it, sapping his own energy, and he takes a shaking breath through his mouth, trying to will away the feeling as he scoops Volo up. Volo lets out a pained sound at being moved. “Sorry,” Cheri mutters with a grimace, trying to ignore how hard it is to move his hand, how numb his arm is. Once he’s sure Volo is securely in his arms despite that, he gets Volo’s Spiritomb in its ball, then runs out of the cave.

“‘S fine, deserved,” Volo mutters, eyes slipping shut as he leans into Cheri. Cheri takes Volo’s pokeballs and recalls the injured Pokémon he finds scattered around the outside of the cave. “Can.. can you take care of them for me..?”

It’s all Cheri can do to not scream, shakes running through his entire body. “Shut up. Don’t do this shit, you’re not dying on me.” I came here to protect you, and by Arceus, I’m gonna do it.

Volo laughs, an exhausted, mirthless sound, even as a tear slips down his cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I deserve this. It’s okay.”

“Shut up!” Shit, I’m being a little harsh. Gods. Fuck. “Sorry, actually, don’t shut up. But stop that. You don’t deserve it.” As he talks, Cheri quickly recalls the rest of their pokemon, then he gets back to running down the mountain, not even bothering going through the caves, he knows where he’s going. He shifts back to his true form so he can jump down cliffs and land it, jumping over tree roots and fallen logs, trying his best not to jostle Volo too much.

Volo’s taking shuddering breaths, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, but he doesn’t complain at all. Self hatred, agony, and a sense of utter hopelessness is coming off of him, all of it is mixed with acceptance.

He genuinely believes he deserves this, Cheri realizes, a sick feeling building in his gut. Fucking hell.

“Why’re you doing this?” Volo murmurs, looking up into Cheri’s eyes. “You can’t seriously want to help me. What’s your motive? ”

“Is it so hard to believe I could genuinely like helping people?” Cheri spits.

He was aware of the way his voice echoes in this form, but Volo flinches at the sound.

And it reminds him that, yes, it is.

He isn’t human, after all. He isn’t even living.

He’s a vengeful spirit.

And sure, he chooses not to indulge that side of himself.

But how is Volo supposed to know that?

“Sorry, sorry,” Volo murmurs, breath hitching slightly as Cheri jumps down a cliff. Blood starts to drip down his side, and Cheri internally curses.

“It’s fine,” Cheri says, setting Volo down and tearing off pieces of his own shirt to start packing the wound and make a quick makeshift bandage. “Talk about something, anything, just.. Just keep talking.”

Volo winces in pain. “..You know the Pokémon that got me? Galarian Moltres?” He looks away, eyes unfocused. “Some say it burns your very spirit away.” He laughs, though the laugh turns into coughs. “I must be very lucky that mine’s still intact, ahaha- Ow!”

“Sorry.” Having tied the makeshift bandage tight, he quickly scoops Volo back up. “What else about galarian Moltres do you know? Any interesting legends? Anything?”

“G-galar was never really my focus,” he mutters, taking a few steadying breaths- they’re shallow, it hurts him to breathe. “I’m just..” He lets out a quiet wheeze, resting his head against Cheri’s shoulder.

There’s exhaustion radiating off him, Cheri realizes, and Cheri gets running again.

“Don’t go to sleep, I don’t know what happens if you do,” he mutters.

“Mmh..” Volo shakes his head. “Trying..”

“Good. Keep talking.” Cheri takes a shaky breath. “What about normal Moltres? Any cool legends?”

“..they’ll dive into volcanoes to heal themselves,” Volo mumbles. “And they.. bring an early spring, to cold places..” His eyes slip closed.

Cheri nods. “You know the Indigo League Flame is said to have been lit with their flames?”

“Oh yeah.. I.. I remember that.. s.. Sorry, I can’t..” Volo goes limp in his arms.

“Hey, Volo, keep talking! Volo!!” Not sensing anything from the guy at all, Cheri grimaces. “SHIT!!!” Cheri moves faster, shifting back as they get to the bottom of the mountain, not wanting to be seen by anyone who doesn’t already know in any form outside of a human one.

shit shit Shit SHIT SHIT!!! Cheri bursts out of the trees, running into Eterna City, dodging around people as he heads to the nearest hospital.

He rushes into the emergency room. “We need a doctor, now!” It comes out louder than he meant it, almost echoing, though for some reason, it’s hard to hear himself anyway.

Everything feels so far away as the emergency room suddenly turns into a rush, a stretcher coming out to take Volo away. People ask what happened, and he explains as best as he can, telling them Volo got hit with a powerful dark-type attack that sapped his energy, leaving out the legendaries and the reason for the blood staining his hands and teeth.

He.. doesn’t entirely know why that’s there. He has a faint idea, but he blocks that out on purpose.

He can process that later, he can process that he probably killed a man another day.

The doctors are concerned about it, though, so he tells them it’s from the one who attacked the two of them, and they accept that answer, bringing him back soon after for his frostbitten arm.

Time seems to stretch to forever as his injury is treated, but when he’s finally left alone, allowed to leave, it feels like no time’s passed at all. He leaves the hospital, heading straight for the Pokémon center to drop off his and Volo’s Pokémon.

Relax. Just breathe, Cheri. Just relax.

Breathe.

He takes deep breaths as he walks, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes, sensing people’s feelings to determine where they are so he can avoid them.

Thankfully, he makes it to the Pokémon center without an issue, setting down the pokeballs on the nurse’s desk.

“Those six are unregistered, he- he made their balls himself,” he explains, trying to ignore the shake in his voice.

The nurse scans the pokeballs. “They look registered to me..”

Sure enough, they are registered, under a Volo Discere.

“Huh.. interesting,” Cheri mutters. Did he always have a last name? I know Volo means to want. What’s Discere..? “Okay, nevermind, then. Um- I’ve gotta go, he’s hurt. Can you take care of them while I’m gone?”

“Of course, but- Wait-!” She looks up in worry as he leaves, but he doesn’t have time to chat, making his way back to the hospital.

I need to see if he’s okay.

He heads to the nearest waiting room. Someone passes by in the hall, he recognizes her as the nurse who treated him.

“Hey!” He rushes over, catching her attention. “Volo, uh, Discere- is he okay?”

“Huh? Are.. you asking about the one you came in with?” She gives a weirdly strained smile. “They’re still fixing him up, but it’s looking like he’ll pull through.”

“Okay.. okay.” Cheri lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

She nods, rushing off, and he finally lets himself relax.

Okay.

Okay, we’re okay.

Not sure what she was freaking out about, but it should be fine..

..they’ll come to me if anything happens with him, right..? I’m probably not on his emergency contacts- he probably doesn’t have those, actually- but I AM the one who brought him here..

WOULD he have emergency contacts?? His Pokémon are registered, so maybe???

Cheri sighs, sitting in one of the chairs, leaning back with his hands clasped together behind his head. He lets his eyes slip closed, taking a few deep breaths.

Whatever the case, if he needs me, if he asks for me, I’ll be here.

After a few moments, the exhaustion of the day catches up to him.

And finally, he slips into sleep, all his day’s plans forgotten.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday1 #Whumpril #riftshipping #is what i call these two #please don’t judge me ahaha #I had this one planned out already can you tell?#anyway sorry this is late lol #not putting this in the main tags but #volo is from Pokémon legends arceus #Cheri is the protagonist but he fell with his siblings #and they haven’t seen each other in years and Cheri thought he’d never see Volo again bc cheri and his siblings went back to their home tim #so. yeah #pokemon whump #🤍Cheri #🌻Volo #🗡️Eclipse #< blog sorting tags #oh Cheri’s a Hisuian zoroark btw and I played around a LOT w zoro abilities #especially since he’s also Blessed By Arceus #so he can straight up shapeshift instead of just illusion #and his illusions are really strong anyway since he’s had a LOT of practice with em #he can sense intentions emotions and fears. the first two are a survival mechanism and the last is a vengeful spirit thing

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