#with every short fic I attempt to write I slowly fix my expectations on how long they're supposed to take me

[mechazushi]

Kitagawa's Soulmate Customs Order.

Soulmate Customs is a channel on Youtube. They specialize in spicy/sweet/sad custom embroidery clothing for the loved ones in your life. This is a short story about Marin Kitagawa getting a reason for an order, giving it to Gojo, and the consequence of getting him a spicy sweatshirt. #not sponsored, just really like what they do. also #i am single and channeling my lonelyness through fanfiction.

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It was a cold and windy day in Japan where Kitagawa was at. It was January so she shouldn't have been too surprised, but the biting chill in the air felt a little over-dramatic for the season. Part of her knew she would've come to regret the decision to wear a pencil skirt and should have compensated for the weather with more than thick, fur lined leggings, but she wanted to look cuter than usual today. She was on her way to meet her boyfriend Gojo for a very important coffee date. It was important because they were finalizing the paperwork outlining Gojo's moving details into Kitagawa's apartment.

After working everything out and being the one to finally admit she liked him, it had been a few years and some life altering changes had gone down in this seemingly brief period of time. Kitagawa had gotten approval and started working as an official cosplayer for Sparkle Productions. Working with them meant she got a consistent income at a much higher rating. Meaning she could afford her own apartment in an inner-city location. It was close to work, but it inadvertently made it farther away from Gojo's home. It made her feel like she couldn't see him as often as she wanted. Speaking of which, Gojo's gone off to college.

He's still striving to become a Hina doll maker, but him and his grandpa thought it wouldn't hurt if he had some knowledge running a business. He was also partnered with Sparkle Productions as well, seeing as it was made very clear that him and his skills were inseparable from Kitagawa. Between the commissions he's been getting paid with from the production company and commissions from doll making, he's raking a bit of money as well. He's been living with his grandpa since the beginning of their relationship however, and some people( no stories will be told, but the grandfather has been the biggest advocate for this) felt it was time for that to change. Gojo has just ended his most recent semester, so now the time for this was about as best as it was going to get.

Tightening her pink fleece and strawberry decorated cardigan against a sudden blast of chilling wind, it made her wonder if she was going to die of freezer burn before she reached the coffee shop. The only thing keeping her warm in her mind was the possible chance she could convince Gojo to let her crawl into his lap in the public cafe. She knew he would object if she said it outright, but probably wouldn't notice if she came at the plan slowly. Start off with complaints about the weather while giving a longer than necessary hug, lather him in compliments about how warm he is, snuggle up as close as she could get away with and just... slowly invade his innermost personal space an inch at a time. She could see it working.

She turned the corner and charged in the direction of the glass doors to the building, before stopping herself as she caught a glimpse of her boyfriend sitting against the wall in side-view of the long expanse of glass acting as the front of the building. Gojo played on his phone as he was cross-legged and reclined languidly in the bench seats that lined the left wall. The low coffee tables set in front of them offered a full view of the daring outfit that he walked out with. Black from the shoes up, he wore leather loafers, corduroy pants, and a tight turtleneck. The main focus of the outfit came from the quilted biker-style jacket made out of boldly patterned and oddly shaped patches of red, grey in varying shades, and white fabric.

She recognized the fabric as scraps coming from a cosplay she did last year. The long and wide, tri-tiered, ruffled mermaid skirt it had was made out of geometric chunks that had to be individually sewn together, meaning there were a lot of off cuts left and were considered unusable. Despondent and irritated at the waste it created, Gojo was left puzzled as to what to do with the scraps, not wanting to toss it all out. Marin had sent as many pictures as she could, hoping it would inspire him to try his hand at street wear. While some of it ended up getting patched together as a Hina doll's outfit, she was told that the rest of it did end up as a couple personal projects, ones that she wasn't given any hints as to what they were.

She knew he was still uncomfortable with non-traditional clothes, but had been making personal strides in his own time. It was still a shock nonetheless, to see him not only in something that wasn't his usual samue, but something that he'd created. She knew it had taken a lot of willpower from him to commit to walking out of the house in something that absolutely would have sent his anxiety straight through the roof three years prior. Sitting there in the warm shop lighting made him come across as more of a model than she did most days. Seeing him without an ounce of fear in his dashing appearance tugged on her heartstrings and filled her body with pride.

Snugging the manila file full of paperwork up into her armpit, she reached up and tightened her high ponytail up even tighter, straightened her curled side bangs, and pulled down on the hems of her outfit. Checking her outfit in the mirror finish, she giggled a little once she noticed she was wearing a turtleneck as well under the cardigan. While it was white, she couldn't help but smile at how the two of them were going to look as they sat there. Lounging against each other, drinking hot drinks and sitting the warm cafe, soaking up each other's body heat- God she needed to get out of the cold.

As she entered the shop, Gojo looked up from his phone and immediately brightened. He stood up as Kitagawa got closer and pulled her into a friendly hug. Gojo tried to let go, but she clung onto him a little longer and hummed as the warmth began to replace the chill she developed walking outside.

"Blisteringly cold out there, isn't it?" Gojo questioned as he chuckled, realizing why Kitagawa was holding on so tight.

"You wouldn't mind if I just weaseled my way into your new jacket, right? I feel like my bones are shivering." Her eyes were closed as she tested her chin on his chest.

"So you noticed it, huh?" Gojo said as he tightened his arms again and swayed her lightly from side to side.

She opened her eyes as she looked up and saw that something was different about him. Feeling transfixed by his gaze, she noticed that his eyes seemed more intense than usual even though she could see the soft love he had for her in the plains of his face. Drawing attention to the shape of his eyes, she could see that they were rimmed in a thin, but noticeable line of smoky black. It helped emphasize the dark pools that were his ebony irises and strengthened the emotions in his gaze.

"You- you look different." Marin uttered out sweetly, not wanting to break eye contact.

"Ah. It's... noticeable, isn't it?" Gojo turned his head away in embarrassment

"N-no! It's good! I've just... never seen you in guyliner before." Kitagawa broke from the hug and the two of them sat down. She passively clocked the half finished mug of milky tea on the table before turning back to Gojo.

"Yeah, I was leaving an Economics lecture and a girl next to me retouched up her makeup with something I haven't seen before. I might have interrogated her over it, the poor thing." Gojo said as he looked somewhat ashamed, "Anyway, I bought it because it's never a bad idea to have more options for makeup with you. Before I left I had noticed that my eye bags were a little more obvious than usual and you had left your makeup bag in my dorm, so I might have helped myself to the concealer. Since I was already applying makeup I thought it would be a good idea to try it on myself and make sure I know what I'm doing. You know?"

"You've gotten really good with the color matching. I couldn't tell you had any on!" Kitagawa said as she tilted her boyfriend's head back and forth, "What did you use for the eyeliner?"

"It was this." he said as he pulled up a picture of the product listing and showed her an image of a surma stick.

"That's... Are we sure that's not a torture device?" Kitagawa said as she visibly paled.

"It does look like one, doesn't it?" Gojo giggled, "When I asked about it, she gave me some tips, but it still took me a few tries to get it to look straight. It's probably for the best that we keep the makeup on you though."

"Why? You look amazing!" Marin said, being very adamant in hopes it encourages him to be just as bold in the future.

"Maybe." Gojo said simply as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"Did something happen? I really think you look good." Kitagawa said as she inched closer, removing any space she could between their laps.

"it's just... I think I might've scared the girl at the front counter. She looked nervous before I started talking to her and I think she was shaking when I left." Gojo said as he pinched his lips and looked downcast.

"I sincerely doubt that was the reason." Kitagawa said as she patted his thigh. She tested her head against his shoulder and looked him in the eyes while smiling. He returned her smile, but it didn't seem as bright as it could be.

"Speaking of the counter, I should go order myself a drink. I still feel frozen on the inside." she said, already regretting having to leave his very warm side.

"I know it looks like I'm almost finished with mine, but I ordered yours a few minutes after you texted me saying you were leaving your place." Gojo said as his hand drifted to her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

"Oh, really? What did you get?" she asked.

"This place is serving the strawberry hot chocolate you saw on the TV. That sound okay?" Gojo questioned.

'OMG, You are amazing!" Kitagawa said as she threw herself into his arms.

An attempt was made to see if she could wiggle her way onto more of his lap, but she quickly slid off as she missed the landing. Almost as if summoned by their conversation, a nondescript looking waitress walked over to them with a tray carrying two drinks.

"A hot chocolate covered strawberry and a refill of the chocolate truffle chai." the rather petite looking woman said as she stuck around to confirm the order.

"Oh, I didn't order the refill." Gojo said, trying to be polite.

'It's okay. It's on the house." the waitress said as she winked before nervously scurrying away.

"Huh. That's never happened before. I think that was also the lady I talked to the first time as well." Gojo said as he watched her tip-toe back to the counter, puzzled. Immediately feeling skeptical of the waitress's intentions, Kitagawa began to inspect the outside of the fresh mug of tea that was placed on the table. Looking closer at the decorative napkin, she found that someone from behind the counter, probably that waitress, had scribbled down their number with the words 'Call Me' next to it.

"I take it you've never had a girl give you their number on a coffee napkin before either?" Kitagawa said as she held up the evidence to Gojo.

He was taking a sip from the first mug as he turned to look at it and proceeded to choke a little when he saw what was written. As Gojo was trying to recover from the lukewarm liquid almost invading his lungs, Kitagawa looked at the offending napkin a little harder. While she recognized that it happened through no fault of his own, she still felt mildly threatened and had a desire to make the waitress rethink approaching a taken man. Putting the number into her phone, she waited until Gojo had fully recovered from his coughing fit and asked him to lean into the camera's frame. As he adjusted his face, Kitagawa turned and planted her lips in a solid strike against his mouth. When she could tell he had relaxed into the sudden bout of affection, she took the photo and uploaded it to her text messages.

"Not that I mind getting surprised like that, but what was that for." Gojo said dreamily, his eyes only focused on the now smudged pink lip gloss she was currently sporting.

"Just sending a message. Literally." Marin giggled as she sent the photo to the unknown number with the caption saying 'He's taken." under it.

"Kitagawa... Isn't that a but much?" Gojo replied worriedly once he saw that the picture had been sent. No less than a minute had passed before everyone had heard a loud cry of disappointment echo through the cafe.

"Nope!" Marin giggled.

It was later in the evening now, hours after the date had ended and Gojo had walked her home. She was in bed relishing in the afterglow of a warm shower and wrapped in her fluffiest pair of pajamas. She knew it was late, but couldn't help herself as she scrolled down the infinite chain of short videos in an attempt to stop thinking about what had happened at the cafe earlier. She knew her Gojo was handsome and she felt it was an appropriate reaction to seeing him spending a little more effort on his appearance. Mainly because she could see herself pulling the same stunt if she hadn't known him before that day. It didn't change the fact that it had happened.

They had known each other before they started dating, but their relationship still felt a little young. She had no doubt that she could trust him to stop other people's advances, but Marin couldn't help but want to do something that would stop that all together, or at the very least make people think twice about it. It was impossible to spend all her waking hours by his side, not to mention that it would be an obsessive and quite toxic move on her part. She already felt that Gojo was the one for her, but since she made the first move she wanted to give him the chance to be brave and propose. Kitagawa had already accepted that it was going to be a while longer before that was going to happen anyway. A quiet, unhinged part of her said "Get a dog collar." but that was quickly disregarded as soon as it was brought up.

Deciding on one last attempt to clear her mind of the turmoil, she made the decision to scroll for three more minutes and then put the phone down. She had noticed that her For You page had begun to fill with happy couples recording their happy moments together. She would always joke with the people in the comments, all of them relating to each other about how single and alone the couple on screen made them feel. Now she just smiled and laughed imperceptibly to herself in the dark, feeling better about her situation because now... now she could relate to the happy couples. The ads felt like they were picking up on this too. It kept sending her listings for couple's gifts, with some being actually cute and some she just couldn't find a reason why there had to be a couple's variation.

Getting close to the end of her self imposed time limit, she almost scrolled past one that seemed to be an American ad, but upon closer inspection it didn't have the usual banners or the click bait links bordering the edges of her screen. What really caught her attention was the red faced and sweating emojis that took the place as the video's title. Kitagawa considered herself to be a simple girl. Hot emojis probably meant that the video's contents were going to be something she might be interested in. Yeah, it was a cliche tactic, but it is how she found some of her most recent eroge games and manga. Letting the video play out, she saw a pretty red-headed woman looking at the camera, her face looking shocked by what she found. Cue the camera angle panning over to a gold engraved key-chain with an outline of a woman in lingerie with the back of it saying "Cum home safe <3"

Kitagawa let the clip play over again, just to be sure that is what she actually saw. After confirming that, she immediately clicked on the clip's link to the redheaded woman's main page. Disregarding the self imposed time limit for the sake of research, she looked at videos after videos on this woman's page. She got the clear impression that this woman had a custom engraving and embroidery shop that didn't shy away from its more... risque submissions. Sure there were some fluffy, more sentimental pieces and a few sad memorial works, but the ones that had the half naked women on them clearly got more views (Go figure). To be fair, there were one or two male submissions. Kitagawa got a little chuckle at the thought of putting a shirtless Gojo on an embroidered hoodie for herself, but that would be next to impossible as even in the middle of summer she wouldn't find him just casually shirtless.

As she scrolled down one more, she found out that they did jewelry as well. Different types of necklaces as well as bracelets. That got Kitagawa thinking. Bracelets weren't as obvious as a ring could be, but an engraved bracelet could be something she could get away with. Gojo didn't seem like the kind of guy to be down for wearing a necklace, hell it took him four years to try and wear something that wasn't a samue. But she could probably convince him to wear something as small and innocuous as a wrist band. Getting him a sexy sweatshirt with her almost-bare ass plastered on the front of it should have been an immediate no as an option, but she had to admit it was right up her ally.

Kitagawa left her phone on the clip's main page and turned it off for the night. She wanted to take a closer look at what was available in the morning as she wanted to put some real thought and effort into what she wanted to get. She had already decided to buy something from them anyway, seeing at how cute and personalized each item could get. She knew she couldn't spend forever making a decision however, with Gojo slated to move into the apartment in less than two weeks. She was going to pay through the nose for express shipping, but it would be worth it.

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Two weeks had passed and it was finally Moving-In Day for Gojo. He was a minimalist at heart, but due to taking up cosplay as well as keeping up with Hina Doll creation, there was quite a bit of equipment to lug over. Thankfully the heaviest thing he owned was a sewing machine. Kitagawa would never admit this willingly, but she bought an apartment with a second bedroom with the intention that Gojo would move in eventually and take over that space and turn it into his hobby room and office. Four hours later, all furniture was rearranged and the boxes were flattened and put outside the door. It was a bit early for lunch yet, so Gojo decided to collapse in the main room and stretch out in the new environment. He landed on the floor with a comically long and low groan.

"Enjoying yourself down there?" Kitagawa said as she giggled at him, watching from her place on the low couch parallel to him.

"I'm going to get used to seeing this view, aren't I ?" Gojo responded after a moment, the realization of moving in settling into his mind and body frame. Kitagawa crawled on her hands and knees over to where he laid and gave him some deep and unhurried kisses on his lips. An activity Gojo reciprocated gladly in a similar fashion.

"You're gonna get used to the view of my bedroom ceiling first, I bet." Kitagawa whispered salaciously as she pulled away and moved her head to his chest. Gojo rolled his eyes hearing that and shifted his arm to lay across her waist.

"If someone had told me that I'd not only be in love and dating the most beautiful and extroverted girl in my class, but also living with her in a few years... I'd think it would have given me a heart attack." Gojo said and he sighed deeply.

"I think you would have the heart attack from finding out time travel exists." Kitagawa responded.

"Why time travel? Could have met a fortune teller." Gojo playfully interrogated.

"You're too skeptical to believe a fortune teller." Kitagawa offered simply as she moved a hand to the back of his head, longingly gazing at his face.

"That is true. Guess it would have to be a time traveler." Gojo chuckled out tiredly. His eyes were closed, but he could feel Kitagawa play with his short tufts of hair. Her hand brushing in a relaxed and loving manner, acting as an anchor to this moment.

"Oh! Almost forgot." Kitagawa said as she clumsily got to her feet as quickly as possible. Gojo watched over the kitchen counter as she got a footstool and used it to gain access to the top of the fridge. She pulled down an already opened cardboard box and walked around the counter with it.

"I know you're just moving in and all. buuuut I decided to get you a few housewarming gifts." She said as she sat down and crossed her legs, placing the box on top of her lap. Gojo propped himself up onto his elbows as she got herself prepared to show him the surprise.

"Do you want the Sweet gift or the Spicy gift first?" Kitagawa bit her lip as she offered and drummed her acrylic nails on the top of the box. Gojo groaned loudly in mock agony at hearing that one of the gifts he would be receiving was described as "Spicy".

"You know what, humor me. The Spicy one first." Gojo said, already preparing himself for the gift by throwing all expectations out the window. Hopefully mentally preparing himself this way meant that Gojo wouldn't be sent into a heart attack that he seemed to be prone to getting around her. Kitagawa giggled maliciously as she opened the box and pulled out a vacuumed sealed, plush feeling, rounded, and black object. After she handed it over, he gently pulled away the plastic wrapping. He could already see the outline of what could be a leg dressed in fishnet stockings.

"Oh, this already doesn't bode well- what is this?" Gojo exclaimed as he unfolded the black hoodie.

The smile on his face was unmistakable, but he was still very shocked at what he was seeing. Taking up as much space as it could on the front of the soft hoodie, was a detailed white outline of what he assumed was his girlfriend dressed in a very complicated looking lingerie outfit with her hair up in a bun. She wore a high cut pair of baby blue underwear paired with a similar colored bra that left little to the imagination with matching strips of fabric crossing her midsection. There was a garter belt harness holding up some white fishnet stockings and a bunny ear headband completed the look. She was posed sitting on her thighs with her knees spread and holding her phone off to the side so as to not obstruct any part of the outfit. Curiously though, her head was turned and looking behind her. The phrase "Dress me up" Was plastered in bold lettering at the top of the framed image.

"Wait till you see the back of it." Marin tented her fingers and continued to laugh manically.

"God, there's a back to this?" Gojo said astonishedly. He quickly turned it around and moved the hood out of the way before he held it up again.

It was the same pose, but seen from the back. The high cut underwear had a large white pompom stuck to it to represent a bunny's tail and he could see why her head was turned away in the first picture. While it didn't show the rest of her face's features, it showed her tongue sticking out. If one looked closely, they could see the smallest dot of silver on the tongue that was supposed to represent the piercing that she had. Under the photo this time was the phrase "I'm your mannequin.".

"You... you know I can't wear this outside, right?" Gojo stuttered, taking in the magnitude of the gift he was presented with.

'Come on, I know you better than that! Wasn't expecting you to!" Kitagawa continued to giggle though her fingers at her boyfriend's embarrassed appearance.

"Th-then why...?" Gojo tried to ask while processing the gift in front of him.

"You've been in the guest room, right? That room can get super cold in the winter. I think it's got a weird draft problem." Kitagawa answered as she sucked on her lips and rested her elbows on the edges of the box .

"I figured we would have gotten a heater?" Gojo questioned.

"Yeah, I think the money for that is gonna go to getting a window air con for the bedroom. You know by now that I'm a cuddler and you like the room arctic when you sleep, sooo..." Kitagawa left the sentence to hang as Gojo nodded in agreement.

"I'd hate to get paint on it if I'm going to be working in this." He said as his eyes landed back onto the hoodie.

"So what! Get some paint on it!", She said as she scooted over to sit behind his back, "You know what? I think you should get a fat dollop of white paint on it. Right about there, don'tcha think?" Kitagawa moved her finger over his shoulder and pointed to her right ass cheek.

"K-Kitagawa!" Gojo exclaimed in embarrassment once he remembered why she would say such a thing.

"What? It's what happened last time I wore that!" She laughed as her arms tightened around Gojo's neck playfully, making sure he didn't run away from the conversation. He could feel himself melting at the playful goading.

"I'm still surprised you would get me a hoodie in the first place. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture." He said as he tapped on her arms in hopes she'd give him back some breathing room.

"Well... to be honest... This might be playing a part in a master plan." Kitagawa said mysteriously as she side-eyed him.

"A-and what plan would that be?" Gojo replied, his tone already dripping in fear.

"To steal... YOUR SHIRTS!" Kitagawa stealthily pulled on the strings that held his samue together and swiped his top off his body with surprising ease. Before he could counter the attack, she stood up and had already put her arms into it. She grabbed the sides of the top and wrapped it as tight as possible around her. As he stood up to look at her, Kitagawa took a handful of the top's fabric and brought it up to her nose. He continued to watch in amazement as she took the heartiest snort and sighed in satisfaction.

"Ahhhh. Been wanting to do that for years." She continued to look content even as she heard Gojo try to hold back a fit of laughter.

When he finished, he looked at her like he saw what love really looked like for the first time. She looked at him like she always had. With the deepest, most complete understanding of what happiness really was. Gojo picked up the hoodie from the floor and shuffled it over his head. After tugging it into place, he spread his arms out for a hug. Kitagawa gladly fell into them, just like they fell into each other's heart years ago. They held each other in place in the middle of the room for a moment, savoring the other's presence and heat in the room.

Love never looked so damn good.

"Didn't you say there was a second gift?" Gojo muttered into the top of Kitagawa's head after a long beat of time. She shook her head in his chest and slowly pried herself from his embrace. She walked back over to the box and pulled out two bracelets.

"I know the hoodie is never leaving the apartment, but I wouldn't mind if you did start wearing a little something for me. If it's not too much, 'cause I know you're not really a jewelry person." She handed over a metal bracelet plated in rose gold and held onto the silver one. On the top of the rose gold one was an emoji of a needle and a spool of thread, while the silver one had a bow and hands making a heart.

"There's a little something on the inside too." Kitagawa said looking sheepish. Flipping them over, Gojo could see that there was a line of kanji etched on the inside.

"She's my doll." in the rose gold bracelet

"He's my doll maker" was in the silver one.

"Kitagawa..." Gojo sighed affectionately.

"Is... is it okay?" she slid the silver one on before she asked nervously. Gojo sliped the rose gold one on and gently took her by the hands before he responded.

"It's perfect." Gojo whispered as he leaned in for a kiss, one that Kitagawa was happy to return back. They gently played with each other's lips for a moment before Gojo broke it off to ask a question.

"Surprised you didn't get the rose gold one for yourself. I figured that color would be more up your alley."

"I didn't because of what you said right there." Kitagawa smiled. Gojo only tilted his head in bewilderment.

"You saw the color and thought of me. It's why I chose mine to be silver." She purred. Gojo chuffed at hearing that, understanding how it made sense. Kitagawa went to lean in to continue the kiss, but was stopped when Gojo asked another question.

"This is to get me used to the idea of wearing a wedding band, isn't it?" He said with a knowing smirk on his face.

"Wha-why would y-you say th-that?" Kitagawa sputtered as her eyes darted nervously, not thinking that her line of thought would be discovered and revealed so soon. He just chuckled quietly as he placed the adorned hand on her face. He held it still as he leaned down for a silencing kiss.

"I will. At some point." he offered simply when he pulled away again, thumb brushing her rosy cheeks.

"That's all I ask for." Kitagawa grinned.

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It was another month later and Kitagawa had a short workday planned out for her. There were plans to head home early because Gojo also had a short day ahead of him. Well, short enough. He had more classes after five, but he had a window of time around three. Their schedules had become fairly out of wack between the classes and the photo shoots, so they wanted to make the most of this opportunity. Which really just summed up to Gojo coming home and making dinner with an hour of watching shows or gaming before he had to leave again. As Kitagawa was wrapping up getting her normal outfit on, she received a text from Gojo.

Hubby <3<3<3] I'm out of class right now. I need to stop by the store before I head home however because I don't think we have enough dumpling wrappers for gyoza. Could you do me a favor when you get home and chop the vegetables that we have and defrost the meat?

She sent back a sticker of a rabbit saying okay and left the studio. Now back inside their apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom and dug out a previously worn samue top and replaced the shirt she was wearing with it. She made it back to the kitchen and took the meat out of the freezer to let it thaw on the counter. After she gathered up the vegetables, she prepped them and started cutting, getting lost in the rhythm of the work. Nearing the end of the green onion she was chopping, she heard the door open.

Gojo? You're back already?" She cleaned her hands and went to see him at the door. As she turned the corner, she was stopped in her tracks at noticing a familiar black hoodie that he was wearing.

"Notice something Kitagawa?" Gojo said in a clearly playful and passive aggressive tone. He removed the strap connected to his duffle bag and let it drop unceremoniously to the floor.

"Uhhh... maybe?' she replied, her voice ticking upward several notches.

"You want to know how my day went?" Gojo continued, still in the same tone of voice, "My day was interesting, to say the least. I found out early this morning, that every time my girlfriend comes over to my dorm, she's somehow been maliciously stealing my samue tops and replacing them with the shirt she was wearing at the time." He said as he passed her and rounded the corner with some grocery bags to shove them onto the counter.

"Someone also thought it would be funny to put the hoodie that was never supposed to leave the apartment into my bag of clothes for the week. Which, if you can't tell where this is going, means that I had no shirts with my only option of tops for today being either a woman's top that is mostly likely too small for me or the sexy hoodie that was never supposed to see the light of day." He rapidly stalked over to her and grabbed at her waist before she could make her getaway.

"I had people giggling at me the entire day at college! I got yelled at by old ladies! Three different old ladies yelled at me and called me a prude!" Gojo began a vicious tickle attack on his girlfriend as punishment for the treatment he had been receiving all day. Kitagawa was rendered useless and disarmed as she helplessly fought a losing battle against his experienced hands.

"I had some guy on the train ask me who the anime character on my hoodie was and where I bought it! I had to tell him it was my girlfriend and when I did, he scoffed and said 'Yeah right. Guys like us don't get girlfriends.' It took me showing him my home screen and the bracelet for it to get through his dense head!" The attack never let up as he continued to berate her with his precise, wriggling fingers. Kitagawa started to feel lightheaded as she had a hard time taking in oxygen.

"Di-didn't I l-leave one o-of my m-en's si-sized sh-irts ov-over there?" She found it difficult to speak as she was still being tickled. Miraculously, Gojo stopped as he processed what Kitagawa was trying to say. Letting her have a moment to breathe again, he walked over to the duffle bag left at the door and rummaged around looking for a sign of what she had said.

"Aaaugh, I'm an idiot." Gojo groaned as he pulled out a shirt he recognized as having a men's design on it. Leaning for support against a corner of the wall, Kitagawa slowly gained the ability to speak again.

"Almost makes me wonder if you wanted to wear it out in public." She joked dangerously as she gasped. Gojo turned and started daggers through her soul.

"Alright, that is it." He snarled. He ran back to her and lifted her up into a princess carry. Using one hand, he pulled back the hem of the samue she stole that hadn't gone unnoticed by Gojo, and began to blow massive raspberries into her stomach. Sending her into another fit of laughter, she didn't notice until it was too late when he dropped her onto an open space on the counter. Moving to stand in between her legs, he continued his assault of raspberries while Kitagawa shrieked and squirmed while trying to knee him in the ribs. Another moment of relentless tickling passed and Gojo could feel the slapping against his shoulders start to make their intention clear. He lifted his head up to see Kitagawa's face before him.

Flushed red as a bright cherry with unfocused eyes and gasping for air, it was a familiar sight to him. He could feel himself flush a little in response, but decided to keep the angry act up.

"Well? Do you feel like apologizing?" Gojo smirked as he loomed above Kitagawa.

"If I say yes, will you let me breathe?" She gasped out tiredly.

"Only if you really mean it." He muttered into her belly, planting little suckling kisses while it twitched. Kitagawa giggled as her hands drifted to his hair.

"There might be a problem then." She moaned lightly as she felt the attention her midsection was getting, wishing that type of care was placed in other areas on her.

"Guess I'll just have to find other ways of making you pay, now won't I?" A small groan was muffled as he felt the heat of her exertion radiate through her skin.

It was still very cold outside and she felt oh so warm now. A hand came up and tugged on the tie holding the panels of the top together and used his hands to bunch up the sides of it to pull the panels away from each other. Opening up the stolen shirt, he could see that there was only a plain white bra under it. Using the grip on the shirt, he slid her down the counter's edge and used the opportunity to kiss a path up her stomach. Kitagawa moaned louder as she felt Gojo lick a strip in between her breasts, feeling the tip dig under the border of the fabric.

"I thought you were going to make dinner, Gojo?" Kitagawa goaded as her hands betrayed her thoughts, carding and tugging pleasantly on his short locks of hair.

"Dinner? I've got a juicy rabbit roast right here." His head continued up to her shoulder where he bit and pulled on the strap of her bra, letting it snap back on her skin.

"And use my first name." Wakana growled hotly into the spot where the strap landed. Marin rolled her body into the attention, not feeling guilty in the slightest for what she had done.

[yesimwriting]

Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do like a short story post or something I wonder how Our General Kirigan would react to a shy reader? Would he tease her? Be frustrated with her? And how would she react? Idk maybe just a thought 😅 I asked you because i really like your writing and I feel like you would really do a good job and I like the way you portray the General. 😊

a/n i have been crying/feeling shitty for the past two days for no reason!! so i thought it might make me feel better to try writing headcanons! i have SO MANY half done requests/fics but as of recently i hate everything that i write!! so i thought i'd work on this request that lends itself to headcanons

also im glad you like my writing :))

--

General Kirigan with a shy! reader headcanons:

- First things first, I think how he interacts with someone shy that he sees as a (potential) romantic interest varies per situation. Like generally, he finds the timidness kind of soft which is so different from what he's used to that he finds that aspect kind of endearing.

- He'd never admit that at the beginning, but the more time you spend with him the clearer it becomes to you because of how he acts when you're alone together

- At first, he'd hold onto his usual stoic disposition, but after realizing that at the end of the day your shyness is genuine and not an attempt to seem meek in order to trick people/him he'd begin to tease you about it when you two are alone.

- The first time he makes a comment that's just a little,, kinda-almost suggestive (a comment about how he wonders what it'd be like to be a Heartrender so that he could hear the change in your heartbeat every time you shied away from something) you're too confused to be embarrassed for like two seconds.

- You're basically that meme that's like did I hear that shit righttt??

- So you meet his gaze, and there's absolutely nothing but warm confidence there and you realize that he had in fact,,, said that.

- You hold his gaze for a moment out of protest (which is an incredible feat) and then you have to drop your eyes to the floor. You mumble some comment about how his ability to summon shadows isn't exactly a boring skill.

- Your reaction is so soft,, Kirigan can't help but be endeared even further. Something he wasn't exactly expecting and isn't too thrilled about. He doesn't think being shy makes you weak,, but he's extremely wary about how you're perceived and how people may treat you because of it.

- He doesn't doubt his ability to protect you, but he doesn't want to be distracted,, not with all he has to do.

- Still, he can't help mumble comments whenever there's a brief pause and you two are alone

- Meanwhile, you're starting to notice that now more situations keep coming up when you're left alone with Kirigan?? like he's always in the library when you are, he's always walking in to assess training when you're training and he just so happens to linger until you leave and then he just so happens needs to walk in the same hallway.

- It's a little strange at first,, but you're more horrified by the fact that you're not mad about it than the fact that it's happening. Especially since you know how much joy he gets from getting you flustered. You can see that in that slightly cocky uptilt to his lips whenever you're left gaping at him.

- Why doesn't it bother you?? You try to rationalize it and the only conclusion you can come to is the fact that he's attractive and powerful and even though your face gets hot whenever he talks to you,, there's appeal in those qualities. There's appeal in getting the infamous General to smile.

- Even if it costs you the bit of pride you have.

- You don't get why you're the one he seems to be going out of his way to speak to (maybe when your life is as stressful as his is,, at the end of the day you just want something easy and if he's in the mood to be flirty, you're easy) but you're not mad. You just have to constantly remind yourself to not be foolish enough to think you're the only one he goes out of his way to talk to.

- And as time progresses, you get a little more comfortable with his banter. You stop shying away completely,, which only encourages him to get bolder with his comments.

- Nothing insane,, not yet, just a little more direct.

- It kind of becomes a little game to him,, to see how flustered he can get you with the minimal amount of effort. Every once in awhile, you manage to act normally, but he's quick to shut that down by upping his game just slightly.

- After awhile, it starts to become a game for you too, to see how much of your instincts you can suppress just to take away some of his satisfaction. Only when he's getting a little too smug.

- But that's when y'all are alone...

- When you're surrounded by others, sometimes it feels like you don't even exist to each other. Sometimes that's a lonely feeling for both of you, but each of you is convinced that they're the only one that feels the absence.

- In your defense, you're much more entitled to those feelings because he can literally do whatever he wants. You can't just walk up to the General and do what?? ask him why he hasn't made any suggestive comment in the last couple of hours??

- please that embarrassing!! even if you weren't shy, that would be out of POCKET

- Meanwhile Kirigan is just like being angsty and debating the implications of seeking you out in an environment with so many important people. He could probably manage a minute or two by your side without making anyone suspicious, but the danger in that is that he won't be able to bring himself to leave after those minutes pass him.

- Worse,, he may even find an excuse for both of you to step out into the hall so that he can make his comments and take in your reactions in private.

- It's especially difficult when you have that one strand of hair just slightly out of place,, presenting the perfect excuse for him to just fix it and then drop his hand slowly so that his fingertips can brush the side of your cheek.

- And you're growing tired of the crowds of people you're not comfortable with and you're starting to feel more and more stupid for letting something that was so clearly just a playful distraction mean anything to you.

- But before either of you can succumb to your angsty pinning (cough, cough,, simps) his eyes will find yours from across the room and that's EVERYTHING

- At first, you want to be stiff and look away because it's probably not intentional, but then he gives you that little smirk. And then you feel stupid for ever doubting that you two at least have some kind of friendship. (maybe more,, but you're too scared to let yourself think that,, ;))

- And then you give him this shy smile,, and that's it. He's done--that one look undoes him entirely.

- So he starts shifting towards you as casually as possible, because if he can't be with you right now, surely being near you is good enough for now.

- You're unaware of this,, and when the moment ends you find yourself longing for more, but relatively satisfied. You don't expect anything from him, he's important and you're you.

- And being around people drains you because you genuinely want to stay out of any situation that would have too much attention on you at once. So once Kirigan moves and you can't find him in the crowd, you decide now is as good a time as any to step out and get some air, especially since no one currently needs you for anything.

- So you disappear into the corridor, planning to be gone only for a few minutes. But the second you're about two steps into the hallway, you hear another's footsteps.

- The hopeful part of you is like 'maybe it's him!!' but you don't really think that. There's something about the atmosphere that feels too tense,, too wrong for you to believe it's him.

- A moment later, your suspicions are confirmed. A grisha known for his impulsiveness is calling out to you, asking you where you're going.

- You explain that you just wanted to get some air and that you'd be returning in a minute. You try to sound dismissive, clearly establishing that you'd like your minute to yourself.

- It's clear that he understands the hint, but he doesn't move. He just keeps asking you questions.

- Your answers get shorter and shorter, the nerves your feeling tensing with each word as he begins to venture from falsely casual conversation to more flirtatious words. Being shy can leave you speaking too much, spluttering out words in hopes of saying the right thing to let you escape, but this is a different type of nervousness. Something feels wrong.

- And he just keeps saying things, things that even Kirigan wouldn't be able to get away with.

- All the while, you're desperate to escape, but they're persistent.

- And just when you're losing hope, and his advances get so bold he has you literally backed into a corner--a familiar voice comes to you like a lifeline.

- Kirigan, with all the authority of the general, questions what's going on. The guy that was so relentlessly hitting on you moves back like suddenly you're fire and begins to back away. He tries to explain himself but Kirigan is not having it.

- As soon as the stranger leaves, you feel like you can breathe again, but your nerves are still on edge. Kirigan's looking at you in a way you've never seen before. Sharp and almost--almost angry?

- You try to mumble a quick thanks, intending to disappear back to where you're supposed to be, but Kirigan's gaze keeps you planted against the wall.

- His gaze is so intense you ask him if he's alright.

- The question cracks something in him because of course you'd ask him if he's okay after something happened to you. His expression softens slightly, which you think is a good thing but then he speaks,, and his voice is not calm at all

- He's mad at the person that did that and the irrational part of him makes it seem like he's a little mad at you for letting that situation happen, but it's only because he's worried about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time.

- And you're kind of confused because like?? what does he want from you? you made it clear you were uncomfortable and you were trying to get away?

- But after a quick snap and the fact that you're okay settles in,, he does feel a little bad. So he comes close to apologizing,, but that's basically just him saying he's glad that you're okay.

- You don't really ease, so he decides to make a partial joke about how maybe he needs to be around you more,, just to be safe,, you know

- And you smile slightly, and you're like 'y'know i'm not completely helpless.'

- and he's like 'pity,, i would've liked the excuse'

- your face instantly feels extremely warm and you're not sure what you could even, plausibly say to that. But you can't let him have the last word,, not like that. So you're overcompensating, rambling, but then at the end...you say something about how he doesn't really need an excuse to stay near you.

- When you realize what you've said, fight or flight kicks in,, but you can't move. And there's no casual way to escape, so you decide that maybe you'll cut your losses for today because that might have been your most significant reply to him ever, and you feel like an idiot because he was probably joking. And you just had to say that and make it weird.

- So you allow exactly one second of unfortunate silence, your eyes glued to the ground. And then you make some excuse about needing to get back to where you were.

- But Kirigan stops you, and you think about how you can't avoid looking him in the eyes forever, so you just kind of barely dare to glance upwards.

- And he's smiling broader than usual, the look is so warm it melts away all the bad feelings from earlier. You have absolutely no idea what it means, but you know it's not...bad.

- And then he shifts slightly, and that's when you realize he's never been this close before.

- He then asks if you're sure, voice much lower than earlier.

- You can't speak,, too trapped on a line you don't understand.

- But as he leans forward, the only answer he needs is the instinctual part of your lips as his warm breath reaches your cheek.

- And with that he turns his head just a fraction of an inch,, and his lips meet yours.

- It's just a quick brush of lips,, a soft test. And when you don't protest, he moves to let the contact be a little more assured, yet still teasing.

- Something in you grows impatient, and you move a little in hopes that he'll take the hint.

- But that's all it takes for him to pull away, expression bright and teasing before playfully chiding you for being so eager.

- He then turns, leaving you more flustered than ever.

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 8

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: fluff, mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

(a/n: i promise i have other writings in the work outside this fic kdsfjlajdf i maybe have part 2 of ‘Around Your Neck’ coming up............)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You spent the rest of your night trying to redial Bucky’s number. Every single time you just got his voicemail, eventually filling it to the max with pleas for him to call you back. You apologized countless times through texts, begging him to not feel bad and to let you two sit down and discuss it.

But he had really gone radio silence. 

The only real beacon of hope for you was that you could still feel him. You still felt that attachment, the connection of soulmates. He hadn’t totally pushed you out, at least. That was all you could see as far as positives. 

As you went to bed that night, the darkness of the situation was still encompassing you. Even the world seemed to be upset with it as the second you laid your head down, it began storming. 

You fell asleep to sounds of rain hitting the windows and thunder booming across the city. The nightmares engulfed you once more with no signs of your Bucky making appearances this time. Instead, the feelings of dread ran through your body. Bone, skin, blood, and all. It was like an old friend coming to visit. 

The images were nearly the same as well as the asset was back using his knives and terrorizing unsuspecting victims. You couldn’t fight but why would you? You felt lost and defeated as you were engrossed in the metaphorical trenches of the life and missions of the Winter Soldier.

***

You had only been asleep for a few hours when your phone started ringing. Slightly thankful the sound pulled you awake before you had to see another man slaughtered, you jumped up from your bed, diving for the phone. 

The screen shone brightly in the dark of night. It was him. You nearly cried out as you hit ‘accept.’

“Bucky?”

“Can you let me in?” His voice was slowly getting drowned out by the rain. You frowned, confused.

Heading to your front door, you popped your head out, looking down the stairs at the building’s entrance. Bucky was staring at the ground outside. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to let me in.” He finally looked up, meeting your eyes through the glassdoor. It was not exactly a pretty sight. He looked tormented standing there damp from the rain. You couldn’t speak, just nodded and hung up. Without much care for your current state, draped in an oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts, you ran down the stairs. 

Once you unlocked the door, Bucky entered the lobby without so much of a glance at you. Wordlessly, you walked back up the stairs to your apartment, letting Bucky follow.

You introduced him to your apartment, showing him the couch where he could take a seat. This certainly was not how you expected his first time in your home would be but you didn’t have much time to mourn it. 

You opted to stay standing, watching as Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn't look at you yet but you could feel the anger radiating from him. You didn’t know what to do now.

“D-Do y-you want any water or something?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I’m sorry I hung up on you.”

Sighing, you said, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know, I know,” He insisted, sounding so defeated. He leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, contemplating. “It’s just… After yesterday morning, I thought I understood what you…you had seen but I didn’t want to accept it, okay? I didn’t want to think it was true. I wanted to believe that my fucking soulmate was learning the better things about me. Actual things about me, not...not that goddamn monster they created.”

A familiar ache came over you hearing his words. This must’ve been really a lot for him if he finally said the word. You didn’t even have time to celebrate it.

You couldn’t help yourself as you crossed the living room and took a seat next to him on the couch like something was actually pulling you to him. He was still staring at the ceiling while you turned towards him, fingers uncontrollably fiddling in nervousness. 

“I didn’t want to tell you,” you admitted. “At first they were everything in my life, inescapable. The nightmares-,”

Bucky cut you off with a scoff. “Nightmares.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know that’s unfair to you for me to describe them like that but they weren’t exactly pleasant,” you said. “The nightmares were everywhere and...and the feelings, the images… Even just tonight they-,”

His head whipped towards you. “You still have them?”

“Bucky, you need to let me speak.” He nodded and you tried to collect yourself before continuing, “Everything, from the emotions to the images of those terrifying things, hit me hard, and while, yes, it’s scary and it’s been scary for a very, very long time… I don’t think it should completely matter. I can’t change them - you certainly can’t change them - and they definitely do not represent the man sitting next to me in any way, shape, or form.”

Bucky's hard expression got softer at your reassurance. You had told him this yesterday morning but you felt now you were actually getting somewhere. You were getting your thoughts out there and maybe, just maybe, he’d accept them as facts.

His tone was rough but his words were soft as he began to speak again. “I told you that while you’re with me you won’t ever be hurt or have to worry.” You nodded, remembering the promise in passing. “So it kills me that I can’t fix this. I-I didn’t know about all that, really, and it’s hard realizing you’ve had to deal with consequences from my actions. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

You tried to muster up a small smile, trying to assure Bucky you were okay. He didn’t look convinced, though. 

“It’s not ideal, no,” you shrugged, “but it’s leading me to you, so, maybe there’s something in it. I think Fate knows what it’s doing, at least most of the time.”

A little smile just barely formed on Bucky’s lips. It wasn’t much but at least he didn’t look like he was ready to punch a wall in your already run-down apartment. 

“Besides, it’s not all bad,” you continued, wanting to at least bring something positive to this conservation. Bucky raised his brows, curiously. “I did have a nice dream that night after dinner. I saw you reading.”

He looked almost relieved. “I guess all we can do is hope those continue.” A beat. “I’m amazed you even allowed me in your apartment.” 

Your jaw went slack, unsure of where this statement was coming from. “Well of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Bucky turned away and that rough look of his came back. Your attempts to lighten everything were taking a nosedive apparently, but you couldn’t ask him to avoid or suppress his feelings. You guessed it was better to get these things out in the open.

Bucky eventually asked, “How can you just be okay with everything?” 

This time, you looked away, turning to look out the window opposite of you two. The rain was still coming down steadily. “You haven’t really given me a reason to not be okay with everything.”

Your words were bold, the conversation was bold, and to keep with the theme, you boldly grabbed his hand to hold. You ran your thumb over the back of it in circular motions, trying to calm him. He didn’t pull away, thankfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I-I get nervous about all this.”

You chuckled softly, “Me too.”

Bucky hummed, contently. He leaned in a bit closer to you and gave your hand a squeeze. You shifted into his side, wrapping your other hand around his arm, accepting the closeness of you two. 

You decided to break the comfortable silence, trying your magic once again to carry a brighter conversation. “Why didn’t you tell Steve about us?”

Unexpectedly, Bucky chuckled lowly at the question. Your interest peaked greatly. 

“Forgive me if I just want to explore all this new territory with you and only you.” 

“New territory?”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. “You just want me to say it again.”

You let out a fake, dramatic gasp. “James, you’re ridiculous.”

You heard him chuckle. His body shifted slightly closer to you. “I want to explore this… this soulmate thing with you. Only you. At least for now. Down the line, I have no problem showing you off but for now… It’s us.”

Soulmate. Us. 

The words rang happily in your ears. Now it really felt real. Him acknowledging it truly, wholeheartedly, and not just in the heat of an argument made shivers run through your body. 

“Us,” you repeated, a goofy grin unable to be suppressed came about on your lips. “I’m okay with that.” You let out a bit of a dreamy sigh. “You know, this all feels really new and really old at the same time.”

Bucky chuckled, “I think that’s how these things work, right?” His other hand came to lay on top of yours gently. “We feel like we’ve known each other for years because, well, I think in some twisted way we kind of have.”

You contemplated the idea, realizing you felt that very deeply. You had and had not known him for almost your whole life. While Bucky wasn’t in the exact form you learned about him in, there was something within him, the actual him, you felt you knew like the back of your hand. 

“We need to go out again,” you finally said, worried continuing with such sentiments would make you emotional for the millionth time tonight. Bucky seemed to welcome this change.

“Are you asking me out on a second date, sweetheart?”

Butterflies filled your stomach. “Well, you weren’t making any move to do it,” you shrugged, shooting Bucky a playful look. He responded with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Maybe I like a woman who takes charge,” he said, shooting you an award-winning, knowing smirk. 

You gasped, your neck suddenly getting hot. Actually, you felt much of yourself getting warm from the little innuendo hidden within his tone. Words were suddenly getting lost on your tongue as your brain short-circuited. You mumbled, “A second date could definitely be fun.”

Bucky let out a room-filling laugh at your sudden nervousness. The twinkle in his eyes told you he would enjoy making these little teasing comments to you from now on. 

“How about tomorrow night, doll? Good night for a second date, don’t you think? Assuming you actually want to see me after tonight’s fiasco.”

You nodded, ignoring his self-deprecation. You couldn’t talk it out of him so actions maybe had to speak louder. “What should we do?”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal. “You let me handle it. I’ll surprise you.”

“I thought you liked it when a woman took charge?” Now your smirk was just as evil and mischievous. Bucky raised his brows in surprise but rolled with it. He had quite the silver tongue you found. 

“Sure do,” he said, “but a man still has to make sure he takes care of his lady, too.”

You giggled and cozied up into his side, very much enjoying the sound of that. “Fine. Take the reins, Bucky.”

[crystal-snowing]

oblivious | bang chan

synopsis: the four times that you almost confess to chan and the one time that he does it for you. or in which, you have the biggest crush on chan and the one time where he finally notices. 

genre: fluff, slight angst, best-friends-to-lovers! au, non-idol! au

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is for the @districtninewriters’ winter fic exchange, and my person was minnie ( @lveletters​ ) ! surprise !!  minnie is such a fantastic writer, and i had an enjoyable time writing this and definitely writing for chan, i hope you enjoy !! <3 

a/n part two: this gif was made by @/prodskz and i just edited it ! 

one

At the age of eight, there were only two things that you relatively seemed to know about Bang Chan: one; he was your next-door neighbor, two, (because of fact number one, he, therefore) was your best friend. Your relationship with him seemed simple enough, and there was nothing more that you could expect from the boy other than occasionally sharing his food with you during snack time and holding your hand as you both crossed the street on the way home. Life was simple, and you were content, as much as an eight-year-old could be—happily sipping on a juice box and munching on some graham crackers. 

It was any other day at recess, both you and Chan taking up your resident spot on the swing set next to each other, pumping your legs as fast as you possibly could to swing higher than the other. Everything between the two of you was a competition; it was only natural. There was something about Bang Chan that seemed to awaken this drive within you even at such a young age. Your competitive side heightened by his presence—the need to invoke a response from him was too great to ignore. 

“You know, I went to my uncle’s wedding this weekend,” you started, slowing the swing down just a bit so he could hear you over the playful sounds emanating from the playground. “And my uncle told me that one day I’m going to get married too!” 

“Yeah, right! As if someone would ever marry you,” Chan scoffed, rolling his eyes lightly at your declaration. 

You gasped and pouted slightly at his words. Reaching down with your right leg, you allowed it to drag across the wood chips below, slowing yourself down to a stop on the swing so that you could honestly look at him as you spoke.  

“It’s true,” you huffed, puffing out your chest as you spoke, “plus, you’re my best friend, so we have to get married.” 

His nose scrunched up and his eyebrows became furrowed at your words, clearly dissatisfied by the response that you gave. Chan began to slow down his swing before coming to a stop next to your own, as he shot you a frown. 

“No way! I’m never getting married, especially not to you!”“What, why?” 

He stood up from his position on the swing, dusting off his pants slightly before shooting you a pointed look. 

“Because you have cooties,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You paused, glancing up at the brunette boy from your seated position on the swing with your mouth agape. There was an expression that seemed to flash across your face, and upon realizing, Chan broke off into a sprint before you followed after him. 

“Bang Chan, come back here! I swear we’re going to get married one day; you just wait and see!” 

two

The winter formal was perhaps one of the most important social gatherings at your middle school. It could possibly make or break your social reputation. Pairings between the student body had already begun three weeks ago, and the dance was about forty-eight hours away. However, your dilemma was that you were unsure if you even had a date. 

There was a simple enough fix to this whole situation, and all you had to do was ask. Still, it was times like this where you couldn’t help but overthink everything in your relationship with Bang Chan. You assumed the two of you were going together; it only made sense. But considering the proximity of the dance and since he hasn’t said anything about it to you—well, the seeds of doubt have begun to sprout slowly.  

An opportunity had continually presented itself every afternoon when both of you walked, side-by-side, home. You just needed to gather the courage and ask. Still, the walk seemed to end far too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, you were bidding him goodbye with the repetitive excuse of having “too much homework.” 

There was no way for you to explain the difficulty of putting these feelings into words. You couldn’t even begin to describe the unnecessary panic that you felt at the mere thought of him going to the dance with someone else. The idea of this was too much for you to bear. You were practically intoxicated on the very thought of him, which caused you to lose almost all sense of control when you were around him. The panic you felt closing in on Wednesday afternoon continued to grow as you both arrived closer and closer towards your respective houses. The mounting pressure caused you to suddenly stop short and yell out the one thing plaguing your mind. 

“Chan, I like you! Please go to the dance with me!” 

You couldn’t bear to look at him, quickly averting your gaze and attention into memorizing the intricate pattern of the sidewalk below—mentally preparing for the backlash and consequences to follow. 

He blinked once, then twice, before finally taking a step closer to you and speaking. 

“I like you too, [N/N], you’re my best friend,” he chuckled, causing you to look back up at him with wide eyes, “of course I’ll go to the dance with you.” 

There was something about how he looked in the afternoon sunlight that seemed to make him glow, his eyes radiating warmth as he offered you a breathtaking smile. Your heart skipped a beat at his actions, and with your palms becoming sweaty and your knees weak, you were unsure what was coming over you. 

And just like that, it was over.

With a slight ruffle of your hair, Chan turned away from you and slung his backpack over his shoulder. 

He gave you a small wave and the promise of walking to school together tomorrow as he walked into his house. This left you standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk with slightly messy hair and an overwhelming feeling of bittersweetness sitting on your tongue. 

three

The brisk night air served as a bitter reminder of the impending doom that you felt. Your high school was bustling for this time of night, the remnants of the party fizzling out and became merely a low buzzing in the background. Both of you were situated away from the rest. Sitting with barely an inch between you two on a picnic blanket behind the school, sipping cans of Coke as you watched people from a distance. 

As the moonlight reflected off of his tan skin, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat. He was ethereal, his skin glowing. His suit jacket was discarded somewhere on the grass elsewhere, his red tie loosened around his neck with his white dress shirt unbuttoned slightly as he leaned back on his arms. His legs outstretched in front of him. You drank him in as if he was fine wine, savoring every last drop, your body feeling slightly warm in his presence. 

“You know, I’m always just one call away,” he spoke softly, his voice contrasting against the quiet murmur of the background. He looked at you, noticing the way your eyes seemed glossier than usual tonight, and he couldn’t help but grab your hand and rub small circles into it. 

“But that’s not the same as being with you.” 

The tears were pooling at the bottom of your eyes, gathering around your lower lashes and threatening to spill onto your clothes below. Your lips trembled at the thought, both you and Chan separating after so long together, going to different colleges and traveling on different paths in life. Some tears had spilled over, splashing silently down on the blanket below as they began to dribble down your cheeks and chin. It was only until you couldn’t contain yourself any longer then silent sobs began wracking your body. 

“No matter what, I promise we’ll always make our way back to each other,” he continued to speak, but you couldn’t comprehend the rest. Your head continues to swirl with that particular sentence, playing it back like a mantra. You looked up at him, his brown eyes staring into yours—and you could swear, at that moment, you were home. 

You practically lunged at him, tackling him in a hug and burying your tear-stained face into his chest. His body was stiff as he froze for a second before his arms came to wrap around your frame. Patting your back with a steady rhythm, he attempted to calm your cries as you soaked his dress shirt. Your grip around his frame was tight, and you held onto him as if your life depended on it as your sobs turned into soft sniffles and your eyes began to dry. 

“I love you,” you muttered, nuzzling yourself further into his chest. You were unsure what had come over you, but at that moment, everything just felt right, and the confession that you have been harboring suddenly slipped out. The hand patting your back paused for a split second before resuming so swiftly that you chalked it up as a figment of your imagination. He didn’t say anything in response to your confession; instead, he opted to bring you closer in his embrace, and you dismissed it on the grounds that he probably didn’t hear you. 

For now, you were content with the way things were, slightly thanking whatever god was out there for keeping your feelings hidden for another day.

four

By the time Chan arrived at the party, he was surprised that you were still standing on your own two feet. It wasn’t often that you would drink past your limit, but he knew you, and there were often times where you became a bit overzealous, biting off a lot more than you could chew. He knew that it was the competitive drive within you, and you couldn’t help yourself, but he would be damned if he ever let anything happen to you in this state. 

That’s how he found himself at this end of the semester party, which was in a neighborhood that he was not familiar with at a quarter past one in the morning. 

“Hey, did you know that I have a super hot best friend named Bang Chan?” your words were definitely slurred as they escaped your lips as you clung onto his back like a koala. You shifted yourself slightly on his back as you attempted to make yourself comfortable with your arms around his neck, and his jacket draped over your shoulders. 

“Oh, really?” Chan mused, holding your legs tightly against his hips as he made his way down the sidewalk and towards your childhood neighborhood. 

“Yeah, and I really really like him,” you paused before puffing out your cheeks and pouting, “but he doesn’t like me that way.” 

“But, you guys are best friends; I’m sure he likes you at least a little bit,” he tries to reason with you, readjusting his grip on your legs. Even though he has had nothing to drink tonight, he was hanging onto every word that you spoke—enthralled and curious by this hidden information.

 It was silent on your end for a bit before you leaned closer towards his ear to whisper your response. 

“I’m going to tell you a big secret,” you paused slightly for dramatic effect, “I like like him, actually, no wait, I love love him and not in the friend kind of way.” 

At your confession, he almost drops you but quickly catches himself and continues towards your house, his head clouded with thoughts. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply—scrunched together—creating deep indentations in his forehead as he attempted to make sense of everything that you just unloaded onto him. 

After dropping that bomb on him, you were mostly silent on the ride home. Chan assumed that you had fallen asleep, and by the time he arrived at your doorstep and successfully managed to fish the keys from your pocket, did he come to two realizations. The first being that you were, in fact, awake the whole time. 

“I also have another confession,” you mutter, your voice significantly quieter than it was a few minutes ago. He hummed a response, gingerly opening the door to your house and shutting it behind him. Removing both his shoes and your shoes before making his way to the couch positioned in the living room. “I don’t feel so good; I think I’m going to—” 

Chan didn’t let you finish your sentence before shoving you into the nearest bathroom, holding back your hair as you emptied your stomach into the toilet below. Sitting on the cold tiled floor of your bathroom with the sounds of you dry heaving, did he come into his second realization. 

My god, there was a possibility that you felt the same way. 

five

Bang Chan was having a crisis. The uncomfortable night’s rest that he had on your living room couch did not do him any favors either. Instead of sleeping, he spent most of his night, letting countless scenarios run rampant through his head. After getting fed up with staring at your white ceiling all night, he found himself taking up residency in your kitchen. Watching the coffee pot heat up while drumming his fingers pensively on the countertop. 

“Good morning,” you mumbled, yawning slightly as you padded into the kitchen. Chan jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, shoulders tensing up but then relaxing at your presence. For lack of a better term, you looked like a complete and utter mess. Your hair was sticking up wildly in all directions, your skin significantly paler than usual, and the bags underneath your eyes were more prominent than usual. 

Nevertheless, he still thought you looked breathtaking. 

“Thank you for taking care of me last night. I honestly can’t remember much from last night besides rambling about anything and everything," you laughed, rubbing your eyes as you grabbed a mug from the cabinet above. 

You reached in front of him to grab the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup, brushing your arm against his own as you turned away. His heart immediately skipped a beat, heat flooding to his cheeks as he recalled your confession last night. 

Sipping the hot and bitter liquid, you glanced at his flushed state, taking note of his slightly disheveled appearance as well as his bed head. It was evident that he slept here and took care of you; that was noted by the aspirin and glass of water left on your bedside table. You were more than grateful for everything that he has done for you. However, even in your slightly hungover state, you could notice the way he was avoiding eye contact with you, choosing to fiddle with the sleeves of his sweatshirt instead. 

"Oh god, don't tell me,” you groaned, “what did I say to you last night?” You placed your cup down on the counter, rubbing your temples slightly as you braced yourself for his response. 

Taking another sip of coffee, he paused before flitting his eyes up to meet your own—a small smile dancing across his lips. You were taken aback by his sudden burst of confidence, as you could feel your cheeks heat up in response. 

“Well, you told me that you have this super and extra-hot best friend named Bang Chan. Isn’t it weird that this guy and I have the same name?” Chan had this shit-eating grin on his face before continuing, “oh, and you also mentioned that you might have a big crush on me.” 

The coffee that you were currently drinking almost sprayed across the kitchen, your eyes wide as you quickly swallowed the liquid. If the world could swallow you up at this very moment, you would probably let it—anything to escape the utter embarrassment that you felt. It was now your turn to look everywhere except his eyes, hands fiddling gingerly with the handle of the coffee cup, desperately attempting to think of a way out without confessing the truth. 

Chan took a step closer to you, placing his cup on the counter before running his hand through his disheveled brown locks. He cleared his throat softly, causing you to glance into his eyes. They burned with a type of determination and passion that you have never witnessed first-hand, your lips slightly agape as he began to speak. 

“Because if that’s true, I feel the same way. I like you more than a friend, and I have for a while,” he stopped for a second, wiping the clamminess of his hands off on his jeans, shooting you a sheepish smile. Every single confession that you had given him throughout the years suddenly became apparent, from the warm glow of your cheeks to the bashful smile that adorned your lips—everything became clear. And just like that, his mind was made up. 

“I want to ruin our friendship; let’s date instead.”

[chaolie]

Home is where your heart is [1/3] - Accidental adoption

So, for the Yogurt Days @fundyfiles organized I decided to kind of... just make a fic? Each chapter will show Yogurt slowly growing up, and they can be read separately but together, they create an entire story! Also this ended up super long but hey, that's fine! And you can also read it on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Yogurt

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Injury (not described closely but still)

Chapter 2: Tumblr / Ao3

The sun was beginning to set, and with each minute the forest was growing more dangerous, so Fundy didn’t pay too much mind to anything that wasn’t a monster or a tree in his way. He spent the day walking around, trying to remember any places worth visiting later, he was fairly new to the area after all. He found a few clearings with berries, a couple of promising-looking caves, and a nice, cool stream he could start getting his water from sometime soon, so he considered this trip to be rather successful. He wasn’t too far from his newly-built cottage when he heard a surprisingly loud cry. It didn’t sound like any monster he knew, it was worryingly human-like instead, and whatever was making it seemed to be distressed.

“H- Hello?” he called out into the forest. Rather than answering, the same sound reached his ears again. “Who’s there?!” he demanded, and the noise that followed was somewhat muffled.

He cautiously looked around, nothing seemed to be approaching him, the sun still offered a few more minutes of some light, and he figured it couldn’t be a trap… who would try to trap him of all people? He was the only one living nearby, and even that was new. Another cry came, and each time he heard it, it resembled someone screaming as if they were getting murdered. Slowly, he reached for his sword before taking the first cautious steps in the direction the noise was coming from. Then, silently cursing himself for not doing the more rational thing, he sped up. Whoever was yelling, they’d probably die the second the sun fully sets, and if he ever finds out it was someone he knew… he’d never forgive himself.

“Where are you?” he called out, trying to sound less demanding than previously. Still, the cries seemed to be growing closer yet quieter, as if whoever was hurting was trying to hide. “I want to help, I-” he tried to explain, but as he entered a small clearing, he stopped. “...Oh.”

He found the source of the cries. In the dark green grass, surrounded by deep-brown tree trunks and the night’s shadow, there it was. A small, snow-white fox kit staring back at him with wide eyes, frozen in its place. After a moment of just watching him, it let out the all-too-familiar-now cry and took a tiny step back. Fundy’s heart sank when he noticed the wound on one of the animal’s legs, but all the doubt about following the cries left his mind. Even if it’d mean staying out for the entire night, he would still want to help.

“...Hey there,” he muttered as softly as he could, trying to step forward. The kit took a few more clumsy steps before losing its balance and almost tripping, all while its eyes seemed to widen even more.

Oh, right. Of course. It was a wild fox after all. Fundy shouldn’t expect it to trust a human. Even if the human in question had fox ears and a tail, he was far from being trustworthy in this situation. This, however, brought him to a new idea. He closed his eyes and it took a little effort and energy, it always did, but when he reopened them after a moment, he was a bit shorter, and much more fox-like. He didn’t shapeshift too often, staying in the more animalistic form usually earned him nothing but stares and mean jokes, but it did make at least some animals trust him faster. Hoping that this would be the case this time as well, he took another step forward.

“It’s alright, see?” he said, and while the fox seemed to stay tense, it didn’t try to run again, just watching him curiously this time.

He finally got close enough to crouch down right in front of it. It still stayed in its place, so he took this opportunity to take a better look at its leg. There was some blood, and the wound seemed fresh but, to his relief, not too serious. The kit was probably more shocked and disoriented than in pain, which he figured was a better option. Still, he didn’t think leaving it alone and unattended was something he should do. No matter how non-lethal, the wound should still be taken care of. With a sigh, he carefully reached forward. Oh, he was so ready for the fox to bite him, and if it did, he couldn’t even blame it.

“I’ll help you, okay? I- I’ll take you somewhere safe and we’ll fix up your leg,” he explained despite knowing that the fox probably didn’t understand a word. “I’ll have to carry you there, I think. Please stay calm…”

He reached forward and carefully put his hands on the fox’s sides. It didn’t react by trying to run again, perhaps a bit too surprised to do that, but he didn’t waste his opportunity and picked it up. Only when he was back to his feet and ready to start walking home, the animal yelped and started to squirm in his arms, trying to paw at his hand rather than biting it. Confused and alarmed by its reaction, he tried to hold it in a more comfortable way only to notice a small scratch on its side. It was even less serious than the wound on its leg, it wasn’t even bleeding, but if he accidentally put his hand over it…

“Sorry, sorry,” he hushed, changing the way he held the fox to make sure he doesn’t touch any of its wounds. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he assured and for some unexplainable reason, the kit seemed to calm down at that. Who was he to question that, though?

***

The next morning, Fundy woke up in his giant bed with no memory of a nightmare nor any signs of having one. The best way to start a day, in his humble opinion. He did, however, have a fox kit curled up in one of the bed’s corners, still asleep without a care in the world. Its wounds were covered and it was on a great way to full recovery, Fundy could probably let it go back into the forest in a day, or even earlier, without feeling guilty about doing so. Carefully, he got to his feet, put on his jacket, and snuck over to one of the chests. He wanted the animal to rest some more, it must’ve been very tired the night before. Because how else could he explain how calm it stayed while he fixed its wounds?

He opened the chest, briefly searched through it, pulled out a few berries he put away the day before so he could have them for breakfast, and looked back at his bed. The white fox was already looking back at him, rather curious that alarmed, still curled into a ball. Fundy slowly looked between his little guest and the food in his hand before sighing and approaching it.

“Hungry?” he asked, and the fox seemed to perk up at the question. Once again writing it off as a coincidence, he held out a few berries for the animal to take. “Of course you are,” he sighed while the kit ate all he handed to it and looked at him as if asking for more. Without a word, he placed a few more berries on his bed. “...How are you feeling?”

The fox paused from eating and looked directly at him. Then, its tail wagged slightly and it let out a cheerful little yip before returning to the food. Not an answer Fundy expected, but he expected to get nothing, and this was much better than that. With a muffled chuckle, he placed the last few berries in front of the animal, figuring his guest deserved them for being such a smart little fox.

“That’s good to hear. Eat all of them, buddy. I’m sure I’ll find some more for myself,” he assured. Just before taking the last one, the fox paused, looking between the food and Fundy a couple of times. For a moment, the fox hybrid stayed silent, but when it became apparent that his guest was sharing with him, he finally reached for the berry. “How gracious of you,” he sighed. A single berry wasn’t too much, but it was the thought that counted, wasn't it?

Fundy decided to ignore the fact that normal, wild foxes usually don’t have too many thoughts.

***

A little short of a week passed, and Fundy once again woke up in his bed with no hint of a nightmare. The fox kit, now fully recovered, was sleeping on the pillow right next to his head and he could swear every morning it seemed to be getting closer. He figured it was a sign of growing trust rather than an attempt to suffocate him in his sleep one night, and he preferred that option. It surely seemed to grow more attached to him each day, or maybe it just liked free food? Regardless, it rarely wanted to leave the cottage, and if it did, it was quick to return.

He took a moment to look over the fox, or Yogurt, as he decided to call it, before sitting up in his bed with a fond smile. He couldn’t quite explain it, but having it by his side was strangely comforting. Sure, he might’ve moved to the middle of nowhere strictly to avoid anyone and everyone, but he’d still pick his new companion over full solitude any day. It was a delight to be around, really, even if he now had to gather almost two times as many berries to keep both of them fed. Speaking of, he left the bed and approached the chest now designated to hold food. He opened it and looked at the bed only to see the fox wake up and swiftly raise its head at the sound.

“Good morning,” he chuckled to himself as the animal got to its feet and jumped off the bed to join him by his side. “Looks like someone’s hungry?”

He held out a few berries in his hand and Yogurt didn’t even hesitate before taking them and starting his breakfast. The fox hybrid reached back into the chest and got some more food for himself before going to sit on the edge of his bed. He still hadn’t shifted back into his humanlike form, at first it was to keep his guest more comfortable, then out of worry, he really didn’t want to scare the kit, even if he was suspecting it wouldn’t leave him even if he tried to chase it off. He watched it finish the food and jump back onto the bed, curling up by his side and leaning its head against him, and he was convinced it felt at home around him. Surely it wouldn’t run off if he shifted back…

There was one way to check.

“Hey, Yogurt?” he started, and the kit raised its head back up. “I want to show you something,” he announced, getting off the bed and stretching briefly. When he looked back, the fox was already sitting up, watching him curiously. He always admired how smart his companion appeared to be, it was as if it understood everything he said. “It’s a bit of a trick, okay? And please don’t… panic? It’s not something bad.”

The fox kit continued to stare at him, which was as much of a response as he expected. If it got scared of a more human version of him, he’d just change back and not try that again, it was as simple as that. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and with just a bit of effort shapeshifted back into a human-with-fox-features. He looked back at Yogurt, fully expecting to see the animal backing away in fright, but instead it stayed in its place. It looked at this version of him with something similar to amazement or excitement in its eyes for a moment before closing its eyes to, trying to mimic what Fundy did to change into it.

“Aw, Yogurt,” he chuckled quietly, crouching down by the bed. “I don’t think it’ll work for you, buddy,” he informed. How could he not be fond of this little fox kit if that’s the first idea that came to its mind?

His smile faded into a mix of surprise and confusion when within a blink of an eye, the fox was gone. Well, gone might’ve been the wrong word to use, it was still there, just… not a fox. Instead of an animal, there was a human child sitting on Fundy’s bed. Mostly human, at least. A little boy looking up at him with a gleeful expression, wearing an old, oversized shirt, with a white, puffy tail behind his back and fox-like ears on his head. He had white, curly hair, blue eyes, and despite looking so awfully pale didn’t show any signs of being cold or sick.

“...Huh?” was all Fundy managed to say, looking over the child and trying to figure out how that happened.

The boy didn’t answer, but let out a happy-sounding noise and puffed out his chest in pride. Then, he looked up at the still-speechless man in front of him as if expecting praise, and when he noticed how shocked the man seemed, his grin slowly fell. He curled up slightly, keeping his hands close to himself, and the way he was looking at Fundy now made it seem like he wondered if he did something wrong. Just then the man finally shook off the surprise and found himself smiling. Who cares how this happened? All that mattered was that- Holy shit.

“H-hey, Yogurt!” he said, getting the little kid’s attention. “This is- Did you do that before? This is- good job!” he assured, and with relief watched the happy grin return to his guest’s face.

The child reached forward to him, leaving him lost as to how to respond to the gesture. He hesitantly reached forward too, and the second he was within the Yogurt’s reach, the boy grabbed his hand and impatiently pulled it closer. Then, he moved it up to reach for his hair, and Fundy had to admit that the curls were surprisingly soft for those belonging to a kid who probably didn’t know the meaning of “shower”. He absentmindedly petted Yogurt’s head, causing the boy to let out another joyful noise, and the situation slowly dawned on him.

This was a kid. In his house. In the middle of nowhere. With no parent in sight- who was he kidding, possibly no parent at all. A child holding onto his hand. A little boy he’s been taking care of for a little short of a week. A tiny shapeshifter he couldn’t possibly throw back into the forest, no, he’d never forgive himself if he even tried that… Was he ready for parenthood, though? Well, it’s not like he had too much of a choice in this situation.

With a soft smile, he ruffled Yogurt’s hair before taking his hand back, watching the boy look at him with confusion as to what just happened. Chuckling quietly, he got back up and carefully reached for the boy to pick him up, and he wasn’t met with any resistance. Instead, the kid gently clutched at the back of his jacket the second it was within his reach, pulling himself closer.

“Looks like I have a son,” Fundy muttered to himself, and the boy in his arms let out yet another happy squeal. And somehow, the man had a feeling it’d go okay.

***

Things did go okay. Relatively okay, at least. He managed to get his hands on some clothes that fit his new son, he made sure what foods he could eat, and he even managed to teach him a few words! Yogurt was a bright kid and a fast learner, that much became apparent early on, and it made some things easier. He was also very curious and would get almost-overly energetic, and while it led to some… less fun events, Fundy figured this was just the case with kids.

There was this one time Yogurt got hungry and went through the chests in search of food while Fundy was busy fixing his axe, which broke a few hours prior. He was just about done sharpening it again when he heard his son spitting loudly, a spider eye in hand, and this must’ve been the closest he was to a heart attack in his life. It didn’t end in an absolute disaster, he had some milk somewhere nearby and it didn’t take too much convincing to get Yogurt to drink it, easing the poison’s effects. And sure, the kid might’ve been bummed out for a couple of hours and complained about the bitter taste on his tongue no matter how much water he drank, but he was fine. He was okay.

Fundy threw out any spider eyes he had left in his house after that. No matter how much he liked to occasionally snack on them, they looked too much like berries, and he never wanted to see his son like that again.

Save for that accident, things were seriously going well. Yogurt started joining Fundy on his walks through the forest and could easily lead his dad to well-hidden clearings with the best berries either of them ever tasted. He also occasionally came along when the man was going caving, proudly holding the torch he was handed and bravely informing Fundy whenever he heard a suspicious noise coming from the darkness. They worked well when they were working together, Fundy figured. No matter how tiny, he now had two extra hands wherever he went. And if most of the time his son held onto his tail to make sure he didn’t get lost rather than "helping", so what? At least he wasn’t alone.

Despite moving here for some solitude, he hated the idea of it now.

Eventually, his nightmares returned. They always would, it didn’t take him long to realize that. He could now tell when they happened even before looking outside to find a desert, the empty spot in the bed said it all. And when he unavoidably woke up screaming, he didn’t have to wake up alone. The first time it happened, Yogurt was more confused than anything, the next few just made the boy look more and more concerned, but every time he was quick to give his dad the biggest hug he possibly could and refused to go back to sleep until the man was completely calm. Words could not express how much Fundy appreciated that.

***

The day Fundy decided to break the news to his son, Yogurt seemed to already sense that something was wrong. They sat down by the bed, two fully-packed bags by Fundy's side as he tried to pick his words right. The kid watched him with curiosity, and he was worried that no matter how he said what he had to, it’d upset the boy. But he had to tell him today.

“So, Yogurt…” he started nervously. “We’re moving?”

“...Mo… ving?” the boy repeated, tilting his head in confusion. Any other day, Fundy would be proud of him for learning to pronounce a new word, but he had something else to focus on this time.

“Yeah, moving. We’ll go live somewhere else. It’s a nice place, it’s not too hot there, and there are good people there,” he explained, but it didn’t seem to convince the kid, who now held his hands close to himself and watched the man with a small frown on his face.

“Why…?” he asked slowly.

“Well, I have a… friend there. He said we can move there. It’s good to live with other people, it’s safer,” he explained. Yogurt frowned and looked around the house they were in.

“Safe,” he stated finally, a word he learned well while keeping a lookout for monsters when caving.

“...Well, yeah, it’s safe here. It’s safer there, though. Imagine what would happen if a horde of monsters appeared here overnight. We would struggle to chase them off, right? And if we lived with more people, we could join forces. We’ll be safer there,” he explained in a way he figured the boy would understand. He apparently did, because his confusion was soon replaced by a saddened expression.

“...But.... home?” he asked, and Fundy couldn’t help but sigh.

“I know,” he nodded. “But look, this wasn’t always our home. I lived far, far away from here and you lived in the forest. It’s our home now and it’s nice, but… sometimes we have to go somewhere new. And it’s still home. Home is… where you feel safe and comfortable, yeah? And we’ll both feel like that in Las Nevadas,” he assured. The boy still seemed upset, but nodded along.

“...Okay,” he muttered. After a moment of hesitance, Fundy gently poked his son’s chest.

“You know what someone once told me when I didn’t want to move? That home is wherever your heart is. If you love the new place, it’ll be your home. If you love this house more, it’ll still be your home. Even if we won’t live here, we can always visit.”

If the fact that the man himself wasn’t sure how his explanation went from “Las Nevadas will be our home because it’s good” to “This cottage can still be our home if you like it, we just won't live here” was anything to go off of, it was a bad explanation. Though, after a moment of thought, his son took a step forward and trapped him in a hug. For a moment, the man thought he was just looking for comfort, and that maybe he should’ve put more thought into his words… But then he heard the boy mutter “Home” quietly, and suddenly he was the one doing his best not to cry.

From that day forward, Yogurt decided that no matter where he went, it would be his home. The berry patches, the caves, the cottage, and the new place. With his dad, it was a home.

[heller-a-good-time]

HERES THE MINI FIX-IT FIC IVE BEEN WRITING ALL WEEK! HAD TO GET IT OUT BEFORE THE FINALE TONIGHT SO ENJOY

This was the tenth night in a row that Dean wandered around the bunker completely wasted. He would stumble into bookshelves and chairs and inevitably, more booze, while his entire world seemed to spin and a goofy smile was plastered on his face. It was the only time he felt like he was able to smile.

Sam would always be asleep, or on a late night date with Eileen. Whenever he came back he’d find Dean in his drunken state and try to encourage him to stop drinking for the night. He would usually fail and then decide to leave him be.

Because he knows.

Dean never took all the times Cas was presumably dead very well. In fact, every time it had happened, it wasn’t pretty. But Dean had never been like this. Seemingly so broken that it was impossible to put the pieces back together again. It was different this time.

Dean couldn’t deal with the world sober anymore. He’d tried.

Everytime he did, he’d hear Cas’s speech ringing in his ears. When he closed his eyes he could still see his angel’s smiling face. After finally confessing his love.

And then the regret would shortly follow.

Because Dean couldn’t help himself but think that Cas was gone because of him. He wanted to go after Billie. He led them into that room with no escape plan. He was Cas’s true happiness.

And then after those thoughts would cement themselves into his brain for the evening, he would get rid of him in the most effective way he knew how. He would drink. He wouldn’t just drink until he was dizzy and euphoric, he would drink until everything went black and he couldn’t feel anything.  

Because even through all the clumsiness and the giggling, he could still hear his voice.

I love you.

Just like all the other nights, Dean could still hear him. He reached for a new bottle of scotch off their shelf in the map room before falling into a chair with a glass already in hand.

He poured himself a refill, almost missing the glass completely. His limbs felt like Jello and the room wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to focus. But eventually he got enough whiskey into his glass.

As he took his first sip of his new drink, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander down. He looked down at the table he was sitting at and he read the name Castiel over and over again.

Carving his name into the table with the rest of his family’s initials was the first thing he did when he returned to the bunker. He refused to let himself relax with a beer in his hand until he completed that task.

Because even while he was fighting Chuck—the person he’d been hellbent on killing for months, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas.

But now when he looked down and saw his name everytime he sat at this table, it felt like it was mocking him. It just felt like a glaring reminder of who he couldn’t save.

Goodbye, Dean.

Dean took another sip of his whiskey. He could feel his burdening thoughts only getting louder. He hated himself for looking down at this damn table.

He pushed his glass to the side and closed his eyes. He laced his fingers together and propped them up on his elbows. A tear slipped down his face.

His voice was harsh and weak as he babbled into the void for no one to hear, “C-Cas.....Cas please.....I need you.....You’re my best friend......You’re family.” His lip quivered as he started to break down. He knew that wasn’t what he should say to him. But the one thing he wanted to say felt like it was trapped on his tongue. He’d suppressed himself from saying it all these years to the point where he felt like even when Cas wasn’t there and it was now known to Dean that his love was requited, he still couldn’t say it. He could only say everything else that he used as a replacement for that three letter sentence.

By now Dean was crying and covering his eyes with his hands. Little gasps escaped his lips in between his attempt to continue praying to the angel.

“Cas....Cas.....Please......Please come home.” He sobbed. He then got to overwhelmed to keep going.

He desperately reached for his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey. He knew now that he really needed to black out tonight. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

He let his head sink all the way down. His cheek laid against the wood and his arms were sprawled out on either side of him. His tears slowly rolled down his face and left wet spots on the table.

He didn’t even have the strength to get up to refill his glass. He didn’t even have the strength to calm himself down. He had given up on getting himself drunk enough to make him numb. Instead, he was feeling everything a little too intensely.

Probably because he just kept trying to push it down. And now it was starting to rise to the surface and he didn’t know how to cope with it.

He’d stayed in a state of shock for longer than he expected. The crippling sadness had started to settle in the first night while they were researching a plan on how to kill Chuck. But he’d grabbed the alcohol early enough that his emotions couldn’t overpower him in time.

But then it finally hit him the following night.

When him and Sam were supposed to be celebrating, Dean felt like he wanted to throw himself off the top floor of a building. He didn’t let Sam see him break down though. At least, not at first. But after ten straight days of his favorite coping mechanism failing him, Sam witnessed some tears here and there. He’d tried to comfort him. But he knew there was nothing he could really do to fix him.

Dean stayed motionless as he silently cried against the table for he doesn’t know how long. It felt like hours.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the whooshing sound of wings behind him.

It made Dean let out a loud gasp but he knew he had to be drunk. The alcohol in his veins had to be making him image things.

He felt a hand placed on his left shoulder.

“Dean.”

No. It can’t be.

He lifted his head slowly before looking over his shoulder. When he saw a tan trench coat he immediately stumbled out of his chair before failing to stand on his own and falling to the floor, the chair he was sitting on tipped over in the process.

When Castiel bent down to help him up and his piercing blue eyes stared into his, Dean couldn’t breathe. His mouth just hung open as he looked back at him.

He was here. Standing in front of him. His angel. Without a scratch on him. He still looked as beautiful as he always did. And Dean wanted so hard to not trust it. But every fiber in his being wanted to believe he was really standing in front of him right now.

Cas tried propping Dean against the table but it was no use. Dean was already practically launching himself into him, hugging him. His tears had transitioned from sadness into pure joy. His crying got so intense that he was gasping for air and his vision was too blurry to see.

He hugged Cas as tightly as he possibly could. Almost as if he was terrified he’d disappear again if he didn’t.

At some point he felt Cas hug him back—more gentle considering Dean was practically struggling to breathe.

They stayed in the embrace for several minutes as Dean silently cried into Cas’s shoulder, staining the fabric of his trench coat. All Cas could do was hold him and smile. He’d missed him. They’d missed each other.

Dean turned his head to the side as he had just begun to compose himself, “Cas.....Cas is this really you?”

Now it was the angel starting to get emotional as he answered, “Yes. I promise you, It’s really me.” His voice cracked in a way that Dean had only heard once before as he was saying goodbye to him for what they had thought would be forever.

Dean’s mind was flooded with so many questions that he was too baffled to even speak coherently, “H-How did you.....Why is this...”

Cas finally pulled away from the hug because he wanted to look at him again. When he saw Dean’s tear stained face, his smile grew. He couldn’t believe he was home. He couldn’t believe he had Dean back. He then realized Dean was kept in suspense waiting for his explanation. He cleared his throat and tried to answer him as composed as he could, “The empty.....it’s loud now. All the angels awoke and rivaled against her and eventually got so desperate for sleep....she set us free. I-I woke up in a random field and had been trying to find my way back, and I....I heard your prayers.”

Dean watched a tear actually stream down Cas’s face. It immediately prompted him to pull him into another quick hug. He knew he had to cut it short otherwise Dean would probably never let go of him ever again.

At some point while they were both trying to contain their crying, the realization that Dean had heard the sound of wings, which had almost become unfamiliar to him at this point, made him gasp again like he did when he heard them ten minutes ago, “Wait a second, you have—“

“My wings. They’re back.” Cas continued to flash Dean the widest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He knew how badly Cas had missed them. And hell, he’d earned them.

The two things Cas wanted had been returned to him.

Dean nodded and felt like he could talk to him now without bursting into tears, “That probably has something to do with Jack being the new boss.”

Cas got excited just by the mention of his name, “That was the first thing I heard over angel radio when I returned......You did it. You beat him.” His good mood seemed to be dampened a little as he looked down, “I should have been here to help.”

Dean almost scoffed at his self pity, “Cas....I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”  He looked over at the table at his empty whiskey glass and suddenly noticed how sober he felt. Dean was just plastered and sobbing his eyes out on the table but when his angel returned to him all of his senses went on high alert. The room wasn’t even spinning anymore.

They both felt air settle in between them after the mentioning of Cas’s sacrifice. Dean couldn’t help but replay the moment in his head over and over like he’d been doing for the last ten days. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he should have told him. He wanted to tell him the three words he’d been dying to say for so long, but he knew if he said them in that moment, Cas only would’ve disappeared faster. So all he could do was stand there, frozen in shock as he realized he was losing the most important person in his life.

Cas sensed the tension that was building due to the silence, “We don’t have to talk about it.” He looked down again, seeming a little sadder than he was before. Clearly he’d never expected to face Dean again after his confession. And now he was terrified of rejection. So he figured it would be best if both of them forgot it happened.

But Dean couldn’t forget. He sighed and took a step closer to Cas, “No, I want to talk about it.” The way Cas looked at him in surprise made Dean’s stomach do flips. He reminded himself he needed to keep going. He kept eye contact with his angel as he spoke, “Cas there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a very long time.”

Cas tried to silence him, “Dean it’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” He knew either way whatever he told him would be potentially bad. He feared rejection. But he feared the other possibility even more. He was terrified if he heard those words from the man he loved, he’d feel truly happy again. He was scared of going back. He couldn’t watch himself get dragged away from Dean for a second time.

But Dean didn’t listen, “Actually I do. Because I learned from losing you that I can’t be gutless and in denial anymore. Not with you, at least. Because I didn’t realize how little time left I had to say it. And I’ve blown all my other chances to say it.”

All these years Dean had wanted to. Sometimes he actually convinced himself to do it. But then as the words came out of his mouth, they weren’t what he had in mind. It was always, You’re family or You’re my best friend or I need you or I missed you, buddy. And he felt stupid every single time it happened.

He saw the worried look of Cas’s face and he suddenly realized why he didn’t want to hear it, Dean sighed and took another step closer to him, “Cas, I don’t know if this makes me selfish. But I’m willing to lose you again just so I can finally tell you.”

Cas grew teary eyed again. This was something he’d waited over a decade to hear,  “Then say it.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he felt all the walls he’d built up over the years fall. He’d tried so hard to just look at Castiel, the angel, as his best friend. But he couldn’t. He was so much more than that. He always had been.

He opened his eyes again and noticed Cas had taken a step closer to him. They were a mere inch away from each other. He let the angel’s blue eyes pierce into his soul as he stared deep into them, “I love you too.”

The weight of the words immediately came crashing down on him. But he didn’t have enough time to emotionally deal with it because Cas was already kissing him. Desperate and passionate.

Butterflies exploded in Dean’s stomach. He could barely even catch his breath. This was happening. His angel was kissing him.

He wasted no time kissing Cas back, smiling against his lips as he did it. He’d waited so long.

Both of their eyes fell closed as they melted into the kiss. Dean placed his hands against Cas’s cheeks while Cas held onto Dean’s hips. They moved even closer until there was absolutely no space between them. Their lips moved in perfect harmony and it felt as though they were each other’s missing pieces.

Dean’s head was swimming in euphoria and his heart couldn’t stop racing. He’d kissed plenty of people in his life. More than plenty. But he’d never been kissed like this. So lovingly.

And now that he knew what it felt like, he never wanted anything but this ever again. Kissing the person he loved was way better than he ever would have imagined.

Cas completely caught him off guard when he pushed Dean down onto the table, finally causing them to break away from the kiss. He landed on his back as his eyes widened at the angel who was currently in the process of climbing on top of him. His knees were planted on either side of Dean’s hips and Dean laid in between them.

Dean assumed Cas would lean back into him and reconnect their lips, but instead he let his hands travel up Dean’s chest before finding his shoulders and grasping at the material of his flannel. For the next thirty seconds they worked together clumsily shrugging it off of him.

As Cas took the now discarded flannel from Dean’s hands to toss it aside, his eyes landed on something on the table.

And within a few seconds, Castiel was close to tears again.

This prompted Dean to sit up and look at Cas slightly confused but nonetheless concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Dean proceeded to follow his gaze when he didn’t respond. And he realized Cas was looking at his own name carved into the table.

Dean stared at the name for awhile before giving a sad smile and eventually saying something, “It just didn’t feel right not being there.” His voice came out soft.

Cas blinked away his tears and nodded. He then did lean into Dean that time and give him peck on the lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

(This will probably be up on AO3 too when I get a sec)

[bluesylveon2]

Killing Me Softly With His Song

Summary: Hange Zoe goes to a bar and listens to a mystery man’s song

A/N: I suck at summaries btw. This is my first attempt at writing angst and I appreciate any feedback. I recommend listening to Anne Murray’s Killing Me Softly With His Song (found here). It will help you understand my intended tone for the fic and Hange’s emotions. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha. The song, Killing Me Softly with His Song, is performed by Anne Murray.

It was a cold winter night in Paradis City. It was quiet, peaceful, and empty, a perfect atmosphere for Hange Zoe, especially on a day like today.

The street lights flickered now and then. The chilly wind blew in Hange’s direction, causing her ponytail to move around, and she pulled her tan trenchcoat closer to her body. She rubbed her gloved hands together to keep herself warm. Her boots clicked on the pavement as she sauntered her way to her destination.

Every Friday, a small bar named Wall Maria would host a karaoke night for their patrons to join. Hange started frequenting this place for seven months now. She was having a horrible day and was walking down the street when she accidentally ran into this bar. She walked in only to get a drink when she heard one of the patrons singing. Hange later found out about the karaoke night from some regulars and started visiting the bar every week. 

This time, Hange was alone. She greeted Furlan, the bouncer, with a small smile as she entered the bar and made her way to the bar to order a beer. She greeted the bartender, Isabel, one of the two bartenders who work there. Hange noted to herself to leave her a nice tip before she sits down. 

Once Hange got her beer and gave Isabel a generous tip, she went to her regular seat in the back. She preferred not to sit up close and center, and she could quickly leave if she needed to. At least she had a good view of the stage.  

Hange sat alone at her table. Not that she minded it at all. The table she sat on was intended for two people. Sometimes, a stranger might sit with Hange, and she would make some small talk. Luckily for her, she was alone today. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone. 

She scanned this week’s crowd. The bar was almost packed with people today. Everyone was chatting quietly with one another until the person performed on stage. The stage had one stand-up microphone and a small stool to sit on. 

Hange's eyes widen before she could take a sip of her beer. There was a person she had overlooked walking to the stage to perform. He was a short man with short jet black hair in an undercut, dark grey eyes, and a permanent scowl on his face. He also wore black slacks and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. One look made others aware his personality screamed tidy. 

Her breath hitched a bit as she watched the man make his way to the stage while carrying a black guitar case. 

Hange’s mind was too clouded with questions to hear one of the staff workers announce the man performing. The man himself pulled out the brown acoustic guitar and placed it on his lap. He took a deep breath as the crowd waited to hear what song he would sing. 

The crowd did not expect the man to have such a wonderful voice. Yet, it sounded almost sad and carried a hint of regret. The song he chose fitted with his voice. Some of the women in the crowd gave the man a look of pity.

Meanwhile, Hange felt flushed with fever. She felt embarrassed as if the crowd was looking at her. In reality, the crowd was not paying attention to her at all. She could tell some of the women watching was giving the man pity looks without actually seeing it herself. She felt as though those pity looks were aimed at her. 

The man continued singing his song. It was as if he was painting Hange’s entire life. To her, it was as if he read a whole book dedicated to her and wrote a song about it. He included all the good, the bad, and the in-betweens.

Hange wanted to throw up, and it was not from her beer. She barely drank it because she was too stunned by the man singing. Every word he sang felt like he was not singing on stage. To her, it felt as if he was standing in front of her, plunging a knife into her heart.

She prayed for him to finish. Yet, he continued singing. 

Run. Get out of there! The voice in her head yelled. However, Hange was glued into her seat. She was unsure if someone nailed her to it or if the man’s voice lulled her to stay still. It was almost like a siren’s song. He was continuously stabbing her heart.

He strummed Hange’s pain with his fingers. Stab.

His voice started wavering a bit. Stab.

He closed his eyes as his emotions started to take over him. Stab.

The man sang his song clear and loud for everyone to hear. Hange felt the knife in her heart go deeper, and it began killing her slowly. Ever so slowly. 

Suddenly, the man opened his eyes. Hange was unsure about what exactly she did for his eyes to ignore the audience's eyes and stare directly at hers. Steel gray eyes met amber brown eyes. 

Shit. 

Hange could feel the fear rush in her body. She needed to get out of there. Now.

Hange quickly grabbed her things, ignored her drink, and made her way out of the bar. She wiped some incoming tears from her eyes, ignored Furlan’s “are you ok?” by giving him a quick “I’m fine,” and walked to the nearest bench to sit down and breathe. 

Hange ran her hands through her already messy hair and sat down on the first bench she saw. She placed her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands.

She cried. 

The dam had finally opened in her heart. Everything building up from the past few months came crashing down all because of this man’s song. 

She continued crying and ignored the footsteps heading her way. It was probably Furlan coming in with a glass of water so she could calm down.

“Hange.”

Hange's heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice from anywhere. She was expecting anger, disgust, sadness coming from him. She was shocked to hear some relief in his voice. 

She looked up to find the same man who sang earlier, standing on the sidewalk just a few feet away from where she sat. He made no move to walk any closer to her. He was probably cautious if Hange decided to suddenly run away.

The man looked as if he ran a marathon. He was slightly out of breath, his once tidy hair was now windswept from running, and his shirt was slightly wrinkled. To her, he looked ethereal as some snow started falling from the sky and onto his hair and clothes.

Hange was shocked that the man did not bring his jacket or his guitar with him outside. He must have immediately run out after his performance to see her. 

Hange looked into the man’s dark gray eyes. They were slightly red, and she could see that he was starting to tear up.

The same eyes she noticed would steal glances her way in high school.

The same eyes of the man who loved her and would do anything for her.

The same eyes she first said “I love you” to.

The same eyes that held so much sadness and despair after Hange broke his heart many months ago.

The same eyes that were looking at her now with relief. It felt as if no time had passed between them, and they were happy like before. She still loves those eyes. 

After all, on this day seven months ago, Hange Zoe broke Levi Ackerman’s heart. 

She had already caused enough damage to both of them. She was done running away from her fears. The fact that Levi had found her after all this time...It sparked a familiar feeling in her heart. It reassured her that everything will be ok in the end. Levi missed her as much as she missed him. 

Now it was time for her to fix it.

Hange smiled at the man. She did not care about how messy she looked or if she had tears running down her face. Heck, she did not care if it was snowing and that it made the situation look like they were stars in a Hallmark movie. The man she still loves and regrets leaving was here. 

“Levi.”

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish

I left the ending open-ended on purpose. I guess you could say Hange left because she had commitment issues, but it’s up to you :)

I tried to make Levi emotional because he is emotional in canon.

My future fics should be in past tense. Only the MM one is present. Sorry for being inconsistent!

Again, I appreciate any feedback.

[detroitbydark]

Character: Commander Fox x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Secretary!reader finds herself wanting to help her Commander. It's her job. It certainly is not because she's got a foolish crush. The Commander certainly doesn't feel the same...

A/N: Unpopular opinion: I love Fox. Our dear Commander gets far too much hate and not enough fics. I'm going to do my part to correct that. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think and if I should write more.  

------

The datapad has been loaded to the brim-reports, warrants, requisitions, schedules, and  guard rotations- awaiting the Commanders attention. You frown as you review the list you’ve uploaded. It’s hours worth of data the Commander will need to review and sign off on. Your not ready to spring it on him. He needed his rest. Since the incident with the Chancellor and the rogue clone trooper, Fives, he seemed to be getting too little of it. 

He’d stumbled in this morning at 0700 sharp- per his normal but the faint scent of fire-water hung in his wake. He’d been out all night again, too regimented to be late, but slipping in his seeming ability to care for himself.

You’d wanted to ask him how he was feeling, to suss out exactly what he needed from you. Though you’d been his personal secretary for nearly a year you still hadn’t figured out how to read his many moods. 

When you’d begin working  for clone Commander Fox he had been so clear and concise with his expectations. He liked his schedule, thrived from it. He required order and regulation. It was your job to keep his day running smoothly. You’d worked hard. Having proven yourself capable he’d reached a point where he seemed to trust you to know what he needed. 

It was anxiety inducing on the best of days. 

You were proud of his trust in you, privately preening over your ability to know what he wanted before he had to say anything but times like these- the times when he’d say not one word to you for days and arrive each morning like he’d come directly from the cantina, that you wished you had just a little more insight. You didn’t want to disappoint. You wanted him to value you, to know that you were needed and important.

You groan quietly. You were pathetic.Your fingers worry the hem of your uniform skirt. It hadn’t taken you more than a week before you’d begun to harbor a crush on the stoic clone and it had only grown worse the longer you sat at the desk outside his office.

This morning you’d let him walk by with only a soft, barely-there greeting slipping past your lips. Commander Fox had given even less in return, merely nodding silently as he’d entered his office. Your shoulders had slumped as his office door had slid shut, only to open again immediately with a quick growl to hold all comms.

You’d spent the morning turning away all attempts to see the Commander. You’d fought back your reserved nature to hold your ground with the pushier inquiries, offering soft promises to his men and higher ups. 

Yes, I’ll make sure Commander Fox knows you need to speak with him

The commander is indisposed right now. Can I take a message for you?

He should be available after lunch Lieutenant Thire. May I schedule for then?

The last, Lieutenant Thire, had let his irritation be known with a huff. You apologized but told him the Commander was taking care of very important matters. His look had been skeptical as he’d turned and left the office, his helmet held tightly under his arm.

 It was nearly lunchtime now and you’d not seen hide nor hair of your boss. You’d hoped, given some time, the Commander would be able to work past the hangover you were sure he had and rejoin the world of the living, knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to put off the list of inquiries into his whereabouts much past the lunch hour. So you did what you did best and set to work making things run smooth. You sent an intern, the son of a well to do senator who was looking to add GAR experience to his application for the naval academy to his resume, to grab lunch with a few spare credits from your pocketbook.

When he returned you fixed a tray. balancing a mug of black caf, nuclear hot, and a Shawda club sandwich on the tray in one hand and the loaded datapad under your arm as you knock once on the Commander’s door. You frown, the scowl feeling as if it’s becoming permanent whenever Commander Fox was in your thoughts as of late. You use your hip to bump the control panel, silently moving into the darkened room as the door slides open. It closes behind you quickly, leaving you struggling to get a bearing on your surroundings. You blink rapidly for a moment before shutting your eyes entirely to allow them to adjust to the wild change in lighting before you reopen them, able to focus more readily in the low light. The blinds on the low window looking out into the midst of Coruscant are pulled tight with only a small sliver of light filtering through.

He’s sitting straight, feet on the floor and hands flat on his desk. You’d learned quickly that The Commander rarely if ever seemed to relax, at least not when you or other civilians were around. You’d walked on him and Thire a few months ago, joking and laughing with one another. The difference had been stark. His posture loose and relaxed compared to the stiff controlled way he held himself now.  He glances up, helmet still firmly in place. The blank black visor follows your movements as you pad softly across the room.

“I’ve brought you a little something.” You mumble setting the small tray down in front of him. The helmet flows from the sandwich and caf back up to you.

“I would have been fine with a ration pack.” His voice is a low rumble. Not quite disapproving but not particularly warm either. You’re sure it’s not meant to sound discouraging. He’s just pointing out a fact. Still, you feel your heart sink. You’d never worked for such a hard person to read and your natural inclination was toward pleasing those around you. Sometimes it felt like the harder you tried the colder he became.

“Yes, of-of course Sir.” You fumble, “I just thought you deserved something with a little more substance. It’s from Dex’s.” You say as if explanation.  A weak smile crosses your face. “I’ve also got some stims” you reach into your pocket for the packet and slidie it across his desk before he has time to say anything.

“Do I look like I need stims, Little Mouse?”

Little Mouse.

He’d taken to calling you the nickname after he’d heard some of the men referring to you as the little mouse scurrying about his office. It was embarrassing- except when it came from Fox’s lips. Something about it made your belly twist in the most delightful way.

Fox’s chair swivels to the side and you're both relieved and disappointed when his attention is no longer focused on you and instead on the ribbons of light filtering in through the window. He pushes the stim packet back toward you And waves his gloved hand dismissively.

“What else have you got for me, Mouse?”

You hesitate for a moment as he holds his hand out impatiently. You slide the datapad into his hand. Your fingers brush against his gloved ones. You quickly pull away. The commander's helmet cocks slightly and though you can’t see his eyes you feel his gaze on you assessingly.

You clear your throat. Something about the Commander has always made you nervous. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, competent and prideful, the air about him like he could take on the world and win.

“Sir, you really should use the stims. You’ve got a full schedule of meetings this afternoon and that’s before you have drills and range time scheduled-“

He holds up his hand and you stop short.

“It's just a headache. I don’t need stims.”

“But they’d help”

“Y/N” his voice his sharp and you swallow hard, “I said-“

“I could help then!” The words have left your mouth before you’d even had time to weigh the pros and cons of them. You’re just a shocked as the Commander at your sudden outburst.

Fox reaches up to his helmet and you hear the soft hiss of release before he’s pulling it over his head. Dark circles sit under his eyes. He looks exhausted. 

And gorgeous. 

Even with the uncharacteristic shadow of facial hair and weariness seeping from his pores he was absolutely captivating. 

The sharp cut of his jaw and the warm brown hue of his eyes draw your attention like they did everytime you’d gotten a glimpse of him. You don’t know where to look as you try to burn a few more details of the Commanders face into your memory banks to be pulled up and reviewed at a later time.

“How do you propose making my headache, go away?” He questions with a raised brow.

Your legs feel stiff as you move closer. His eyes are locked in your every step. “My Mama used to get horrible headaches” you begin softly “used to need to lay in a dark room and suffer through them till they let her be. I learned a few tricks over the years to help her. I c-could see if they work for you?”

“Tricks?” He chuckles, “wielding a bit of the Force, Little Mouse? Should I call the Temple and tell them they’ve misplaced one of their Jedi?”

Your eyes dip and your cheeks burn. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t speak out of turn with the Commander. You-

“You all talk now?” His voice has softened and you're even more embarrassed. He feels like he’s got to handle you with kid gloves. You can feel it in the way his words flow over your skin. You’re supposed to be a reflection of him. How could you help him maintain-

“Little Mouse, get out of your head.” 

You look up at the order and glimpse satisfaction roll across his face.

“Come here and heal me if you will” You hear the teasing tone to his voice and you swallow hard before moving to comply. This was your idea after all. You could be useful. Helpful. 

You move around the desk slowly, keeping your eyes locked on the Commander’s. You feel him pick you apart with his gaze. He’s studying you, like a predator waiting for their prey to show a weak point. It’s a sorry line of thinking because suddenly you imagine Commander Fox, your boss, stalking you, his eyes burning with a want that you could only dream he felt for you. you move to his side. Your knee presses into his, bare skin against cool plastoid. 

Your heart flutters, beating against the bars of your chest. If he notices your nerves- and how can he not- he says nothing. Your hands rise slowly, hesitantly. You can not only feel but see your hands tremble as they move closer. You ball them into fists, squeezing until your knuckles go white. You release them just before they come in contact.

He’s warm. It’s the first thing you notice as one hand comes to rest against his forehead and the other cradles the back around where his occipital lobe was located. He kept his hair high and tight, not completely shaved along the sides but so short that it was almost nonexistent. You feel the soft prickle of it at the back of his head. You bite back the urge to run your fingers over it. He seems nearly as tense as you. 

“You need to relax Sir” your encouragement is barely a whisper. Fox inhales deeply, you focus on  the rise and subsequent fall of his shoulders. He repeats it twice more before you’ve seen enough tension drain to begin. 

You place pressure through your palms as if you're trying to bring them together in the middle. The Commander grunts but you’re already relaxing back. You repeat it, pressing your hands toward one another then easing off. The Commander lets out a soft sigh of breath as you continue to repeat the pattern. You’re glad he’s relaxing into your touch because you feel as if you're only growing more tense, nerves balling in your tummy. You’ve never touched him before outside of the accidental flutter of fingers against his own. Now your so close you can feel the heat radiate from his body. He tips his head forward into your hand and turning and repositioning his chair slightly so you suddenly find yourself standing between his spread knees. 

“That’s good, Little Mouse” he hums lowly and the sound shoots straight to your core. You barely have time to wrap your head around the feeling when his hand is coming up to rest at your hip. You squeak out a sound, his grip tightens, “don’t stop.” He orders.

“Yes, S-sir” 

“It’s Fox, Mouse. Call me Fox.”

“Yes Comm- Fox” Your hands continue a gentle pulse of pressure against his head. His thumb begins a series of slow, maddening circles at your hip.

“See that’s not so bad is it.” His voice has gone low, silky like you’ve never heard it. So much more dangerous than the usual gravel of it. “You’re always trying to take care of me, aren’t you, precious girl?”

You open your mouth to say something- anything- when the door slides office door slides open suddenly. You stumble away, as if you’ve been burned by his touch. Fox’s hand drops away but he makes no other indication anything is amiss. You blink dumbly into the bright light backlighting the new arrival.

“Am I interrupting?” Lieutenant Thire’s voice sounds amused as you take another step away and lower your eyes. You mumble a quick excuse and slip toward the door. You hear the Lt. chuckle. Fox’s voice, so much like Thire’s but yet so different calls after you.

“We’ll continue this conversation later, Y/N”

[ererokii]

What Goes Around Comes Around

T. Shouto x Fem! Reader (inspired song fic)

Song: What Goes Around by Justin Timberlake

Warnings: angst, cheating, like one scene of sex (very small scene), characters are 18+

Italics mean flashback

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is my first fic and my first attempt at writing angst so I’m sorry if this is quite shit and of course it had to be my boy (pls forgive if there are typos). Also big shoutout to @shoutodoki and @shoutosplaything (also thank u for beta reading gabbi) for letting me tag them!

Don’t wanna think about it

Don't wanna talk about it

I’m just so sick about it

I can’t believe it's ending this way

Just so confused about it

Feeling the blues about it

I just can’t do it without ya

Can you tell me is this fair?

14 days

It’s been 14 days since the last time you saw Shouto Todoroki. You refused to acknowledge him as the man that you once loved but deep down inside you knew that you still love him. Everyday your thoughts kept haunting you as if it was a song that kept repeating itself without your permission.

Was I good enough?

Did he not love me anymore?

Could I have known before it happened?

Could it have been fixed?

Maybe I wasn’t putting enough effort?

You thought that your relationship was perfect. Like every other couple, you had your ups and downs. To something as silly as leaving the dirty dishes there or something as serious as miscommunication. Regardless, that was the best relationship you’ve been in for a while. Thought Shouto was the one to be. The one you would spend the rest of your life with. You guys were the It Couple. All your friends would always compliment on your relationship. Soulmates. That’s how everyone described your relationship with Shouto. A bond that could never be broken. The universe bringing two people together to forge the most perfect relationship. That’s what everyone used to say.

Tonight, just like every night you stared up at the ceiling refusing to let sleep take over your body as all you saw was Shouto when you closed your eyes. Laying on the couch, you stared up at the ceiling like you were in a trance, unmoving. The blanket lazily hangs off of the couch as you refused to shield your body from the cold. The unfinished dinner stayed on the granite counter in your kitchen, the half-empty wine bottle laid untouched on your low table. How pathetic you thought to yourself as you let out a weak chuckle and sat up slowly, running a hand through your messy hair. A bang like knock to your door startled you, making you turn your head quickly and could have sworn you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Who in the hell..” you mumbled and stood up, wiping your sweaty palms against your shorts as you made your way to the door, stopping in front of it. You let out a deep sigh and fixed your hair quickly to the best of your ability.

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

You let out an indescribable noise as you quickly covered your mouth. Why was he here? What does he need? Is he drunk? Millions of questions raced through your mind. Even with the door separating you two, you could still feel his intense gaze burning holes right through it.

“Y/N please open the door. I just want to talk to you and explain things.”

“There is nothing to talk about Todoroki” you snapped and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. He internally cringed whenever you used his last name. It sounded so foreign to him whenever the word escaped your mouth that he honestly forgot what it sounded like.

“Please all I ask of you is to let me explain”

You let out a low groan and unlocked the door quickly, opening it with force that even Shouto was surprised you would agree to face him.

“Explain?! You’re gonna explain how you oh so magically or you tripped and stuck your dick in another girl’s vagina?! Cause if you have an amazing explanation please be my guess and enlighten me.”

“Y/N come on don’t act like that..”

“No! You have no right to tell me how I should be acting! And don’t you fucking dare call me by my name. We aren’t formal anymore” You snapped and felt tears starting to form. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see you cry. Not again.

~~~~

The thought of marrying Shouto has been on your mind for the longest. Being in a relationship for 3 almost 4 years with him was amazing, you were deeply in love with him and you wanted to take the next step.

Recently you noticed a difference in Shouto’s behavior. He lost his loving touch. As time went on you noticed the bridge separating both of you as if it forbade you to meet in the middle once again. It started off small. He would come home later than usual. Yes being a Pro-Hero called for him to be out at unusual times of the night but this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t right.

“Shouto!” You called out from the front of your apartment, slipping on your shoes. “I’m going to be out for a while with Ochako! I shouldn’t be gone too long!”

Silence.

You were met with silence.

A frown formed on your face as you glanced at the man sitting down on the couch, staring down at his phone. ”Shouto?” This time you were met with a grunt. Least it was better than silence. “Did you even listen to what I said?”

“No. What did you say”

Ouch. That hurt.

“I said I was going out. With Ochako” you announced slowly, expecting that he would take notice this time. ”Uh-huh. That's cool.” he mumbled, not looking up from his phone once as a small smile formed on his face. ”Well..okay then I'll see you later then. I love you.”

Once again you were met with silence but this time he lifted his head up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes looked unrecognized, something you haven't seen since the beginning of your friendship. ”Ok. Stay as long as you want.”

That was some of the red flags you should have taken notice of, but you were so blinded by your love for him that you didn't bring it up.

You told your best friend, Ochako Uraraka about the situation and she simply told you that you were probably overreacting and just needed to speak with the man himself. “Ochako you know he doesn't even acknowledge me anymore. He doesn't say ’I love you’, he's not affectionate anymore and always pushes me away whenever I try to have sex with him. Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”

The brunette girl sitting beside you swirled the red wine in her glass as she stared down at it. ”I really wish I knew the answer for you Y/N-chan. From what it sounds like you just need to sit down and talk with him. It could possibly just be miscommunication.”

”What if he's cheating on me?”

”I'm going to have to stop you right there. Todoroki may be a bit dense at times but he isn't an idiot. If that were the case I would personally go down there and show him that he doesn't mess with the best girl around. In case you didn't notice, you're the best girl.

A weak chuckle escaped your lips as you took the final sip of your wine, relishing the way it went down your throat and left a tangy aftertaste. “Maybe I’ll buy a little something on the way back. Maybe some strawberry milk and soba noodles from his favorite place.”

“I mean you can do or you could just go straight home and talk to him without any bribery.”

A sigh exited your mouth as you placed your now empty glass on her white table. ”I really appreciate that you let me come over”

A smile tugged on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tightly against her smaller frame. “Of course Y/N-Chan! Let me know how it goes after!”

Then that’s how you found yourself in front of your door, reciting a small monologue on how you would approach the man. You opened the door quietly, staying put when you heard the soft creak of the door. “He should be home..” you whispered to yourself as you shut the door behind you once you entered your shared apartment. “All I have to do is approach and speak my mi-“ Black heels? When did you leave black heels here?

You didn’t. The only pair of shoes that were beside the black heels were your white slippers. You felt as if your heart dropped down in the depths of your body. It was a misunderstanding. It had to be.

You began walking towards your room, taking quiet steps despite feeling that your feet were dragging across the floor. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t capable of doing that. Right?

Turning the corner to enter the hallway you stopped your motion and stared. Across the hallway was your closed bedroom door. It felt like a journey that hasn’t even begun. Before taking a single step towards your destination, you heard it.

“S-Shouto!”

That was it. The moan. The noise of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of your once shared bed where it was him making you feel that good. Him touching you in a way that no one else could feel his touch. It used to be you. Only you.

“No no no” you repeated like a mantra and walked over quickly only to stop in front of the door, hand resting about the door knob. You were hesitating, but why? You already had your answer. Was it because you were in denial? You thought this was a dream?

Taking a deep breath you grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door open quietly.

There it was. The scene you always hoped you would never see. Your now ex-boyfriend, drilling some woman into your mattress. Your presence seemed to be ignored by them.

“Fuck baby you fuck me so good!”

“You’re so fucking tight” Shouto grunted and threw his head back and closed his eyes before opening them again, tensing up on once he spotted you standing right behind him. His hips stilled as his hands let go of the woman’s ass.

You couldn’t believe it and started shaking your head in denial

“Y/N this isn’t what it looks like”

“Oh? What is it then huh? I know I’m not fucking blind. I can see what is going on with my own two eyes.”

He got off the bed quickly and grabbed a spare sheet, placing it on top to cover himself up. “Please Y/N” he whispered. He sounded desperate as he reached to grab your hand while taking a step towards you.

“How long has this been going on.”

“What?”

“How long have you been doing this behind my back.”

“...6 months.”

The past 6 months seemed like a lie now. Every kiss. Every touch. Every ‘I love you’ was nothing but a lie. Now, you remembered all the red flags that were thrown your way but your denial got the best of you. The constant fighting, blowing you off on dates to go hang out at ‘Midoriya’s place’ or even ‘Bakugo’s place’. Coming home late even when he wasn't called for work. It all made sense now.

”Baby we can talk about this”

“No!” You snapped and pointed a shaky finger at him. “Do not beg me. I gave you everything I possibly could. I put in all my time and my energy for this relationship and for you to just..” you trailed off and covered your mouth with your hand, suppressing a sob from fleeing. ”You know...instead for future purposes. If you want out of a relationship j-just tell them. Don't cheat on them from behind. And don’t you dare call me that fucking name again.” You said as confident as you could but in reality it was the opposite of confident. Your voice was wavering, your once perfect mascara was running down your face mixed with your tears.

Shouto gulped and clenched the sheet in his hand. “I still love you Y/N.. we can talk this out please. Just give me a chance.” He whispered and looked directly into your eyes. Broken. Torn. Guilty. The look in his eyes seemed to stare right through your soul.

“If you really loved me, you would have never cheated on me in the first place. You would have come up to me and spoken to me how you felt instead of doing this behind my back… I’m going to leave. When I come back, I want you out of my apartment. Take everything you own and leave.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What goes around, comes around

~~~~

You shut your eyes tightly as the memory and clenched your fists right by your side.

“I was drunk. I went to a bar right when you left to go visit Uraraka.” Shouto said as he took a small step towards you. It felt like the world was suffocating you.

“A bar? That’s your excuse for cheating on me? Drunk for 6 months? Please. I’m not stupid. I know plenty of men that get ‘drunk’ and they don’t cheat on their significant other. I didn’t expect that coming from your mouth. You disappointed me. You let me down. You made me feel like it was my fault.”

“That’s because it’s not!” He suddenly yelled and you flinched slightly at the sudden change of his tone. He let out a deep sigh and kept going forward till he had you caged between him and the wall inside your apartment. “It was all me. I was stupid. I’m sorry for hurting you..I should have just came up to you and spoke to you how I was feeling. I’m sorry.” He whispered and placed his finger underneath your chin to make you look up at him.

You gulped and felt his intense gaze stare through you. His bi-colored hair tickling the top of your forehead. His face was close to yours, you could feel his hot breath hitting your face as he cupped your cheek.

“I’m afraid of losing you..I don’t want to lose you Y/LN” he whispered into your ear, smiling faintly when he saw you shiver. Even like this, he still had the same effect on you and you loathed it. “We can just forgive and forget.. I’ll make it up to you I promise just please forgive me”

You wanted to. You wanted time to go back and give you what you wanted. A meaningful relationship. Being with Shouto was on your mind everyday as if it was mocking you. You desperately wanted to be in his loving arms again, feeling his body on yours. Now that you were caged behind him, a low level panic started to arise in your body. Could you ever forgive him? How could you forget? What makes this different? What if he does it again?

“She cheated on you didn’t she”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, she cheated on you. Didn’t she?”

His quietness was all you needed as your answer. You shook your head and looked up at him, stroking his scar gently with your thumb.

“And you felt if you came back to me thinking I’ll let you back huh? You think that because she cheated on you it’ll make us relate on a different level and make everything better right? How’d it feel? It felt horrible huh? Like your heart was being ripped into two then stomped on.”

Shouto growled faintly and gripped your shoulders a bit tighter, opening his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“No. I’m not done fucking talking. I cried. I cried and cried for your sorry ass. You and I are not feeling the same type of pain. I loved you. She didn’t. I..I still love you” you whispered the last part under your breath

Shouto sucked in air as he tensed up. Time seemed to stop as the earth stilled. No one said anything. You missed the silence with him. Under different circumstances you would have enjoyed it. “You..you still love me?”

“Course I still love you!” You cried out and pushed him off of you, walking towards him as he kept backing up with each step you took. “But I can’t be with you. Part of me wants to forgive you and throw myself at you but the other half is telling me you’ll just do it again.”

“You think I would do it again?”

“I mean you did it the first time. So what would make it different from the next? Todoroki you just.. you need to leave.”

He quickly reached for your hands and cupped them, holding them to his chest. “I can’t lose you Y/N..” he whispered

“You already did.” You said coldly and pulled your hands out of his grasp. “What goes around comes around huh? That’s your karma now. Get out. I never want to see you again. I want the guilt to swallow you alive.”

He stood there unmoving, hands grasping around nothing as he looked up at you. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry. I hope we can start over again soon. I hope you can forgive me.”

You watched as Todoroki walked down the steps and into the dark night. It felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders but the hole in your heart was still wide and open. Closing the door till he was no longer in sight, you let your head fall against the wood, letting out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Goodbye Todoroki Shouto.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What Goes Around, Comes Around

[thesoloists]

Unsweet Dreams

Summary: Bucky may be free of Hydra’s influence, but he’s not free of that of the Winter Soldier. He’s slowly coming to terms with that.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma and anxiety, brief graphic depictions of murder (assault & strangulation), chronic nightmares, fluff via post-nightmare comfort (if it’s any consolation, I tried to keep it balanced)

A/n: AHH, I’m so nervous! It’s been awhile since this corner of the interweb has seen my writing (I made a new tumblr and everything), so if whoever reads this could just, y’know, drop me an ask telling me what you think about this fic, I would really appreciate it. Also, I promise not all my fics will be this dark. I just needed the bit of catharsis at the end. :’)

Bucky used to live in constant fear. It was like a malignant tumor, slowly killing him and robbing him of the ability to live every damn day of his life.

To be in a crowd was like sticking him in a coffin full of nails. As he struggled to stay out of the swirl of hurried people, his anxiety would skyrocket to the point of short-circuiting his mental system. His whole body becomes stiff, his responses shortened and robotic, as he becomes helplessly overwhelmed by the blaring warning signs going off in his head. Until his brain, finding no other option, shut down enough to function on autopilot. Only when he was away from everyone, when his mind was sure they were a safe distance from the danger of the Winter Soldier, would he come back to himself. But, to be honest, was there ever a safe enough distance from such a mindless beast?

The idea of becoming him again was so crippling that before Shuri offered to fix him, Bucky would spend days at a time locked in his room and weeks without leaving the compound. Shuri said he would never be that man again, the crudely molded vague interpretation of one, anyway—not after whatever indescribable thing she had done to him with Wakandan technology that Bucky still finds respectfully confusing. Bucky wanted so badly to believe her, but why, even now, if she is as certain as she was then that the gangrenous part of him is gone, why does he still see him in his dreams at night? Sometimes standing before him like a ghost, void of his humanity, empty of soul, filled only with commands of murder and mission and the pain endured in every attempt to scrape away the bloodshed. 

There’s no place in Bucky’s mind he can hide where the monstrous Winter Soldier cannot find him. In pleasant dreams of sandy beaches with the smell of salt on the open air, the beast will tear open a gaping black rift right behind him, grab Bucky by the back of his collar, and drag him into the void as his screams fall on apathetic ears. Where he ends up is a place where his cries are heard by no one, Where color cannot penetrate the bitter black, and where shapes and barriers do not exist. He can run forever and never hit a wall, and all the while, the Winter Soldier will stalk toward him. Inevitable, just as Bucky is with his surrender.

Agony awaits him, but he knows it will end. It has to end. And when it does, he will wake.

Bucky has long given up trying to escape on his own. Every attempt has proved futile, and it only draws out the agony. He prefers his death to be as quick as ripping a band aid. So, he goes nowhere, just stands in the very place the Winter Soldier dropped him, and waits.

The Winter Soldier stands maybe twenty feet away. His eyes are shrouded in smears of dark black, but his eyes are a stark contrast of light blue shards of cryogenic ice.

Knowing the end will be the same as every other end before it brings Bucky no semblance of comfort. He is helpless to it. No more than a prisoner to his own imagined fate.

After a while of the Winter Soldier reducing the encounter to nothing more than a one-sided staring contest, Bucky hangs his head, shaking it at the absurdity of being made to wait. “Just get it over with,” he mutters.

The shape of the Winter Soldier flickers and disappears, manifesting with daunting intensity right in front of him. Bucky finds nothing but the hoard of his own past screams in the Soldier’s empty gaze. 

In a blink, the Winter Soldier moves. The plates on the Soldier’s metallic machine arm whir and shift as his cold metal hand latches around Bucky’s throat in an unyielding vise, squeezing tighter and tighter, killing the human, killing Bucky. 

Then it is over. In that particular dream, after Bucky dies, Bucky wakes.

Most of the time, however, it is Bucky looking through the lens of the Winter Soldier as a captive, unable to control his movements. It is Bucky’s traitorous metal arm around the throat of someone he cares about, tightening around their choked gasps and rasped pleas...

[Bucky has no desire to live out the Winter Soldier’s greatest hits on all of his friends, so he asks that the burden be left to another’s imagination. If it is any consolation, he is very sorry.]

He’s killed them all more times than he can count. Steve always knows when he’s had one of the dreams the next morning and who it was about because Bucky is incapable of looking that person in the eye. The image of his hand wrapped around their throat is still too fresh a wound in his mind. He’s nothing more than a shell on those mornings. His eyes are gaunt, his attention impossible to keep, and he’s left haunted for most if not all the remaining hours of the day. It’s an inevitability.

It wasn’t until he met you that Bucky allowed himself to believe Shuri’s words of comfort weren’t just empty words meant to reassure him. It’s taken months for him to get to this point, but you have been nothing but patient, never forcing him into anything, never questioning the slow speed at which your relationship progressed. You only take what he gives and in return give what he needs. He still has nightmares, though they occur far less often with you sleeping beside him. In fact, before tonight, Bucky hadn’t had one in months. To know what it felt like to be well-rested, he hadn’t felt that probably since he was digging his stupid five-foot-nothing best friend out of trouble. Before either had turned their gaze toward joining the war. 

When Bucky has either nightmare involving the Winter Soldier, it doesn't matter which, he always wakes up crying. Sometimes silently, sometimes with whimpers or explosive sobs—freshly rebuilt only to be destroyed by the horrors that play out in a hell of his mind’s own making. You sleep notoriously light, so it doesn’t take much for you to wake, and you never want him to apologize for it. His whimpers begin quietly, but they are enough. With the fast action of someone who has done this many times before, you move across the bed until your chest is flush with his back, throw your arm around him, and hold on tight as you whisper sweet assurances into the crook of his neck as his body is wrecked by sob after sob after sob. Grounding him in the existence of his humanity, in the reality of his life as it is now—good and warm and safe— until his tremoring body stills. It’s by no means a quick remedy, and perhaps the emotional exhaustion does most of the work, but with one final shudder, Bucky lets out a hard breath, his last few tears nothing more than wet stains on his pillow.  

In unspoken words of comfort, you press kisses along the jagged scaring where flesh meets metal, before resting the side of your face against his shoulder which is damp with cool sweat, and guide his ragged breathing to a slower, fuller calm with the warmth of your breaths on his back. 

In the now quiet dark of the bedroom, Bucky strokes the back of your hand, tracing lightly over every knuckle with his fingertips. 

With tender movement, you turn your hand beneath his to grasp his hand loosely between your fingers. Your gentle squeeze is simply to ask, Are you okay?

He squeezes twice. No.

He shifts his hand again and after a beat, makes a small request by tapping three times on the back of your head. Your voice breaks through the darkness as you whisper to him, “Who was it, my love?” 

It takes him a minute because he has to remember, and that involves reliving the memory of the dream, if only for a glimpse. But he wants to remember, if only for an attempted catharsis. 

“Steve,” he says hoarsely. Or Natasha, Sam, Tony, or someone else unfortunate enough to have been dropped into the role of victim—But it’s Steve who affects him the most, sometimes in aftershocks that last for days. 

Three taps means he wants to talk about it, but doesn’t want to speak first. Something about having to break the silence after having to relive that trauma just feels too daunting to him, especially now that he’s just been reminded of the monster hiding in his closet after months of silence gave him the false security of maybe being finally free. If anything, it was the sobering realization that he would never truly be free, but it’s an affliction of which he’s willing to find ways to cope. So far, his best success has been found in months of therapy and in the love he found with you. He doesn’t solely rely on you. That’s a burden, and he’s not about to expect you, an extraordinary ordinary human, to somehow be the cure for his chronic mental disturbance. But you bring him words of encouragement and a presence that puts him at ease, and if this is merely the baby-steps to learning to walk on his own, he’s willing to take it and continue practicing. No matter how much he falls, you have made it clear you will always be there to catch him if he needs it.

You wait until he’s ready for you to get up, spending several minutes brushing strands of damp hair away from his face and the rest of the uncounted time trailing your fingers up and down his arms and across his chest in an endlessly light, thoughtful caress. Only when he tells you it’s okay do you briefly disappear into the kitchen to put a kettle on the stove. It’s always been difficult for him to go back to sleep after a dream like this, but it’s easier after he talks through it, and it’s easier with tea.

He doesn’t find sleep again, but you fall asleep on the couch an hour before dawn and halfway through his fourth episode of M*A*S*H. Your whole body is curled in a tight ball on the other half of the couch as you hug an empty mug of tea close to your chest. He carefully removes it from your grasp one vise-like finger at a time (jeez, you have an insane grip for someone who’s asleep), vaguely feeling like he’s trying to disassemble a bomb, and sets it on the side table next to the couch . 

As the credits roll, Bucky carries you back to bed and is part way through tucking you beneath the covers, all warm and snug like a cute little sausage roll, when you begin to stir. Instantly, Bucky freezes. Then he remembers you always do this as if it’s part of some weird post-nightmare bedtime ritual and always manage to go right back to sleep. Comforted by the assurance, and also a little amused by the memories, he turns to close the blinds to block out the rays that would have cut unbearably bright lines against your face had he done nothing (and he’s never been much of a do nothing kind of guy), but when he turns back around, you’re rubbing your eyes with your fingertips—awake, it seems. (Aw, hell.) You blink blearily at him with a lopsided smile he finds adorable, a smile there just for him. 

Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is. 

When your mouth opens with an obscenely loud, drawn-out yawn, he's never loved you more.

After smacking your lips, still in the midst of a sleepy haze, you ask, “You okay?”

While you look at him, Bucky realizes you’re trying monumentally hard to keep your eyes from opening fully, narrowing them to the point that he wouldn’t even know you were still awake if you hadn’t said something. Bucky’s smile turns butter soft at that.

His heart swells. He’s just so appreciative of you. Your kindness. That you willingly sacrifice precious hours of sleep just to tend to the wounds of his own psychological warfare.

“Yeah. I’m good now,” Bucky assures you, and he means it. He lowers his hand to cradle your cheek, sweeping the pad of his thumb back and forth across the swell of your cheek beneath your eyelashes. At the caressing motion, your eyelids flutter, then fall completely closed in total surrender. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Sweet dreams, doll.”

Your response is swallowed by the pillow as you shimmy down the bed to bury your face beneath the covers, but he’s pretty sure he heard you say something endearing.

[damienthepious]

happy lizzer kiss babes! also, as mentioned in the notes of this one, lil heads up that i’m gonna be taking a little break from posting fic in november! and by “little break” i mean i’ll be writing 50k of a novel lmao what a good “break” i am so terribly smart. anyway love you!

A Moment As An Optimist

[ao3] [Ch 2]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love , (alas.......), miscommunication followed quickly by communication

Summary: It is one of Damien's favorite events of the entire year, all revelry and romance and joy, and he cannot wait to share it with his lovers. Or- with one of them, at least.

Notes: Title from the song Heart of a Pessimist, by Be Steadwell, a song which also p well vibes with the fic as a whole. Also, just to... get out ahead of this a little, but I'm gonna be taking a break from fanfic for the month of November so I can properly do NaNoWriMo again this year! Which is exciting! But it also means that I'm gonna publish fic on tuesdays for the rest of October, and then November is gonna be radio silence from my end, on here at least. You can come hmu on tumblr @jakkubrat if you wanna see me just, shrieking at the void about writing in general, but I doubt any of y'all are interested in that. Anyway I love you. Hope you like this one! I intend to get the second chapter out before my little hiatus :3c

~

"And then," Damien says, gesturing wildly with his hands, "after the sparring demonstrations and the feast, the square is cleared and the musicians take their place of honor. They will play, and play, and play the whole rest of the evening. Songs quick and full of giddy joy, songs steeped with contemplation and longing and love, all manner of melodies in the in-between, and they will not cease playing- not until the very last of us has grown too fatigued for further footwork. Only when the very last of the revelers has succumbed to exhaustion, only then will the music finally fade into the more natural song of the night."

Damien sighs deeply, then, his hand pressing over his heart as he fixes his eyes on the middle distance.

"I'll admit the dancing is pretty fun, at least," Rilla says with a shrug, her own tone much more casual. "Food's not too bad either."

"Pretty fun!" Damien cries, his eyes sparking with excitement. "Oh, damning with such faint praise, my love! It is quite reliably among the most enjoyable events of the year! Why- oh, I could not possibly forget the year when you and I danced clear through until the dawn, and when finally we relented we were so terribly exhausted that we barely clung to each other long enough to stumble to the closest inn to properly collapse- a battle more draining that my greatest conquests, and still I do not think there has been a day I have laughed quite so heartily, nor been so blessed with your own laughter and love! Oh, Rilla, perhaps this year they will play that one particular song- that one with those quick triplets, the one that played just as they lit the lanterns last year, oh, and Arum! When the drums begin, then we could-"

He pauses.

"We- y-you and I could- could-"

Damien notices, quite suddenly, the low growl emanating from his lizard love. He notices the wince upon Rilla's face, as well.

Damien swallows, pulling his hand back to press over his heart as it sinks, and sinks, and sinks.

"We could... what?" Arum murmurs, slow and measured and vicious. "What, precisely, could we do at your festival, honeysuckle?"

"I-" Damien's breath catches. "I... I only..." he buries the hitch in his throat in a slight cough. "I... I managed to get quite ahead of myself, I'm afraid," he says in a muted voice. "So excited was I to share such joy... I did not even think."

"You certainly did not," Arum hisses. "How little prompting you require to forget, hm? To forget entirely that I am a monster."

"No," Damien says quickly, shaking his head. "I- I did not forget- how could I possibly? Arum-"

"Or to forget me entirely, perhaps-"

"I did not forget you," Damien says. "I forgot them. I forgot- I forgot every single thing in the world, besides you, and Rilla, and I, and... and the idea of spending a whole long evening with you both, dancing in the lamplight."

"I imagine the evening would be rather short, in fact. Hardly a minute would pass before I was slain."

"That's not fair," Rilla snaps, pushing off from the wall and glaring at the monster, but Damien's heart is still swirling and tumbling and the image- Arum at the festival, dancing at their sides, the cries of alarm and fear and hatred, the blades-

"Very little is," Arum snarls. "I am merely pointing out the obvious. It does not matter what we want- what he wants. That door is not open to us, and to pretend otherwise is foolishness itself."

"You know he wasn't trying to make you feel left out-"

"I-" Arum laughs, bitter and brittle and unconvincing. "I feel no such thing. I do not care. In fact- in fact, I do not have the first clue why we are still discussing it. Should you not be on your way already?" He snarls, and then he folds his arms over his chest, visibly settling himself. "Go on, then," Arum says, his voice flat and toneless, but Damien- Damien can't help but hear the current of pain beneath it. Judging by the way Rilla's expression shifts, just slightly, she can hear it too. "Go on. If this event is so terribly exciting, you should scuttle off to your Citadel and start your revelry already."

"Arum," Damien starts, his voice gentle, and Arum's snout wrinkles.

"I don't need your pity, honeysuckle," he hisses quickly, turning to pace with his cape billowing behind him. "We all know exactly what time we may steal away with each other. We all know what we are allowed, and what we are not." He turns his head away, his lip curling up to show the edges of his teeth. "It hardly matters anyway. I do not expect that any human celebration would be of any interest to me whatsoever. Music is only music and food is only food and I can very well find some of my own anywhere I should like."

"Arum," Rilla says, her voice quiet but firm, and Arum's scowl deepens.

"What? What, precisely, have I gotten wrong? In what way is my understanding of the situation flawed? I have no interest in-"

"I won't go."

Arum blinks, stumbling from his pacing to a halt, and his frill begins to sink as Rilla turns towards Damien again.

Damien shakes his head, feeling the tightness in his throat and attempting not to let it become evident in his voice. "I won't. I- I do not want to. It is only by necessity that I am ever anywhere that you cannot safely accompany. By Saint Damien above why should I ever want to revel and ramble and partake in such a joy if I cannot share it with the both of my loves? Why-"

"Oh, Damien-"

Rilla steps closer, one hand reaching to grip his wrist, and Damien feels the heat at the corners of his eyes and shakes his head again, more fiercely.

"This festival has always and only ever brought me joy, brought me closer to and more familiar with love, with beauty and delight, and- and I could not even consider those concepts for one moment without thinking of you as well, Arum, and- and- and I cannot bear the idea of suffering an event I once loved so dearly without you by our sides. It is unthinkable, I could not- I will not."

Arum stares at him for a long moment, his frill sinking further, his throat rattling.

"I won't," Damien says again, more quietly. "Not without you."

Arum inhales slowly, his expression folding into more visible pain, and he hisses through his teeth and winces before he responds.

"No," he says slowly, his voice low and rumbling. "No, I can't abide-" he pauses, and then sighs, dropping his eyes. "No. I didn't- I did not- I spoke rashly and- no. I didn't mean to- to-" he clenches his teeth again, lifting a hand to scrub down his face. "No. This... this event is... significant to you, honeysuckle. I know that it is not your fault, nor hers, nor mine, that we cannot enjoy it together. It is no one's fault, it is simply the truth. It is simply... the world, as it is. But-" he hesitates, and then he sighs again and steps closer, reaching to brush his hand down Damien's arm.

Damien sags instantly at the contact, immediately closing the remaining gap, folding himself against Arum's chest as Rilla lets go of his wrist, stepping up behind him instead and touching his back with soothing hands.

"But, little honeysuckle, that does not mean you both should not enjoy it regardless. Clearly I should not like to be without you, but I would be much more unhappy if my mere existence kept you from something you so clearly adore."

Damien blinks, and then he lifts his face to frown up at the monster. "But, Arum-"

"This is important to you," he murmurs. "And it is important to me that our arrangement does not prevent you from taking little joys where you can. I apologize for... for snapping at you, in my frustration." He leans down, nudging their foreheads together and sighing. "I am sorry that I allowed my own... that I turned my own pain outward to cause you distress as well. I want you to go. I want you to go, and I want you to enjoy the evening as much as you are able."

Damien makes a small noise, helpless, and then he wraps his arms around the monster and squeezes, hugging him tightly enough that Arum gives a surprised exhale, and then a low soft laugh.

"Oh Arum-"

"I want you to be happy, Damien. I want you both to be happy, even if I cannot be always by your side to be happy with you."

Damien hugs Arum even tighter for a moment, until the monster makes a small breathless noise, and then he loosens his grip enough that he can tilt his head, pressing a kiss to the edge of Arum's jaw, and he cannot help but feel the tears rallying again at the gentle purring noise that rumbles deep in Arum's throat.

"I love you," Damien croons, his lips still touching scales. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry we cannot-"

"It is no one's fault," Arum says again, even more gently. "What we have together already, despite the current conflict... what we have together is already something miraculous. We should not be greedy, I think," he grumbles, his voice performatively grumpy, and Damien chokes on a laugh.

"Oh, so greedy of us, wanting to dance together," Rilla grumbles behind him, her hands gentle on his sides, and he's surprised to hear a small note of sourness in her voice.

"Still," Damien says after a moment, soft and sad. "Still. I cannot help my feelings, cannot help how much I wish..."

Arum nuzzles Damien's cheek with his snout, sighing. "I know. Loathe as I am to admit it... clearly I wish, as well. We knew this would be... complicated when we began together. This is simply something we must swallow, for the moment. Perhaps, someday, we will not need to."

"I do not want to leave you here alone while Rilla and I-"

"I will be fine, honeysuckle," Arum says, shifting back enough that he can lift a hand to brush Damien's hair from his forehead. "I promise. To begin with, I am not alone, so to speak. I am never alone within my Keep."

"You know that isn't what he meant," Rilla says, and Arum rolls his eyes.

"Obviously. But I meant only to assure him that I will not be curled into a ball and wallowing. I will have company, should I desire it, and I will be fine. I apologize, again, for speaking cruelly to you. I've... gotten it out of my system, as Amaryllis is fond of saying," he says with a light sneer, and Damien can see him burying a grin as Rilla raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I will not be too terribly bothered by anything but the lack of your warmth. It is only one evening, after all."

"Well... I suppose, if- if you are certain-"

"I am certain, honeysuckle." He nudges his snout against Damien's temple, then, a sweet echo of a kiss, and then he steps back, squeezing Damien's hands before he drops them. "You should go. I will be dearly disappointed if I have managed to entirely ruin this evening for you."

Damien frowns, his stomach still twisting with uncertainty, with how wrong it feels to leave in such a way. "But-"

"He said he'd be fine, Damien," Rilla says, and her shrug is exactly as casual as her words, but when Damien turns towards her to continue to voice his distress, she-

Winks, with the eye that Arum cannot see in their current positions.

"It's just one night. We'll all manage to muddle through for just tonight, and then we'll all do something together later this week. Okay?"

Damien frowns, very lightly, his confusion bubbling, but-

Well. He knows her, knows that particular quirk of her lips, knows the way her eyebrows raise when she silently tells him to trust, to trust her.

He does, of course. He always does.

"I... I suppose..." he murmurs, still confused enough that he cannot think of any better words to say.

"We'll make an appearance, at least. If we aren't enjoying ourselves, there's no reason not to just... slip out early, yeah? And-" she turns to Arum, ducking her head slightly as she lifts a hand to touch his shoulder, smiling when he leans into the contact. "Can we just... come back here later tonight? Just to sleep, or- whatever. You don't have to wait up for us, if you don't want to, but-"

"Of course you may," Arum says quickly, frowning. "Always. You are always welcome and wanted, here." And then, as if to soften the certainty, the enormity of the always he has just offered, he scowls. "And I certainly will not wait up, so you may waste no consideration on that outcome."

Rilla grins, soft and bright and sweet, and Damien knows as well as she does that the monster is lying.

"I love you," Damien says again, because he cannot hold the words inside while they sit scalding at the back of his tongue.

Arum's expression softens, surprise and aching fondness shaping his features, and he steps closer again so he may pull the both of them into his arms.

"I love you as well," the monster murmurs, sighing into their hair. "Now go and have your fun, will you? I expect further tales of glory and exultation when you return."

"Love you too," Rilla says with a snorting laugh, rolling her eyes as she pushes his scaled arms away, but Damien's heart still aches.

"I..." he trails off, uncertain, and he clings to one of Arum's hands for another moment.

"Please," Arum says softly. "Enjoy the evening for me, if you cannot enjoy it with me. I will still be here, when you tire of the lamplight."

"Alright," Damien says slowly, and then he kisses the back of Arum's hand before he releases it. "Until tomorrow, then, Lord Arum."

When the Keep opens a portal for them back to Rilla's hut, Damien does his best not to allow his eyes to linger on his lily for too terribly long. Rilla takes him by the hand, thankfully, and her unruffled feathers soothe Damien's own jagged edges as the portal closes again behind them.

When they are alone, Damien sighs, but he rallies his nerves in only a moment, and he raises an eyebrow as Rilla's grin goes toothy and wild.

"Alright. Alright, my flower. May I know, now, precisely what you have planned for our love?"

"Okay," Rilla says, her voice nearly trembling with her sly delight, "so, tell me if you like this idea-"

[ariannjs]

FEEL THE SAME | A SasuSaku FanFic (One Shot)

Hey guys! It's been a while. How are you coping with this global-scale problem that we are all facing? Really hoping that you guys are doing well!

Wanted to post something to somehow cheer up my fellow SS fans so here's a new one shot🙈 Honestly, this has been stuck as a WIP since last year. I have more plans to it but since it's been a lot difficult to write lately due to some personal stuff, I decided to just polish this and put it out as a one shot. Who knows if I get to add more to this soon? But for now, here's a short fic about genin SS!😁

Enjoy!

–A

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Sakura and Ino parted ways after their attempt to visit the injured Sasuke in Konoha Hospital. Much to their dismay, they were dismissed upon learning that the Uchiha was nowhere to be found and even if they wanted to help in looking for him, the hospital authorities insisted that they would take the matter in their own hands.

Worried, Sakura kept walking while staring at the flower she was holding. She was supposed to give it to Sasuke, hoping to uplift him somehow and let him feel that he wasn’t alone after everything that has happened in the Chunin Exams. 

She was sure that being stuck in there wasn’t something that he would enjoy, which apparently resulted in him breaking out of the hospital without anyone knowing. So right now, she could only hope that he’s safe wherever he was. Moments later, Sasuke suddenly appeared at the far end of the street she was in, with his hands on his pockets and his eyes fixed on Sakura while pacing closer to her. 

“S-sasuke-kun?!” Sakura blurted out when she lifted her head. For a moment, she was frozen in place, until she remembered that her teammate had just escaped the hospital so she rushed to meet him halfway. “How are you feeling, Sasuke-kun? You’re not supposed to go out yet! Wait...do you need me to help you go back to the hospital? H-how’s the bruise f-from Oroch—?” “Sakura, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Sasuke sighed and stopped right in front of her. Blinking twice, she stared back at him, eyes starting to be glassy with tears. “I-I’m glad.” Unable to stop herself, Sakura took a step forward and flung her arms around him as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “I’m so, so glad you’re okay.” Sasuke tensed, not because he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but because he was startled with the consistent expression of Sakura’s concern to him. It wasn’t the first time that his kunoichi teammate initiated such physical closeness, but this was the first time that Sasuke felt something incredibly warm about it. 

He soon relaxed when he remembered why he wanted to meet with her in the first place. He has been thinking about it for quite some time, but he often opted to brush away his thoughts on the matter. But while he had no choice but to be stuck for a few hours in a hospital room, his brain finally zoomed in on the idea. 

For contrary to what he initially thought, his ties with Sakura has not made him weak, in fact, it made him even stronger. And he saw that truth during the Chunin Exams regardless of how it ended. Sakura pulled away and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “S-sorry, Sasuke-kun. Uhm...” She then looked down at the item she was holding and grinned as she handed it to Sasuke. “This is for you! I didn’t see you at the hospital but I’m glad I still got to meet with you so I can give this.” Sasuke was just staring at Sakura the whole time, eyes softening at the effort this girl has been giving for him. When he accepted the flower, he simply nodded and returned to fixing his gaze on Sakura’s face. Which Sakura noticed. Starting to be self-conscious, she bit her lip and looked down while the avenger’s eyes were trailing on her. Is there any dirt on my face? Is my hair not evenly cut after Ino fixed it? Am I annoying him agai— “Sakura.” Her head snapped up. “Y-yes, Sasuke-kun?” There was a beat of silence after Sasuke spoke again, “Sakura, what do you...what do you feel about me?” That was one question Sakura didn’t expect to hear from her childhood crush. For a moment, she evaluated the past few minutes and wondered if the Sasuke in front of him was under a substitution technique or if she was stuck in a Genjutsu. 

But no, it was very clear that this was Sasuke Uchiha – the Sasuke she has always had her eyes on, the Sasuke that was surprisingly wearing a soft expression on his face right now. 

“Sa...sasuke-kun?” The Uchiha looked away. Albeit waiting, he couldn’t avoid feeling embarrassed with his question as well. Sakura hesitated, however. It wasn’t as if she didn't know the answer to that. During the first part of the Chunin Exams, her feelings for the Uchiha avenger slowly solidified. She knew it wasn’t just a mere crush anymore, yet she was still shy in declaring that, especially to the object of her affection himself. Sasuke was starting to get worried with Sakura’s silence. So he uttered the query again, “I need to know, Sakura. What do you feel about me?” He was almost irritated, but the soft expression on his eyes was still there. Need? Sakura wondered. She has always thought that her feelings appear shallow for Sasuke, but knowing her teammate to be one that only speaks about what matters, she realized he surely has a reason why he asked such question out of the blue. And so she decided to be completely honest to him about what's in her heart despite not knowing if she would end up rejected or what.

“I...I care about you. I want to be there for you always and share with your burdens no matter how heavy. I see you as more than...more than a comrade, Sasuke-kun. I...” She clutched her hands close to her chest, hesitating on releasing her next few words. Her voice lowered to almost a whisper after a beat and then she finally said, “I love you. And I’d be very glad if...if you feel the same.” With his dark eyes widening at the sudden revelation, Sasuke's heart began to gallop against his ribcage. He has always known that Sakura felt a certain fondness for him, but to the point that she would fall in love with him? He didn’t understand. 

But right now, after all that the Chunin Exams had allowed them both to encounter, it didn’t matter anymore if he didn’t understand it yet. Somewhere inside him, he has always known that there’s a space in his heart that only Sakura could fill. And he’s willing to accept that now. He took another step closer to her, and stared at her adorable, blushing face. “Well, I...I do.” Sakura gasped with the unexpected declaration. And then in a second or two, she fainted in Sasuke’s arms.

---

Hope you guys enjoyed this! Don't hesitate to share your thoughts :D Let's keep on fighting to cope every single day! Also, if you are in need of someone to talk to at such a difficult time as this, please know that you could reach me anytime, here on tumblr or on my Twitter & IG (@AriannJS). I know how vital it is to have a listening ear or a virtual shoulder to cry on now so please know that I’m here for you! <3

 Stay safe and healthy in all aspects, fam! :)

Much love, A

---

April 2019 © AriannJS

[joonie-beanie]

Act On It [Bonus 2]

A/N: To quote from the first bonus chapter “similar to what I’m doing for Oh, Baby, I’ll likely be writing a few bonus chapters here and there for Act On It. It’s not necessarily a full-blown continuation to the story, but an episode following the ending point of the main plot.This is just a way for me to continue to build off the AU when I feel like it, without being burdened by the idea of creating an entire multi-chapter plot stemming from the main fic”.

This bonus introduces one mister Jeon Jungkook! No smut, sorry not sorry lol

Word Count: 2,178

Jeon Jungkook is a bit of a free spirit. Thanks to his longer-than-usual life expectancy, he doesn’t feel bound by responsibility. Sure, he works, and goes to class, and whatever else—but it doesn’t really matter if he misses a shift, or skips a lecture. If for some reason his current activities fall apart, then he’ll just go somewhere else.

He’s got all the time in the world, after all.

And today, Jungkook decides to call-off work in order to go and visit his favorite hyung. It’s been a while since they’ve last seen each other, and Jungkook misses him. Yoongi tends to delve into his work to make the time pass, so actually getting that hyung to agree on a day to meet is a bit challenging.

Therefore, Jungkook decides that he’ll make it a surprise. A while back he’d gotten Yoongi to tell him the name of the café where he’s currently employed, so he knows where to go.

In Jungkook’s mind, not much can go wrong.

Dressed in a black hoodie, ripped jeans, and combat boots—the young-looking male hops on the subway. It takes him a little over an hour to reach the university town where Yoongi is currently residing, and he leisurely makes his way across campus.

Jungkook takes in the sights and sounds, silently trying to pick out any other vampires or people possessing…less human traits. He picks up on two other vampires—one male and female, but neither exude any ill intent towards the humans around them. At least, not at the moment. He thinks he spots a werewolf too, but he can’t be sure from a distance.

Either way, it seems that—for the time being, at least—all parties are choosing to mind their own business. Jungkook, himself, is very similar to Yoongi in that he tries to survive off of drinking animal blood, and actively works to restrain himself around humans. It’s become much easier over time, although sometimes he still does have urges. In those cases, he has a very close human friend who allows him to drink from time to time.

As far as Jungkook knows, Yoongi’s still a better “vegetarian” than him. He has always tried to keep an arms-length distance from humans—respecting them as living beings, but never really attempting to get close to them. Therefore, he doesn’t even have a human to lend him a hand when his thirst gets to be too much. Jungkook feels bad during those times, and has suggested in the past that Yoongi make just one friend—one close human friend that he can rely on—but he’d blown it off as too much effort.

So, Jungkook assumes that even until now, Yoongi is still living off the blood of animals. Maybe he’ll try again today to suggest that Yoongi get a blood bank card…there are ones run by vampires, after all…

Pushing open the door to the café, Jungkook heads inside. It’s already late in the day—the sun descending towards the tree line outside—but Jungkook had assumed Yoongi would be here. He works all the time, but…

Jungkook glances around, and after a few seconds knows that Yoongi isn’t there. Frowning, he turns on his heel and heads back outside. The only other place he knows around here is Yoongi’s apartment.

Deciding he’ll give it a shot, he heads in that direction. He does have Yoongi’s phone number, if needed, but he wanted to make today’s trip a surprise…

Yoongi lives in an apartment complex about a 10-minute walk from the café. The path that he travels daily is a path that is bordered by a forest—which makes it easy for Yoongi to catch a quick bite when he needs to. So, Jungkook finds the path and once against starts on his merry way.

However, after walking for a short time he comes across a girl. She has deviated from the path, and is just inside the line of trees. From her aura, Jungkook can sense a bit of nervousness, and he pauses.

What exactly is a girl doing just standing there, peeking out from behind a tree?

Curious, he steps into the brush and slowly makes his way behind her. He doesn’t make a sound as he walks—a clear giveaway of his supernatural abilities—and soon he’s at her back. Blinking, he peers around her and follows the direction of her stare. What he finds up ahead in the forest clearing makes his muscles tense.

His hyung is there, eyes swirling. He’s staring at a deer on the far side of the clearing, luring it in, and the animal likely doesn’t have any idea that it’s being hypnotized into making its way over. From the looks of it, Yoongi is about to feed, and for some reason, this girl had stumbled upon him.

Eyes narrowed, Jungkook bears down upon the girl, allowing his presence to be known. He places a hand on her shoulder—his grip tight, a warning—and immediately she tenses. A small sound of distress falls from her lips, and Jungkook opens his mouth to question her, but before he can even get a word out, he’s suddenly on the forest floor.

When he regains his bearings, he finds Yoongi atop him—his hand gripping at Jungkook’s throat, and his fangs barred. His eyes are dark, and Jungkook knows that in this moment, Yoongi could easily rip out his throat.

The protective anger Jungkook had felt for his hyung is quickly replaced with innocent confusion. What had just happened?

“Hyung?” Jungkook questions quietly, wincing slightly thanks to Yoongi’s knee digging into his gut. It takes a second for Yoongi to respond—his rage slowly subsiding and giving way to confused suspicion.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?”

“I…came to visit, but…,” Jungkook glances up past Yoongi to the girl who is now gripping the back of his coat for comfort. “Who’s that?”

Blinking, Yoongi looks back to you, and then stands with a sigh. He casually grips your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he sees tense look on your face, and then looks to Jungkook.

“This…is my girlfriend.”

For a moment, Jungkook can’t believe his ears.

“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing a little as he presses to his feet. “It sounded like you just said you have a girlfriend.”

You and Yoongi glance at each other, hands still clasped, and then turn back to Jungkook. The younger vampire’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit.”

Yoongi, of all people, actually has a fucking girlfriend.

“Does she--,” he begins to speak, but Yoongi already knows what he’s going to ask, so he interrupts.

“Yes, she knows.”

Smiling to yourself, slightly triumphant feeling, you nudge him with your shoulder. “I caught on pretty quick, didn’t I?”

“I did a bad job of hiding it,” Yoongi admits, a fond look coming to his eyes—a look that absolutely shocks Jungkook. “But you know how your blood is.”

“Apparently,” you respond, rolling your eyes. It’s an action that has annoyance etched into it, but not annoyance towards Yoongi himself.

For a moment, Jungkook can only stare. For the longest time he had imagined Yoongi being alone—surviving off animal blood for eternity. He didn’t keep a lot of company, and enjoyed his space, so the fact that he’s actually dating someone…and a human at that.

“What changed?” Jungkook whispers, unable to help himself. It’s an honest question, and one that isn’t exactly easy for Yoongi to answer. Therefore, you do it for him.

“He smelled my blood and got horny.”

“I swear to god, Y/N,” Yoongi groans, sending a hard stare in your direction. You grin and hold up your hands in front of you.

“I mean…it’s not a lie, is it?”

Jungkook finds himself smirking at your banter, despite his mixed feelings on the situation. Sure, he wants his hyung to be happy, but this is all just a bit surprising for him.

“Does she really smell that good?” Jungkook asks, posing his hand on his hip. It’s an innocent question, with no ill intent. He’s just curious, is all.

Yoongi glances over at you, eyebrow cocked, and you shrug. So, Yoongi steps behind you and leans in close to your neck, his crimson orbs flitting up to Jungkook. The younger vampire watches with slightly wide eyes, not having expected Yoongi to actually let him get a whiff of you. However, Yoongi, despite himself, takes a bit of pride in knowing that he’s dating one of the best smelling mortals any vampire will likely ever come across. If it weren’t Jungkook he would never expose your blood to another vampire, but Jungkook is someone he can trust. And you, well—Yoongi has bitten you enough times that you’ve adjusted to the pain.

Carefully avoiding his favorite sensitive spot on your neck (because it’s not like Yoongi is trying to make you horny at the moment), he sinks his fangs in with a gentle bite. You wince slightly, but the pain quickly fades. Yoongi only feeds for a second before he pulls back, allowing a bit of blood to pool in the bite marks.

He’s not hungry at the moment, since he’s able to keep himself quite sated nowadays with you around. This is just for the purpose of Jungkook. And it seems—like every other vampire around—Jungkook really likes the scent of you.

His eyes go from brown to red in about 2 seconds, saliva pooling in his mouth. His instinctual reaction surprises even himself, because it’s not like he’s a newborn, but he can’t help it.

“Damn, you got lucky,” Jungkook mumbles, holding up his arm. His coat sleeve blocks his mouth and nose, dulling his sense of smell. Seeing his reaction, Yoongi leans back in and laps at the mark on your neck until the bleeding has stopped. Immediately your scent disappears from the surrounding air, and Jungkook lowers his arm.

His eyes roam over you.

“Are you sure you wanna be with hyung? Personally, I think I’m more handsome. And my game is—”

Before he can even finish Yoongi is fixing him with a glare, and you’re laughing—holding onto Yoongi’s arm as he attempts to lunge at the younger vampire. Jungkook chuckles, holding up his hands innocently.

“I was kidding~ But if you’re dating her, and she’s letting you feed, why the hell are you out here hypnotizing a deer?”

“She wanted to see how I fed on animals,” Yoongi says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looks back to the clearing where he had been standing, the deer now long gone. “I told her that I can feed without killing animals, and she was curious about how, so after she bugged me enough I agreed to show her.”

“Wow, you can actually get Yoongi hyung to give into you? Teach me the secret,” Jungkook says, walking closer and slinging an arm around your shoulder. You glance up at him, a little surprised at the contact, but not uncomfortable. Compared to all the other vampires you’ve encountered, Jungkook is different. He’s Yoongi’s friend—the only vampire Yoongi has interacted with that he doesn’t seem at-odds with—so you don’t feel like you’re in danger. However, Yoongi’s narrowed gaze towards where Jungkook is touching you tells you that despite their good relationship, he shouldn’t be getting so friendly with you right off the bat.

After a moment, Jungkook finally notices Yoongi’s scolding gaze, and pouts a little.

“C’mon hyung. You know me. If she’s yours I’m not gonna take her. I just want to get to know her more! I had no idea you’d found someone. Like, how did you meet? When did you start dating?”

Yoongi sighs at his abundance of questions, already feeling a headache come on. However, you seem happy to be able to have someone to talk to about your relationship. After all, it’s not like you can just come out and tell all your friends truthfully about Yoongi, and how this had all come to be. So, Yoongi sucks it up, just for you.

“Come back to my apartment and we can talk about it,” he relinquishes, walking past you both towards the trail. You and Jungkook share a look, and when Jungkook smiles at you pleasantly, you can’t help but smile back.

Side by side, the two of you follow after Yoongi. But—

“I never caught your name,” Jungkook realizes, glancing over at you. Your eyes widen a bit as you realize Yoongi had never mentioned it—only referring to you as his girlfriend.

“Y/N,” you respond, holding out your hand. Jungkook blinks in surprise, but after a second takes your hand in his own with a grin.

“Nice to meet you. Any friend—or girlfriend—of Yoongi hyung is a friend of mine. I look forward to getting to know you,” he says, and you feel a wave of warmth fill your chest. Happily, you shake on it.

“Same to you, Jungkook.”

[Main Fic] [Bonus 1]

[Masterlist]

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

You Bit Me?!

Summary:

When Logan decided to become a doctor, he knew the full moon was going to bring in all sorts of problems for him. He was prepared to face people who would bite him for no reason, at least, until he was actually bitten by someone. He didn’t have time for this. He was graduating college. He was studying for finals. He didn’t need to crave inhuman amounts of food, get sick off of a special treat, or have heightened senses that set him on edge. There had to be a totally plausible medical reason for all of this. And, no, Lychanthropy is not one of them, Patton.

Statistics:   

Pairings: N/A

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman

Minor Characters: Deceit, Emile, a few oc’s

Warnings: Biting, arguing, binge eating, meat consumption, food poisoning, crying, swearing (two times), guns, descriptions of injury, blood, unsafe medical practices, death mentions, threats of death (no one dies though), you’re gonna have a bad time reblogging this on mobile because it’s so long

Word Count: 21,730 

Some helpful links:

- An alternate version on Ao3

- A beautiful art piece drawn by @starry-shake​ 

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Author’s Note:

Well, hello there! This story was the original big bang fic for @ts-storytime I wanted to write, but because I let it slip and there was a certain artist that was hellbent on getting me, I decided to write another. (They succeeded so I’m glad I did haha)

Anyway, this is actually only half of the story I wanted to write, but then I realized I would much rather turn it into a short story series, kinda like how I did TSAoJ (what is it with me and splitting up supernatural stories huh?) so keep on the lookout for that later maybe~

Anyway, I’ve kept some of you waiting too long. I hope you enjoy, and don’t get bummed if you can’t reblog it on mobile. A short reply with a thumbs up is literally all I need <3

-Cat

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Logan sighed as he stared at the price of Crofter's. According to the sticker, he just missed the sale Patton told him about, and he’d have to pay an extra 20 cents for it, which for a college student on a tight budget, was a lot. 

Oh well. Patton could live without an extra box of goldfish crackers.

As Logan reached up to grab the jar, it vanished. Logan froze and blinked, his brain failing to process how the item disappeared so quickly.

“Oh wow, the last jar,” a loud voice said to his left. Logan turned his head slowly. A person with a wide grin and eyes that almost looked gold examined the label. “This must be my lucky day.”

An uncomfortable heat burned Logan’s gut. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

The Crofter's stealer looked up and turned their grin into a charming smirk. “Well hello there. How can I help you?”

“By giving me that.” Logan held out his palm expectantly.

“This?”

“Yes, that.”

“I don’t think so. I got it first.”

“But I was here first. I was reaching for it.”

“Well, you’re too slow.”

Logan growled in his throat. “I’m going to ask once more nicely. Hand over the jar.”

The person leaned in close to Logan’s face. “Make me, nerd.”

Logan reached out. He wrapped his fingers around the jar and tugged. The person pulled back. For about thirty seconds, this moment jam-packed with action created such a fuss, multiple people stopped to watch. Some even pulled out their phone to film it.

Finally, Logan got the upper hand. He pulled the jar from the person’s grasp and gave a triumphant little “ha,” totally missing the stranger's deep growl.

One moment Logan treasured his victory, and the next he howled in pain.

It took a moment between the shocked gasps from the crowd and his own distressed noise to realize that, yes, this stranger did, in fact, bite him. Hard. On the forearm.

“Did you just bite me?” Logan questioned.

The person recoiled as if Logan bit them back. Their huge eyes froze along with their breathing.

“I-” they stammered several times.

Logan examined his arm. A small drop of blood that didn’t quite grasp the severity of the situation trickled down his wrist with two perfect indents of human teeth wrapping around his skin.

“If I gather an infection from this, I’m sending you the bill,” Logan grumbled and walked off, leaving his flabbergasted attacker behind.

“Wait!” they called out, but Logan didn’t want to speak to them any longer. He ran off with his jar of Crofter's before the stranger could steal any more of his pride from him. Logan checked out and exited the store. Thankfully, some observers kept the biter at bay and far away from him. 

The whole walk home, all Logan could think about was the bite on his arm. Sure, he could fix it in a heartbeat, but this was a grown human being wrapping their teeth around his arm over a jar of jam, not some toddler. What could have possibly possessed them to do that?

Even if Crofter's was the most valuable food in the world, one did not simply bite another person to obtain it.

Logan entered his dorm room and locked it behind him. He’d be dead before that person came into his safe space and bit him again, or worse, threatened to take his precious jam again.

“Oh, welcome back!” a voice called out from the computer desk. They turned on their swivel chair and beamed.

“I’m afraid I forgot your goldfish,” Logan informed, watching the other person deflate with a whine. Logan walked over to the desk drawer, set the groceries on the counter, and dug around for some gauge to wrap up his arm.

“Logan, what happened?”

“I had a slight disagreement with someone in the grocery store, and they decided to cast their dental impressions with my arm.”

“So in other words, they bit you?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause, and Logan braced himself.

“That’s a story I’d like to sink my teeth into.”

Logan sighed and grabbed the bandage out of the drawer. He sat down on the bottom bunk bed and began unwinding the ball.

“I’m afraid the story is not as exciting as it sounds, Patton,” Logan responded.

Patton left his spot on the computer chair and sat beside Logan. He watched Logan fumble with the bandage before taking matters into his own hands and wrapping up Logan’s forearm. Meanwhile, Logan retold the story, and Patton listened.

“Well, that wasn’t berry nice at all,” Patton mused.

“Please spare me. I’m in enough pain as it is,” Logan grumbled. 

“Isn't there something you can do to make sure it doesn't get infected? I mean, it doesn't look deep, but it did bleed.”

“Yes. Common treatment includes amoxicillin, but that's out of the question for obvious reasons.”

Patton quirked a brow. “But I thought you were allergic to penicillin.” 

“Amoxicillin is a form of penicillin, Patton.”

Patton tied off the bandage and let out a short sigh through his nose. “Well, I hope this guy doesn't just go around biting people.”

Logan leaned and rested his back against the wall. He ran his fingers over the white bandage and sighed through his nose. Hopefully, this would do.

Logan thought back to the confrontation. What could he have done differently? Perhaps there were more jars elsewhere and he missed them. Was being bitten for a sweet treat really worth it? 

A plate plopped into Logan’s lap, and he gazed upon five crackers spread with Crofter's jam. Patton sent a smile before returning to his work on the computer. Logan lifted a cracker to his lips with a slight smile.

Yes, this was all worth it.

--

The following days were rather boring compared to the excitement of being bitten on the arm by a total stranger over a jar of Crofter's. Finals were upon them, and Logan spent most of his time inside studying. After his 5 years of work, he’d be dead before he let failing one class stop him from graduating the hell that was college.

His roommate, however, happily spent his free time out and about with his posse of weird friends. Logan wondered how Patton attracted the most fascinating human specimens to his person.

For example, there was Virgil, who looked like a walking case of constant anxiety. Those wide hazel eyes studied everything. Maybe something bit him unexpectedly as well, and now he expected the unexpected at all times. For someone who chose to draw such little attention to himself, he sure made a scene with his appearance. Dark eyeshadow and eyeliner permanently stained his skin and gave him a wolfish appearance.

Then there was Damian, who Logan swore could not keep a story straight even if he wrote it down prior. The slippery son of a gun always weaved Patton’s gullible mind into intense fairytale stories that even sounded foolish to a child, but Patton always defended Damian’s tall tales, saying how Logan didn’t know Damian’s life and for all they knew, he could’ve run into a prostitute with one eye in the middle of a dark alley and got a blowjob for free.

The only normalish friends he gathered were those from his Theater class. Logan had to admit, Thomas was fun to be around every once and a while… when he and Patton weren’t breaking out into song over the littlest things.

He discovered that when he mentioned something was hit or miss when discussing chance.

Logan cradled his head in his right hand as he attempted to memorize every name for every bone in the human body. It should’ve been easy. Logan loved to study. However, with the bored mother bird sitting on her eggs and her partner trying to serenade and entertain her in the tree next to him, Logan couldn’t focus. That constant twitterpated tweet-tweet tugged at his thin nerves.

“Will you shut up,” Logan growled at the window. Of course, the birds ignored him. He thought about opening the window and throwing a few pencils in their general direction.

If the birds weren't bad enough, now he started to get a headache. The words in his book blurred together, and when Logan looked up at the clock, he couldn’t read the numbers.

Logan took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. Perhaps he needed a break. He released his eyes and blinked into the way too bright sun.

Oh, it was almost noon. No wonder he felt exhausted; he’d been at this for five hours.

Logan slid his glasses back on. The numbers on the clock blurred, and Logan squinted. He lifted the lenses off of his face once again, and the numbers cleared up.

That was... odd. Did he grab Patton’s glasses by mistake? No, even with Patton’s glasses, he shouldn’t be able to tell what time it is across the room without his glasses on, as they were both nearsighted.

Logan set his glasses down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. The world clarified in moments. Well, almost. He still had no clue why he could see without his glasses.

Logan looked into his mirror and examined his eyes. They were the same bright blue from his birth, clear, no signs of alterations that he’d noticed. He didn’t have contacts, so doubling his prescription by accident was out of the question.

What was going on?

The door to the dorm room opened, and the smell of grease and grass flooded the room. Logan almost covered his nose.

“Hey, I brought you lunch, since I know you probably didn’t take a break to eat already,” Patton spoke. He closed the door with his foot and set two bags of fast food on Logan’s desk. The smell overpowered Logan’s thought process.

“Thanks,” he managed to mumble.

Patton pulled out his food and started eating. From here, Logan could practically taste the ketchup sliding down Patton’s fries and sticking to his fingers.

“Yeh mkay?”

“Patton, please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Patton swallowed. “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

Logan took a deep breath and replied, “You are correct. I was getting a headache from all the studying.”

Patton made a hum of acknowledgment. He held out the wrapped veggie burger to Logan. The smell hit Logan’s head like several hammers and sent his mouth into a drooling frenzy. With all the pain of studying, he forgot how hungry he was.

Within a minute, Logan devoured his veggie burger and moved on to the fries, leaving a rather flabbergasted Patton on his bed.

“Wow, slow down Logan,” Patton said with a light laugh. “Your food’s not growing anywhere.”

Logan sent an annoyed glance Patton’s way but made no further comment.

Patton had just finished his fries when Logan tossed his trash away. He let out a nervous giggle and shook his head.

“You know, I think that’s the first time you finished eating before me.”

“I was hungry.”

“I guess so,” Patton responded. He sighed and put his burger into his lap. “You know, Logan, you spend so much time studying. I wouldn’t mind playing a card game with you.”

Logan leaned back into his chair and eyed Patton with a raised brow. “You do know it’s finals week, yes?”

“Well, yeah, but if you don’t take a break, you’re going to burn yourself out. Please? I know you like Spit.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair. He glanced out at the noisy birds and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, fine, one game won’t hurt.”

Patton squealed and leapt off the bed. He dug through the drawers for the deck of cards he brought to school with him. Logan watched Patton fish around for a moment. Finally, Patton pulled the deck out and sat cross-legged on the floor, and Logan joined him soon after.

“So, the usual stakes?” Patton asked as he shuffled.

Logan sighed and nodded his head, “Though I don’t plan on losing.”

Patton split the deck and handed one half to Logan. They set up the game, and Patton waited for Logan to finish calculating his moves. They counted to three, and the game began.

While Patton's speed outmatched Logan's own, the other watched Patton’s cards and anticipated his moves, breaking Patton’s combos when he could. This went on for about ten minutes until Patton ran out of cards.

Patton slammed his hand on the floor one second before Logan. Logan’s hand smacked down onto the back of Patton’s hand, and Patton let out a sharp gasp.

A low rumble sounded from Logan’s throat. It almost sounded like a growl. 

The room held its breath. 

Patton looked up into Logan’s eyes, which stared at the back of his hand, and nervously laughed. 

“I win,” he responded in a fake chipper voice.

Logan lifted his hand off of Patton's own. Patton drew his hand to his chest and examined the red mark Logan left behind. He blinked back the tears in his eyes.

“Patton,” Logan called out, searching for Patton’s attention through the pain he caused, “Are you injured?”

“No, you just scared me is all,” Patton replied. Logan watched Patton warily. Patton chewed on the inside of his cheek and picked up the cards. “Best two out of three?”

Logan sighed. “I don’t think so. I really should get back to studying.”

“Oh,” Patton replied. He patted the cards until they were in a neat pile and placed them back in the drawer. “Okay then. We can go get the ice cream now and come back so you can study some more.”

“Sounds satisfactory.” Logan got off the floor and picked up some spare change from his other pants pocket. The two roommates then left their dorm to get ice cream.

--

Logan never felt this sick in his life.

The past three days, he couldn’t keep any food down. His limbs felt like they were going to fall off, and even the smell of food upset his stomach. Patton did his best to care for him, but he was a full-time college student and could only do so much.

Logan rolled over on his bed and took the now dry washcloth off his forehead. He eyed the clock on the wall for the fifteenth time, thankful for once that he could see without his glasses for some reason. Maybe his vision caused this sudden sickness. 

Of course, it was possible to get food poisoning from ice cream.

The birds outside went to sleep hours ago, and Logan couldn’t be more thankful. He put the cool side of the pillow over his head and groaned into his mattress. Great. He was getting a migraine. Just what he needed. 

Why was the week before finals the week he got sick as a dog?

“Logan?” Patton’s unusually calm voice called through the apartment, “are you here?”

Logan moaned in confirmation.

“I’m really starting to get worried about you. Maybe it’s time to go to the hospital,” Patton said as he closed the door. Logan poked his head out from under his blankets.

“Yeah,” was all Logan’s raspy voice would allow him to say. It sounded like he smoked a hundred cigarette packs a day. He wanted to avoid any unnecessary medical bills, but at this point, he’d do more damage to his body waiting than any medical bill could do to him.

Patton grabbed a jacket from the closet and slowly lifted Logan’s blanket. The loss of heat caused a shiver to constrict every muscle on Logan’s abdomen, and he curled his legs up into his chest.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton cooed and held out the jacket. “Put this on and I’ll help you get down to the car, okay?”

“I don’t want to move.”

“I know, but we have to, or you might get sicker.”

“I’m already sicker- sick. I’m already sick.”

“Logan, please?”

Logan sighed and sat up on his elbows, his stomach pinching and protesting. He panted three times before he sat up all the way. Patton rubbed Logan’s back and sat beside him.

“There ya go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Logan rose a brow, and Patton chuckled. Patton eased Logan’s arms into the jacket, noting how much Logan’s body shook from the change in temperature, and helped him down to the car. Logan took his glasses off three minutes after having them on, claiming they made his headache and nausea worse, and Patton placed them in the extra glasses case he kept in the glove compartment in his car. 

Good thing the hospital was only five minutes away. Bad thing that doctors took forever to see their patients. Logan ran to the bathroom at least twice before they were called in to see anyone.

“So, you think you got a case of food poisoning?” the doctor asked as they scribbled down on their clipboard. Logan nodded his head the best he could with it on his knees. Patton rubbed Logan’s back.

“It happened maybe an hour or so after we had some ice cream,” Patton informed the doctor.

“Any history of lactose intolerance?”

Patton furrowed his brow. “I don’t think so. Logan and I eat ice cream all the time, and this is the first time he’s ever gotten this sick after eating it.”

The doctor hummed. “I’d advise him to stay away from any products with milk in it for a few hours just to make sure. It’s possible to develop lactose intolerance through illness, though rare, and I want him to drink extra water or tea, and stay away from energy drinks, soda, or coffee. Vomiting does cause dehydration.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He knew all this. He didn’t waste 5 years in college to have some doctor tell him this was a simple case of lactose intolerance. However, when he opened his mouth to protest, a strong wave of nausea hit him, and he clenched his teeth shut.

“Thank you,” Patton said as the doctor ended their visit. He turned to Logan and sent a sympathetic smile. 

“I hope you don’t think this is just lactose intolerance,” Logan grumbled.

Patton allowed his smile to drop and sighed through his nose. “I don’t know. Maybe we should give it one more day then come back if it gets any worse.”

Logan made a pitiful moan of confirmation before Patton assisted him in standing up straight. He put most of his weight on Patton and shivered again. In the end, Logan lost the rest of his strength, and Patton ended up carrying him bridal style to the car and up to their dorm room.

For the rest of the night, Patton stayed awake and made sure Logan was properly taken care of. The two of them lay together on the bottom bunk. Patton ran his hands through Logan’s hair as he hummed any soothing song he could think of. He bought numerous water bottles to keep on hand and helped Logan when he had an emergency bathroom run. Thankfully tomorrow was Sunday, and they both had no classes.

Logan shivered again thinking about all the work he’d missed the past three days.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Logan groaned at three in the morning.

Patton put down his mug of hot chocolate and sent a tired smile. He replied, “Logan, I’m your brother. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re only my stepbrother,” Logan retorted.

“Only?” Patton scoffed. “We were best friends first. I’d still be taking care of you even if dad didn’t adopt me.”

Logan allowed a hum of confirmation to escape his nose. “I suppose we were just meant to be together.”

“Heart and mind,” Patton replied and ran a hand over Logan’s forehead. “At least you don’t feel so warm anymore.”

“Perhaps it’s finally passing.” 

Logan wondered what kind of damage his internal organs suffered without proper care and rolled over. Patton’s calm voice reached through the silence of the room and sang a lullaby from his childhood. Logan recognized the tune and closed his eyes.

If he imagined it hard enough, he could picture his father humming the melody to chase away the thunder’s rumble. It even soothed his stomach for the first time in three days. Logan welcomed the euphoria of sleep after being denied for so long. He repeated the common causes of food poisoning in his head, noting salmonella from dairy usually took a maximum of three days to work itself out of the system and hoped this would be the end of his misery.

This would be the last time he ate chocolate ice cream from that store for a while.

--

Logan sighed as he ran a hand through his hair for the fifth time. Catching up on his schoolwork while studying for finals ate away all his free time. Patton tried several times to help, but Logan usually chased him away with his assertive temperament. Thankfully, Patton knew Logan well enough that he didn’t take it personally. He knew Logan was frustrated.

If there was one thing Logan was thankful for in his life, it was Patton’s ability to see the best in people like him.

Logan tried to force his glasses up his nose out of habit, but he remembered nothing rested there. He felt naked without them. However, with his sickness getting better, he didn't want to take a chance and mess around with his vision. Perhaps he'd pop the lenses out and wear just the frames around. Someone would notice he didn't have contacts eventually.

Logan glanced over at the time. Four am always snuck upon him. He glanced outside at the nearly full moon glowing through their window and sighed. He knew when Patton woke up he’d regret staying up this late. He did promise Patton he'd stay up no later than three am, but passing was of the utmost importance. Graduation was less than a week away, and Logan didn’t want to ruin his chances of leaving this hell. Sleep could wait.

He’d turn into a lunatic if he stayed here another day.

Logan clicked off the lamp and curled into bed. He didn’t realize how much his eyes ached until he closed them.

--

A low rumble shook Logan awake. His eyes snapped open, and he sprung up in bed. What was that? Was there an earthquake? Did Patton trip and fall again? His head snapped around and landed on the clock.

Nine in the morning. 

“Patton?” He called out. No chipper voice answered, and he slid out of bed to glance at the top bunk. Patton’s unmade bed greeted him with several blankets and stuffed animals. One, in particular, stared into Logan’s soul, as if it knew what he did and would squeal to Patton the first chance it got.

The rumble sounded again, and Logan cradled his stomach. He hummed and laughed at how silly he’d been. Of course he’d be hungry. Not only did he miss his usual breakfast hour, but he didn't eat much in the past seven days. Of course, the first three didn’t count because he was ejecting everything from his body at alarming rates, but they still counted towards his poor diet.

Perhaps it was time to grab something to eat.

Logan shuffled through the box of granola bars he and Patton kept on hand when they left the dorm in a hurry. He pulled out a granola bar with peanuts and almonds and tore the wrapper open. One of these could hold him over until lunch so he didn’t mess up his schedule too badly.

As he sat down on his bed, he scrolled through some unread messages on his phone. Most of them were a group text between him, Patton, and their father, and Logan noticed he’d finished his granola bar before he finished reading the first text. His stomach continued to growl. In a split decision, Logan opened another bar and began to munch on it.

Patton: I know you’re worried, but Logan’s strong.

Dad: I kno, but w/the stress of finals, I don’t want him overstressing himself :(

Patton: Even if he was, I’m taking care of him, just like I promised. He’s usually sleeping 8 hours a day and eating all three meals.

Dad. Good. :)

Patton: And once finals are over, we’ll be home with you all summer! Well, I will. Logan will probably find a job right after school. They’d be crazy not to hire him.

Dad: When did my little boys get so big?

Logan smiled and sent back a quick text.

Logan: Approximately 8 years ago when I stopped growing.

As his hands reached into the box to grab another granola bar, Logan hit empty cardboard. His brow twisted in confusion. Strange, he just bought this box yesterday, and there was supposed to be 18 bars in it. How many did Patton have for breakfast?

Logan put the box down and glanced at the pile of opened wrappers in his lap. He dug through them and counted fifteen wrappers.

Oh. He must’ve been hungrier than he thought.

Logan’s phone vibrated again, and he noticed a text from his father arrived in the group chat. He opened the message to read “Lol :P” from his dad and closed the lock screen on his phone.

As Logan stood to clean up his mess, he doubled over and gripped onto his stomach. Its growl shook the mattress. How could he still be this hungry after eating so many granola bars?

Logan opened the snack cabinet once again. He grabbed his jar of Crofter's and some crackers, and then returned to his bed. His next class wasn’t for another hour, so he could sneak in another meal before he headed out. He popped the lid off and dipped the cracker straight into the jar.

As he snacked, Logan twisted his once bitten arm around and examined the skin. Strange, the scabs from the bites had already healed. He shrugged it off, wondering if his mind amplified the situation more than it called for. 

For a few minutes, he continued to text his father back and forth. Patton was still in class, so he expected him to join the conversation later. His dad asked about Patton to make sure Logan held up his end of the bargain as well and watched out for his little brother.

Logan: He’s no longer a child. Patton is quite capable of taking care of himself and others.

Dad: I kno, I just worry. He’s 2 good 4 his own good.

Logan: Patton needs to make his own mistakes as well. You and I will not always be there to protect him from those who wish to do him harm. It’s a hard lesson one has to learn when they raise a child. You cannot always protect them from everything.

Dad: … who says I have to :P I’m ur dad. I’ll always worry a little bit about u 2.

Logan rolled his eyes and put his phone away. He licked the excess jelly from his lips and checked the damage he did to his jar and crackers. He already consumed over half of the jar, and he had three out of four cracker packs devoured. 

When did he develop such a healthy, or maybe unhealthy, appetite? Logan was always known as the picky eater of the family. And sure, he had a high metabolism, but he hadn’t eaten this much food in an hour even in his teen years when he grew six inches in three months.

At least his stomach didn’t hurt anymore.

Logan put the jar away and got his things together for his next class. He sent a quick text to Patton asking if they could have lunch together in the courtyard and put his satchel over his shoulder. The walk to his next class gave Patton enough time to respond with an enthusiastic “YES,” and Logan wondered if he should mention how he tore through 15 granola bars, most of his new jar of crofters, and almost a whole box of crackers in an hour.

The classroom held a light buzz of excited chatter from students ready to graduate within the month. Most of them had been through this hell with Logan since he started. There were a few undergraduates in the class, but not many.

“Good morning, Logan! Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Ah yes, good morning, Emile.” Logan sat down beside his friend of three years and put his satchel down between their seats. Emile leaned in on the counter and furrowed his brow.

“You look a little confused today. Everything okay?”

Logan rose a brow. He’d never understand how Emile could pierce through his stoic expressions and peg what conquered Logan’s mind.

“I’m merely concerned about passing graduation after all the work I’ve missed.” It was a half-truth. Logan caught Emile’s eye, and Emile sent a gentle smile back.

“Well, you know, if you need anything, I'll do my best to help.”

Logan nodded and replied, “Thanks.”

The professor silenced the room, and the class began.

Logan did his best to pay attention to the test. For some reason, his mind focused on what he was going to grab to eat for lunch this afternoon. Knowing Patton, he’d suggest the food court, but Logan couldn’t take the noise of so many people in one area. His stomach started to ache again, and Logan cradled it. He rested his forehead down on his paper and took deep breaths in.

And that’s when he heard it growl once again.

The sound deafened Logan’s attention to his thoughts. He raised his head from his book and noticed it brought a few other thoughts to a halt as well. Several students whispered and giggled, and Logan felt heat rise to his cheeks.

Emile chuckled beside him. He reached into his bag and pulled out a package of cheese crackers.

“Here, I think you could use them more than me,” Emile whispered.

Logan’s cheeks burned redder than before. He took the crackers and wished they came in quieter packaging. 

Another growl sounded from his stomach, and Logan leaped out of his chair. He could leave the last three questions blank. He grabbed his things and hurried out of the classroom before his stomach could disrupt class again. A few students laughed as he exited the room, and Logan’s ears started to burn from embarrassment. Emile called his name, but he couldn’t be bothered to turn around.

At least the class was almost over and he wouldn't have to go back again. Emile could catch up with him later, as he always had a habit of checking up on Logan to make sure he was okay.

“Logan!” Patton’s voice called out. He turned, and Patton bounced up to Logan’s side. Patton’s backpack jingled behind him. He continued, “Your class is out already? I didn’t expect to meet you for about fifteen minutes.”

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but his stomach growled and interrupted him. He put a hand to his gut and pursed his lips.

“Logan,” Patton’s voice came out in that low warning tone he used when he was upset, “did you skip out on breakfast?”

“Trust me, I had more than enough,” Logan mumbled back. 

Patton eyed him over, but he left it alone. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay, I trust you. Hey, where do you want to get something to eat, since you know, your stomach keeps growling?”

Logan put a hand on his stomach and massaged it. 

“You wait here. I’ll be right back,” Logan ordered. Patton opened his mouth to protest but nonetheless listened. Logan took a deep breath and walked off to a place he never thought he’d visit ever again. He’d probably regret this, but ever since he woke up, he craved it. He knew Patton’s order by heart so he could pick up his food as well. Besides, he owed him for the past three days when he made sure Logan’s face didn’t end up in the toilet.

When Logan returned with their food, Patton’s jaw nearly hit the ground. He stood up from his spot on the low stone wall and pulled a bag from Logan’s hands.

“How much food did you order?” Patton asked.

Logan spoke through the bag in his teeth, “Enough to satisfy this insane hunger I woke up with.”

They placed the food on the stones, sat down, and sandwiched the food bags between their hips. Logan searched around the bags until he pulled out Patton’s order of chicken fingers and fries with extra ketchup and pulled two bottles of water out of his bag.

“Logan,” Patton mumbled as he peeked into one of the bags, “did you order… cheeseburgers?”

“I did, along with a chicken sandwich and quite a few chicken nuggets. I’ll share a few with you if 6 aren’t enough for you,” Logan replied.

Patton pulled his lips into a puzzled grimace. “But, Lo, you haven’t touched greasy fast food in about 13 years, ever since-”

“I’m aware.”

“So why now?”

“Because I’m hungry, that’s why,” Logan answered. He unwrapped one of the cheeseburgers and took an inhumanly big bite of it. Patton waited to make sure Logan didn’t choke and unboxed his own chicken nuggets. 

For the first few minutes, the awkward silence choked Patton instead.

Almost every time Patton finished a chicken nugget, Logan would finish off a cheeseburger. Patton wondered if Logan inhaled them at this point. He stopped on his fifth chicken nugget and watched Logan with curiosity. Logan showed no signs of slowing down nor notice that Patton stopped to watch him.

“Logan,” Patton called out. Logan stopped mid-bite and looked over at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Logan answered. He finished his bite and swallowed whatever reply he formed in his head.

Patton played with his fingers. “It’s just… you were so sick for those three days. And now you’re eating cheeseburgers. The other night, I heard you whimpering in your sleep, and you growled at me when we were playing cards. I know you’re stressed about finals and you don’t like talking about your feelings, but I’m really worried about you. If something is going on, please tell me. Please?”

Logan set the cheeseburger onto the napkin on his lap and turned to Patton. His lips pulled into a quirked smile, and he took a deep breath in and out. “Thank you for the concern, Patton, but I assure you that everything is satisfactory.”

Patton sighed through his nose and mumbled, “I was afraid you’d say that.” Logan quirked a brow, and Patton continued, “Logan, I do trust you, but please promise me if you ever feel comfortable enough telling me what’s going on you’ll tell me, okay?”

Logan stood up and grabbed the empty fast food bags. Patton tried to get Logan to stop, but he had already walked away to put them into the garbage bin. He returned and closed the space between him and Patton, their shoulders and thighs touching, and put his hands on his knees.

“I know you’re worried, but I can promise you that nothing has changed in my life. Well, aside from me being bitten and this monstrous appetite, nothing has at least.” Logan examined the area of skin where the teeth marks were almost a week ago. 

Patton clasped his hands and stared at them. “Okay.”

“Patton, you were my first and my closest friend. You’ve seen me at my worst, and you’ve still supported me nonetheless. You were there when I came out to our father, and you were there when we buried my mother. I have no reason to hide something serious from you because I know there are no risks.” Logan put a hand on Patton's own and gave it a squeeze. “If there was anyone I’d tell all my secrets to, it’d be you.”

Patton couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his lips. He nodded his head and sighed.

“Okay, I trust you.”

“Thank you. Now, I saw you were failing your algebra class. Would you like me to review with you for your final?”

--

Logan groaned as he pulled his blanket over his head. He curled in on his stomach and massaged it. He knew eating all those cheeseburgers would come back to haunt him. The clicking noise of Patton typing on his laptop above his head stopped, and Logan held his breath.

“Lo, you okay down there?” Patton asked.

“I’m fine,” Logan responded. “Just suffering some indigestion from overeating.”

“I told you to stop at the chili cheese dog and loaded nachos this afternoon.”

Logan grumbled an incomprehensible response.

Patton sighed and shut his laptop lid. “Want me to come down and rub your stomach like our mom used to?”

“That’s unnecessary,” Logan replied, but he had already heard the thump of Patton’s feet on the floor of their dorm. He rubbed his face into his pillow and sighed. “Go back to bed, Patton.”

The blanket lifted off Logan’s shoulder, and the cool breeze clenched Logan’s stomach muscles and tightened his fetal position further. He let out a low groan.

Patton sent a sympathetic smile, “Hey there, kiddo.”

“I’m not in the mood to be patronized,” Logan growled and grabbed the corner of the blanket. He rolled over and wrapped himself up like sushi.

Patton put his hands on his hips and sighed through his nose. “You know, if I told anyone that Logan Shea was being childish right now, no one would believe me.”

“That’s a negative thing?”

“No, but I- never mind. Hey, why don’t I make you some peppermint tea?”

Logan paused and tossed his head over in Patton’s direction. “With honey?”

“Extra honey just for you.”

“I guess that would suffice.”

Patton hummed and went over to their portable stove top to set a kettle on the burner. Logan fished his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. In three hours, it’d be midnight, and he would have to take his first final in the morning. He should be studying, not laying in bed.

Logan pushed the blanket off him. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and a shiver tore through his body. He caught sight of the full moon peeking over the trees and shining through the curtains of his dorm. Huh, he always liked sitting under the light of the moon. Perhaps it would bring some dopamine into his system and ease his stomach.

A childish thought, but he’d try anything at this point.

As Logan set his feet onto the floor, pain jabbed his kneecaps and toppled his balance. Logan cried out as he fell. The thud alerted Patton, who turned around and rushed over to him.

“Logan?” He cried out as he knelt down, “are you okay? What happened?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but his heart pounded in his chest, and he feared if he opened his mouth again it would jump out. His whole body started to throb. Logan clenched his teeth and realized his legs ached like when he got growing pains as a child. The floor slid out from under him, and he felt like he was falling.

Patton retracted his hand. Logan’s body burned like an inferno. He ran over to the counter, turned off the burner for the tea, and started to drench a paper towel in cold water.

A loud growl gripped Patton's attention. He spun around and dropped the towel on the floor. Logan’s body rapidly grew hair. His fingernails elongated into claws, and his nose pushed away from his face into a long snout. Clothing tore as Logan’s body grew, and it couldn’t contain his new size. The only thing that clung to him was his tie, now loosened around a thick mass of black fur. 

Patton covered his mouth in a silent scream. He backed into the counter. His eyes flashed over to the door, and he wondered if he’d have enough time to get out of here before anything happened.

Paws thundered on the floor as Logan stood up on his hind legs and hit his head off the ceiling. He whimpered and brought a pawed hand up to rub the spot. Logan shook his head, his ears making a flapping noise as he did so, and sat back on his hind legs. 

Ice blue eyes settled on Patton and froze Patton in place. Logan’s tail wagged as he took three steps toward Patton. Patton’s throat finally let out a sharp whimper, and he crawled onto the countertop. With Logan between him and the doorway, there was no way to escape now.

Maybe if he was lucky, this was just a horrible nightmare and he’d wake by falling off the top bunk again.

The now wolf Logan tilted his head to the side, much like a dog when someone spoke to it and it didn’t understand. He brought his nose close to the counter and sniffed Patton’s legs.

Patton blinked the tears from his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. He looked around the counter for anything to defend himself with. He didn’t want to hurt Logan, but if it meant saving his life, he might have to.

Logan brought his head close to Patton’s own. Patton twisted his head to the side and held his breath. Logan’s leathery, wet nose brushed Patton’s cheek, and Patton squeezed his eyes shut. A slobbery tongue licked one of the tears off Patton's freckled face. Patton sucked a sharp gasp through his teeth. 

The wolf whined and nuzzled his nose under Patton’s chin as if trying to comfort him. Patton clenched and unclenched his hands. The wolf’s tail wagged back and forth behind him, and Patton slowly reached up to run a hand through Logan’s fur. It felt coarse and thick to the touch. He slipped his hand over Logan’s fur several times before the knot in his stomach released. 

Petting his brother was not on his to-do list today, but sometimes that’s just how life went apparently.

Logan’s teeth gripped the collar of Patton’s polo. He dragged Patton over toward his bed. Patton tried to slip out of his shirt, but before he could, the wolf tossed him onto the bottom bunk. Patton cried out as he rolled onto his back. The wolf climbed onto the bed as well, the bunk bed groaning in protest under their combined weight.  

Patton tried to roll off. The wolf grabbed him around the middle and pinned Patton against his chest. Patton’s body shook. The wolf’s ears perked up as he stared down at Patton, and he licked the tears off Patton’s face once again. Patton spat the drool off his lips. Logan’s tongue then started grooming Patton’s hair, making it stick up in all different directions. Patton wanted to brush it back to normal, but with the way Logan pinned both Patton’s arms to his side, he had a feeling he’d wake up with a permanent cow lick- er wolf lick.

When Logan was satisfied with Patton’s new hairstyle, he laid down and cradled Patton under his chest like a doll. He nuzzled his nose under Patton’s neck and let out a content sigh.

Patton spat the fur off his lips. He attempted to wiggle out of Logan's grip, but the wolf let out a warning growl, and his whole body froze. Patton's eyes searched the room for their digital clock. With Logan's body pinning down his arms and legs, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

Patton stared up at the ceiling of their bunk and tried his best to go to sleep. Hopefully, when he opened his eyes the next day, he’d have a heck of a tale to tell Logan.

--

Disappointment woke Patton up as he realized that last night did in fact happen, and now he had his near naked brother lying on top of his body.

Patton found he could easily wiggle out from under Logan now and put as much distance between him and Logan as he could, but not before covering Logan up with his galaxy blanket. He tripped over the shredded clothes on the floor and landed on the counter's edge. Patton twisted his body and tried to wrap his mind around what happened last night.

In all the years Patton knew Logan, he’d never guess that he was a werewolf.

No, that couldn’t be right. Logan never changed before. He would’ve known it. He and Logan spent many nights camped out under a full moon and staring at the stars, so what changed in that short amount of time?

Logan groaned, and Patton held his breath. He ran a hand through his black hair and sat up on his elbows. Half asleep blue eyes caught Patton’s startled expression, and he sent a quirked smile.

“Good morning,” Logan greeted.

Patton let out a nervous laugh. How much of last night did Logan remember? Obviously not much if he was in this chipper of a mood.

“Uh, good morning,” Patton replied.

Logan shivered, and he looked down. He gasped and brought his blanket closer around his body. A blush tinted his face red. Logan swallowed hard and stared at the floor. His arms gripped the side of the bed as he leaned over the edge and caught sight of his torn clothes on the ground.

“Patton,” he whispered, but his mind couldn’t formulate a continuation. He wrapped the blanket tighter around his chest and started to shake.

Patton walked over to Logan and sat beside him. He chewed on his lip.

“How much of last night do you remember?” Patton asked.

“Not much,” Logan mumbled back. He furrowed his brow and licked his dry lips. “What happened.”

“Weeeeell,” Patton played with his fingers. “You’re going to think I’m nuts for thinking this, and I swear I’m telling the truth, but let’s just say… you were a real animal in bed last night.”

“That’s not even remotely funny, Patton.”

“But it’s true.”

Logan brought his fingers out from under the blanket to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me I did not get intoxicated and defile someone last night.”

“You didn’t.” Patton paused. “At least, I don’t think you did.”

Logan sighed and rubbed his arms. “Then what happened?”

Patton took a deep breath and relayed the events from last night. Logan listened with a stone face. For a while, Patton even wondered if Logan was listening, let alone taking him seriously.

When Patton finished, Logan remained silent. 

Patton swallowed hard and sent a wary smile. “At least you didn’t hurt anyone-”

“I don’t want to believe it, but with all the events that happened over the past two weeks, I’m finding it relatively hard to deny it.”

Patton blinked in surprise. “Wait, you really believe this?”

“Think about it. My aggressive appetite and hunger for meat, my sudden intolerance to ice cream- chocolate to be exact, my rapidly healed eyesight,” Logan examined his forearm where he was bitten. “There's no other possible cause."

“Yeah, I guess it makes sense.”

“It’s no wonder my mind has tried to think up a solution for this problem.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve been stumped for so long, this brings everything into perspective. However, when I wake up, I’m going to have to try and figure out if my arm is infected and caused this fever dream. I knew my allergy to penicillin would detriment me at some point."

“Logan-”

“But first, I have an exam to get to. Even if this is a dream, I don’t want to fail.”

Patton tried to get Logan to wait and listen, but Logan dressed and walked out the door before he could reason with him. Patton flopped down on Logan’s bed and lifted his glasses to press his palms into his eyes.

Convincing Logan last night happened was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

--

Thankfully, the rest of Patton and Logan’s time during finals went rather well. Logan’s hunger subsided, and he was back to his normal eating habits. The two of them had started packing up their things to return home, and Patton decided it was time to start saying goodbye to all his friends before the summer hit and they were apart for three months.

Patton bounced around campus, passing students and professors left and right. He said hello to the few he knew and kept an eye out for those who he searched for.

“Damian!” Patton called out. He waved and ran up to his friend.

Damian turned around, his brown eyes catching Patton and sending a smile. However, it soon disappeared, and he covered his nose.

“Patton,” Damian said through his hands.

Patton froze in his tracks and tilted his head to the side a bit. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you forget to shower this morning?” Damian asked. “What did you do, roll around in garbage?”

Patton rubbed a hand over his neck. It was true; he hadn’t showered this morning. However, he didn’t think that he smelled that bad.

Damian grabbed Patton’s arm, making him jump. He started twisting it all over, then pulled his head to the side and examined his neck. He brought his nose close to Patton’s neck and took a deep breath.

“Uh, Damian,” Patton said with a nervous laugh. “What’s going on?”

A sigh of relief left Damian’s lips, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if it was really you that I smelled.”

“Okay,” Patton replied. 

Damian wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulder and brought him in close. He said, “You know, I think you should spend the summer at my house. I think we could use some quality bonding time together.”

“The whole summer?” Patton squeaked.

“Why not? I think you’d enjoy the Arizona air. It’s actually breathable, unlike this humid swamp.”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Patton replied. He gave a slight laugh. “I mean, I know you’re cold-blooded, but some of us sweat, and if you think I smell now-”

“How about a month then? I think my parents would love you.”

Patton chewed his lips. “Thanks but no thanks.”

A deep frown set on Damian’s lips before he sighed through his nose. “Well, if you change your mind, you have my number. And if you ever need help-”

“Patton,” a voice called behind them. Both Patton and Damian turned. Patton popped on a friendly grin, while Damian sent a cocky smirk.

“Virgil, so nice to see you,” Damian cooed, “You’re like a zit on prom night.”

“Shut it, mosquito breath,” Virgil growled.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton spoke. He moved to walk away from Damian but found his friend's fingers digging into his arm. “Uh, Damian, kiddo, you can let go.”

Damian hesitated before retracting his hand. He stared down Virgil as the latter shifted closer to Patton.

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but he paused and smelled the air. His golden eyes glanced over at Patton, who sent a sheepish smile.

“I didn’t shower this morning, sorry,” Patton responded.

“I hope it wasn’t your fault,” Damian remarked. Virgil’s neck hair bristled. 

Patton pushed between the two of them and offered a too wide smile. “Hey, easy. It’s the last day. Is it really that hard to be nice?”

Damian snuffed and hissed, “To him?”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Virgil growled.

Patton sighed. He scratched his head and opened his mouth to talk more, but Virgil grabbed his hand.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Virgil asked. He looked over his shoulders and caught Damian’s intense stare.

“Sure, kiddo,” Patton responded. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Virgil already pulled him away and far out of earshot from anyone else. Patton opened his mouth to ask what was going on when Virgil shut the family bathroom door and locked it behind them. For a moment, all Virgil did was stare at the door.

“Patton, I have a really crazy question to ask you.”

“Oookay.”

Virgil started pacing. He opened his mouth a few times to ask, but he closed it soon after with a growl. Patton stayed silent and watched his friend work out his nerves. Finally, Virgil stopped and took a deep breath.

“Patton, who have you been with the past 24 hours?”

Patton pulled out his fingers and started counting, “Well, my brother mostly. I said goodbye to Mr. Mare this morning, then I went to get coffee and donuts with Thomas. Then I saw Damian, and then you showed up-”

“No, I mean, like-” Virgil squeezed his hands through his hair.

“Breathe-”

“I KNOW-” Virgil snapped. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Take your time.”

“Can you stop interrupting me?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He zipped his fingers over his lips.

Virgil blew a heavy breath through his own lips. He spat out, “Patton, do you know anything about werewolves?”

Patton froze. He sucked in a deep breath and let out a too cheerful laugh. “Now, kiddo, what kind of question is that?”

“I can smell that you’re nervous.”

Patton snapped his jaw shut. Virgil stood with his back facing Patton, and he clenched and unclenched his hands.

Virgil continued, “Pat, I… well I mean, my whole family actually- we’re all werewolves. Me, Roman, my mom, my dad, my aunts and uncles, cousins- you get the point. I know this sounds stupid and crazy, but I… the way you smell is not a normal human smell, and I’m worried.”

Patton reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder, but he retracted it and instead clasped his hands together in front of his chest.

“Well, I-” Patton started. He chewed on his lip. Virgil turned around expecting Patton to continue, and Patton added, “I mean, I may have recently run into one.”

“Wait, what? Are you okay? They didn’t bite you, did they? Well, I mean, I would’ve known if they bit you because I’d be able to tell if you were a werewolf too but-” Virgil paused. “Who is it?”

Patton swallowed hard. He eyed Virgil carefully, who took a step forward. Patton took a step back. Virgil froze, and Patton glanced down at the floor.

“You’re not going to hurt them if I tell you, are you?”

“I- I don’t know, Pat. Not all werewolves are nice, and I just- I want to make sure, okay?”

“I can protect myself,” Patton responded, puffing his chest out a little.

Virgil snorted through his nose. “Okay, fine, but with the way Damian and I were touching you today, I want to make sure they don’t get territorial or anything.”

“Territorial?” Patton repeated. His voice came out in a near whisper, “Is he going to pee on me?”

Virgil let out a bark of a laugh and startled Patton a bit. Patton nervously chuckled. 

“No, but he might come after us, and I’d rather not have another territory struggle on my hands,” Virgil replied.

Patton opened his mouth to ask, but he decided to finally open up instead. “It’s my brother, Logan.”

Virgil furrowed his brow. “Wait, but I’ve smelled Logan on you tons of times. He always smelled like a human.”

“Well, this was… rather recent,” Patton said with a nervous chuckle.

Virgil’s face grimaced, and Patton swallowed thickly.

“Was he bitten over a jar of Crofter's?”

“Uh, yeah, but-”

“That fucking moron!”

“Excuse me?”

“Pat, Roman was the one who bit Logan.”

Patton paused, and Virgil pulled out his phone. Virgil swiped through until he pulled up Roman’s contact and jabbed his finger on the call button. Patton opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Virgil held up his finger to silence him and put Roman on speaker.

After three rings, Roman’s voice picked up.

“Good morning, My Chemical Bromance, to what do I owe the honor-”

“You turned Logan Shea into a fucking werewolf,” Virgil growled.

The line grew silent. A wary voice called through, “Who is Logan?”

“Patton’s brother.”

“Oh,” was the only response they got for 30 seconds. Patton wondered if the line went dead. Roman continued, “Wait, the same Patton who hangs around with you and Flea Balzary?”

“That’s the one,” Virgil responded.

“Who’s Flea Balzary?” Patton asked.

The other end of the phone grew silent. Virgil asked if Roman was still there, and he got a cleared throat in response.

“Virgil, who else is with you?”

“Just Patton,” Virgil replied.

“Hi,” Patton chirped with a small wave.

Roman breathed a heavy sigh, and he spoke, “Well, hello there, Patton. I’m sorry we had to meet this way- well sort of. We haven’t actually met, but- Logan, is he alright?”

Virgil looked up at Patton for confirmation.

Patton played with his fingers as he answered, “He, uh, he doesn’t think he’s a werewolf.”

“I honestly wouldn’t expect him to. Tell you what, Patton, you bring Logan over to our dorm, and we’ll explain everything. I mean, he’s going to be a werewolf for the rest of his life now, and no level of sane thinking is going to ever deny that.”

“Okay,” Patton replied.

Roman continued, “Oh, and Virgil, I don’t appreciate you chewing up my jersey.”

“You left it on my bed. I told you not to.”

“Then put it on mine like a normal human being.”

“Never.” Virgil hung up the phone before Roman could reply to him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry to get you all mixed up in this.”

“It’s no problem,” Patton responded. He let out a sigh of relief. “Honestly, I was starting to wonder if it never happened and I really did dream up the whole thing.”

Virgil sent a sympathetic smile. “I wish I could tell you this was all a dream.”

--

Logan sighed as he followed Patton and Virgil off to Virgil’s dorm. Honestly, he didn’t have time for this. There was still so much to pack, and their father would be there in the morning to pick them up. He had to double check to make sure he and Patton both didn’t leave anything behind.

Patton kept trying to bring lightheartedness into the conversation, but between Virgil’s nervousness on revealing a family secret to a complete stranger (even if he was Patton’s brother) and Logan’s irritation, he couldn’t get anyone to respond. 

Eventually, they got to the Freshman’s dorm, and Roman opened the door with an all too eager smile.

“Come on in,” he greeted with an arm open wide. Virgil rolled his eyes and stepped in. Patton followed after and earned a genuine smile from Roman. When Logan stepped in, Roman took a deep breath and tried to keep his smile from disappearing.

“I hope you’re not going to bite me again,” Logan snapped.

“Depends,” Roman replied and earned a kick in the shin from Virgil. Roman yelped and glared at his brother, who closed the door behind Logan.

“Lo, this is Roman. He wants to apologize for biting you,” Patton spoke.

Logan raised a brow and folded his arms. Roman twisted his hands together and swallowed his nerves down his throat.

Roman spoke, “Yes, well, that was an unfortunate accident.”

“Unfortunate?” Logan barked. “You bit me over a jar of Crofter's. I can understand the sentiment, but I would never harm another human being over it.”

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t in the best of moods at the time,” Roman snapped back. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Obviously. However, apology accepted. Now, Patton, can I go home? I have a lot of work to get done.”

“Not yet,” Virgil spoke up, and Logan turned his attention to him.

“We have something to discuss,” Roman added. Logan turned his attention between the three people in the dorm and sighed.

“I really don’t have time for this.” He turned to leave.

Virgil stared him down, a low growl sounded through his throat, “You really need to hear this.”

Logan’s gut twisted with dread. Something about the look in the two stranger's eyes sent warning signals screaming through his brain. 

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, taking a step back. He grabbed Patton’s hand and partially stepped in front of his brother to shield him from the other two.

“Logan, when I bit you,” Roman started, “You see, sometimes when a pureblood werewolf bites someone- even if they’re not shifted- well it can sometimes lead to the person becoming a-”

“Logan, Roman turned you into a werewolf,” Virgil spat out. 

Logan opened and closed his mouth three times before he finally turned to Patton and said, “You’re playing a practical joke on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” Patton protested and held his hands up. “I swear, Logan, we’re being serious right now.”

“You’re still on about this werewolf business? Patton, werewolves are not real. They’re make-believe. They don’t exist.”

“Could you tell the government that? Because I really don’t want to pay taxes,” Virgil mumbled.

Logan sent him a rather nasty glare, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Logan, I swear on my father’s grave that we’re being honest,” Roman said and put a hand to his chest. “I can’t prove it to you now, but if you wait until the night of the full moon-”

“I honestly don’t have time for this,” Logan growled. He turned and pulled Patton’s hand along with him. “Come on, Patton, we have work to do.”

“But-”

Roman growled, “Logan, please be reasonable!”

“I am being reasonable! It’s you lot who are insane.”

“Tell me you remember what happened the night of the full moon, and I’ll let it all go,” Roman snapped back.

Logan opened his mouth to speak. He closed it and opened it again.

“I was in my room, I fell asleep, and then I woke up the next morning. Nothing extraordinary there.”

Roman growled in frustration and scrubbed his hands down his face.

“You-”

“Fine, you don’t want to believe us, just go,” Virgil snapped.

“Virgil-”

“No, Roman, obviously he doesn’t want to listen. There’s no point wasting our breath on him.”

Patton pulled on Logan’s hand and urged, “Please, Logan, please just listen to them. They’re only trying to help.”

Logan eyed his brother over. He glanced up at the other two before taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his nose.

“The only way they’re going to help us now, Patton, is if they help us pack to go home.”

Patton’s head lowered. Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes, and he clenched his teeth.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

Logan shook his head. He mumbled, “You can stay here and play pretend, but I have work to do. Meet me at the car in an hour if you want me to drive you home.”

Logan pulled his hand from Patton’s grasp. He walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Patton’s shoulders tensed as the door slammed shut. His body stiffened, and he blinked his eyes so tears would not fall onto his cheeks.

Virgil blew a heavy breath through his lips. “That went well.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton apologized. He played with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“Worry not, Patton. I could smell werewolf all over him,” Roman answered. “Whether Logan chooses to believe it or not, he is a werewolf, and he will end up shifting on the next full moon.”

“Can’t you both shift into werewolves and show him?” Patton asked.

“This isn’t a movie. We can’t shift at will,” Virgil answered.

Patton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He walked over to the door, turned the handle, and paused before leaving.

“What do I do? I mean, when he shifts on the full moon.”

Virgil snuffed. “Stay out of his way and hope he doesn’t eat you.”

Roman sent his brother a nasty look before he turned to Patton. “Virgil and I will try our best to be there.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you know how much of a bad idea that is?”

“Do you have a better one?”

Virgil opened his mouth to answer but closed it soon after. He crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath.

“Don’t worry, Patton. You won’t be alone in this. If Virgil won’t help, I will do my best to be there for you when he transforms on the next full moon. You have my word.” Roman walked over to Patton and held out his phone. “Here, take my number. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Patton nodded his head and sent a grateful smile. He copied Roman’s number into his contacts and sighed through his nose.

“Thank you.”

“No problem at all, little puffball,” Roman spoke. “I have a feeling we’re going to need each other later on.”

--

Logan shifted his car into gear and pulled out of the college parking lot for the last time. Well, at least until he drove Patton back in three months.

Patton rolled his window down and waved goodbye to a few friends. He settled back down into his seat and let the window open. The mild spring air tossed his hair around. His eyes kept flickering over to Logan, and the latter sighed through his nose.

“You have a question?” Logan asked.

Patton squeezed his hands together. “Are you okay? I mean, this is the last time you're going to be here.”

“I’m still under the assumption that this is all a wild hallucination due to sleep deprivation and I’ll wake up in my dorm bed before taking any of my finals,” Logan replied, “but yes, I am satisfactory.”

Patton nodded his head. He leaned his elbow on the window sill, and his eyes watched the trees pass by in a blur. 

For a while, the ride home was silent. The campus was about an hour drive from their home, and they both knew the roads by heart. Ever since they were little, Logan dreamed of going to this college and becoming a doctor so he could stop anyone from suffering the same fate his mother did. They took so many visits to the campus when they were little, and their parents saved up for years so they could go. Realizing that Logan’s dream was soon a reality warmed Patton’s heart. All the years of financial struggles were about to pay off, and he hoped his own journey would be just as successful.

Their familiar childhood suburb pulled into view. Nostalgia gripped Patton’s heart as he watched familiar street signs pass. He caught sight of the park where he and Logan first met all those years ago. Memories played in his mind like a movie.

Logan accidentally pushed Patton's sandcastle over while following an ant trail, and Patton cried for a half hour before he was consoled. Logan offered to help him build it back up after he calmed down. The two of them worked for hours, and quite a few kids asked if they could join in. Soon, it was a playground production. They built a sandcastle that covered the whole sandbox, and their parents were so proud.

Then a dog chasing a frisbee ran through it and ruined it.

Patton chuckled. Logan glanced out of the corner of his eye and quirked a brow.

“Something on your mind?” Logan asked.

“Just remembering stuff,” Patton responded. He sighed. “Remember when you fell off the fire pole because you were too afraid to hold on with your legs?”

Logan shuddered, “Don’t remind me.”

“Okay, I give that memory a break.”

“Patton.”

“What? You have a bone to pick with me?”

Logan contemplated pulling over to the side of the road and making Patton walk the rest of the way home.

The sight of their home came into view, and a wave of relief eased Logan’s tense muscles. Here, everything that happened in the past two weeks or so could go away. Here, he was just a young man who was returning home from college.

No werewolf nonsense here.

Logan pulled the car into the driveway and put it in park. For a moment, Patton and he stared up at the familiar whiteboards in silence, appreciating the moment for what it was. Then Patton exited the car, and Logan followed soon after.

“It’s quiet,” Patton pointed out.

“It’s suspicious,” Logan mumbled. “We did tell them our arrival date was today, did we not?”

“Maybe they had to run to the store,” Patton responded. He inserted his key into the lock and gave it a twist.

From outside, Logan could hear whispers from inside. He grabbed Patton’s hand on the door handle, stopping him from opening it. 

“Someone’s inside,” Logan grumbled. He smelled the air, and several scents lingered on the doorstep. Multiple people were here. Some of the scents he didn’t recognize and sent alarm bells through his mind.

Patton turned to Logan and quirked a brow. “It’s probably mom and dad.”

“No,” Logan growled. He nudged Patton away and placed his own hand on the door handle. Logan took a deep breath in. He twisted the door handle and swung the door open wide.

“SURPRISE!!”

Logan’s glasses slid down his nose a little as he froze in the doorway. Patton peeked around Logan and started to laugh.

“Aww, a surprise party?” Patton shouted over the clapping and cheering.

Their mom and dad, who stood up from behind the couch, walked over to their two boys. Patton ran forward and nearly knocked his mom over, who wrapped her son up in the biggest hug she could manage. Logan missed when his father arrived in front of him.

“Well, how’s it feel to be a graduated college student?” his dad asked as he clapped a hand down on Logan’s shoulder. Logan recoiled. He nearly flashed his teeth at his dad but regained his composure. 

He was a human for god’s sake, not some wild animal.

“No different than when I woke up yesterday morning,” Logan responded in a cool voice. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” his father responded. “Go eat some cake, relax, and try to have a good time, okay?”

Logan gave a short nod and finally released the breath he’d held in his chest.

Patton blended into the crowd unsurprisingly well. Social gatherings were always his forte, while Logan usually trailed behind him like an awkward toddler. The younger brother bounced from aunt to uncle to cousin, telling each one all about his college adventures. Some looked politely interested while others engaged Patton, asked questions, and gave input to keep the conversation going.

One aunt Logan noticed kept a particular distance from him, and he caught her eye. The mere sight of her sent chills down Logan’s spine. Not only that, but every time he got too close to her, he began to feel sick, but it cleared as soon as he stepped away from her.

That was… odd.

“Logan!” Patton called out, breaking his brother’s concentration. Logan rose a brow and turned to Patton, who held out a cup of lemonade to him. Patton continued, “You know what they say: when life gives you lemons-”

“Thank you,” Logan said as he took the cup. 

“I know you hate surprise parties,” Patton mumbled. He looked down into his own cup.

“It’s exhausting,” Logan responded, “and since my nerves are a mess, my senses are heightened. I can see and smell too many things at once.”

Patton nodded his head and took a drink.

Logan continued, “I’m going to attempt to escape to my bedroom. Keep everyone away if you can.”

“I can try,” Patton responded, “but Aunt Alice has been asking about you a lot. She’s asking some… really odd questions.”

“Her especially,” Logan mumbled. He scanned the crowd one last time for his estranged aunt and walked up the stairs to his room.

“Logan!” his father called out, making the hair on Logan’s neck rise, “the party’s down here. Don’t tell me you’re already calling it a day.”

“I’m exhausted from finals and had to drive the whole way home. I’m not in the mood for a party,” Logan responded.

His dad deflated a bit. “Oh, well, I’m sorry if we upset you-”

“Patton seems to be enjoying himself, so it wasn’t a wasted effort. I shall return once I take a nap.”

His dad sneezed, and Logan blessed him.

“Okay, we’ll save you some cake.”

Logan recalled his three day illness. “Only if it’s vanilla.”

“One slice of vanilla cake with Logan’s name on it going in the fridge.”

His dad sneezed again and rubbed his nose. He mumbled about someone having dog fur on their clothes and hugging him.

Logan sent a genuine smile before retreating up the stairs to his room. The second floor muffled a bit of the chatter, but Logan could still hear it like he was still in the living room. He’d have to invest in earplugs at this rate.

As Logan approached his room, a heavy scent reached his nose. He paused a few steps outside his doorway and took a deep breath in. It seemed to come from his room. Logan tiptoed to his door and put a hand on the handle. The strange scent overpowered his own, and he swallowed his dry throat.

Logan twisted the door open and examined the room. His galaxy bedspread rested against the wall, and his computer desk guarded the corner opposite of it. His window cracked and let in a light breeze, the lace curtain flapping a bit. 

His dresser sat against the wall. On top of that, Logan noticed someone had been burning incense. The smell was sweet and earthy, and it turned Logan’s stomach. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to enter his room. He closed his door and took a few breaths of fresh air.

That’s strange. He usually loved the smell of incense.

Logan turned from his room and headed toward the bathroom, but he noticed someone standing in the doorway. Logan paused and watched his Aunt Alice light up a stick of incense and leave it on the bathroom sink. Logan took a deep breath of fresh air and approached the room.

The sick feeling returned to his stomach.

“Aunt Alice, we have air fresheners on the back of the toilet,” Logan informed.

His aunt turned to look at him, her green eyes studying him with contempt. She curled her lip into a grimace and walked out of the room. The strong smell followed her out. Logan stopped himself from covering his nose and held his breath.

“I’m aware,” she replied.

“Then please extinguish the incense in the bathroom. I’m afraid you’ll aggravate Patton’s asthma.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot about that,” she grumbled. She dug around in her purse and grabbed some sort of perfume. “I wouldn’t want any harm to come to my second favorite nephew.”

Logan’s lungs burned. He resisted the urge to breathe until his aunt turned around. The strong smell burned his lungs further, and he hid a cough behind his shirt sleeve. Alice extinguished the stick with cold water and placed it on the counter to cool. 

“Thank you,” Logan responded as she closed the bathroom door behind her. 

She eyed Logan over once more and curled her nose. Logan watched her descend the stairs. His shoulders relaxed, and Logan failed to realize just how many of his muscles locked from the conversation.

What was that stuff? Why did the smell burn Logan’s lungs and make him want to vomit?

Was… maybe what Patton was going on about him being a werewolf had some truth- no. That was ridiculous. Werewolves don’t exist.

Logan hastened back to his room. He covered his nose with his shirt collar and walked in. The smell slipped through the threads and burned his nose. His head spun. Logan reached out and grabbed the unlit tip, and it burned his fingers. He let out a sharp hiss. Logan raced toward the bathroom to put out the stick as quickly as possible. 

After placing the extinguished incense down on the counter, Logan examined his fingers. Redness coated his fingers, but it didn’t look too severe. The stick’s burn was too far up and shouldn't have injured him whatsoever.

What was this stuff?

Logan walked back to his bedroom. He placed a moveable fan in front of his window and positioned it to spread fresh air into the room. Within a few minutes, the smell disappeared enough for Logan to shut his door, and he took a deep breath in.

After fishing his phone from his pocket, Logan googled scents that would repel werewolves just for curiosity's sake. He came up with wolfsbane, but apparently, that had no smell. 

With a buzzing mind, Logan walked out of his room and leaned over the stair railings. He spied Patton talking to some family members and waved his hands to grab Patton’s attention. 

Patton turned toward him. He smiled and waved back.

“Patton, I need a word with you,” Logan yelled over the chatter.

Patton excused himself from his guests and walked over to the stairs.

“What’s up, Logan?”

Logan shifted his weight from one foot to the next. He asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have Roman’s number by chance, would you?”

“Roman?” Patton’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “I do. Why?”

“I just-” Logan ran a hand through his hair- “I wish to get better acquainted with him is all.”

“Oh, okay,” Patton said with a wink.

Logan’s cheeks flushed. “I am not crushing on him. I merely wish to discuss the Crofter’s incident in more detail. Perhaps we could reconcile.”

“Ooookay,” Patton replied, his smile still wide. He fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled until he found Roman’s number. He showed it to Logan, who copied it into his phone. Logan cleared his throat when he finished and thanked Patton for his time. He climbed the rest of the stairs and hastened into his room.

At least the smell dissipated a bit in the rest of the house. 

Logan sat on his bed, rested his forehead in his palm, and grabbed his hair. With a gentle tug, he stared at Roman’s contact number in his phone. How did he word this without alerting the other of his situation? It could be a coincidence that his aunt had burned a smell that affected him so much. It could be a coincidence that all this werewolf stuff would affect him.

Logan opened the messenger and stared at the blinking cursor for a moment. He finally typed a coherent sentence.

Good afternoon, Roman. This is Logan Shea, the person you bit over the jar of crofters. I am messaging you with a question. Hypothetically speaking, are there certain smells that affect a werewolf? I’m curious, and you seem to be into werewolves. If you wish to answer, I would be grateful to know. If not, I hope your day ends well.

Logan waited a moment or two before hitting the send button. That sounded formal and not urgent whatsoever right? He never understood tone over text. How many times had he asked someone a simple question only to get accused of being angry? 

Logan sighed and set his phone on his bed. He didn’t expect a reply so quick, and definitely not several messages popping up afterward. 

Roman: Lavender is a good. I love the smell of lavender

Roman: OH! And it gets rid of mosquitos and stuff because they don’t like the smell. Great for leaving your window open at night

Roman: I heard oranges is a good one too

Roman: But I used to live next to an orange grove when I was little so I might be a bit biased

Roman: Frankincense is pretty nasty tho even Virgil agrees

Roman: Lemongrass is good for when you need to think or ya know clear your head and stuff

Roman: Also white sage is a no no. It’ll kill any wolf that inhales too much of it

Roman: That answer your question?

Logan mumbled about Roman eating up so many texts. Wasn’t it easier to send multiple sentences at once with the correct grammatical format? Logan sent a quick “Yes, thank you” and received some sort of yellow face blowing a heart at him. He set his phone on the counter and plugged it in to charge.

It amazed him how serious Roman took this werewolf business.

The door muffled a bit more of the party downstairs, and Logan sat down on his bed with a book he neglected to take to college with him. He opened the cover, appreciating that new book smell, and hoped that by the end of the book, he’d have some sort of understanding on how to obtain and keep a stable job.

--

Two weeks passed by without much alarm. Logan searched for any sort of job in the medical field. Two called him back for an interview so far, but since it was only the beginning of his search, Logan didn’t bet all his money on grabbing it. After all, he was still young.

Patton played games online a lot with his friends from college. Even though he and Damian were from different time zones, the two of them still found time to get together and play. Patton blamed that mostly on Damian’s horrible sleeping pattern, and no amount of telling him to go to sleep ever fixed it.

Then, three days before the full moon, the insatiable hunger hit Logan’s gut again. Not only that, but he found himself eating greasy foods once again. If Logan’s parents noticed, they didn’t say anything. Patton insisted Logan didn’t smell like grease, but Logan could smell his shame.

The closer the full moon got, the more nervous Patton became. What was he going to do with Logan when he sifted? How would he hide him from their parents? He couldn’t let Logan run free. Logan could hurt someone. It was a miracle he wasn’t hurt when Logan shifted the first time.

Someone must’ve been looking out for him because his parents got a call from his sick great uncle in Canada who asked if they could come to visit. They’d be gone for the week. In fact, his parents were surprised when Patton declined to go with. He loved his great uncle, especially the stories he told, but Patton knew if he left Logan alone, something bad was going to happen.

Patton eyed the basement door. It… might hold Logan. He didn’t know how strong the werewolf was, but it might work. It was all he had.

So the day of the full moon, Patton gathered as many spare blankets as he could, throw pillows, a bowl with water from the kitchen sink, some cheap chew toys he found at a pet store (just in case), and a rawhide bone. He placed them in the basement and made a little nesting area for Logan to lay in.

“What are you doing?”

Patton jumped as Logan’s voice called from upstairs. The steps creaked as Logan descended them.

Patton forced a smile on his lips and replied, “Oh, you know, just making a soft area while I watch tv.”

Logan looked around, his eyes landing on the dog bone on the floor.

“With dog toys?”

“Um… yeah.”

“Patton-”

“I didn’t hide a stray dog upstairs this time, I swear!”

Logan rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily through his nose.

“We can’t keep it.”

“But-”

“No buts, Patton. You know dad is allergic to dogs.”

“I know, but-”

“Where is it? I’ll drive it to the rescue center if you need me to.”

Patton lowered his head. Maybe he could use this to his advantage. He sighed through his nose and put his hands in his pocket, his shoulders tense.

“No, Logan, it’s my dog. I’ll do it.”

Patton walked past Logan and climbed the stairs. He sent one last look down, making sure Logan had everything he needed and hurried up the last few steps. 

As he got to the top floor, he closed the basement door and double locked it.

Patton paused, letting the events sink in. He just locked his brother in the basement. Logan was going to be pissed when he found out. Still, it was close enough to nighttime that Patton hoped he wouldn’t have to worry about Logan remembering it.

Patton took five steps back and eyed the door. Logan would be fine. There was a bathroom in the basement. He set water down. Logan would be fine. There were blankets in case he got cold. There was even a window he could watch the full moon rise through. Logan would be fine. He wouldn’t pound on the door and demand Patton let him out. He wouldn’t scratch it down. He wouldn’t break through.

He would be fine.

Patton would be fine.

The door handle jiggled, and Patton held his breath. It hesitated before twisting again.  

“Patton?” Logan called out. A pause. “Patton, this isn’t amusing whatsoever. Let me out right now.”

Patton’s heart raced in his chest. He chewed on his lip. Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t here-

“Patton! Open the door right now. You can’t keep me locked down here forever. We can’t keep the dog.”

The other side of the door grew quiet, and a naive part of Patton hoped Logan gave up.

The door shook as Logan slammed his shoulder into it.

“Patton!”

Patton covered his ears. He could turn on the television and pretend Logan wasn’t there. He could go upstairs and listen to music. He could get on a voice chat with Damian and try to distract himself.

The door banged again, this time as Logan pounded his fist on the wood.

“Patton, unlock the door right now!”

Patton squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly.

“No.”

Patton held his breath and listened. Logan grew eerily quiet on the other side of the door as if he waited for Patton to continue.

“This is no time for childish games. Open the door. Now.”

“I can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” 

“I just can't.”

“Patton, that's a horrible excuse!”

“I don’t want you to hurt anyone!”

The house deafened as Patton’s yell reverberated throughout it. Logan’s voice did the opposite, going quiet like a whisper.

“Patton, I’m not going to hurt the dog, and I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt anyone. I know I'm angry, but I won't hurt you. I promise. Please, open the door.”

Patton whispered back, “You don’t know that.”

Another pregnant pause stilled the house. Patton fiddled with the sleeves of his cardigan and looked outside. The sun barely peeked over the trees.

Patton continued, “Logan, whether you want to believe it or not, you did get turned into a werewolf. I saw you. You pinned me down on my bed and held me there all night. You were huge and had black fur and- I don’t know if the basement is even going to hold you. And whether you want to or not, when the full moon rises, you’re going to turn into a werewolf again. And I can’t let you out, because I don’t want you to hurt anyone.”

It took a moment for Patton to realize he started crying. His body shook, and he wiped them away with his cardigan’s sleeve. 

It really was happening again. His brother was going to turn into a werewolf, and he was all alone. He had to face this alone. He had to be the one to keep his brother under control. He had to be the one who would hurt Logan if need be. 

The other side of the door stayed quiet. Patton chewed on his lip. Did Logan hear all that? Was he changing now? When would it happen? Anticipation rose goosebumps onto Patton’s skin.

If the real Logan was still in there, Patton needed him to know this wasn't out of malice. 

“Logan, I love you. I’m sorry. If there was something else I could do, I would.”

Patton walked away from the basement door and into the living room. He curled up into a ball on the couch and rolled himself in a blanket like sushi. Since it was the next room over, he’d be able to hear every sound from the other side of the basement door, but it was far enough out of the way that he could pretend the sounds didn’t exist.

“Patton,” Logan’s voice called. Patton’s attention perked up. Logan sighed, and he continued, “When the night is over and I don’t change into a werewolf, promise me you’ll let me out of the basement.”

“I promise,” Patton whispered, then repeated it louder so Logan could hear. He probably heard him the first time, but Patton wanted to be sure.

The sound of Logan going down the basement stairs took all of Patton’s nerves away. Patton breathed a sigh of relief, and he burrowed his head into the soft blanket.

The living room clock ticked. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes passed like hours. Patton held his breath.

Soon. Any minute now.

A strangled breath cried out from the basement, and all of Patton’s anxiety returned tenfold. 

Here it comes.

The moon glowed through the living room curtain. Patton made sure to leave the living room lamp on so his neighbors knew someone was home and didn’t call the police. If Logan made too much noise, they still might, but at least they’d be calling the police on Patton and not some stranger.

Logan’s scream turned into a growl, and Patton did his best to cover his ears while still remaining locked in the blanket.

Silence choked the house.

Patton popped his head out of the blanket and looked toward the basement door. Logan hadn’t made a sound in at least a minute. Did he shift? Was it over? What was he doing? Was he lonely? Would he be okay? What would he do if he had to pee?

Claws scratching steps clicked on the stairs. Patton’s whole body froze. He could hear Logan’s heavy breath on the other side of the door. Two sniffs preceded a low growl.

The door banged, and Patton jumped.

An annoyed growl shook the walls. The door banged again, this time as claws scraped against it. Patton prayed the door would hold. Logan’s snarl followed soon after.

The door banged and cracked.

Patton yelped as he heard wood splinter.

It wasn’t going to hold.

Logan banged into it again, and the door cracked louder.

It wasn’t going to hold!

The door slammed against the wall beside it like a gunshot and shook the house. Patton covered his mouth as he screamed. He tried not to shake. Maybe if he laid still Logan would leave him alone.

Claws on tile scraped through the kitchen, and Patton heard the floor creak under Logan’s weight. Two sniffs whispered in the air, and the footsteps creaked closer to the living room.

Patton tried to swallow, but his throat closed up. 

Logan’s nose pressed into the blanket, and Patton whimpered. The suction from Logan’s sniff pulled the blanket off his hand, and he retracted it like it burned.

Patton's heart pounded in his ears. 

Logan didn’t hurt him before. Logan could’ve hurt him before, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt him now.

Logan promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He promised.

Teeth gripped the edge of the blanket. Logan ripped the blanket out of Patton’s hold. Patton tried to curl in on himself, to make a smaller target, but there wasn’t enough blanket left to cover him.

Patton gazed into large blue eyes. If he ignored the black fur and wolf snout, they looked just like Logan’s human eyes, only bigger.

No wonder people say the eyes are a window into the soul.

Logan whimpered, and he nudged Patton’s arm with his nose. His tail wagged as he pressed his head completely under Patton’s arm. His nose booped the tip of Patton’s own nose, and Logan let out a low whine.

It’s just me, he seemed to say. Don’t be afraid. 

I promised.

Patton allowed his hand to gloss over Logan’s black fur. It felt the same as the night Logan shifted the first time, soft and warm, and Patton couldn’t help but smile. 

Logan withdrew his head, and Patton pushed himself into a sitting position on the couch. Patton noticed Logan still wore his tie, just like the first night he shifted. 

For a moment, Logan stared at him. Then, he jumped onto the couch.

“Oh no! No wolves on the couch,” Patton scolded.

Logan watched him, his ears alert.

“I mean it, mister. Dad will freak out if he sees dog hair on the couch. No. Down.”

Patton wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if Logan really did roll his eyes, but the wolf pushed his paws off the couch, circled twice, then rested in the middle of the living room floor with a soft groan.

Patton couldn’t help his giddy giggle. When he wanted a pet, he would’ve never guessed it would be his brother.

“Do you still like science and stuff? We could turn on some VSauce or something. I know you like watching Michael.”

Logan’s ear twitched to show he was listening, but he didn’t look up at Patton.

Patton turned on the television and pulled up the YouTube app. He clicked on the video that popped up first and let autoplay run. That way, even if he fell asleep, Logan would have something to entertain himself with. 

Somewhere between the videos, Patton got enough courage to sit on the floor. Logan watched his every move, but he didn’t approach. Patton slid until his hip pressed against Logan’s back, and he let his fingers ghost over Logan’s fur.

If Logan minded he didn’t say anything.

For a while, Patton petted Logan in the muffled background sound of unwatched videos. His eyes grew heavier with each stroke, and when he looked at the clock, it read one in the morning. Patton yawned, and he scolded himself for not getting more sleep the night before.

The next time Patton looked at the clock, it was three in the morning. His head rested on Logan’s chest as he hugged the wolf around the middle.

Logan growled below him. The rumbles of his deep voice shook Patton awake.

Or maybe that was the creaking of the porch steps outside that woke him.

Patton gripped his hand into Logan’s fur, and he pressed his chest into Logan’s back. Whatever was on the porch couldn’t get in. It was fine. They’d be fine.

A key clicked in the latch, and Patton held his breath.

This was not fine.

A snarl curled Logan’s lips back. Patton gripped his hands around Logan’s muzzle, silencing the wolf and holding his breath.

The door closed, and Patton bit his lip.

Who was here? Should he risk calling out? What if they came into the living room and saw a giant wolf? What would they do?

Footsteps came closer to the living room. Logan’s muscles tensed below him.

“Hello?” Patton called out, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

The footsteps stopped. The whole house held its breath.

“Mom, Dad, are you home?” Patton asked.

Silence answered him.

Patton pressed Logan into the floor as he stood up. 

“Stay,” he whispered, hoping that for once in his life Logan would listen to him. “Please, stay.”

Patton stepped away from Logan and tiptoed toward the kitchen. He peered around the corner and nearly screamed when he stared down a crossbow.

“Patton,” a harsh voice whispered in the dark behind it.

Patton squinted in the low light, and then his eyes widened.

“Aunt Alice?”

She pulled Patton into a hug and squeezed his chest a little too tight.

“Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Patton shook away his shock and answered, “No, I’m not. I mean, yes, I’m okay, but- why are you here?”

Alice spied the door to the basement cracked in two. Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her jaw.

“I’m guessing Logan did that.”

Patton blinked and forced a smile. “Uh, don’t be silly, auntie. Logan’s not that strong.”

“Cut the act, Patton. I know he’s a werewolf.”

Patton swallowed thickly. His eyes darted to the crossbow in his aunt’s hands and then back up to her face. His mind formed one question, but his imagination filled in several answers.

“What makes you think that?”

“The day of the party, I could tell Logan was acting strange. I always carry a bit of wolfsbane in my purse when I’m out, just in case. It doesn’t create a smell, but it makes any werewolf sick to their stomach, and it keeps them well away from me. I could tell how uncomfortable Logan felt around me, and it wasn’t because my perfume was too strong.”

“Maybe he was just tired and didn’t want company.”

“No, this was different. I’ve seen the reaction way too many times. Now, where is he? Please don’t tell me he got out.”

Patton bit his lip. What should he say? Would his aunt try to hurt Logan if he told the truth? What if Logan came around the corner of the living room door and she saw him? What would Logan do? Too many questions fogged Patton’s mind and hid his words in his throat.

“Nevermind. You stay here. I’m going to check the house.”

“No!”

“Patton, this isn’t Logan we’re talking about. This is a werewolf. They’re deadly and unpredictable. Your brother isn’t there anymore.”

That’s not true, Patton wanted to argue. He opened his mouth to argue. However, a low snarl from behind shook every ounce of courage from him.

Alice pulled Patton close to her chest with one arm and held the crossbow with the other. Her eyes narrowed, and her feet backtracked, pulling Patton with her.

Logan observed the situation. His teeth bared, and the hair on the back of his shoulders stood on edge. Claws dug into the carpet.

“No, Aunt Alice wait!”

“Stay behind me, Patton. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him.”

“But he hasn’t hurt me all night! He’s not going to hurt anyone!”

Logan took a step forward. Alice shoved Patton behind her and took a shot. Logan flinched at the last second, and the arrow grazed his left shoulder. It lodged itself into the carpet. Logan yelped.

Patton watched Alice load another arrow into the crossbow. She lined up her shot. Patton pushed the crossbow up, and the arrow flew wide into the ceiling.

“Patton-!”

Logan leaped.

Alice grabbed Patton’s hand. She pulled him to the side and toward the kitchen door. Patton tried protesting, but his aunt shoved him out the door before he could argue. Alice slammed the door shut as Logan's head slammed into it. Logan cried out and began furiously scratching the door, the whole time snarling and howling.

“In the car,” his aunt urged.

Patton set his jaw. “I’m not leaving him.”

“The hell you’re not! Patton, he tried to attack you.”

“No, he tried to attack you because you shot an arrow at him. You tried to kill him!”

“Only to keep you safe.”

“I was fine until-” the kitchen door cracked- “you came along! He was just laying on my living room floor. And he just held me the first night he shifted. He’s not going to hurt anyone as long as you leave him alone!”

Alice grabbed Patton’s hand a little too hard, and he hissed in pain. She yanked him to the car and pushed him into the back seat. Before Patton could recover, she shut the door, got in, turned on the car, and sped out of the driveway.

Patton regained his balance, only to be knocked over again as his aunt went around another sharp turn. He hit his head rather hard off the window, and for a moment, he saw white. Patton shook off his daze as the car pulled to a stop but didn’t turn off. 

Alice got out of the car, opened Patton’s door, and pulled him outside.

“Stay here,” she ordered. She shoved something cold into Patton’s hands, and Patton stared down at a pistol. “And if anything comes to hurt you, shoot it.”

Patton watched his aunt get in her car and drive back toward his house. His heart panicked.

“No! Aunt Alice, wait! Please!”

But the car sped well out of earshot. Patton’s cries for mercy fell into the grass like his knees.

No, this… this couldn’t be happening. This was all just a bad dream. He’d wake up the next morning, and Logan would be under him in the living room. They’d both be okay.

A sob choked Patton’s breath.

It had to be a dream.

But.

But what if it wasn’t? What if his aunt actually killed Logan tonight? How was he going to tell his parents? How would his dad react to not only losing the love of his life all those years ago to a bullet but his son as well?

Patton got up on his feet. For a moment, he felt dizzy and caught his balance. His head ached, and he massaged his temple, which now held a rather large bump on it. No doubt it’d be black and blue by the morning.

Patton surveyed his surroundings. The park. She dropped him off at the park. It was only a 10 minute walk from here, and if he ran, he might make it in time.

He could save Logan yet.

The bushes beside the creek rustled, and Patton squeezed the weapon in his hand. No breeze blew. Two golden eyes stared out of the bush leaves, and Patton whimpered as he took a step back.

“Patton,” a voice in his mind whispered. It sounded… familiar… like-

“V-Virgil?” Patton stammered out.

Two hazel eyes turned into a large wolf with gray, brown and white fur. Behind it, another emerged, its stark white fur and golden eyes practically glowing in the moonlight.

“Oh, Patton, thank the stars you’re alright,” Roman’s voice spoke next.  

How the two wolves were talking, Patton didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care right now either. Roman came, just like he promised. Patton didn’t know whether tears of panic or relief pricked his eyes, but he wiped them away as quickly as he could. His fingers squeezed the weapon in his hand. He wanted to throw it as far away as he could, but it might hurt someone, and he couldn’t live with himself if-

“Patton, why are you out here all alone on a full moon?” Virgil asked. “Where’s Logan?”

Patton shook his daze away.

“Logan’s back at my house. You have to help! My aunt knows he’s a werewolf, and I think she’s trying to kill him.”

Roman growled deep in his throat, and Virgil nudged Patton’s hand to brush his head against Patton’s side in comfort. His nose tapped the gun in Patton’s hand, and he yelped as he jumped back.

“Patton-” Virgil started, but he didn’t finish. His eyes stayed locked onto the gun.

Roman spied his brother’s reaction and turned his head to the weapon.

“Patton, why do you have a silver gun? Who gave it to you?”

Patton eyed the weapon in his hand before he answered, “It was my aunt. I think she’s dealt with werewolves before. She said she found out Logan was one because she had wolfsbane in her pocket.”

“One shot with that and Virgil and I would be dead within the hour. Silver bullets are fatal unless we’re able to somehow get the bullet out.”

Patton’s gut twisted.

“Oh my goodness, she’s really going to kill Logan!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. We’re going to stop your aunt, we’re going to save Logan, and we’re going to get out of this in one piece.”

Virgil raised his head into the air, but he couldn’t catch a trail on Patton’s scent.

“Which direction is your house in?”

Patton pointed to his left and answered, “It’s a few blocks down the road not far from here.”

Roman nodded his head, and he walked over to Patton. He pressed his back into Patton’s hand and looked up at him.

“Get on my back. Quickly. We’re both faster than you.”

Patton nodded his head. Roman lowered his back, and Patton swung a leg over. His hands dug into Roman’s white fur. Unlike Logan’s, Roman’s fur was soft and thick as a chinchilla. It felt like a cloud.

Roman stood, and Patton’s feet lifted off the ground. He braced himself in the middle of Roman’s back, surprised the wolf could support his weight and whimpered as Roman took off toward his house.

The wind dried Patton’s eyes and blurred his vision. He heard Virgil following on Roman’s tail. Both brothers let out sharp breaths through their nose. Patton could feel Roman’s strong muscles rippling below his legs, and he patted the side of Roman’s head.

“Turn here. My house is the third one down.”

Roman did as he was told. He ran down the street and skidded to a halt outside of Patton’s house.

Alice’s car was parked in the driveway, its engine still pinging from recently stopping. The screen door to the house lay ajar against the wall, and the front door had a slight crack in it. 

Patton swallowed vomit back down his throat. They were both in there, and who knew if Logan was still alive- no. They made it. They had to.

Roman lowered his body, and Patton slid off the side.

“Perhaps it’s safest if you stay out here. I don’t know how much help you’ll be against your aunt.”

“But-”

“No, Roman’s right, Patton. You need to stay safe. You’re only human after all.”

“But-!”

“We’ll be fine. This isn’t our first encounter with a hunter.”

Roman’s eyes hardened, and his muscles tensed. Virgil’s head lowered slightly, and Patton’s curiosity rose.

Patton let out a long sigh.

“Please stay safe.”

Roman rubbed his head against Patton’s hand as he walked past and let Patton’s fingers trail down his back. He stalked toward the house, his head lowered and tail straight, and crept up the porch steps.

Virgil nosed Patton’s hand and gave it a gentle lick. Patton wrapped his arms around Virgil’s neck, and Virgil backed up slightly. However, he resisted the instinct to pull away and rested his muzzle on Patton’s back.

“Please stay safe,” Patton repeated.

Virgil let out a long sigh before pulling away. He followed in Roman’s pawprints before sending one last look at Patton and disappearing in the house.

--

Creak.

Roman waited in the kitchen for Virgil to join his side, and he slowly maneuvered toward the stairs. Virgil stayed close on his tail as they crept up the stairs together.

Creak.

Small puddles of blood climbed the stairs with them, some distorted by pawprints.

A low growl rumbled above them, and Roman froze in place. Logan’s scent grew stronger, as did the scent of blood.

A gun clicked.

“I’m sorry, Logan. You really were my favorite nephew, and I swear I’ll avenge you for this.”

Roman wasted no time climbing the rest of the stairs. He reached the top, and sharp eyes met his. He caught the woman standing outside of a door, gun raised and ready to shoot.

A rumbling snarl thundered with his paws as he charged at her. The woman, who must’ve been Alice, panicked and took a shot. It went wide. Roman lunged. His paws easily shoved her to the ground. The woman yelped.

Roman’s paw pressed into her chest, and he heard ribs creak under his weight. He bared his teeth. Alice moved her arm to shoot again. Roman grabbed her forearm with his teeth and ripped into skin. Blood saturated his fur. His teeth tore muscle and scratched bone. Alice screamed beneath him. The gun clattered from her hands.

A fist pounded into Roman’s nose. He whimpered and let go of her arm, taking a step back to shake the pain in his nose. Alice lunged for the gun. She scrambled backward and aimed.

Roman charged forward. He knocked into her into the wall. The gun banged with her head. The shot lodged itself into the wall, nearly hitting Roman’s face and taking some of his fur with it.

Alice’s eyes rolled into her head, and she slumped unconscious onto the floor.

The ticking clock down the hallway synchronized with Roman’s breath.

Roman licked the blood from his lips and took two steps back. He eyed the woman in front of him before snorting through his nose and raising his head high.

“That’ll teach you for messing with my pack,” he growled.

Virgil pushed past Roman and into Logan’s room. A black bundle of fur growled, and ice blue eyes stared at him.

“Easy,” Virgil whispered and lowered his body to the floor, his ears flat in submission. “We don’t want to hurt you, Logan.”

Logan panted heavily. His ears rested against his head, and he barely focused on Virgil in front of him. 

“Patton. Where’s Patton?” he panted over and over again.

“He’s safe,” Virgil informed. 

The stress in Logan’s eyes seemed to waver a bit, but it came back soon after.

“I have to keep him safe. I promised.”

Roman padded in behind Virgil, and Logan’s hackles raised. He stared at Roman and bared his teeth.

“Easy, I’m not going to bite you this time,” Roman said with a hint of mirth.

Logan tried to push himself onto his feet, but he whimpered and collapsed back down on the ground with a heavy plop. Virgil walked over to Logan and nosed his chest. The scent of silver rose his fur.

“Roman, he’s been shot. If we don’t get the bullet out soon-”

Roman twisted his body around and dashed down the steps as quickly as his feet could take him. He pushed through the front door.

Patton stopped his pacing in the front yard and met Roman halfway.

“I heard gunshots. Is everyone okay? Is Logan okay?”

“I’m afraid not. We need your help. Logan has a silver bullet in his chest, and if we don’t remove it so his body can heal, he’s going to die.”

Patton stopped the panicked choke in his chest and raced into the house. He tried to ignore the bloodstains on the floor and his unconscious aunt with her arm torn to shreds in the hallway. He stood in Logan’s doorway and spied his brother.

Logan’s tail wagged as he spotted Patton. He tried to stand, but he whimpered and collapsed once again. His struggling breaths shook his body with a slight whimper.

“It’s under his right shoulder,” Virgil informed.

Patton walked in and knelt beside his brother. He stroked Logan’s head, and Logan leaned into Patton’s touch. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” Patton whispered. He massaged Logan behind the ear, and Logan rested his head in Patton’s lap. Patton blinked away his tears and continued, “I’m gonna help you, Lo, but I need you to raise your head a little.”

Logan sighed heavily. He whimpered before bringing his head back up. 

Patton sucked in a sharp breath. Blood stained the carpet and soaked the front of Logan’s fur. Patton’s fingers brushed over the fur until he heard Logan yelp. He drew his hand back as Logan took a nip at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Patton’s gentle voice shushed him. He stroked Logan’s back a bit. “But I might have to if we want you to heal. I have to pull the bullet out, or you’re going to... to die.”

Logan’s eyes stared up into Patton’s own. They looked so, so tired. Logan blinked slowly, and he bent his ears backward. He rolled off of Patton, exposing his chest and the wound under his shoulder as well.

With that, Patton leaned down and started pushing fur out of the way. His hands stained red. The thick fur finally parted, and Patton found the hole the bullet wedged itself into. He checked Logan’s face for any sign of pain and was both relieved and nervous that Logan remained so calm this time.

Virgil started pacing. Every once and awhile, he’d stop, stare at Patton, make sure Logan wasn’t trying to hurt him, and then continue his pacing again.

Roman, on the other hand, was perfectly content laying on the floor with one front paw out and the other folded onto his chest. Every once and awhile, his ear would swivel, listening to the sounds outside the house for danger, and then returned his attention back to the two in front of him.

Patton poked his finger in the hole. Logan’s muscles tensed, and he swallowed thickly. Patton waited a moment, holding his own vomit in his throat. 

Logan was the doctor, not him. He shouldn’t be doing this. He could hurt Logan worse than he already was. Removing a bullet is the exact opposite of what someone should do if they’re shot.

But what choice did he have? They couldn’t exactly take him to the vet right now, and leaving the bullet there was out of the question. 

If only Logan could talk him through this.

Wait.

“Wait!” Patton spoke, “Roman, Virgil, I need you to talk to Logan for me. He’s a doctor- well studied to be a doctor. I need to know what to do to get rid of it.”

Roman stayed quiet for a moment, and then he spoke, “He says you’ll need gloves because he doesn’t really want your germy hands in his chest. And tweezers.”

Patton nodded and stood up. Logan whined as Patton left the room and ran to the bathroom. He flipped the bathroom light on with his shoulder and froze at the medicine cabinet.

His hands had so much blood on them.

Patton tried to ignore the blood and opened the medicine cabinet. He shuffled around the contents, grabbing gloves and nearly knocking the tweezers down the drain. He resisted the urge to grab the Disney bandaids and hurried back to Logan’s room.

Patton turned on the lights, sat down on the floor once again, and scooted closer to Logan. He put the gloves on. 

Once he had proper lighting, parting the fur to find the hole was easier. However, that still left the bullet to retrieve.

Patton swallowed.

With a shaking hand, Patton pressed the tweezers into the hole. Logan yelped and jolted up, but he stopped himself from biting and pressed his head back into the carpet. Patton found it harder and harder to breathe as he reached for the bullet.

Virgil’s nose nudged Patton’s shoulder, and he spoke, “Logan says you’re doing great. Keep breathing. You can do this.”

Patton swallowed his nerves. The metal of the tweezers tapped the bullet, and Patton chewed on his lip as he grabbed onto the sides. The first pull only slipped off. Patton sucked in a sharp breath.

“Okay, okay,” Virgil whispered, “That’s okay. Try again.”

Patton tried once, twice, three times more before he got the bullet to budge. He stopped paying attention to Logan’s face. Instead, he stared at the bullet wound and carefully moved the tweezers until the bullet came into sight.

Patton’s breathing sped up as the tweezers slid off the bullet once again, and it stayed inside the wound.

“No,” he whispered. He tried to grab it again, but it slipped deeper in.

“Calm, Patton, stay calm,” Roman urged as he stood. He placed his head on Logan’s neck to hold him still. “You almost have it. Just one more try.”

Patton nodded and swallowed hard. His hand shook a little less as he reached for the last time to grab the bullet. Without thinking, Patton yanked his hand back. There was a sick sounding pop, and Logan yelped.

The silver bullet bounced across the floor and rolled to a stop in the center of the room.

All the breath Patton held left his chest at once. He smiled and let out two hysterical laughs.

“I did it. It’s out!”

“You did great,” Virgil mentioned and rubbed his head against Patton’s hair.

“Now what? How long will it take to heal?” Patton asked.

Roman sighed. “I’m not sure. All we can do now is wait.”

Logan’s breathing evened out, and the whimper disappeared from his stressed panting. He tried to sit up once again, but he yelped and laid back down on the floor. 

Patton moved so he sat at Logan’s back. He pulled Logan’s head into his lap and stroked the side of Logan’s head. His fingers trailed farther and farther down Logan’s side until they rested at the base of his ribs.

“You’ll be okay, Logan,” Patton whispered, over and over. Maybe more so for his sake than Logan’s own. Patton began to hum the lullaby that his mother sang when they were kids, and Logan allowed his eyes to close.

Exhaustion knocked Patton forward, and he stopped himself from passing out. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he started to feel like it was four in the morning and he got two hours of sleep.

But if he fell asleep, he couldn’t watch Logan. What would happen if Logan didn’t make it through the night? What if this was the last time he’d see him? He wanted to spend every moment-

Roman’s side pressed up against Patton’s back. Patton jolted awake as Roman laid down behind him.

“Get some rest, Patton. You earned it.”

“But, Logan, what if he-”

“If anything happens to him, we’ll let you know,” Virgil responded. He curled up against Logan’s bed and rested his head in his paws.

Patton leaned back into Roman’s soft, warm fur. He let a long sigh leave his lungs.

He barely remembered falling asleep.

--

The next morning, Patton tried to ignore the fact that he fell asleep on his brother’s floor, with his naked brother's head in his lap, laying on top of a naked stranger (well, really only his head was on Roman’s bare chest), and Virgil laying curled up against Logan’s bed with at least a little modesty from the bed’s blanket. 

Patton brushed the wound on Logan’s chest. Judging from the sticky dried blood, it stopped bleeding hours ago. The flesh was still tender though as Logan flinched when Patton poked it. Patton drew his fingers back. Logan stayed asleep, and Patton let out a long sigh. He noticed another scratch along Logan’s shoulder that was almost healed. That’s the shot his aunt took when she first came.

Wait.

Aunt Alice!

Patton slid out from under Logan and stumbled into the hallway. He looked down the hall.

Gone.

His aunt was gone.

Patton held his breath. Did she just leave? Did someone take her? Did Virgil and Roman dispose of her body?

Patton chewed on his lip as he left to go check his phone for any missed messages. His throat dried up when he realized he had missed texts from the very person he was looking for.

My dearest Patton,

I feel like I should apologize. I did come to your house with every intent to keep you safe, but I was too lost in my hatred to realize it wasn’t necessary. When I woke, I saw you sleeping with those two wolves and your brother. They didn’t hurt you. In fact, they were protecting you.

I may not have given up my hunter ways, but I certainly will leave you, Logan, and his pack alone for now. Please stay safe. If you need help, you know who to call.

-Auntie Alice

PS - I’m delivering Logan’s favorite crofter thumbprint cookies as an apology. He won’t remember me shooting him, and I’d prefer it that way. He’s still my favorite nephew… no offense ;)

Patton read and reread the note over and over again. He sighed in relief. One problem down.

Now he just had to figure out how to make all the blood disappear and how to replace the doors Logan broke without his parents noticing.

That was easy… right?

Patton first went to his room and grabbed three of his favorite house robes. The others would probably be cold when they woke up. He draped them over each person, putting a red Mickey Mouse robe on Roman, his favorite fuzzy gray one on Logan, and a powder blue one with calico cats on Virgil. Thank goodness Patton was taller and bigger than everyone.

Afterward, Patton climbed down the stairs, careful not to step in any of the blood puddles, and walked into the kitchen. He spied the broken door to the basement.

Well, no use cleaning on an empty stomach. His parents wouldn’t be home for another four days, after all.

Besides, the wolves-er werehumans- would probably be hungry when they woke up.

Patton grabbed a package of apple oatmeal and started cooking it on the stove. He grabbed some raisin toast and set it in the toaster to pop down when someone was ready for breakfast. No one liked cold soggy toast. He also set tea in the kettle for Logan and put some coffee in the coffee maker. He hated coffee, but Roman and Virgil might appreciate some.

As Patton stirred the oatmeal, the stairs creaked.

Logan entered the kitchen clutching Patton’s robe around him like a lifeline and looked around the house in a near daze like state. Patton couldn’t tell if he was just tired or if it was a state of shock.

“Good morning,” Patton chirped.

Logan stared at the basement door for a few minutes before he answered, “Good morning, Patton.”

Logan reached out to grab a kitchen chair, missed, tried again, and sat down. He stared at the wall in front of him and rubbed a hand over his face.

“It really did happen last night, didn’t it?”

Patton pinched his cheeks into a smile. “I usually don’t like saying I told you so but-”

“I’m sorry.”

Patton closed his jaw with an audible click. Did Logan just… apologize? Flat out?

Logan’s blue eyes drifted over to Patton, and he sighed. His lips stumbled to find words before he continued.

“I didn’t want to believe it. However, with all the evidence stacked against me, the insatiable hunger, the aversion to certain smells, the toxicity of chocolate, and the sudden height of sight, sound and smell, I could no longer cross out the possibility that werewolves did, in fact, exist, and that I was one of them.”

Logan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stayed silent for a few minutes before adding on, “I did shift into a werewolf last night, did I not?”

Patton nodded his head. He set the oatmeal off the burner and onto a warming pad. After, he reached for Logan’s star mug and poured some earl gray tea. Patton presented the warm mug to Logan, who took it with a word of thanks and sat at the other side of the table. Fingers wove together and placed themselves on his lap.

“You didn’t hurt anyone, though, so don’t worry.”

Logan’s blue eyes flashed open, and Patton recalled the calm stare of the wolf the night before.

“Then how did I achieve the wounds on my chest and shoulder?”

Patton sucked in a breath and forced a smile. He let out a nervous laugh and answered, “Oh, well, I mean- it’s not because you hurt anyone. It’s more like they were out to hurt… you.”

“Me? What possible cause could they have to hurt me?”

“Um, well, they were a… werewolf hunter, I think.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No! Actually, they wanted to keep me safe. They thought that you were going to hurt me.”

“What stopped them?”

“Roman and Virgil. I think it was mostly Roman though.”

Logan nodded his head and sighed through his nose. He ran a hand through his messy hair and swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“Mom and dad are going to flip when they see the door.”

“Yeah, there’s no way they’re going to find it a-door-able.”

Logan glared, and Patton sent a proud smirk.

The stairs groaned a second time, and Patton had to strain his hearing to pick up the light footsteps. Golden eyes flashed over the railing as Roman descended the stairs and stopped in the kitchen doorway.

“Good morning,” Roman practically sang.

Logan turned around in his seat, and Roman smiled a bit too wide at him.

“How are you feeling, Logan?”

“My chest is in pain, but otherwise, I believe I will make a quick recovery.”

“Oh,” Roman flashed his eyes up to Patton before returning to Logan. “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Not much. The last thing I recall was contacting you, actually.”

Patton’s eyebrows pinched together. 

“You called Roman?”

“Texted, actually,” Roman corrected. “He told me, and I quote ‘I’ve attached the directions to my house. Please come retrieve me from the basement. Patton has locked me here thinking I am a werewolf and I can no longer deny it might be true.’ I never thought he’d reach out to me of all people, but I imagine it was because I was the one who extended the invitation a few days ago.”

“Roman and I have been in contact with each other,” Logan replied. “He’s been… rather knowledgeable on the subject of werewolves, and it was beneficial to my research.”

“Uh-huh,” Patton said as he leaned into the table, cupped his cheeks in his hands, and leaned on his elbows with a wide grin. “Glad you two are getting along.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed, and he sent a glare. Patton practically read the “I will kill you if you say anything” rolling off Logan’s stare, and he giggled.

“By the way,” Roman said and raised his nose in the air, “something smells fantastic.”

“Oh! I’m making oatmeal,” Patton said with a smile. He walked into the kitchen and stirred the oatmeal in the pot. “Would you like some?”

“Praise you,” Roman said and stood up from his chair. “I’m starving.”

Logan watched Roman walk over to Patton like a starving puppy waiting for its breakfast. He took a sip of his tea and listened to the steps groan behind him once again.  

Without turning, Logan greeted, “Good morning, Virgil.”

A grunt answered him, and Logan sipped his tea to hide his smirk. Virgil plopped himself in the chair beside Logan, wrapped the robe around him tighter, and tried to blink his sleep away.

“You okay?” Virgil asked. 

“I’m satisfactory. How about yourself?”

“Eh, I’ll live. I think.” He watched his twin chatter with Patton as they argued about milk and cinnamon belonging in oatmeal. A smile softened his face.

“What happens now?” Logan asked. 

Virgil turned his hazel eyes to Logan, and he sighed. 

“Well, you can live a mostly normal life except that, you know, you’re going to shift into a werewolf every full moon from now until you die.”

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just finished college. I did not want to walk from one nightmare into another.”

“It’s not so bad,” Virgil replied. “I mean, you can hear people talking smack in the neighbor’s house.”

“Why would I care about someone making a cartoon punch sound effect?” Logan mumbled.

Virgil opened his mouth to explain, but closed it and shook his head.

Roman and Patton finally arrived in the kitchen. Roman placed a cup of black coffee in front of Virgil, who graciously took it and sipped the hot liquid like chocolate milk. Patton passed out four bowls of oatmeal, and they started conducting breakfast.

“So, now that I am a… werewolf-” the word still refused to leave Logan’s tongue- “where do I live? Is it safe to stay here with Patton and my family? Will anyone else come to hurt us?”

“I mean, you have one of two choices,” Roman said and held up a finger. “One, you can come live with Virgil and me in our pack, which I’m sure would welcome you with open arms, or two, you can stay with Patton and come to our house for nights with a full moon. You two only live about 3 hours away from us.”

Logan swallowed his dry throat and squeezed his hands together until they turned white. He caught Roman’s eyes, who looked patronizingly sympathetic.

“It’s your choice, Logan,” Roman offered.

“I will think about it. For now, I’d like to continue my life here, with Patton. Then, on the night of the full moon, I will go to your house and transform.”

Virgil shrugged and sipped his coffee.

“There is the problem though of Patton being part of your pack,” Roman answered. “You’re going to want to know he’s safe, and your wolf form is a lot more… primal than your human form. It’s going to want to physically see Patton.”

“Well,” Patton offered, “I can go with. I mean, Logan didn’t hurt me the last two times. He shouldn’t hurt me the other times, right?”

Roman and Virgil shared a knowing look, and Virgil sighed. 

“Yeah, it might work. I don’t know how the rest of the pack will feel about it though.”

“Oh, you know mom is always happy to have strangers over for supper,” Roman said with a laugh. Virgil glared at him, and Roman’s laughter died down. “But in all seriousness, it shouldn’t be that much of a problem. We can just explain the circumstances to her, and hopefully, everything will be right as rain.”

Logan squeezed the sides of his tea mug. He sighed and stared at his reflection in the glass. His eyes stared back at him, and he wondered if they looked the same when he was a wolf. He’d have to let Patton take a picture of him. 

For science, of course.

“If you believe that is the right course of action, I'll do so without hesitation.”

“Well, I guess it’s settled then,” Roman announced. “Welcome to the pack, Logan.

End

[multisfabulis]

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

For Her Sake (Chapter 6/7)

Word Count: 4972

Here’s the sixth chapter!

Sorry this took so long to come out. I wanted to take some time off after I published the Qrow fic to give myself a break and it worked! Then we got a new puppy that was 6 weeks old at the time and a lot of my week now has been watching her and making sure she isn’t getting into shit. It’s been getting easier the older she gets but she likes to throw me curveballs now and then!

Only one chapter left till this story is done! This has been a long journey and I can’t wait to see this through to the end!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA

     A scream rang out into the night, jolting Ferreth awake. His heart raced as he quickly sat up on the couch, his eyes darting about the room. He strained his ears to pick up something, anything, and he heard it. Sobbing, coming from Ven’s room. Throwing off the blanket, he ran down the hallway and stopped at her door. He didn’t bother knocking and barged into her room.

     Ven was sitting up in bed, hugging her knees as she cried. Her body was curled up so tight… He could barely understand the words that were falling out of her mouth but they were clear enough for him to confirm what he suspected.

     “Why couldn’t it have been me? Why wasn’t it me? Why did I live? Why couldn’t it have been me?!”

     This wasn’t like the other times her nightmares had woken her up. She’d shrug it off and try to go back to sleep or power through the night. Not this, though. This was his first time seeing her like this and it broke his heart.

     He knelt beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, her eyes red and puffy and her hair disheveled. More tears spilled over her cheeks as she latched on to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and her hands gripping the front of his shirt. He brought her closer, rubbing his thumb along her arm to console her.

     “Ferreth, I…I…”

     “Shh, it’ll be okay. I’m here.”

     “S-stay with me, please…please…”

     His arms tightened around her as he nosed through her hair. It hurt to know that he couldn’t take away her pain. He couldn’t just wish it away or take it upon himself. The familiar feeling of helplessness crept up again and he could do nothing about it. If she wanted him to stay with her, he’d do it. If being with her meant she’d feel better for a little while, then that’s all that mattered.

     Still holding her, he carefully slid onto the bed, attempting to not disturb her more. It was uncomfortably small, definitely not for someone of his stature. He had to curl his legs up and bend his neck down to avoid bumping his head against the headboard. He had an arm draped over her waist and the other awkwardly folded underneath his head. Tonight would NOT be a good night for sleep.

     She had quieted down some, though he could still hear her sniffling. There was nothing he could say to brighten the mood. Instead, he chose to look out the cracked window to gaze at the silvery full moon in the sky. It was as beautiful as always, its gentle light blanketing the village in a soft grayish blue.

     What would tomorrow, or more like today, bring? It was the day they needed to report back to Filaurel about the completion of their task. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t know what her verdict would be.

     He’d never say it to her. He tried, he really wanted to try, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to believe that she was going to be forgiven. Not because he thought she didn’t deserve it but Filaurel wouldn’t give her that. She was too stuck in her prejudiced beliefs to forgive her. Even if she did, she’d somehow find a way to twist it to not mean anything and leave her devastated. Either way, Ven would be walking out of Thal Esari, picking up the pieces of her broken heart.

     Upon noticing the silence, he looked down to see her sleeping. He felt relieved; she needed all the rest she could get. He began carding his fingers through her hair to settle down the anxiety bundle bouncing around in his stomach.

     This poor girl has undergone so much pain in her short life. There’s no counting how many times she’s wanted to give up, to run away from it all. Yet she still found the strength to resist those temptations, the courage to come back here and ask for forgiveness. Her bravery and fortitude are just small parts of herself that he, along with many others, admire her for. Only in his wildest dreams would he even think of coming close to being like her…

     So he decided to wait out the rest of the night. If she had another nightmare, he didn’t want to be sleeping in case she needed to be comforted again. Her scream also gave him quite the shock to his senses so… He stared out the window to see the telltale signs of the sun rising as it painted the sky in gold and violet hues.

     Dawn came at last, though not in the way he expected. He watched as dark clouds rolled in, lightning flashing above and low rumbles of thunder following soon after. How fitting for a storm to occur on a climatic day, he thought.

     What seemed like hours passed by till he felt her stirring awake. He stopped what he was doing as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Tired amethyst eyes looked into his and it was as if he couldn’t breathe. Her first waking up was a rare sight to see and she was as beautiful as ever.

     “Ferret? Is there something on my face?” she asked before letting out a yawn.

     Realizing he had been staring at her, he averted his gaze while blushing furiously, saying, “N-no, there’s nothing! Absolutely nothing! Nothing at all!”

     “Uh, is it okay if you, um…” She glanced down and let go of his shirt.

     “O-oh, yeah, sure,” he stammered out as he awkwardly rolled off the bed.

     It was after he left the room he felt pins and needles were being jabbed into his arms and legs. That, alongside the crick in his neck, hurt and it sucked. Never again did he want to stay in a bed meant for someone much smaller than him. At least he didn’t have to put up with it for long.

     They were going home after their check-in with Filaurel. They just needed to last a little while longer and then it was smooth sailing from there on out. He could already hear the seconds ticking away in his head.

     He yawned and almost collapsed on the couch as the weight of exhaustion crashed onto him. His eyelids felt heavy yet he knew he had a full day’s travel ahead of him. Just hold on until tonight, that’s all he had to do. He patted his cheeks in an attempt to stay awake, hoping it’d work its magic.

     When he heard her door open, he quickly stood up to face her. She came out with her hair brushed and pulled back and her eyes bright. Even the cuts and bruises she sustained a couple days ago seemed to have healed. He probably looked way worse, compared to her.

     “Hey, you doing okay after…last night?” he asked.

     “Yeah.” She cast her eyes downward, as if she was guilty of something. “…I’m sorry for lying to you.”

     Confused, he asked, “Lied? What did you lie about?”

     “Remember when you asked me yesterday about my nightmares and I said they were the same as usual? I had one like last night’s the night before,” she replied, her eyes fixed to the ground.

     “Ven, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve done something to help you if I had known.”

     “I didn’t want to worry you more than I already did. I thought I could take care of it on my own and not be a burden to you. I’m sorry.”

     No matter how many times he’s said it to her, she’d never believe she wasn’t a burden to him. He wasn’t angry at her, or even disappointed. It was just exasperating to try and convince her to let him help her with things like this. Still, he’s only got words by his side so he has to use them to the best of his ability. Maybe if he repeated himself enough times, she’ll finally believe him.

     “Ven--” He put both hands on her shoulders-- “you are not, have not been, and will never be a burden to me. I said you could lean on me whenever you wanted to and I meant every word. What happened to not trying to feel like one?”

     “I know and I still managed to screw it up,” she muttered, continuing to stare at the ground.

     “Hey.” He took hold of her chin, lifted it up, and looked into her eyes. “I know it’s hard to rely on others but I’m here for you. I promised I’d be there for you and I don’t plan on going back on it. Don’t be afraid, okay?”

     She smiled softly as she butted her forehead against his. He knew he couldn’t stop her from feeling like she was a burden to him. He could only hope his words were finally starting to get through to her. Maybe her doing this meant she was beginning to believe him if just a little.

     Once they left the house, he glanced up at the sky and grimaced. The storm was making more of its presence known, its clouds as dark as night and its lightning strikingly white. It looked as if rain would come gushing down at any second. It was bad and they were going to be caught in it, one way or another.

     His mind began to wander off as they walked towards the village square. So much had happened within the last few days. The first couple were nothing to write home about but the third day nearly sent him to an early grave. Yesterday was probably the most pleasant day they had here, though that wasn’t saying much. How was Ven taking all of this?

     Then a question popped into his head. It was a question he had honestly never thought of asking before because it hadn’t mattered till now. He may already know the answer but he still needed to ask it.

     “Hey, Ven, is it okay if I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

     “What is it?”

     “Do you… Do you think you’ll ever tell Eric about what happened?”

     She stopped dead in her tracks and he instantly regretted asking that. Eric was easily the most important person in her life. There’s no way she could just tell him every torturous detail of her life before him. She’s convinced people would be terrified of her if they knew of what she did. She loved Eric too much, way too much, to ever tell him and risk having him be scared of her.

     “I…I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly, clutching her chest. “I’m scared to tell him because what if he’s afraid of me? What if he hates me? What if…I lose him?”

     “Ohh, Ven…” He hated being right. “He won’t think any differently of you.”

     “It’s just… He was the first person to show me kindness in such a long time, the first person to be friends with me. He risked everything for me and I can’t ever repay him for all he’s done. I don’t wanna lose him or have him hate me.”

     “You know how he is. You’d have to be an especially horrible person for him to even think of hating you and you aren’t. You believe that, don’t you?”

     Seeing her withdraw more, he hastily said, “Whatever you choose to do is up to you. I won’t pressure you or tell him anything.”

     He decided to end the conversation there. She buried her face into her cloak as he looked on sadly. Her friendship with Eric mattered too much to her to want to risk it. She had a right to decide on if and when she wanted to tell him about her past. It was her story to tell and he refused to take that away from her.

     What started as a couple raindrops became a sudden downpour. They ran the rest of the way to the town hall, desperate to avoid getting soaked. Deftly walking up the stairs, they barged into the foyer.

     He shivered as the coldness of the interior hit him. Ven was faring better than him, due to her cloak protecting most of her body from the rain. He looked over at the set of doors that laid before them.

     Just beyond those doors was Filaurel. He, for one, could not wait to get what they were here for over with so they could go home that much quicker. She reached a hand out towards the knob and stopped. He could see it trembling ever so slightly and knew he had to step in.

     Grabbing her hand to lead it to the knob, he said, “No matter what goes on in there, I’ll be there with you.”

     She gave him an affirmative nod and let out a deep breath. She seemed to be trying her best to not let her fear show in front of him. Confronting her abuser for the second time this week was probably making her anxious as all hell and she was still wanting to ease his worries. He meant every word he said to her, for better or worse. She finally pushed the door open and they walked in.

     Everything appeared to be the same as when they first came in here. The floor length window that now showed the deluge of rain. The dais that held three seats to their left and the group of benches meant for an audience to their right. In the center, much like before, was Filaurel.

     Just looking at her made him bristle. What use was there in saying more than he already did? The woman scarred Ven for life because she had a sick and demented way of handing out “discipline”. She brainwashed her into believing she was a monster, that she didn’t deserve or have a right to exist, and for what? Because she carried an absurd hatred towards Vlixeoxs? Whatever it was, no way in hell did it excuse doing what she did to a child.

     “My Lady--” Ven knelt down before her, with him following suit-- “we’ve come back bearing news of our success.”

     Giving them a haughty chuckle, Filaurel said, “So you actually did it, and within the time limit as well… I must say, I’m impressed.”

     He wanted to mimic her like the petty guy he was. The tone in which she spoke that was as if she didn’t expect them to even do it, much less in the time she allowed them. Still, he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to jeopardize Ven’s chances at forgiveness by acting immature.

     “If it isn’t too much to ask, my request?” she asked shyly, both of them standing up.

     “Ah, that. I had honestly forgotten about it,” Filaurel replied, her hands tightening on the grip of her cane. “You know I don’t like being reminded of my age, Venli---”

     “I-I’m sorry, my Lady, I-I didn’t mean to---”

     She slammed the butt of her cane down to quiet her. “What have I told you about interrupting me, young lady? Surely you haven’t forgotten that among everything else, have you?”

     Ven timidly bowed her head while apologizing. It was getting harder and harder for him to bite his tongue with each word that spewed out of her mouth. He couldn’t wait for this to be over with so they could head back to Aurora Zenith. There, she’d be treated with the respect she deserved.

     “Now, about what you asked for…”

     They waited for her answer with bated breath. He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, their first meeting sealed the deal on that right away. She was too cruel and heartless to suddenly be “generous”, whatever her definition of that was. Then there was the matter of how Ven would take this.

     She was going to be crushed, that much he knew for sure. Whether it be by rejection or a massive guilt trip from Filaurel, the result would be the same. The only question was, what would hurt more?

     “Unfortunately, your crime is far too great for what you seek so I will not grant you forgiveness.”

     He watched her face fall in devastation. Even when he knew it was coming, it did little to ease the pain he felt after seeing that. He needed to get her out of here before she started crying. He put a hand on her shoulder to turn her away when---

     “How long?” She took a step forward. “How long did you consider?” Don’t do this, don’t challenge her, he silently begged.

     As the thunder slowly rumbled outside, Filaurel asked, her voice low and holding back tranquil fury, “Are you questioning me? Do you dare question my ruling?”

     “N-no, I-I-I’m just asking if…” She stopped speaking, all the color gone from her face.

     “If what?” She slammed her cane down once more, startling Ven. “You know how much I hate you not finishing your sentences.”

     “Did you ever think of forgiving me or were you never going to, no matter what I did?”

     Outside of the rain battering on the window, the room was deathly quiet. He wasn’t sure on what would happen next. If it came down to it, he’d grab Ven and hightail it the hell outta Thal Esari. Filaurel began to walk towards them after a moment passed, a look of barely restrained rage on her face.

     “I-I’m sorry, my Lady, I spoke out of line so please---”

     With the curved grip of the cane under her chin, Filaurel interrupted her with, “We’re past the point of apologies, Venlithea. You have a lot of gall to question me on whether or not I thought about granting you forgiveness. Frankly, I didn’t have to mull over such an outrageous motion, considering the severity of your crime, but I did. So don’t you dare challenge my authority again.”

     “I-I’m sorry, my Lady.” He could see her shaking like a leaf from how scared she was. “P-please forgive me…”

     “Honestly, what in your right mind made you think you could just ask for forgiveness? The blood on your hands can never be washed away, least of all with a simple task. You killed fifteen people. Fifteen innocent lives---”

     “What…? Fifteen?” Was this her first time hearing how many had died that day? So they only saw half the people she…

     “No matter what you do in the name of ‘atonement’, you’ll never be forgiven for what you’ve done. You should be ashamed for even thinking a monster such as you is worthy of forgiveness.”

     A lightning bolt struck down then, the window rattling as thunder boomed. It shrouded Filaurel in shadow while illuminating Ven in light for a split second. He could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

     He swore he could taste blood from how hard he was biting on his bottom lip. He was this close to grabbing the bitch and chucking her out the window. The only thing stopping him was his promise to Ven to not let his temper run wild. Why won’t she stand up for herself?

     “Stop your sniveling, Venlithea. You needn’t act like a child over me telling you what you did all those years ago when the families you irreparably destroyed are still grieving over their lost loved ones to this day. Not only are you selfish, you’re cold-hearted as well. Get out of my sight and don’t think about coming back here ever again. I’ll have you killed on the spot.” She turned away brusquely and gestured at the door to wave them out.

     He could tell she was fighting the urge to just collapse. His heart ached at seeing her shoulders tremble and hearing her breath hitch. His vision narrowed on Filaurel as he felt his teeth sharpen into jagged points. He had been holding back for her sake but this was the last straw.

     “V-very well. Thank you for at least considering my request. We’ll be leaving now.” She sniffled as she turned to leave. He quickly took hold of her wrist.

     “Hey, Filaurel,” he called out, almost growling the words as he said them, “you wanna take back what you said?”

     “I thought I ordered you to leave. Both of you,” she emphasized.

     “Ferret, let’s just go, okay? It’s not worth it,” Ven tearfully whispered, touching his arm with her free hand.

     “No, Ven, I’ve had enough of this bitch walking all over you just because she can. Now she gets to deal with me.”

     “And what, pray tell, do you want with me?” she asked, her mouth a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you condone this murderous girl’s actions.”

     “It’s your fault those people are dead! You may not have been the one to kill them but you pushed a little girl to that point with your twisted ways of doling out punishment. The only one I see deserving the honor of being a monster is you, lady.”

     “You have a lot of nerve, talking to me like that. You do know who you’re talking to, don’t you?”

     “Yeah and I don’t give a fuck! You’re just an old cunt who tortured a kid for being a Vlixeox! Why the hell should I treat you with any kind of respect when you utterly refuse to treat Ven with an ounce of it?!”

     “How dare you talk to me like that… You have no right in speaking to me like that when you answer to me!”

     “The only person I answer to is my lord, a man that doesn’t see Ven as a monster like you and everyone else in this fucking village. You’re just a hag that gets off on abusing your power on people weaker than you. You’d be nothing without that.”

     “Then tell me, what is so special about her?! What is so special about a Vlixeox that slaughtered several of my citizens in cold blood?!”

     “She’s not you. We happened to meet some of those she killed and they forgave her for what she did. They did that because they knew she never meant for any of what happened that day to happen. You say one more word about her and I dare you to try me, bitch.”

     Another bolt of lightning struck down outside. She became shrouded in shadow once more but he caught a glimpse of fear overtaking her beet red face. She’s probably never seen a Dradnach before this moment and it must’ve scared her, seeing the eyes and teeth like that. Good.

     It was darkly thrilling to have someone like her be afraid of him. She deserved every last bit of the terror she was feeling, since it was nothing compared to Ven’s. He’d do so much more but he needed to take care of a more important matter.

     With her lack of a response, he said rather curtly, “Now we’ll be leaving.”

     He wrapped an arm around Ven’s shoulders and gently led her out the room. Each step he took, slight tremors shook the building, causing tiny cracks to appear along the walls and ceiling. It may have been petty but it was the best way to vent his anger without getting physical and alerting the guards.

     The rain had lessened some when they came out. The guard posted at the bottom of the stairs threw them a glance in their direction but a quick glare scared him back to his front. She only sniffled as tears continued to fall down her cheeks, worrying him. He needed to get her to a quiet place to calm down. His outburst probably worsened her already jumbled emotional state.

     Although he was naturally easygoing, he had a nasty temper. Whether it was due to his lineage or his race, he could be scary when he was pissed. He only lost it once around her and it terrified her to the point of tears. He’s kept his anger in check since then but he couldn’t do it this time. How could he stand there and stay silent as she was almost driven to her knees in despair? He may have just expressed his fury in words instead of his fists but it still must’ve scared her.

     They finally returned to the house, the rain a light drizzle now. He led her below the roof and slid his jacket off to begin drying her. Slight hiccups escaped from her mouth as she whimpered. Seeing her like this sent disappointment coursing through his body, believing himself to be the cause of it.

     “Ven?” he called out softly. “Listen, I’m sorry for losing my cool back there. I just couldn’t sit back and let that bi---woman say that crap to you. I know you’re probably scared but I---”

     She cut him off with a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she buried her face into his stomach, feeling her tears soaking through his shirt. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she tearfully said---

     “Thank you. Thank you for being with me, for being my friend. Thank you, Ferreth.”

     His heart swelled with love as he smiled warmly down at her. This girl would seriously be the death of him someday and he was perfectly okay with that. She didn’t need to be thanking him for doing what anyone would’ve done in that situation. He’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it made her happy.

     “Jeez… Crying doesn’t suit you, Ven.” He knelt down in front of her, gently holding her hand as he wiped away her tears. “I think a smile fits you better so try and give me the best one you can muster. It doesn’t have to be big.”

     Through her tears, she gave him a small smile. Sunlight trickled out from behind the clouds while the rain lightened to a sprinkle. Today wasn’t over by any stretch of the imagination but he thought it was starting to look up.

     Wiping away a stray tear, he stood up and whispered, “Let’s go home, okay?”

     So their time in Thal Esari had come to a close. He’d be lying if he said he enjoyed staying here and couldn’t wait to visit again. The trip wasn’t a complete bust, though he wished he never came in the first place. If there was anything he learned from all this, it was that Ven deserved to be happy, more so than he thought.

     He wanted to give her everything in the whole world and more. He knew it to be an impossible task so he’d settle for her happiness instead. This trip caused her a lot of pain and heartache but she managed to get through it. If she could do that and come out better than before, she’d be okay. It was time for them to go home and, with that, the chance for a brighter future.

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[basic-cable]

Fic Rec Bingo

I saw this making the rounds on Twitter and decided I’d like to try it (mostly because I enjoy going back through my list and reminiscing about the ones I love but haven’t read in a while), but didn’t feel like Twitter was the best place to post mine. I’ve got both Dreamwidth and Pillowfort, but I haven’t really used them. This is probably the kind of thing that should go there, so maybe I’ll post it there, too. We’ll see. 

Anyway, I only read in four fandoms, so maybe my recs will be boring to most people. But they’re good stories, and maybe there are even some people out there who haven’t read them. 

I don’t expect any reblogs or anything, but maybe people will see it and decide they’d like to take part, and then there will be more fic recs out there making the world a better place.

I put them under a cut because the descriptions and stuff take up so much space.

1. A fic you love without knowing the source material Take the Pieces and Build them Skywards by quarterturn Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 44,816 ** Explicit ** Character Death Gerard's not happy with his life, but that doesn't mean he's particularly thrilled when he wakes up dead. To add insult to injury, he finds out that instead of crossing over, he's been chosen to join the ranks of the grim reapers. Things get more complicated when he falls for one of the living, a waiter named Frank Iero. And just when everything finally seems to be falling into place, Frank's name shows up on the list of souls to be reaped. Loosely based on the TV show Dead Like Me.

I don’t know anything about the TV show Dead Like Me; when I first read this fic in 2009, I had never even heard of it. I’ve wondered since then if I like it even better because I don’t know anything about the source material, but I’ll never know.It made me laugh and cry; it’s an emotional roller coaster, and I love it.

2. A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does

An Inexplicable Occurrence of Angels by stele3

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 35,192 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

I've messed with the band timeline, clearly. This is set in summer of 2005... but it ain't the Summer of Like. This is a story about second chances and gutting through your own failures, but never letting them defeat you. Take that, bitches.

Frank (Frank!) is a literal angel, okay, but there is not a thing I don’t love about this story. It’s angsty but still manages to be cute and charming as fuck, and the characterization is great.

3. A fic you’ve reread several times

Seeds by thesardine

Sherlock ** Gen, supposedly ** 5,475 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

In a fit of boredom Sherlock plants some seeds, may or may not eat one cracker, and definitely waxes dramatic on the sofa for a while.

Sherlock struggles with a bit of depression caused by boredom, and accidentally discovers a hobby he slowly learns to allow himself to enjoy. I love this a lot; the author takes us into Sherlock’s headspace, so you’re painfully aware just how much he needs a distraction, and how much better off he is with John in his life.

4. A fic you still remember many years later

In Care Of by Fangs_Fawn

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 45,319 ** PG-13 ** Child Abuse

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it...and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Between the Dursleys getting what’s coming to them, and the redemption of Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore in each others’ eyes, this story has really stuck with me through the years.

5. A comfort fic

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 203,273 ** Mature ** No Warnings

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

Thousands of words of fluff. Literally. There’s not a lot of conflict in this story, which makes it a great comfort fic when your mind is too busy or real life is too depressing.

6. A cathartic fic

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 157,369 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Post-Reichenbach John is walking the line between fantasy and reality, choosing to stay with the Sherlock in his head rather than deal with the reality where he no longer exists. He eventually manages to attempt a normal life, but he’s bored and basically sleepwalking through his days, so when Sherlock finally reveals himself, it’s the best kind of relief. They go after the last remnants of Moriarty’s web, in hopes of a second chance at the life they should have had together.

7. A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John Mycroft/Greg ** 139,494 ** Mature ** Underage

Okay. So. This was literally supposed to be, like, three or four chapters as a prologue to the show. Sort of a "what happened in the Holmes childhoods to make them the way they are today." That's why it's set in the time period it is, because I thought I was eventually going to leave them to go on to the show. And then...I got a bit carried away and thought, Here I have established the two young Holmes boys. Now what happens if, instead of making them wait twenty years, I give them everything they need to fix themselves right now? Forty-three chapters later, you have this story.

To be honest, I would like to have most of my favorite fics in book form, with actual pages, that I could pluck from my actual shelf and sit and read without the glare of a screen between us. But I do enjoy the feel of this story, and I do believe it would make a good actual book.

8. A fic you associate with a song

Unholyverse by bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 186,764 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

“He thinks I have stigmata,” Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn’t get any worse. He might as well just lay it out.

“Oh, well,” said Brian into his hands. “Of course.”

Every time I so much as think about this series, MCR’s Heaven Help Us starts playing in my head.

9. A fic that inspires you

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 306,708 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Frankly, I love every single thing this author has ever churned out, but this one is my very favorite. Harry gets a glimpse into what his life could have been, and a chance to make big changes he desperately needs. 

10. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

So, So Fucked by Anonymous

Bandom ** Pete/Patrick ** 12,565 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Pete accidentally "outs" himself and Patrick on Good Morning America. Only problem? They're not gay. What now?

I was reading strictly in Harry Potter at the time, and wasn’t interested in bandom at all, but my best friend was doing betas for someone who was writing in bandom, and she ended up getting into it and then wrote this one, and kept calling me about it to bounce ideas around, and the story was so cute, and Pete and Patrick were so cute, and I suddenly found myself totally invested. Honestly I think it may have been one of the best things that ever happened to me.

11. A fic you wish could be a movie

The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 107,525 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard's life takes a strange turn when his family moves to a small town in Vermont and he discovers the locals aren't all what they seem to be. Also includes: unexpected nature walks, murder, pining, improper treatment of crime scenes, a number of bone-related puns, high school bullies, and a short-range shrub named Ferdinand.

This story has excellent imagery that I think would work really well on the big screen. Plus I can’t even hear the name of it without my heart doing flip-flops.

12. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Seven ficlets for Valentine’s Day Part VII by RedOrchid

Bandom ** GSF ** 1,042 ** Mature? ** No Warnings

Panic-as-cleaning-equipment-AU Valentine's Day GSF.

I technically don’t have a fic for this bingo square, but this one comes close, I guess. The author was already in my larger circle of friends, but we didn’t actually talk to each other? She wrote this crack ficlet around the same time we started talking to each other more, and I still vividly remember it because of the genius involved in turning band boys into literal cleaning equipment. The line “Ryan bristled” has stuck with me to this day.

13. free space

Elf ‘Verse by mokuyoubi

Bandom ** GSF ** 103,247 ** Explicit ** Underage

Modern AU where Ryan is a famous poet, and he and Spencer are fiercely private and insular and stupidly co-dependent until Jon shows up and effortlessly breaks down all their walls.

Or

Wherein Brendon and Frank are Christmas elves who, inspired by Will Farrell movies, venture into the real world to become rock stars. Or something of that nature.

I’ve got a lot of love for this universe for various reasons, but it’s also fun and heartwarming and honestly, I don’t really need anything else.

14. A fic you’ve gushed about irl

Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills by Jocelyn (and her mum)

Harry Potter ** Mostly Gen ** 137,385 ** Basically PG-13 ** Character Death

Harry mourns his godfather as the war finally begins in earnest, bringing tragedy and new struggles for all those on the side of Good. If they hope to win, all quarrels must be set aside, new alliances must be forged, and Harry Potter must find the courage to face down dark wizards, his own emotions, and a destiny he did not choose. Snape blows his cover as a spy to save Harry from Voldemort.

This begins after Order of the Phoenix, and the story and characters read more like canon than any other HP fic I’ve read, so because of that and because it’s so, so good, I like to rec this one to people who are new to fandom.

15. A fic you associate with a place

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 57,582 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Wiltshire! I’ve never actually been there, but this author is really good about details. The story is also lovely and funny.

16. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Home is a Name by Arsenic

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 39,314 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

MCR Clinic of Love. Companion fic to Wednesday Night Boys.

Okay, so this one is actually a sequel, and the first installment, Wednesday Night Boys, should 100% be read first. It must be said, though, that while the sequel doesn’t have any warnings, Wednesday Night Boys is about the Panic! kids as prostitutes, and has warnings for graphic violence, rape/non-con, and underage sex. The MCR guys work at the free clinic, and Home is a Name focuses on them. They’re honestly both gorgeous stories.

17. A fic you found at the right time

real or not real by thearkdelinquents

Anne with an E ** Anne/Gilbert ** 11,587 ** PG ** No Warnings

“I could do it.” Gilbert said, looking straight ahead.

Anne stopped. “What?”

He turned to look at her; they were just outside Green Gables now. “I could do it. I could court you.”

“What- We- You- I- You don’t like me like that.” Anne sputtered.

Gilbert smirked at her. “Well we could pretend. I could court you and be your fake boyfriend.”

For one of the few times in her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was speechless.

-

a fake dating fic but it's basically just a shirbert To All The Boys I Loved Before au.

I really, really loved Anne with an E. When the final season was released, I spent a weekend binge-watching the entire show, and then it was over and I was bereft, so I decided to see what was available on Ao3, and I found this, and it was exactly what I needed. And now I have another fandom.

18. A fic that you would read fic of

Left by lifeonmars

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 45,153 ** Mature ** No Warnings

John Watson is left-handed.

He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

In this universe, all right-handed people have some kind of power, or ‘knack’, most of which are mild and easily categorized. Sherlock’s is rare and believed to be the only one like it in the world. John is left-handed, part of the 10% of the population without a knack. I would read all kinds of fics of this fic.

19. A fic that made you laugh out loud

What to do When Your Flatmate is Homicidal by hyacinth_sky747

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 58,650 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock takes Molly's advice when dealing with his dangerous flatmate.

Heartwarming and hilarious. I laughed a lot.

20. A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart

A Necessary Requirement by Bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 3,759 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Right, here is the extremely silly storylet I wrote BY HAND on holiday. On PAPER. With a PEN. My god. The things I do when I'm separated from my beloved net. It is set during the Summer of Like (Warped '05, for those of you who don't know) and is basically a product of my reaction to various pictures of Gerard groping himself on stage, which led to me obsessing about his dick and what it might look like. As usual, I chose to work this obsession out through Frank.

This fic could have gone to multiple other squares, but I am not usually the kind of person who can quote lines from things, and I have many lines from this story committed to memory. I’ve read it multiple times, because I read it every time I need a pick-me-up or a good laugh. Or if I’ve read something scary and I need something lighter before I can actually get up and move around my house...

21. A fic that gave you butterflies

Pretty Much A Sex God by adellyna

Bandom ** Spencer/Jon ** 3,985 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

Jon and Spencer’s first date.

The Jon in this story is so soft and warm and fluffy and his character makes my heart and stomach do weird things.

22. A fic that embodies something you value in life

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Harry Potter ** Harry/Hermione ** 865,520 ** PG13 ** Violence/Death/Underage

What if Sirius decided to stay in England and deliver on his promise to raise Harry instead of hiding somewhere sunny? Changes abound with that one decision...

ALSO

Harry’s New Home by kbinnz

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 318,389 ** PG-13 ** Abuse

One lonely little boy. One snarky, grumpy git. When the safety of one was entrusted to the other, everyone knew this was not going to turn out well... Or was it? AU, sequel to "Harry's First Detention". 

In these two stories, Sirius and Severus throw everything they have into creating the best possible world for Harry, as he is their number one priority, because that is exactly how parenthood should be. 

23. A favourite AU

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 156,714 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

This has got quite a bit of schmoop, which isn’t usually my thing, but this story is so, so good, and I always love stories that describe Sherlock realizing and appreciating how extraordinary John is.

24. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

Collared by VelvetMace

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 83,028 ** Explicit ** Violence & Rape/Non-Con

In a world where the British Empire is still strong and slavery is her economic backbone, John has become a terrorist for the abolitionist movement. He is caught by Mycroft, enslaved, and given to Sherlock for training. The goal: To test a new kind of slave collar with the power to break even the strongest willed fighter. One that will make even John learn to love being a slave.

Dubious consent, and humiliation. I remember staying up very late reading this one, even though I had to work early the next morning. I just couldn’t put it down. 

25. A fic that made you feel seen

Buy Handmade by jjtaylor

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 18,755 ** Mature ** No Warnings

He knows something else is going to happen; his life isn't always going to be this. He just doesn't know what has to happen for that change to come, for him to wake up and become an artist with an Etsy page and a home studio, and to never have to see a cubicle again.

This is the story of my heart. I have felt Frankie’s feelings and thought his thoughts, and I love that he does something about it, and I love Gerard so, so much. I first read this in 2009, and my love for it has never wavered. I could have used this one for a good half of the bingo squares, but it’s the only one that could go here.