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xinghai · 9 months

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Post-finale Hunter is teleported to the trigun universe and is found by tristamp vash.

Hunter – Autistic, he/they (trans, genderqueer), Demisexual, PTSD, dating lesbian Willow

Vash – Can understand palisman, PTSD, chronic pain, lover of men, dating Wolfwood

I completely forgot I drafted this post TOH finale. Didn’t feel like editing it, but it’s fun so wanted to throw it out here!

“Willow! Darius! Ebberwolf!”

Hunter’s voice echoes across the golden dunes. They seem endless, and his words are quickly swallowed by the sands. He squints, trying to keep the grains of sand out his eyes. This place is nothing like the boiling isles. A lump forms in his throat, and he cups his hands around his mouth.

“Waffles!”

The wind whistles back, empty and unforgiving. His chest tightens, voice cracking from the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that he hadn’t experienced since he lost Flapjack.

“Luz?”

Sweat beads on his brow, and he sinks to his knees. He doesn’t know how long he’s been searching for the others. His throat is painfully dry, and his vision is starting to blur. He hates the feeling of the sand brushing against his hands, and he desperately wishes he had his gloves. He wants to be back in his workshop. Back home.

“This way?”

He tenses at the unfamiliar voice, his years of training to be the golden guard kicking in. He forces himself to his feet and reaches reflexively for his staff. His hands grasp empty air, and he remembers that Waffles is nowhere to be seen. His heart sinks, and his hand hovers over his chest. He takes a shaky breath.

“Just you and me Flap.”

A familiar chirp shakes him from his thoughts. His head snaps up, and through the golden haze of sand, he sees a spot of red. Tears brim in his eyes, and his grip on his apron tightens.

“Flapjack?”

Relief overcomes him, and his legs finally give out. He falls to the ground, and the last thing he remembers is the heat of the sand against his face.

————————

Hunter wakes up to his hair being pulled- violently. He bolts upright from the pain.

“Ow ow ow!”

The pain abates as his hair is released. He remembers the flash of red. He looks up, smiling tearfully.

“Flapjack, I’m so glad-“

He stops when he sees the familiar bluejay, one that he’d carved himself.

“Waffles?”

Waffles chirps in reply, head tilted in concern. Her little voice is completely different from Flapjack’s. How could he have mixed them up?

His tears start falling in earnest at the memory of his first friend. They aren’t the tears of joy from an unexpected, impossible reunion but of a grief that had gripped him again and again over the years. Anger flares up in his chest, not at Waffles, but at himself for mixing her up with Flapjack. She didn’t deserve that. His expression crumples and hiccupping sobs shake his chest.

“I’m sorry Waffles. I just miss Flap so much- I-“

Each word is painful, violently torn from his chest. He buries his head in his knees. Waffles chirps and presses her soft, feathery cheek against his hair. He’d learned to understand the palisman more over the years. He understands the words as well as he had Flapjack’s. Waffle’s words are forgiving and gentle. Hunter strokes her feathers, whimpering as he speaks.

“I’m not the golden guard anymore. Belos is gone. Things should be better,” he grits his teeth, “So why does it still hurt so much?”

The creak of wood snaps him away from his grief. He leaps up, staff already in hand, and points it towards the sound. Standing in the doorway is a man with spiky blonde hair and a red coat. The man’s bright red coat gives Hunter pause, but he doesn’t lower his staff.

“Who are you?”

His voice is hard and authoritative. The mask still came up automatically, even after all these years.

The man’s expression of surprise quickly melts into a disarming smile, and he throws his hands up in the air.

“Sorry sorry! I didn’t realize you were awake. I’m so glad you’re okay. Your friend brought me to you.”

The man looks around the room, brow furrowed. “Oh, did she fly off already? She wouldn’t leave your side the whole way here.”

Hunter glances at Waffles. He lowers the staff slightly.

“You helped me.”

The blonde man grins sheepishly.

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you facedown in the sand. Especially when the little one was so worried about you.”

Hunter exhales and relaxes his grip on the staff. Hunter glances away. He’s acutely aware of the tears that still stain his cheeks and the concerned expression on the man’s face.

“Sorry. I can be a little irritable. When I’m overwhelmed. I’m trying to learn.”

The blonde man shakes his head. “It’s okay, I can tell you’re going through a lot right now.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Vash. Vash the Stampede.”

Hunter looks at his hand. The thought of someone touching him right now makes his skin prickle. He glances away.

“Hunter. Hunter Deamonne Noceda.”

Waffles flutters onto his shoulder, looking between the two men curiously. Vash puts down his and and watches wide-eyed as the staff turns into a living, breathing bird. Hunter scritches the blue jay underneath her chin. “And this is Waffles.”

Vash grins.

“This little one isn’t like any Worm I’ve ever seen. She’s more like.. a Plant?”

Hunter furrows his brow. “Of course she isn’t a worm. Although I’ve carved some of those too.” He glances at Waffles. “She’s made of palistrom wood, so I guess she’s technically a plant?”

Vash nods, seemingly perfectly happy to accept this explanation from a total stranger. It reminds Hunter of Luz.

His eyes widen, and he leans forward.

“Did you find anyone else? A human with brown hair, or a black witch who really loves human stuff, or a purple-haired witch, or a green-haired one that’s kind of super cute and loves plants?”

Hunter blushes as he says the last part. The words scrape his dry throat, but he’s desperate to know what happened to the others.

Vash crosses his arms. “Hmm, brown-haired human maybe, but I haven’t seen a witch. You were alone in the desert other than little Waffles there.”

Hunter’s heart sinks. “Do you know how I can get back to the Boiling Isles? I have to make sure they’re okay!”

Vash looks the kid over. He has to be around 20 or so. He’s not dressed for the desert. Vash speaks slowly, not wanting to scare Hunter.

“I’ve never heard of the Boiling Isles, but I’ll help you find your way back to your friends. I promise. But first, let’s get you something to eat and drink.”

With those words, Hunter realizes just how hungry and thirsty he is. He swallows and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t have time for that. They could be in danger, or, or-“

He stops as Vash puts a hand on his shoulder. When Hunter stiffens, Vash immediately lets go and takes a step back.

The blonde man smiles apologetically at him. There is unbridled kindness in his eyes, one that softens his gaze.

“No matter how heavy a cross you bear, it’s okay to eat – it’s okay to laugh. One of my friends said that once. No matter how hard things are, I’m here to help you.”

Hunter stares up at him, then says, “You really are a lot like Luz.”

Vash grins and straightens up. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now let’s eat!”

————————

“Okay, so the Boiling Isles are located on the body of the Titan… And they were filled with wild magic until the last Titan died. But his kid, King, is starting to make magic, which will let people use glyphs again.”

Vash fits the words in between bites of food. Hunter finishes another glass of water and nods, dead serious. “Right.”

Vash’s brow furrows. “Can you do magic here then? I don’t know where the Boiling Isles are, but we definitely don’t have magic here.”

Hunter frowns. “I… actually hadn’t thought about that.”

Vash smiles. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

Hunter nods and closes his eyes.

You’re still there, right Flap?

Hunter takes a deep breath and leaps onto the table in a flash of yellow light. Vash blinks. He hadn’t even see the kid move. One moment he was sitting, the next he was standing on the table. For someone to move so fast that he couldn’t even see them…

“Huh, you really do have magic.”

The people in the bar look at them. Hunter blushes and sits back down. “Yeah, looks like it.”

Waffles twitters indignantly. Hunter opens his mouth to translate, but, as he does, Vash blinks and looks at her. “Oh, you have magic too?”

Hunter stares at him, stunned. “You understand her?”

Vash nods and chuckles. “Must be the magic huh? I’ve never met a talking bird before!”

Hunter is silent for a moment. “You’re not human, are you?”

At those words, Vash’s smile freezes on his face. Hunter doesn’t notice and continues,

“Even most witches can’t understand them. ”

Vash finds his voice again and asks, “How are you able to?”

Hunter falls silent again. Conversations flow around them, rowdy and gruff like most that live in such a harsh world. Hunter holds the cool glass of water between his hands, focusing on the feeling. Finally, he says,

“I’m a grimwalker. Or used to be? I’m not really sure.”

He thumbs over the patches that he’d sewn onto his apron to remind him of his friends. Abominations for Amity. The logo of the Emerald Entrails for Willow. Gus’ mirror. They’d all supported him when they learned what he was. It was still hard to unmask around other people. But somehow, he felt safe with Vash.

He takes a deep breath and opens three fingers underneath the table. Hold it… then exhale. The air whistles through the gap in his teeth as he lets it out. He forgets to make eye contact, but Vash doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s something that’s neither human or witch. I read about the- ingredients. Once. Multiple times. One of them is palistrom wood.” He scratches Waffles on the cheek. “Maybe cause of that, I can understand these guys.”

Waffles looks at Vash, head tilted, and then chirps at Hunter. Hunter looks at her.

“Huh? Oh he’s-“

Hunter glances at Vash. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s not bad to not be human! I was just surprised. I’ve never met anyone else who can understand them. It’s… nice.”

He bounces his leg as he thinks. He’s not good at comforting people. Never has been. But he doesn’t want to upset someone who has been so kind to him.

“I was scared too, but my friends still supported me. I always thought I was just what Belos made me to be.” The admission makes Hunter feel sick. Waffles preens his hair, smoothing out the strand that she’d tugged on earlier. Hunter’s hand moves to the tattoo of Flapjack on his arm.

“But someone important taught me differently. They helped me find myself. Who I wanted to be. Not who he thought I was.”

Vash’s cheerful demeanor is completely gone. He looks at the kid in front of him and wonders just how much he’s gone through at such a young age. He looks over Hunter’s scars: on his face, his neck, his arms, the nick in his ear, his crooked nose, the gap in his teeth. He’s reminded of his own, yet somehow he knows that they’ve received those scars under vastly different circumstances.

“The ticket to your future is blank.”

The words come without Vash even thinking about it. Hunter raises an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

Vash smiles.

“Someone important told me that. It means that, no matter what has happened in the past, your future is never set.”

Waffles chirps in agreement, and, finally, Hunter smiles.

“I like that.”

“Vash the Stampede!!”

A harsh voice cuts through the familiar cadence of the bar conversation. Both of their eyes widen, and Vash dives across the table towards Hunter.

“Get down!!”

Gunfire explodes through the bar, shredding tables and shattering windows. Screams fill the air as glass and bullets rain down on the bar’s patrons. Vash squints towards the door, waiting for pain to arc through him. He hadn’t been ready, but at least the kid was safe. He waits, but no pain comes. Pains and aches from old wounds, sure. But it’s nothing like the searing fire of a fresh wound. As the dust settles, he sees why.

Hunter has his staff raised in front of both of them. A field of yellow magical energy holds off the wall of bullets, which clink to the ground. There’s a determined furrow to his brow. Then the shield dissipates, and his expression changes to one of bewilderment.

“Oh Titan, this is just like Cosmic Frontier. But with cowboys?”

Vash doesn’t have time to reply before another round of gunfire rains on the bar. He grabs Hunter and drags them both to the side.

A man yells over the gunfire,

“We’ll get you for what you did at Jenora Rock Humanoid Typhoon!”

Hunter snaps back into the situation and sweeps some of the bullets aside.

“What are they talking about?!”

Vash blocks a couple shots with his prosthetic arm and loads his gun.

“No time to explain, we need to get out of here!”

“We have you surrounded Humanoid Typhoon! You’re not getting away this time.”

A chorus of cheers and sneers rises around the bar.

Vash glances around the bar. There had to be a way out. There had to be. He’d promised Hunter that he would help him find his friends.

“Damn it!”

He turns to Hunter.

“Hunter, I’m going to run out and distract them. They want me. You get out of here, find your friends!”

Hunter grabs Vash’s sleeve.

“What are you saying?! They’ll kill you!”

Vash grins.

“I’ll be fine! This is a normal day for me.”

He ruffles Hunter’s hair and smiles sadly.

“It was fun meeting you kid.”

Vash sheathes his gun and moves towards the door.

“Alright, I’m coming out! No need to shoot!”

As he’s about to leave cover, there’s a burst of pain as something pulls him back by the front strands of his spiky hair.

“Ow ow ow!”

Waffles chirps, and Hunter grabs Vash. There’s a sudden feeling of weightlessness, and the bar shifts around them, giving way to open blue skies.

From below, someone shouts, “Where did he go?!”

Hunter looks down on the crowd of gun-toting bounty hunters and sticks his tongue out at them. They teleport to another rooftop, then another. Soon enough, they’re tucked into an old bell tower. Both are breathing heavily. Hunter slides down against the wall. Anger flares up in his chest despite his exhaustion.

“Are you crazy?! Those guys were going to kill you!”

Vash chuckles and scratches the back of his neck.

“At least that way none of you would get hurt. Thank you for the save though.”

Hunter doesn’t know what to do with all the emotions bursting inside of his chest. He grabs Vash by his coat. The red color brings tears to Hunter’s eyes.

“Who would have found me in the desert if you had died?! I don’t know you well, but I know you’ve helped so many people just like Luz. Like Flap helped me. People would miss you if you disappeared!”

Vash stares at Hunter, stunned, then looks over the town. The wind whistles by them, tilting the weathered bell ever so slightly. Finally, he speaks.

“You were right earlier. I’m not human.”

Hunter’s anger dissipates all at once, and he lets go of Vash’s coat.

“Huh?”

Vash watches the people running below. They look so small from up here.

“I’ve brought them a lot of trouble. I’ve caused the deaths of their loved ones. It’s because of me that they’re trapped here. It’s because of me that they have to harden themselves to survive.”

His coat billows in the dry wind. It reminds Hunter of the flutter of Flapjack’s wings.

“I can never atone for that.”

There is a deep sadness in his expression, one that weighs heavily in Hunter’s chest. Hunter stares at Vash, then says,

“The ticket to your future is blank.”

Vash’s eyes widen, and he looks at Hunter. Hunter’s face scrunches up.

“Or- er something like that?”

He clears his throat. “You said it yourself. You choose what the future holds. We’ll always carry the past with us, both the good and the bad.” Hunter places a hand over his chest. “But we can’t let the bad parts control us.”

Vash’s eyes widen, and he smiles. It’s not the empty smile he usually fakes but one that holds genuine warmth.

“Thank you.”

He stands up and holds out his hand to Hunter.

“Let’s get out of here. We need to find your friends.”

Hunter smiles and takes Vash’s hand.

#vash the stampede #trigun #toh #the owl house #hunter noceda #hunter deamonne #hunter toh #tristamp #Vash #writers on tumblr #fic #tw scars #scars #I love both of them #and I think hunter would get a kick out of experiencing cosmic frontier but with cowboys #also palistrom wolf and plant friends #wood**#toh finale spoilers

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heartandfangs · 2 years

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I OWE YOU— PART TWO.

GENRE Roommates AU, Playboy!Jake, Virgin!Reader, Heavy Smut, Slight Angst, Fluff (if you squint)

PAIRING f!Reader x Jake/Jayeun

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY, Arguing, Cursing, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Implied one-sided feelings, Unresolved/hurt feelings, Flirting, Slight slow-burn, Morally-grey characters, Sexual inexperience, Making out, Breast worship, Nipple play, Spit play, Light biting, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Dry humping, Clit orgasm, Squirting, Cum eating, f!Receiving, Switch!Jake, Dom!Jake, Switch!Reader, Sub!Reader WORD COUNT 6k+

SUMMARY What’s life like when an aloof girl with a grumpy streak and a guy who’s the human personification of charm become roommates?

In which a kiss on the cheek turns into a kiss on the lips turns into more than you bargained for from your playboy roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE I recommend reading the part one drabble for context, and if you have— welcome to the second NSFW installment! I've been working on this one in my drafts bit by bit for the past several months as I had no clue if I'd ever publish it (I was just planning on keeping it to myself bc of how horny it is ha). You can thank a particular aussie for wrecking me big time recently.

This has a lot of typical tropes for its genre, but I don't think boobs get enough love in fics around here (at least for my tastes), so enjoy. Like/reblog this fic and leave me some feedback if you enjoyed it and want more. Maybe it won't take me another six months to come out with another chapter.⚰️

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Masterlist

You padded over to your door in a haze and swung it open, nearly running into your roommate, Jake.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you winced as he tapped his knuckles atop your head, passing you on his way out.

You scoffed, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Evening naps always made you feel groggy and even more exhausted than before you even rested. You glanced at your phone screen, then shoved it into your short pocket.

“It’s 11 P.M. You’re going out?”

“Actually, I’m having someone over.”

All trace of drowsiness fell from your face as you shot him an incredulous look, but he didn’t seem to notice with his attention on the glowing screen of his phone.

You gripped his wrist firmly, causing him to go wide-eyed.

“I thought we agreed on no visiting and no visitors since that terrible flu is going around right now,” you reminded sharply.

“I… I completely forgot.” You raised an eyebrow at him as he continued. “It’s just been so long, and… force of habit.”

Is a week so long for Jake Sim?

You sighed, “It’d be nice if you thought about your roommate’s well-being for once. I can’t afford to get sick at this time of year with how busy I am.”

A look of guilt flashed across his face.

Huh. So the guy can feel some shame.

“I do care,” he shot back, “Seriously, I forgot. Otherwise, don’t you think I’d be going out instead of blatantly having someone over if I were trying to go behind your back and see someone?”

You sighed, “Fine, but a deal’s a deal. Say what you need to get her to leave, alright?”

He nodded while staring elsewhere; you followed his line of sight to your grip encircling his wrist. Quickly retracting your hand, you moved past him to the kitchen pantry. Jake was usually the one who initiated contact with you, rarely the other way around so you felt a bit subconscious about touching him.

While you rummaged quietly for some midnight snacks, you listened closely for any sign of the door opening. To your relief, it remained silent, except for the tapping of his phone screen.

“There, I sent her off,” he said dejectedly.

“Thanks, I know this isn’t easy for you.”

He detected the sarcasm in your tone and crossed his arms, leaning against the countertop. With your back to him, his eyes slowly took in your mussed hair, that signature oversized shirt you’ve owned since you were ten, and those sweat shorts that barely cleared the tops of your thighs. You’d definitely worn them for the past three days straight. Indeed a homebody, he found your rare company refreshing despite how abrasive you could be at times.

“You’re a terrible sympathizer.”

“Am I?” You turned around and tore open a pocky pack, sticking the biscuit stick past your lips.

The sudden calculating look in his eyes was slightly unnerving, but you stood your ground. Upon approaching you, he snatched the pack out of your hands and strolled into the living room. You momentarily stared after him in disbelief.

“That’s mine,” you followed behind him closely, trying to reach around him to reclaim your snack.

“Well, I’d like some. Do you mind?”, he kept it out of your reach and blocked your path with his broad shoulders, keeping you at his back. He leaped over the couch and landed on a cushion with a bounce, shooting you a smirk, your midnight snack held captive.

You placed your hands on your hips.

“That’s the last pack left! Don’t act like a child and try and get back at me for something we previously agreed to, Jake.”

“But as you already know, this whole abstinence thing isn’t easy for me,” he shot back, snapping a biscuit stick in half in his mouth.

You rolled your eyes and squinted at him as he offered you a piece, beckoning you closer.

“I’ll give it all back if you sit down and watch something with me. C’mon ___, humor me on this terribly lonely night. You're always alone in your room.”

That’s because you have obnoxious company over more often than not.

You huffed but found yourself leaning forward with an unamused expression.

“Ah,” you parted your lips.

Jake bit his lip, stifling a fit of giggles as he stuck a pocky into your mouth.

Annoyed, you pressed forward further, taking nearly the whole biscuit into your mouth. Before your lips touched Jake’s fingers, your jaw snapped shut with an aggressive crunch.

“Gosh, you’re scary, you know that?” He tossed the remaining end of the biscuit into his mouth. You averted your eyes at Jake’s daring act, finding it difficult to ignore how he licked the chocolate and crumbs off his fingertips, all with a pleased grin.

“Just with people who annoy me.”

He handed you the pack, which you snatched out of his grasp. You plopped down on the cushions at the end of the sofa, intending to keep to yourself for the rest of the night.

Jake shook his head, “I’m messing with you... Is it weird I find that side of you endearing?”

You adjusted the cushion behind your back. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that. You might have some sort of issue if that’s the case.”

Jake looked off to the side. “One issue amongst many. Regardless, I’d want you on my side if I got into a fight or something.”

A slight sense of pride swelled in your chest at his words, but you showed no sign of it. “Yet, here are you are on this fine night, trying to pick a fight with yours truly over some snacks.”

He laughed, quickly reaching over to brush the knuckle of his index finger against your side ever so lightly in jest. Your breath caught at the electrifying sensation across your ribs; it disappeared as he pulled back.

“How else am I supposed to get your attention?”

Jake propped his elbow up on the couch arm and rested his chin on his palm with a small smile, his eyelids lowering slightly.

“Maybe just use your words,” you murmured, feeling a flush work up to your neck.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

Distracted, you returned to munch on your Pocky while Jake began to flip through the TV guide. “Alright, what do you wanna watch?”

“What makes you think I wanna watch something with you? I’m just here to finish my snack.”

He pouted.

“I’m sure you'll be wide awake for the next couple of hours since you took a nap. And since this is my new reality now,” Jake gestured at the space between you two,” You should take responsibility and keep me company tonight.“

You slowly turned towards him.

“You owe me, remember?”

“Ah, you’re right, I do,” he nodded as though recalling your deal after you were generous enough to lend his one-night stand your underwear.

“You’re the youngest person I know to have dementia, dude.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort, but your terrible joke did have weight to it.

“I admit… so what’ll it be? Going to dump chores on me for the month? My treat for Door Dash this week? Or maybe a new matching lingerie set?” He glanced you over teasingly.

Your cheeks reddened at the memory of you shoving your underwear at Jake and shooing him away, then his lips pressing against your cheek unexpectedly. And, of course, the flash of his bare skin, which was surprisingly not a common sight in your flat despite his nightly activities.

“Sim—”

“I’m joking. Well?”

“I mean, I figured you’d count pausing your hook-ups until flu season ended as the favor repaid, but if you’re not…” you glanced over at him, and he looked at you expectantly. A bit surprised, you rubbed at your wrists self-consciously. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Jake flashed you an easy smile, then stretched his arms over his head, tucking them under his neck. “Alright then. Just let me know, ___.”

You nearly kicked yourself for staring at the way the thick cords of muscles in his arm flexed; it was a bit fascinating to you as someone who drew for a hobby. Sometimes you forgot just how in shape the guy was, but it made sense for an athlete like him. Some mornings, you’d bump into him after he came from an early run– the sight of him breathing heavily, covered in a sheen of sweat while shooting you a smile in the kitchen was always a difficult image to forget, and one you'd never get used to.

Nor were the sounds of his groans late at night. For whatever reason, it never made a difference to him and his partners if you were in the flat when they did their thing. Again, you chalked it up to a lack of shame. Thank god for noise-canceling headphones, although some nights your curiosity got the best of you, as did your lack of self-restraint. One too many times, but you would never admit it.

Part of you envied Jake for living so freely and without self-imposed restrictions; the other loathed him. Between the two of you as roommates, you were always the uptight one who most resembled a responsible adult, but you secretly wondered what it might be like to be the girl on the other side of the wall.

The thing is, you've been that girl once. Just a couple years ago, you thought you'd met the one, and had given away precious firsts in the belief of that.

Oh, how you were led astray.

Your brows furrowed as your mind attempted to shove the memories down; they were trying to resurface against your will.

Even though you led a very different lifestyle than Jake, you couldn't blame the girls who cozied up to your roommate so easily and in flocks at that. At least not entirely. You understood loneliness but instead subjected yourself to it ever since the day 'love' took on a completely different meaning to you. The solution of solitude and the pursuit of your career has done you well, so far.

You dragged your hand over your face and directed your attention to the TV, hoping Jake hadn't seen you staring off into space. Random dialogue from a show filled the room a long couple of minutes before either of you spoke again.

“New shows sort of suck,” you complained, tossing your trash onto the table. You'd have to restock your snack pile this week.

“Yeah. How about one of these?” He tapped on the remote control. “Choose your pick, supernatural beings, psychological thrillers, true crime, hot serial killers–”

“Yeah, sure. Wait a minute–” you narrowed your eyes at Jake.

Has he been snooping on your Netflix profile?

“Haha.”

Despite the new selection that was way more to your liking, your mind drifted again, not having counted on Jake actually granting you a favor.

What could you possibly ask of him? You didn’t want to waste it delegating your chores to him or food. You could easily take care of things on your own. For some weird reason... you wanted to make it count.

However, your mind drew a blank. You turned on your side and eyed Jake across the couch, whose attention was on the screen, shadows and light dancing across his relaxed features. His legs sprawled over the sofa while you huddled under your soft blanket. You watched him unconsciously run his tongue over his lips out of habit. Christ.

Feeling stiff, you stretched your legs against his side; he made room for you.

“This is probably the stupidest thing that’s gonna come out of my mouth as a fully grown adult.”

He chuckled. “Ditto, it’s past midnight. What is it?”

“I just…” you hesitated before slowly speaking, “My first kiss was terrible.”

That drew Jake out of his TV-induced stupor. Jake snorted at first, but he didn’t miss the myriad of emotions that flickered across your features– something akin to anger, sadness, disgust, and embarrassment all at once. He flashed a look of concern in your direction.

“I-I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about it recently…” your fingers brushed absently over your cheek. “Maybe because you kissed my cheek that morning, and it brought back memories.”

Lost in thought, you missed the way Jake’s eyes darkened. He was curious about the details you were withholding from him and weighed pressing the matter. You really sounded like you needed to talk for the first time since living together.

“How bad was it?” He asked.

“It was a complete shitshow, honestly. I thought I was giving away my first kiss to someone I’d spend the rest of my life with. It was a silly thought,” you laughed, “A first kiss might mean nothing to you. I thought it meant something, but my friend was just… curious. He had me convinced and was pretty awful about how he went about it.”

Why am I spilling all of this to a flagrant playboy?

“If you want to share more, I’ll listen,” he reassured.

Although you were a bit startled at his response, you decided to continue, “He was sort of pushy about the kiss… even commented on how weird my teeth felt,” you laughed but it rang empty.

“Clearly he was just using me. Actually, the way he got me to even kiss him– amongst other things," Jake noticed how you quickly skimped over the details, "–In the first place was because he told me he wanted to marry me. It was ridiculous, but despite all the red flags, I told him I loved him, and he said he felt the same.

He took it all back the next day and still wanted to be just friends. Our relationship got even more complicated, and I eventually ended it. Best decision of my life, but also the hardest. I was naive, but we’ve all had our hearts broken at least once by a terrible person, haven’t we?” You joked.

Unable to look Jake in the eye, silence filled the room, and you decided this was the most self-conscious you’ve felt in your entire life.

“I unloaded a lot on you right now, sorry. It’s pretty embarrassing,” you said, trying to swallow a lump in your throat.

Fuck, this feels pathetic. I just thought I’d be honest with the guy for once, but I sound like I’m vying for sympathy. And with the way I’ve treated him tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just started trolling me–

You felt a warm hand slide over your own, giving you a comforting squeeze. Your wide eyes met Jake’s steady gaze.

“Being vulnerable with someone isn’t embarrassing, ___. Not with me.”

First your eyes widened, then a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Thank you,” you said ever so quietly.

Jake’s breath caught at the sight of your expression softening– although he knew he didn't deserve your vulnerability, he couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t want this to mean anything. I hate being haunted by the memories, but I know who I am right now isn’t conducive to developing a relationship with someone. To override those memories, that is,” you explained, “Still, I wish I could forget my shitty first kiss above everything else, I hate that it’ll be in my head for the next decade.”

You wondered if he'd catch on, figure out your unvoiced request.

“You don’t want ‘what’ to mean anything? I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

“Are you gonna make me spell it out?” You whispered.

You clutched your knees to your chest as Jake shifted closer, his arm resting across the back of the couch frame, his hand moving from yours to toy with the edge of your blanket. Immediately, you missed the heat of his skin– you've been missing it ever since that morning he kissed your cheek.

“You’d leave it up to someone like me to guess?” Jake brought the knuckle of his index finger to his lips, eyes trained on you, “What if I’m way off base? Would you hold me to it?”

Despite your nerves going awry, you held his stare, tried to speak in a steady voice, “You bet I will.”

Jake's hands traveled up to your knees; you let him part them slowly as he shifted between your legs to lean over you. He steadied himself with a hand spread out near your hip, the other brushed your hair back from your neck, sending chills across your skin.

The barrier of the blanket did little to lessen the deep impression of his touch on your body. You had expected him to pounce on you with his signature zest, but his movements were relatively slow yet insistent. Different than the eager way he'd stumble to his bedroom while sucking hickey's onto a random girl's neck and accidentally open the door to yours.

“You bet I will,” Jake repeated, tipping your chin towards him, “That’s my girl.”

His girl.

You would’ve been at his neck at any other point in time for saying something so outrageous, but you were currently far from caring.

He watched your eyes flutter close, the way your body shivered at his words.

It was bizarre how you could go from being at each other's throats to invading their personal space without a second thought. It didn’t take much from either side to get here, but then again it wasn’t easy for you to be so open with him. He must've sensed that.

You could almost feel his lips hovering over your own, but then he paused– only to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The couch dipped, and he pulled away. Eyes shooting open, you gave him a confused look. He wore an expression of... apprehension?

“You’re messing with me," you accused.

“I’m... I'm not. I don’t kiss, at least not on the lips.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little disheartened. Although, you could never recall him making out with any girls he had over. “What? Why?”

“Kissing just… makes you feel things about the other person that you wouldn’t feel otherwise. Feelings that can complicate things. It’s proven science.”

So much about that line he delivered on vulnerability. Was he playing me?

“Right. Spoken like a true fuck boy,” you began to turn away, chest aching for some reason.

To your embarrassment, Jake held your chin to keep you in place. You tugged at the edges of your shorts; the blanket had fallen somewhere on the carpet. He looked to your lips, then met your eyes with a searing gaze.

“You know what I’m about, ___.”

Heat crept across your chest and up your neck.

“We’re worlds apart,” you stated.

“Are we?”

Is he offering what I think he is?

“We both know it,” you insisted, “Yet… why do you stare at me like that when you know I can’t give you what you want? When you know we both want different things.”

“What do you think I want from you?”

Your head was beginning to spin both from the proximity between you and Jake and the jumble of thoughts in your head.

You considered your motivations; were you really just hoping for a kiss? Or more?

“Obviously, what you want from any other girl–”

“There was no other girl tonight,” he interjected.

You hesitated before shaking off his hold on your chin. “You just made that up? Why?”

Jake sat back against the couch cushions, hands spread across his thighs. He released a heavy breath.

“I figured I’d make an excuse to get your attention and to hang out with you. You don’t really bother to spend time with me even though we're roommates, especially when it’s just us in the flat.”

He wanted to hang out with me that badly, just to get into my pants? To the point where he was willing to leverage our temporary agreement?

“You’re unbelievable lying to me like that. You're the one who always has people over. Now what, am I supposed to keep you entertained? Do you realize how childish and attention-seeking that sounds?”

“I do,” he nodded, “But sometimes you see right through me, and other times I feel like I’m in my own echo chamber,” His words carried a tinge of frustration, “Honestly, your request is over the top, but I haven’t been hanging out with anyone as of late because you asked me to. Can you blame me for wanting some human interaction?”

“We should be trying to avoid the flu, so that’s just being a decent human being on your end of the deal. Also, it’s incredibly user-friendly of you to suddenly start wanting to hang out with me when you can’t have one of your girls over.”

“___, it’s not even about that. I just want–”

“Anyone with a sense of self-respect would acknowledge and accept this,” you refused to hear him. He wouldn't even apologize for deceiving you.

Jake fell quiet, expression crestfallen. What was he so down for?

Just when you thought you'd have to snap him out of it, that unnerving stare of his was back– an air of stubbornness radiating off of him. Still, you sensed a lingering hurt in his eyes.

“You should know I’m shameless.”

Your hand curled into a tight fist. What was he getting at now?

“I’m well aware. You just want me because I’m not your typical fuck, don't you?”

“So sure about that. Aren’t you?” His low voice was barely over a whisper.

At his challenge, uncertainty seeped into your thoughts. You considered Jake’s obstinate demeanor and realized you felt even more irritated than before. He didn’t flinch when you shifted forward to twist his shirt collar in your grasp, unrelenting.

“Yes, I am. And I will not be used again,” you scowled at him. “Are you gonna prove me wrong, or will Jake Sim, the notorious playboy, prove me right?”

Jake swore under his breath.

“Use me then.”

He watched shock spread across your face as you froze in place.

Jake quickly pulled you into his lap by your waist, your hands steadying yourself on his shoulders. His warm palms slid over your neck, thumbs brushing against the flesh of your cheeks.

“What the hell are you talking about—“

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he began to press open-mouthed kisses against your neck, to the curve of your throat, nipping at your jaw. Unable to help yourself, you moaned softly at the sweet sensation while your hands pushed at his shoulders.

Jake held you flush against his chest, “Use me.” You gulped at the sight of Jake staring up at you with such a ravenous look. “Or would you rather it be the other way around?”

Anger flashed like lightning behind your eyes.

You roughly cupped his jaw and dragged his plush lips against yours despite his initial wishes, and he let you. Without hesitation, you licked into the heat of his mouth, and it was pure sweetness bursting across your tongue. Jake groaned against your lips and caressed the small of your back underneath your shirt; he seemed to like that just as much as you did. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you couldn't believe Jake was letting you kiss him. And that you were allowing him to touch you.

A peculiar surge of power flickered through your body, as did the unmistakable heat of arousal.

Jake was generous– letting you scrape your teeth against his lips and shove your tongue against his as you pleased. You were winging it with the mindset of just making up for the terrible first kiss you had given away so carelessly—and making Jake pay for giving you a hard time all night.

Your shitty excuse of a first kiss never stood a chance.

He angled his head to deepen the kiss further, surprising you with his passion and confidence. It was incomparable to the sweet way he had kissed you on the cheek and even closer to your lips just moments ago. You’d always imagined what he was like as a lover, and it was something else entirely being on the receiving end of his fierce advances.

For someone who doesn’t make out much with other people, he’s incredibly good at this.

But then something in the air changed the moment you sat back and settled yourself on his lap. Jake ground his hips up into your core, and to your surprise, you felt his hardness through his sweatpants. You gasped, nearly breaking the kiss, but his hand at your neck kept you right where he wanted you.

At this point, Jake was beginning to dominate the kiss, clearly more experienced in keeping pace. What was breathing again?

You finally managed to pull away, but he chased after you, catching the wet string of saliva that connected your lips on his tongue. The symptoms of a dizzy spell quickly clouded your mind.

“Wait– holy shit,” you panted, “Why…?”

Jake thumbed at your lips which were glistening and several tints redder than before, while his free hand moved to knead the soft flesh at your hip.

“No reason at all.”

“Jake,” you dragged your palms down his firm chest, “Fuck you, you’re not making any sense. You even egged me on…”

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he began to drag the pads of his fingertips back and forth just below your collarbone, “Do what you do best and use that brain of yours to make sense of this.”

“Stop playing with me!”

He still managed to tease you even in your overwhelmed state, pressing a wet kiss just under your ear. “You’ll kiss and tell once you’ve figured it out, won’t you?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oh, I'm sure you do. Better tell me what you want– properly this time.”

Memories of your terrible series of firsts threatened to resurface, and you willed them away with all of the spite you’d bottled up after these past couple of years. You decided that they would be buried in your psyche by the time morning came, never to be reminisced about again. You sincerely hoped for it.

No, you’ve never slept with someone. But the little girl who had hoped to give her first kiss away to her prince charming grew up and had a change of heart. Up until a mere moment ago, you thought a kiss would satisfy you and help lay those awful memories to sleep.

Had you been wrong? You and Jake– maybe you two weren’t as different as you first thought.

“What’d you do to that girl that made her cream her panties so badly?”

Jake chuckled, “Why don’t I just show you?"

“You'd love to, wouldn't you? Fine,” you held Jake’s jaw firmly and looked him in the eyes as you said this, “My shorts stay on, and don’t even think about shoving anything inside me tonight. I don’t care how hard you are.”

His cheeks grew a shade darker, “Yes, ma’am.”

“One more thing. You were holding back when you were kissing me, weren’t you?”

Jake ran his hands up your sides. “What if I was?”

“Don’t.”

You leaned forward, and he met you halfway– the sugary taste of your tongue sending him into a frenzy again. He lapped at your lips and prodded around the heat of your mouth, obscene sounds filling your ears.

This time around, Jake’s grip on your neck kept your lips together until he deemed fit to let you resurface for air. A privilege you had willingly surrendered as he stole your breath, the insistence of his tongue causing saliva to spill down your chin.

You moaned against his slick lips due to how messy the kiss had become, and he took the opportunity to trace a nipple through the fabric of your shirt, causing you to shudder. His fingertip circled the bud several times before squeezing the hardening tip between his middle and index finger.

You jerked against him, finding that you were unable to control your body's reaction to his touch. He scrutinized your every reaction, finally breaking the kiss.

“You’re so, so sensitive. Like the way, I play with you, baby girl? The way I fucked your mouth with my tongue?”

Falling into a complete trance and unnacustomed to dirty talk, you could only nod in agreement. Jake didn't seem to mind and all the while, your underwear grew wet at his words and the attention he gave your chest. You watched him take your breasts into his hands as he alternated between rubbing and flicking at your clothed nipples to massaging the mounds as a whole.

Gasping, you stared at his hands, and fought the odd urge to trace the veins protruding across them with your tongue. Jake watched your dazed expressions, completely enamored with your reactions because he's never seen such a side of you before.

And oh how he longed to see more, having imagined you more than once to be entirely at his mercy at night, or perhaps the other way around when you were just a room away, buried under your books. Wondering whether you were experienced or not; it hardly mattered to him. His charming, homebody roommate who he could so easily rile up and then appease in the ways he did best, now that you were finally letting him.

“You’re fucking adorable,” he whispered against your ear.

“M’not,” you insisted.

You licked your lips, breath stuttering when he focused on flicking a swollen nipple back and forth with a single finger, nearly making you faint before he dipped his head to envelope your clothed breast into the wet heat of his mouth.

“Oh my god—“

The ceiling above you spun, and your pussy gushed with arousal. Jake hummed against your breast, while his free hand toyed gently with the other. As he sucked at it, his saliva soaked into the fabric of your shirt, allowing his tongue to lave across your nipple, the friction only adding to your pleasure.

“You are. Bet you’re so, so pretty under this...”

Jake switched over, taking your other breast into his mouth, tugging at the fabric with his teeth. He lapped at the bud while his hand finally slipped under your shirt, spreading his saliva that had seeped through across your skin. You moaned aloud, surprising even yourself with desperation in your voice.

It felt amazing to feel his fingers glide against your bare skin; you were desperate to feel his tongue against it too. His lips released your nipple with a smack, causing you to whine.

“Jake…”

You rolled your hips against his abdomen, seeking friction. You were going crazy— your fuck boy of a roommate was making you go crazy.

“Talk to me, baby girl,” he looked up at you from under his dark lashes, his pupils blown wide. His hands ran over your thighs to roughly grip at your hips. You hiked up your shirt and tugged his head back down onto your chest, causing him to groan against your skin.

“More, please—“

Jaw falling slack, you could hardly form another word when he spat against your chest and watched it run down your skin. He captured it on his tongue, dragging it up the underside of your breast and then fitting as much of you as he could into the tight, wet heat of his mouth.

Fuck.

Your clit throbbed, and your eyes fell close at the immense pleasure. Jake was taking his damn time, tongue laving over your nipples while his lips stretched over each of your breasts with a pop, one after the other.

“Jake,” the way you moaned his name sent a jolt straight down to his hardening cock. It was damn near impossible to ignore the way you were rutting against him, but he’d neglect the urgency in your desperate little thrusts for just a moment longer. Having you fall apart in his hands of all people was affecting him more than he’d ever imagined.

“Need you to touch me more…”

He hummed and sucked harshly before letting your swollen breast drop from his mouth. Strands of saliva hung between his lips and your glistening skin, breaking once he spoke.

“Gorgeous. I wonder just how wet you are, ” Jake pondered, his voice husky against your ear.

The moment you met Jake’s eyes, he recognized the deep unbridled craving in them; they reflected his own. In a moment of boldness, you spread your legs for him to see your dampness spread all across your shorts.

“Shit,” he breathed.

You yelped when he pushed you down onto the couch and fit his knee against your core. He watched you press up against him, rolling your hips against his hard, flexed thigh. Pleasure visibly shot through your body.

His eyes narrowed in the dark, and he roughly shoved his hand against your stomach, gripping the soft flesh below your navel. Your hand moved to squeeze his own, causing his heart to skip a beat at the sheer tenderness of your touch.

The thought that he was being too rough for your first encounter together crossed his mind, but the greedy look in your eyes dispelled any sense of doubt.

“You're so eager. That feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded slowly as your words got caught in your throat. Jake immediately fit himself against your side to drag his middle finger up and down your core, amazed of the way it glided over your soaked shorts due to your slick.

He brought his damp fingers up to your lips, “Be a good girl and get them wet for me.”

You obeyed, sucking his digits into your mouth, slightly taken aback at the foreign taste of yourself. He used his free hand to cradle his arm around your neck and tug your shirt over your breasts before sliding your saliva over your pert nipples.

Oh god.

Jake’s hand squeezed at your breast while the other dipped back down between your legs. The pads of his fingers began to circle your swollen nub just like they had over your nipples, but this time his movements were tighter, harsher. You were so wet under your shorts that the moist sounds filled Jake’s ears and spurred him on to bring you to your release.

“Feels so good…”

Your hand gripped his wrist as you felt your pleasure build, and the other tangled into his shirt. You trembled against him, and he soothed you with a wet kiss on your neck. You continuously ground your core against his thick fingers, the unrelenting pressure against your clit causing heat to spread over your skin and deep within your body.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Say my name when you come,” he urged.

“Jake—“

“Jaeyun,” he corrected sharply, his teeth scraping along your neck.

He sped up his hand without warning, rubbing your clothed pussy and your eyes fluttered shut, all of the pleasure gathering in your core before snapping with a sharp jerk of your hips.

“Ja—,” you gasped, “Jaeyun!”

Starlight burst behind the darkness of your eyelids while warmth and euphoria spread through your body in waves. Your thighs clamped around Jake’s hand, but that didn’t stop him from palming your entire pussy and rubbing as much of it as possible, taking you through your high.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Make a sweet little mess for me so I can taste you.”

His sweatpants were painfully tight at the sight of you absolutely wrecked in front of him, his cock twitching against your thigh at you calling his name while your cum seeped through your shorts onto his fingers.

He let your nails dig into the skin of his arm and watched as you stretched the fabric of his shirt in desperation. A deep groan vibrated through his chest as he drew out the sweetness of your orgasm with insistent fingers, your trembling moans the perfect indicator of your pleasure— and his own.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praised against your ear.

You panted against him; your eyes still screwed shut from the immense toll of your orgasm on your body.

The sensation of your high was indescribable. Having someone touch you was different from touching yourself, but despite reaching your climax, you ached for something to fill you up.

Still in a daze, your hips followed his movements. He slipped his hand past your waistband, dragging his fingers against your sensitive folds and clit, gathering your slick.

You let out a whine; the raw contact of his skin against your own made your toes curl and hips buck. It felt amazing and you so badly wanted him to keep his hand down there a little longer.

“I know, baby,” he hushed.

You shuddered, your core clenching at the way Jake's tongue wrapped around his glistening fingers, his eyes shutting tight as though he were relishing your flavor. A deep sound of satisfaction rumbled through his chest. His hand snaked around your throat, squeezing it lightly while capturing your lips in a deep, intoxicating kiss.

Jake took in your blissed-out expression, a pair of unfocused half-lidded eyes staring up at him. He stopped himself from taking things any further.

“___. If you don’t want me to fuck you right here and now, then get out of here,” he warned.

“What?” you asked in a daze.

He pulled back from you, eyes unmistakably full of longing. “Get out of here. Now.” A tense moment of silence passed before you came to your senses. You pushed past Jake and scrambled to your feet, running to your room and shutting the door behind you while your body screamed to stay.

#enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen au #enhypen angst #enhypen ff #jake x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jaeyun x reader #jake x female reader #enhypen hard hours #jake smut #jaeyun smut

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

I Can Explain: South Terano/ Ken Ryuguji/ Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

based on this request from @aasouthteranoswife: Their s/o accidentally hitting their bike with s/o’s car 🙃

wc: 955

tw: none

masterlist

song recommendation:

South Terano

"South!"

Your worried exclamation precedes his entry into the garage, where you're standing, hands over your mouth.

"What's wrong?" he breathes, but once he sees the damaged bike at your feet, he knows what you did. A high-pitched ringing begins in his ears and he tries to think, think, think...

"South, I'm so sorry..." You burst into tears, and South's heart immediately melts. He can't stay mad at you with those fat tears rolling down your flushed cheeks; he wasn't a man made of stone.

"Baby, baby..." he coos, holding his arms out to you and stepping over the shards of mirror littered on the floor. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'll take it to the shop in the morning."

"I'll pay for it," you blubber, but South clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he envelops you in a deep hug you're not sure you'll ever want to leave.

"No, no. I have a friend who owes me a favor. It'll all be okay."

Draken

Draken heard the crash and immediately hopped off of his perch on the couch, remote still in hand. When he threw open the garage door, there you were - in the brand new Range Rover - and there his bike was, tipped over and undoubtedly dented on the left-hand side.

You're staring at the bike in horror behind the wheel, but when you see Draken looking from you to the motorbike, you pull back out of the garage and peel off, burning rubber on the street.

"Hey!" Draken calls out, but you're gone, not even daring to offer an apology or a helping hand. No, you're his version of a hit and run. "Fuck..."

Before he can even investigate the damage on his bike, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and speed-dials your number.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me..." you yell on the other end.

"Hey, hey, hey," Draken begins, rubbing his temples. "You know I fix bikes for a living, right?"

"Oh," you whisper, and he sighs. "I forgot."

"Get your ass back here so I can not worry about you worrying about my bike."

"So you can fix it?" Draken looks back at the bike and considers the fact that none of it seems really that broken anyways.

"Of course I can. I'm the repairman, remember?"

Ran Haitani

"Y/n!"

You sit up straight in your desk chair, praying to God that Ran was finished with dinner.

"Come downstairs!"

Eagerly, you hop out of your chair and rush down the steps, your stomach growling mercilessly. "I hope you made soup," you begin, but when you arrive in the kitchen, you see Ran sitting down, fingers smeared with oil and a wrench lying on the table, no food in sight.

"Come over here."

Oh, shit.

You swallow hard and walk over to Ran, who lets you sit in his lap, which is something he does when you're in trouble. Big trouble.

"Want to know what I've been doing for the past three hours?"

"Um..." You look at the wrench and oil on his hands, which are resting on your upper thighs. "Fixing the exhaust pipe?"

"Fixing the exhaust pipe," he affirms, nodding slowly. "And how, pray tell, did it get like that?"

"The door was open and it let in a draft? And the draft blew the bike over?" Ran's violet eyes are unamused.

"I'll ask again." Ran repositions you so that you're caged between his arms, facing him head-on. "What happened. To my. Bike."

"So," you begin sheepishly. "I was pulling in last night after the girls and I went out, and I was so drunk that I thought your bike was further away but it wasn't, and then I bumped into it and it almost fell over, but then I caught it and I put it upright, but the exhaust pipe--" Ran cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

"You got drunk and drove home?"

You wish you could melt into the ground as Ran stands, lifting you as well and walking you to the bedroom.

"Get your keys." You slide off of him and rummage around in your purse for the key fob, handing them over to him. He takes them, slides them into his pocket, then sighs. "I'll be driving you around from now on. And you'll be helping me get the dent out of the SUV."

"Okay, but," you whisper. "How long are you going to be my chauffeur?"

"Three weeks. One week for each hour I had to fix my bike."

Ran doesn't really know how to do punishments, you reason, following him to the garage. But that's just fine with you. You know how to get a few dents out of a car. This isn't your first rodeo, after all.

Rindou Haitani

The receipt is slapped in front of you, and you balk at the number at the bottom.

"Six thousand dollars?"

Rindou doesn't do anything but grunt, rolling his neck around and then exhaling deeply.

"Babe," he begins, sitting beside you at the table. "This was a lot of money for the accident you had."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, pressing your lips together. "How can I make it up to you, Rin?"

"You can start by promising not to hit my bike again," the blonde man mutters.

"I promise," you reply confidently.

"And those six thousand dollars really ate into my profits from this year... it really hurt my heart, too." You tilt your head at the younger Haitani, a smile pulling at your lips.

"I know a few things that can ease a broken heart."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'll start by apologizing on my knees," you smirk. "How does that sound?"

#south terano x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #Spotify

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askhubertvonvestra · 2 years

Note

A parchment scroll arrives on Hubert’s desk. The sender was grateful he was not in his office to receive it, as its contents are better left read in private.

“Dear Hubert,

There is something I need to confess. I know something that I shouldn’t, and this secret’s been on my chest for too long now. It’s making me a worse soldier. The truth is, the reason I’ve gone back to avoiding you recently isn’t because you’re scaring me, or because you’re forgetting about the flower. It’s because…”

There are several scribbled out lines, as though the author could not figure out how to say what she wanted to. The final draft reads,

“I was supposed to train with Petra in the training grounds one afternoon. But when I got there, I realized I forgot my water canteen, and went back to my dorm room for it. But right when I was about to open the door, I heard you talking to Ferdinand.”

There is more scribbling. However, this time the words “about imported tea” are somewhat readable.

“It seemed really important to you. And the last thing I wanted was to upset you or embarrass you by opening my door and going back to the training grounds. Because I thought you might not want to be friends anymore if you knew that I knew before you told everyone.”

There are a few splotches on the parchment here, as though the writer were in tears.

“Why am I telling you this now? It’s because last week we were supposed to do Stable Duty together, and you were being so nice to me, and I totally ignored you. And I could tell I might be hurting your feelings…and I just missed you and thought I owed you the truth. It’s okay if you don’t want me in the army anymore, or if you don’t want to be friends anymore. But I couldn’t stop feeling guilty, so I knew I had to say something. I’m really, really, really sorry!

Your (hopefully) friend, Bernadetta.

PS: if it’s worth anything I’m really happy for you!”

((A note for the mun! It’s cause I noticed their A+ appears to be outside the first floor dorms, so I was curious if a certain someone may have overheard…))

Bernadetta,

While the moment was decidedly personal, it was our oversight to have it in a public space. You are not even slightly at fault for this—situation.

That said, I would prefer that we keep the subject between you and I for the time being. I hope that sharing this secret with me will absolve you of this unwarranted guilt. Rest assured that I do have the flower you gifted me, but I must choose to wear it at selective moments. I trust that you understand.

You have my apologies for not noticing that you had nearly opened the door. I should have been more attentive. Such negligence will not happen again.

When we decide to tell everyone... what we wish to tell, I will inform you in person. Flower properly affixed and all.

As much as I am disappointed in myself for this lapse on my part, it would still not be sufficient to end our friendship. At least not on my behalf.

May this thought be some comfort in darker times. There’s no need to shed tears over something that will not come to pass.

I was concerned that I had frightened you, and the prospect did sadden trouble me, but I am glad to have been mistaken. Your companionship was sorely missed as well. You owe me no apology, but I will accept it if that negates your misplaced guilt.

Regards,

Hubert von Vestra

Thank you.

[Aww, that’s a cute/funny thought! He’d be so shy about it, but he’ll come around. Even if he stopped to stare at this letter after every paragraph for about 15 minutes. It took a long time for him to write, lol.]

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lilacs-fandom-garden · 3 years

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Incorrect Quotes 3

Sorry for not updating in a while, anyway, Merry Christmas! Heres Incorrect Quotes 3!

Ships:

Crossmare

Errorink

Dustberry

Scifell

Horrorlust

Driller/Kreme

Afterdeath

Fandom: Undertale AU’s

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Blue: I'd like to address Ink's annoying personal habits.

Ink: Oh my God! What personal habits?

Blue: I have a list. FYI overuse of the phrase "Oh my God" is number 12.

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Dream: I'm sorry for all the stuff I said.

Ink: And for punching me in the face?

Dream: No, you definitely deserved that.

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Ink: It's a good thing I still have this sexy cat costume!

Blue: I really don't think you were the target audience for that costume.

Lust: There is nothing gendered about a sexy cat.

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Blue: I made tea.

Ink: I don't want tea.

Blue: I didn't make tea for you. This is my tea.

Ink: Then why are you telling me?

Blue: It's a conversation starter.

Ink: That's a lousy conversation starter.

Blue: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate

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Ink: Am I cool or what?

Geno: What.

Ink: I said, am I cool or-

Geno: Yeah, I heard you.

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Ink: You go big or you go home. And you don’t seem like the kind of person that goes home.

Cross: I’m not. I don’t even really have a home.

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Dust: Those pants look great, and I bet they’d look even better on Horror’s floor.

Horror: Are you hitting on Lust... for me?

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Killer: I've lied to every girl I said "I love you" to. I thought I loved them but then I met you and realized I've never been in love before.

Dream: Aw. I did not know that.

Killer: Yeah, it was eating me up inside. So, I called them each individually and said "I never loved you."

Dream: Okay, that seems unnecessary.

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Blue: We're going mattress shopping.

Dust: You know, once we get it, we'll have to break it in.

Blue: Oh, I hear what you're saying. Mattress trampoline.

Dust:

Blue: Wait, no. You were talking about sex.

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Blue: Uh oh.

Fell: What?

Blue: Somebody's in love.

Fell: Yeah, right. I just think Sci’s cool. It's not like I lay awake at night thinking about him.

Fell, later that night: shit.

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Dream: You guys just got back together. You might not want to ditch him on his birthday.

Blue: I think Dream has a point. You can see it another day.

Ink: But someone might spoil the movie. No one can spoil Error's birthday for me. Surprise, he's even older. Who saw that coming?

Dream: Aww, that's nice. Put that on his cake.

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Dust: We're lost.

Horror: Lost? As in "where the hell are we?"

Dust: We're not totally lost. We're still in Waterfall.

Killer: You said this was a shortcut.

Dust: It is a shortcut! Look how fast we got lost!

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Killer: Before I do anything, I ask myself, would Dust do that? And if the answer is yes, I do not do that thing.

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Cross: Nightmare, I typed up your symptoms into the thing up here, and it says you may have network connectivity problems.

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Cross: I would have been here sooner but the bus kept stopping for other people to get on it.

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Dust: How do you keep your pants up when battling? Its incredible!

Error:

Error: belt.

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Dust: Nightmare!! Theres an ugly monster under my bed!

Killer (who is on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed): Alright. Screw you too!

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Dream: You took so long in the shower!

Ink: Yeah sorry, I was at a concert.

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Cross: Holy crap, you’re so violent-

Error: Yeah, but i'm short so it's adorable.

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Nightmare: I scared them again didn’t I?

Cross: They’re terrified of you-

Nightmare:

Nightmare: That makes me so happy!

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Ink: Error?

Error: What?

Ink: You kicked me in your sleep!

Error: ….who said I was asleep?

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Horror: Why would you give Dust a knife?!

Killer: He felt unsafe.

Horror: Well now I feel unsafe!

Killer: …...would you like a knife as-well?

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Error: Okay, lets stop using the term ‘butt-hurt’. We are adults not 12 year olds.

Cross: You sound fannytroubled.

Ink: A little bootybothered if you asked me.

Dust: Someones having a tushytantrum

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Nightmare: HAS ANYONE SEEN MY SONS?!

Nightmare: OH GOD HORROR!

Nightmare: THAT MOTHERS ADRENALINE IS KICKING IN-

Nightmare: DUST!

Nightmare: I CAN SEE EVERY EQUATION!!

Nightmare: Excuse me ma’am?! Have you seen my sons?! They’re about this tall- all clearly gay but we havent had the talk.

Nightmare: KILLER ARE YOU IN THERE?!

Nightmare: *kicks down trash can violently*

Error:

Error: Cross control your boyfriend jesus-

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Enjoy some quotes from Disney/Nickelodeon Shows!: (I uh- also added some cusswords lol-)

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Dust: I'M PREGNANT-

Killer: You’re not pregnant!

Horror: Wait- who’s pregnant?!

Dust: ME!

Horror: Congratulations!

Killer: He’s not pregnant!

Dust: Easy Killz! I’m with child-!

Killer: You’re not with child!

Horror: I’m gonna be an uncle!!!

Killer: YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE AN UNCLE!

Horror: Then who’s gonna teach the little guy how to ride a bike?!

Error: Calm down Dust! You’re not pregnant.

Dust: Then why am I so moody and nauseous?!

Dust: I think it's the morning sickness!

Error: ...Dust…

Error: you’re a boy.

Dust: ...oh yeah-

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Sci: Sorry, but the convertants of air streams coming from the vents are creating a dangerous draft on the guest chair.

Blue: Alright...but if I catch a cold and start coughing and sneezing uncontrollably it will be on you. LITERALLY-

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Blue: Ink! Geno! Please..! Violence is never the solution-

Blue: *gets hit in the face by a pillow and falls down*

Blue: HECK WITH THE NON-VIOLENCE..! I AM ON YOU LIKE STRIPES ON A TIGER-

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Killer: *snoring on the couch*

Nightmare: Awww- he fell asleep mid clean! I’ll wake him.

Nightmare: KILLER!!!!

Killer: AHH! *sprays cleaning spray on Nightmare’s face*

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Cross: Who took all my scarfs?! I need them for tomorrow--

Dust swinging on a rope made out of cross’s scarfs: *doing a tarzan yell and crashing into the kitchen*

Dust coming out of the kitchen with spoons forks and knifes on him: Now that was awesome!!

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Sci: Well...I brought a book you could read-

Ink: NOOOOOOOOO- *runs away*

Sci: Too easy.

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Blue: I'm a hugger!!!!

Dust: I'M A HUGGIE-

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Killer: I did not see that coming.

Killer: *gets smacked in the arm by a drone* OW!

Nightmare: Apparently you don't see a lot of things coming.

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Horror: ...what's that?

A random stranger: It's lasagna… and it's for a Christmas Party I’m going to.

Horror: We could have a party right now-!

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Cross: What are you all getting Nightmare for his birthday?

Killer: A slightly used lip balm.

Dust: A free hug.

Error: My profound admiration.

Horror: *picks up salt shaker* This salt shaker.

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Ink: Oh, this is my chum bucket! I’m going to catch a giant squid and tame it!

Dream: ...you’re a weird kid.

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Lust: Now all we have to do is wait for the guests to show up!

Lust:

Blue:

Lust: Oh...we forgot to invite people….

Blue: Yup, sure did-

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Nightmare: Its not like anybody died…!

Dream: We haven't seen the rest of the tape…..

Nightmare:

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Killer: IS THAT A TATTOO?!

Killer while rubbing Dust’s arm: COME OFF COME OFF COME OFF!!!

Dust: Hey! The only thing coming off is my arm!

Killer: What am I going to tell Nightmare?! Oh….oh! I got it! We’ll just cut off your arm!

Cross: Good idea! Because that's easier to explain then a tattoo.

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Horror and Dust: *battling with pool noodles*

Blue laying on the ground: HALT!

Horror and Dust: …?

Blue: Does anyone have a pillow? This ground is really hard!

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Killer: Nightmare can you do me a big favor…?

Nightmare: You need a handsome man to go with you to the reunion? No problem...I’ll do it!

Killer: I meant to see if you could call one of your friends or your brother but uh-

Nightmare: *death stare*

Killer: okay...you’ll do-

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Dust: Two days to learn a language?

Dust: I got some spanish for ya! No way Jose- haha!

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Cross: And I’m sorry I said he was my favorite-

Horror: It's alright Dad! To be honest, I always preferred Nightmare.

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Dream: I know there is still some good left in you!

Nightmare: No there isn’t-! Wait.

Nightmare: *visibly cringing*

Nightmare referring to Passive Night: Agrh! There's still a piece of good. DARN IT!

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Dust: *pretends to yawn to sling his arm over Blue to dim the lights*

Dust: Do you mind?

Blue: Not at all. While we’re at it.

Blue: *throws one of Error’s puppets at the radio to play some convenient romantic music*

Blue and Dust: *about to kiss on the couch*

Horror in the kitchen doorway: *holding a glass of milk* What are you doing?

Blue and Dust: AH! HORROR!

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Ink: What are you saying? That I’m dumb?!

Error: Well- no… you’re just not very….thinky.

Ink: Thinky? Why did you say that?!

Error: Because Geno told me I cant call you dumb.

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Dream: Hey Killer? Can you get me some punch?

Killer: Sure, I’ll be right back.

Passive Nightmare: Cross? Can you get me some punch too?

Cross: What? Your feet dont work?

Passive:

Cross: Ice or no ice…?

Passive: Surprise me.

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Nightmare: If you all want your phones….

Nightmare: *shows box of phones* They’re right here.

Blue:

Dream:

Horror:

Dust:

Killer:

Ink:

Blue visibly shaking:

Dream: Blue…

Blue starts vibrating a bit:

Dream: Blue.

Blue starts vibrating:

Dream: BluE-

Blue: *war scream*

Everyone except Nightmare and Blue: OH SHIT-

Blue: I NEED MY PHONE- *starts running at nightmare*

Everyone else: BLUE NO *tries to restrain Blue*

Blue screaming: *kicks Ink in the stomach causing him to fall backwards*

Dust and Horror screaming: *trying to hold Blues legs and arms*

Blue still screaming: *elbows Horror in the ribs*

Horror letting go of Blue: OW!!

Dust accidentally lets his grip loosen on Blue: HOLY SHIT! HORROR?!

Blue who is still screaming: *pushing Dust to the ground and running at the box* I NEED MY PHONE-

Killer: *tackles Blue*

Dream: *helping Killer restrain Blue*

Ink: *confused screaming*

Nightmare: *laughing*

Blue: *flips over also flipping over Killer and kicking him in the chest*

Killer: FUCK! *rolls over and clutches onto his chest*

Dream: HOLY CRAP BLUE CALM DOWN- *grabs onto both of Blue’s arms*

Blue screaming and kicks Dream in the shin: I NEED MY PHONE-

Dream: *falls down grabbing his shin* MOTHER FU-

Blue running and grabbing the box of phones: GIVE ME MY PHONE-

Ink trying to grab hold of Blue: BLUE WAIT-

Blue screaming and hits Ink in the face with the box: AHHH

Everyone else except Ink: *charging at Blue*

Blue grabs phone from out of the box: I GOT IT I GOT IT-

Horror: *hoists up a screaming Blue in the air*

Dust: *grabbing Blue from the thighs lifting him up even more*

Killer: *grabbing Blue’s phone from his hands*

Blue: NOOOOOO-

Killer: *puts Blue’s phone in the box*

Blue screaming and squirming: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Ink: *grabbing a chair*

Dream: *helping Dust and Horror restrain Blue*

Blue: *flipping around screaming and kicking*

Nightmare: *still laughing*

Everyone: *sets Blue down on the chair Ink grabbed*

Dream, Horror, and Dust: *holding Blue down on the chair and shushing him*

Blue: *calms down*

Ink: Holy shit...

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Here are more incorrect quotes:

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Killer: Hey do you want to- stop screaming, its just me- do you want to watch a movie with me?

Dream: I'M IN THE SHOWER-

Killer: Okay well when you’re done with that do you want to watch a movie with me?

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F!Frisk: You don't think I can fight because I'm a girl.

Blue: I don't feel like you can fight because you are in a wedding dress. But for what it's worth, I don't think Ink could fight in that dress either.

Ink: Perhaps not, but I would make a radiant bride.

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Classic banging on the closet door: Fell! Open up!

Fell: Well, it all started when I was born-

Classic: No I meant-

Blue: Shh....let him finish.

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Dust: *sneaking in through the window at 2am*

Nightmare *flicking on the light and turning around in his chair*: So, Where were you?

Dust: I-I was with Cross!

Cross *turning around in his chair*: Wanna try again..?

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Epic: Bruh, I want to give you the whole world but like...I only have 20 bucks.

Cross: Dude, come here.

Epic: *moves closer*

Cross: *hugs him*

Cross: I don't have any money but I got the world right here in my arms.

Epic: B r u h...

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Killer: How high was I last night?

Dream: You forgot what milk was and called it cereal water.

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Blue to Ink: What time is it...?

Ink: Don't know. Hand me that flute and I'll find out

*Ink plays the flute*

Dream: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE FLUTE AT 2 AM?!

Ink: It's 2am

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Cross doing a CROSS-word puzzle: I need a 9 letter word for disappointment....

Ink: Nightmare.

Dream and Cross slowly rising from their seats: Are you ready to fucking die..?

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Blue: How do Horror and Dust get out of these messes?

Killer: They don't. They just make a bigger mess to cancel out the first one.

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Passive Nightmare: Do I want to be feared or loved? Easy.

Passive: Both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me.

Cross under his breath: Then I'm fucking terrified.

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Ink: I'd like everybody's attention. Christmas is canceled.

Blue: You can't cancel a holiday.

Ink: Keep it up, Blue, and you'll lose New Year's.

Blue: What does that mean?

Ink: Dream, take New Year's away from Blue.

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Lust: okay so the gingerbread house instructions say to be very delicate-

Sci: *holding power drill* DELICACY!!!

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Killer: I can't believe you and Horror broke the bed last night.

Dust: It must have been wild.

Lust: Haha... Yeah...

[Last Night]

Lust: Bet 35G you can't jump high enough to touch the ceiling.

Horror: Try me.

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Cross: Hey ya'll. So, I know I'm the new guy here, but I think I can speak for everyone when I say... I don't know what the fuck is going on.

The Bad Guys: Agreed.

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[Sets kitchen on fire]

Dust: shit- we need an adult.

Horror: You ARE an adult!

Dust looking extremely terrified: oh...oh fuck.

Horror: WE NEED AN ADULTIER ADULT. QUICK GO GET KILLER!

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Nightmare: It's hard being the leader of the bad guys sometimes, but I love them all and that's all what matters-

Horror: Nightmare! Me, Fell, Dust, Killer, and Lust tried to make ramen in the coffee pot and we broke everything....

Nightmare: [inhales]

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Killer: You need a hobby Dust.

Dust: I already have a hobby Killer.

Killer: How many times do I have to tell you stalking Blue is not a hobby.

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Error: Ink? Why are you on top of the fridge?

Ink: Can I not be wherever I want?! Maybe I like it up here!

Error:

Error: Wheres the spider?

Ink, quietly: Underneath the table...

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Dust: I have come up with a three-step plan to get Nightmare to marry you!

Cross: Okay...Im listening....

Dust: Step one! Get him to play truth or dare.

Cross: Never mind please stop.

Dust: Step two! Wait for him to pick dare.

Cross: Dust. I swear.

Dust: Step three! Dare him to marry you.

Cross: God damn it.

Horror from another room: IT MIGHT WORK!

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Killer: Synonyms are weird. Because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy, but if someone invites you to a cabin in the woods, you're going to die.

Blue: My favorite is 'butt-dial' vs 'booty call'

Sci: It's called connotation

Lust: Also, 'forgive me father for I have sinned'

Lust winking at horror: Vs 'sorry daddy, I've been naughty'

Horror whose face is now completely red: I-

Nightmare: Congrats! Language has officially been canceled.

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Dream, joking: I should have Killer kill you for that

Killer from another room: who?

Dream: Oh no its okay, I was kidding around-

Killer, walking in, with a hammer and knife in both hands: No, is he bothering you?

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Classic teaching Fell how to drive: Alright, you see Dust walking in the middle of the road. What do you hit?

Fell: ...oh definitely Dust.

Classic: The brakes Fell! You hit the brakes.

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Dust: Quick! Take my hand!

Blue: *grabs Dusts hand* Now what?

Dust: Nothing. I just wanted to hold hands!

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Cross upset: I hate you guys and I'm never talking to a single one of you ever again!

[10 minutes later]

Cross kissing everyone's forehead: Goodnight Horror, Goodnight Lust, Goodnight Dust, Goodnight Killer, Goodnight Error.

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Blue: Psst! Error!

Error: what?

Blue: I made this friendship bracelet for you!

Error: Blue... you know I'm not really a jewerly person...

Blue: Oh. Its okay! You dont have to wear it-

Error: No. I'm going to wear it forever back off.

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Dust: Me and Killer get along fine! Right Killz?

Killer: I've never been more stressed out in my entire life.

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Cross: I guess I'm just too tough to cry.

Horror: Just yesterday you were crying about snakes.

Cross sobbing a little: THEY DON'T HAVE ARMS HORROR-

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Reaper: Hey bitches!!! I've got starbuckssss-

Dust: YAY!!!

Error: FUCK YEAH-

Lust: AWESOME!

Nightmare: Reaper...please...its 3 am in the morning....

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Dream: Are you a cuddler?

Killer: I AM A MACHINE OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION- yeah I'm a cuddler.

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Classic: Dont talk to me.

Papyrus: What happened brother?

Classic: I went and joined a Sans look-alike contest...

Classic: AND LOST-

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Dream: Sibling relationships are weird.

Dream: Like, I'd give Nightmare my spine but no way is he borrowing my charger.

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Dust: Whats it like dating Nightmare?

Cross: One timeI asked him for water while he was still mad at me, and he brought be a full glass of ice and said "wait".

Dust:

Cross:

Cross: I love him-

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Dust: I can't go. Stress is bad for the baby.

Killer: What baby?

Dust: Me.

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Ink: I hate it when people ask me "whats the stupidest thing you've done?" Like bold of you to assume I've reached peak dumbass.

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Nightmare: If someone ever kidnapped you, I would hunt them down to the ends of the earth so I could kill them.

Cross: If you asked I would literally kill everyone in this room with no hesitation.

Dream [A little terrified and disturbed]: You know this is not what normal couples say to each other right...?

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Geno: How do you politely tell someone you want to hit them in the face with a brick?

Sci: One wishes to acquaint your facial features in a fundamental item used in building walls. Repeatedly.

Lust shedding a fake tear: Thats the most beautiful thing I've ever heard....

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Blue, opening a Capri-sun: Guess I'll just drink my sorrows away.

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Sorry if I posted a quote twice-

460 notes · View notes

cuddles-and-kisses · 3 years

Text

So The Cat's Out Of The Bag,,,

Another fanfic for Agapito (an OC that belongs to @yandereaffections) The story starts under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,908 Trigger Warnings: Subtle yandereness, I can't think of any others

It’s 11 pm. I’ve been avoiding schoolwork all day and I’m in no rush to fix it. I've been writing fanfiction, of sorts, for the past 3 hours. On the bright side, the first draft is done! My back hurts from sitting so long while my butt hurts because I’ve sat on a wooden stool this long. I need to take a break but what to do? Oh, what to do? My weekly planner is wide open on a bookstand to my right. I could be productive, or I could keep avoiding them... So the planner is closed now. I’ve reorganized pens in a pen cup for the seventh time. Is there a limit to how many times a person can adjust a desk lamp before going insane? There has to be something else to do but what? As if on cue, my phone lights up with a text from my Baby. We’ve been official for 6 months so our dates are a lot more casual nowadays.

“Angel, I want attention. Unlock the back door” I’m aware it doesn’t seem like it but this is how he asks to come over. He won’t come over until I respond giving the green light. “Bold of you to assume I’m home and not partying at a random frat house” We both know I’m not doing jack at 11 pm on a Friday. Nonetheless, it’s fun to pretend I have a flourishing social life. “That’s cute. Back door please” Alright, now to get up and- ow, fuck, ouchie, ok, hold on. *POP* There we go!

I should probably pick my room up real quick. I made my bed earlier today so that’s not a problem. The svallerup rug from Ikea collects dirt a lot faster than I expected. Although would he really notice? It’s not bright in here. My dresser by the door looks fine. The futon is in couch mode, so there’s not much left I don’t have to clean up for him. In reality, I’m not cleaning for him, I just like having a clean room. The last thing I do is turn on the fairy lights above my head then light a vanilla candle. I know he’s coming over to cuddle or really do anything involving him getting affection. I might as well make my bedroom reflect that, right?

I half-jog upstairs to unlock our back door. Why the back door? It’s not because I love Jesus. Let me explain. The living room floor creaks way too loud. Also, my parent’s bedroom is right next to that door. The side door alerts our dogs to start pitching a fit. How can they hear it from the opposite side of our house? I may never be able to understand. Moonlight drifts halfway across the backroom. Sparse nightlights cover the remaining needed light. I flick on the backdoor lights followed by opening a few blinds to let more light in. Their orange glow overpowers the moonlight near the backdoor.

For whatever reason, the moon is far brighter tonight. Or my pupils are hella dilated because I’m thinking about my Baby. Either way, moonlight dusts over parts of the backroom and kitchen ahead of me. One last light to turn on. An LED light above our kitchen sink smashes through most surrounding darkness, making it almost impossible to see into the living room. White cabinets outline our kitchen. None of the cabinets match each other in this house. It’s as if this house was built in parts instead of planned out from the start. The counter is occupied with things you’d expect; a bread box, knife set, fruit basket, coffee pot, and an air fryer. Yet, there's evidence real people live here. Crumbs from a snack, mail by the fruit basket, half-empty coffee pot, as well as children’s toys forgotten all about

Everyone else is snuggled up in warm beds, sleeping. I can pick out each person’s snoring pattern when they poke through tonight’s ambiance. There are moments where quiet feels like serenity, others where it feels like emptiness. I can’t decide which one I’m feeling because I realize I’m about to have a visitor. A cup of coffee sounds like the perfect way to waste a few minutes while waiting for my lover.

Coffee cup out of the overhead cabinet. A coffee spoon from beside the coffee pot. Fake sugar off the shelves. Room temperature coffee in the pot from this morning. French vanilla coffee creamer out of the fridge. And just like that, a proper cup of coffee is served. Light reflects off the glossy coating painted over our pale coffee cups. Mom considers it a priority to have everything match or look cohesive. Appearing put together is a source of pride for her. A cup is a cup however matching cups make her happy. My ears perk up at hearing his tires pulling into the driveway. My coffee creamer swirls in the cup as he walks up the driveway. The coffee spoon clings against the inside of my coffee cup simultaneously with the creak of our back gate. All that’s left is to wash off this week’s coffee spoon then put it back. I have only a few more seconds until my Love is with me again. I’m a sappy and hopeful romantic for him, get off my back. He’s learned how to silently open the back door and if I didn’t have good peripheral vision, I would’ve yelped.

Intimate hands snake around my hips as a tender kiss is pressed against my neck. I can feel the tender smile tugging at his lips after the kiss, he had a really good day? His body is pressed against mine as he murmurs “Honey, I’m home~” behind my ear; earning a soft chuckle from me. I turn to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and greet him with a deep kiss. This time on the lips. “Welcome home, my Love.” He’s so close to me, I can smell the cigarette he had on his way over here. The absence of alcohol or weed stench affirms he didn’t have a bad day at work. I can’t wait until these interactions become a daily occurrence. This man is breathtaking under normal circumstances; but, under the glimmer of moonlight,,, I can’t form a single thought while looking at him. The raw admiration and love this man holds in his eyes? Who could stand a chance against him? Not me. Wrong choice.

His hands linger along the sides of my hips. I hold his arms in an attempt to keep him close to me, just a little longer. “I brought you a few things. I’ll go set them on your desk.” He knows gifts aren’t my thing in spite of that he claims I deserve the entire universe. I breathed out, “Ok, I’ll be down in a minute,” then started moving to get my coffee cup, as well as a few snacks to bring downstairs. He starts heading downstairs content with how flustered I am. WAIT A FLUFFING MINUTE THE FANFICTION IS ABOUT HIM!! I whisper yell ‘Baby’ until his head pops back around the corner. I threaten him to not touch or look at my laptop. It was a pathetic attempt considering what he does for a living. In my defense, I tried. I forgot he’s in essence an overgrown teenager who will do the exact opposite of what he’s told. Wanna know what he does? Grin. I’m so fucked.

Agapito dashes downstairs and leaves me in unadulterated fear. I’m frozen in place, trying to come to terms with my fate as his footsteps fade. It’s not smut or anything, just a simple night and morning routine imagining that we lived together. This is going to be so embarrassing. Please spare me this treacherous fate and undying embarrassment. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. Get your coffee then snacks then, simply, accept what’s just happened.

With arms full of snacks, I shut my bedroom door as gingerly as I can. Setting the cup on the dresser right by the door to make this a little easier. He’s standing at my computer, reading through the last page. Oh hey, he brought me Rolo’s as well as 3 Musketeers. Nice! Oh wait, he’s done reading. His shoulders aren’t tense; his breathing hasn’t changed; all the same, he’s just standing there. “Why did you write this out instead of doing it?” That’s a good question tbh. My Baby’s voice sounds hurt, despite that, he’s trying to hide it. Ok, he needs a hug. Now to throw the snack on the bed. He needs a rib-crushing hug and you bet your butt I’ll be the one to deliver. I tug at his elbow so he’ll face me then pull him into me. His shoulders are right under my chin when we’re facing each other. I bury my face in his neck while my arms hug him as tight as I can. Except why is he upset about this?

His love for me is nothing to scoff at. He loves me the same way he wanted to be loved when he was younger. We’ve figured out he’s catching up from his pre-teen years and onward. So about 13 years without a stable romantic relationship. When he was trying to court me I had to call him out all the time for manipulation. I know he’s terrified I’ll think he’s not good enough. He has episodes of frantic attempts to meet all of my needs, even if it’s not asked for or needed. What is going through his head? Does he feel like he’s not good enough? That he’s not loving me enough so I have to turn to a fictional version of him? Does he think he’s not good enough for me to do this stuff with him? None of those are true, obviously. I explicitly stated that in the story he just read. It doesn’t mean he won’t get stuck inside his head. I need to tell him the truth. Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t, he’s a finely-tuned human lie detector. One more deep breath. Squeeze him a little tighter. Look him in his eyes and come clean.

“The reason I didn’t just act these out is because, I didn’t know how to ask for it.” His expression shifts from confused hurt to understanding. I start rambling, “I want to have these experiences with you. I’d give anything to have that life with you but we've only been dating for 6 months and I just, wasn’t sure, how to phrase it.” I’m choking on my own pulse from emotions. I realize I was shifting my weight left to right when he pulls me in for another hug and kisses my forehead. We stand there in each other’s embrace for a few moments before he suggests I come to his house tomorrow night. We both know what he’s suggesting. I can’t help but adamantly agree. Excitement zips through my body thinking about tomorrow night. A smile pulls at my lips as I ask, “Do you mind if I wear this shirt tomorrow night?”

Tonight is about Netflix, snacks, and rediscovering the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. Though, not before I mess up his hair while calling him a butthead. It’s evident his insecurities are still tugging at him. Funny enough, his insecurities forgot they’re fighting against me for his attention.

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beforeoursunsets · 3 years

Text

Unsilenced Pt. 3 - D.M

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none

summary: it’s finally time to confess, and the stress of it all is completely destroying you. that is until you receive a little help from your roommate...

a/n: once again, we can all thank nia for getting me to write,, the little peer pressure reblog was enough to make me finally finish this series

---

Be rational.

Draco Malfoy--the first person to ever defend you, your number one supporter--could not possibly be interested in you.

It was all in your head, you thought. He was clearly out of your league, and not to mention, was also very well-liked among the other witches. You didn’t have a chance. Ruining everything you two had built was something you could never forgive yourself for.

You simply couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t. A teeny-little-crush on Draco was far different than true feelings, right?

Groaning, you buried your head in your crossed arms, tired of every racing thought.

“What’s the matter?”

Great. You couldn’t even hide in the libraries without the incessant Slytherin finding you. He was only making things harder, the urge to blurt out your top secret feelings unbearable.

“It’s nothing, Draco. Just having some trouble focusing,” The fabricated truth slipped out easily, but by the look on his face, he wasn’t completely convinced.

He slid the textbook out from underneath your head, “You’re lying, I can tell.”

Your head thud against the table, still covered by your arms. “Not today, Draco--not today.”

‘Pansy. That’s who I need right now.’ You thought. Some girl-talk was needed, and soon.

---

You dragged the brunette into your shared dorm, making sure the lock was shut tight.

“I know we aren’t close, but I have a problem. A huge one.” You said, planting face first onto your bed.

Pansy sat beside your feet, throwing a pillow by your side, “Something happen with Malfoy?” She asked, making you flinch.

You sat up immediately, looking at her with suspicious eyes, “How did you know?”

She laughed, pulling her legs under her to sit criss-cross on your bed. “I think everyone knows.”

Feeling the blood rush to your face, you wanted to crawl away and die.

“I’ve never had a crush before! No one told me it was going to be this bloody difficult!” You ranted. These feelings were uncharted territory for you, and quite honestly, it was terrifying. The only thing that scared you more was Draco actually finding out.

“Wait, what?”

You sat up. “Is that not what you meant?”

Your roommate seemed to be excited, an overjoyed smile on display. “No! I meant everyone knows Malfoy has a crush on you!”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“But you are..”

Pansy shook you by the arms, “You like him, you like him!” She said animatedly.

You sat there, trying to make sense of the entire conversation. All this overthinking, and for nothing? Was Pansy telling the truth?

Leaving the comfort of your bed, you paced around the room.

“I can’t tell him, Pansy, because what if you’re wrong? What if he’s just being nice? We’ve been friends for so long now, how could I throw it all away? It’s selfish, and I’m no Gryffindor, maybe I should just keep this to mys--”

This time Pansy chucked the pillow at you, with full force.

“Hey!”

“You’re an idiot.”

You stopped pacing. “You realize that if you are wrong about this, I will murder you, right?” You said, looking directly at her. “I don’t think I can handle rejection.”

---

Three hours later you were in the Great Hall, Pansy by your side. As soon as you entered his line of sight Draco quickly began his approach.

Ansty as ever, you sent your friend a nervous glance. In response, she put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“Just follow my lead.” She whispered.

“Y/N? Pansy? Is everything all right?” Almost baffled by the sight of your roommate standing beside you, Draco was ultimately suspicious.

She sent him a fake smile, and you wondered where all this was going.

“Doing just fine, Malfoy. Y/N just needed to talk out some feelings about her new boy-toy.”

You sputtered, coughing, “Pansy, what the hell?” You grit, nudging her hard.

The blond was clearly taken by surprise, his reaction darkening, “What are you talking about?”

“My apologies, boy-toy clearly wasn’t the best explanation. Y/N here has a crush.” She corrected herself, only heightening your embarrassment.

“Oh.”

“Yup!” She quipped, “Well, nice talking to you, but we should probably go.” Without another word, Pansy cut the conversation short, leading you away from the utterly disheartened Draco.

Once out of earshot, you began scolding her, “Are you trying to sabotage this?” You asked, eyes wide.

Laughing yet again, she explained, “I wasn’t sabotaging. If anything, I just helped put things in motion.”

“Huh?” You replied, unsure of Pansy’s twisted agenda.

“Just wait and see, L/N.”

---

The following day you avoided the Great Hall at all costs in spite of Pansy’s wishes. It felt like your heart was constantly up in your throat, choking you with worry.

You’ve heard from many classmates that Draco had been looking for you, asking around to find your whereabouts. By dinnertime, you felt starved, so you searched your room for any snacks you and Pansy had hidden.

Still hungry, you unwillingly left the Slytherin dorms and pulled on a different outfit in hopes that you could sneak off to Hogsmeade and grab a meal at the Three Broomsticks.

Finally outside, the cold air nipped your skin as you walked briskly away from campus. Halfway down the hill, you heard someone call out to you.

“Y/N!” Recognizing his voice, you kept walking, trying to hold off the talk for as long as possible.

The thudding of his feet against the grass grew louder as Draco ran to catch up with your brisk pace. “Y/N,” He called again.

This time you stopped dead in your tracks, but only to be thrown forward as the Slytherin knocked straight into your back. Without a trace of grace, you fell down the last of the hill, wincing as rocks hit your shoulder.

“Ow,” You complained, eyes shut tight.

“I am so sorry,” Draco apologized profusely, attempting to help you get back on your feet.

You ignored his outstretched hand, standing up awkwardly. “Hey, Draco.”

He surveyed you quickly, getting straight to the point, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Sighing, you kept walking, “Moaning Myrtle said you stood her up last night, is this crush seriously bothering you that much?” He continued, matching your speed.

“It’s not bothering me!” Defensively crossing your arms, you refused eye contact.

Draco scoffed, “Then what is? You don’t have to be this bloody secretive, just tell me.”

Trying your hardest to remain calm, you came to a halt yet again. This time, you yanked Draco by the arm, stopping him with you.

“You!” You cried out, poking his chest with your index finger, “You are what’s bothering me!”

He almost looked offended, wondering what he had done wrong.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even bloody think! I just can’t get your stupid charming smile out of my head, you big fa--”

“Woah, hold on.” Draco interrupted, slowly prying your hand away from him. “I thought Pansy said you fancied someone? What happened to that?”

At this point you could’ve screamed.

“You’re so blind, it hurts.” You responded, calmer, feeling a tension headache arising. “I fancy you, Draco Malfoy. No matter how extraordinarily irritating you may be.”

It took him a moment to fully absorb your last sentence, the gears in his head shifting visibly as his face contorted in thought. But once he finally did, Draco was like a child on Christmas morning. “You aren’t messing with me?” He asked, vulnerability striking you both.

“I’ve never been more serious.” You responded with confidence, ignoring the shaky hands that betrayed your facade.

“Oh thank Merlin,” He breathed, Draco’s arms immediately outstretched as he enveloped you in a warm hug. “I thought I’d never hear you say it.”

---

a/n #2: if i have somehow royally f’ed up the ending to this mini-series, i deeply apologize and i will willingly rewrite the ending if i need to LMAO. sorry for such a long wait, i completely forgot i had this in my drafts

requested tagging: @gwlvr @dracomalfoys-wh0re @macheregrace @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sycathorn-slush

#draco x fem!reader #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco fic #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco x female reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fluff #draco imagines #malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #hp related

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honney-boy · 3 years

Text

Knight In Shining Board Shorts

John B Routledge x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: injuries, fluff, bad surfing terminology, a huge amount of cuteness and fluff toward the ending, bugs bunny reference, a good ole smooch from the reader, grammer mistakes

Request: yes

could I req some john b fluff? Maybe him taking care of a hurt reader?

A/N: Sorry it took my forever to get this out. This request has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally found the inspiration to finish it up. Double warning, I know nothing about surfing so I kind of did my research. So don’t attack me if I get the description wrong for surfing. Also, sorry if this seems rushed toward the ending, I didn't want to drag it out too long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

For: Anon From:@honney-boy

if you want to be tagged in any of my work, send me an ask or message me! taglist is at the bottom of the fic :) request are open!

masterlist | obx masterlist | taglist

gif by →???(not my gif)

You knew from the moment you were swimming out, the further you got, the closer the wave got. It was a big one, and you like that–the bigger the tide, the better the surf. It was something you and the others said all the time. The others, you almost forgot about them. You had been too focused on catching a good wave to notice that they began to leave—all but John B.

As the wave got closer, you had this feeling in your stomach. Uncertainty? Fear? Whatever it was, it was bothering you, but you were going to ignore it because this was the wave, your wave, and you were going to catch it. You swim yourself out some more, the wave racing toward you as you catch sight, but you still have a reasonable distance between you and it. Turning your longboard around, you push yourself on, laying on your stomach, and then paddling. You gave a few nice and easy paddles before picking up speed. When the wave got to your tail, you kicked it up even more and gave your last strokes all you had. Shooting one last glance over your shoulder to gauge at the wave, you were in a perfect position. When you feel the burst of momentum and speed, you swiftly pop up, placing your feet where they need to be, bending your knee while holding your arms out for balance, and riding the wave.

Your eyes squinted as the wind blew in your face, and the loud sound of the water in your ear was all worth it. No matter how many times you surfed, whether it be on a good weather day or bad, you loved it a lot. A smile graces your face. Whatever it was you were feeling earlier was long gone; happiness and adrenaline filled every inch of your body.

On the shore, you could see John B standing there, arms crossed as he watched you. You couldn't see the emotion on his face, but you knew there was a smile. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you noticed that he was the only one left on the shore, which didn't surprise you. When you and the pogues go surfing, the last two are usually you and John B. Occasionally, JJ would stay, and John B would end up dropping him at his house or the Chateau before taking you home. Kie usually took Pope home since he was more than willing to leave early, but you would live with the water if you could. Even without your friends, you'd come to catch waves by yourself or swim around, that's how much you loved the ocean. It was your happy place.

You lose your footing, but blow it off because you could fix it, and you had your board leash around your ankle if need be. Your back left–right foot and the same as before–slips again, and you make the mistake of looking back at the wave. One of the top five rules to surfing: keep your focus forward, never look over your shoulder or back at the tidal.

Your board flipped with you riding, causing you to fall in the water. You tried your best to swim to the surface, but with the wave and its currents, it dragged you and your board with it while keeping you down. You couldn't grab hold of your board, and the longer it wasn't in your grasp, the worse it would be for you—an eight footboard attached to the ankle by a leash against a 5 foot something girl. The odds were not in your favor. Your board jerked you around, pulling hard at your feet, causing your pain. The wave still had a lot of momentum, but you kept trying with all your strength to push past gravity to the top.

A loud gasp broke through as you crashed through the surface, and your hand reached out to grasp anything. You were up long enough to hear the shout of your name before the current dragged you back down under the surface. This time when you were under, you had the common sense to maneuver your leash off your ankle. Your legs burned from the constant kicking, but this wasn't your first time fighting a wave, and it wasn't your last–this wave wasn't going to win. Pushing your legs harder, you keep kicking, moving your body back to the surface and ignoring every pain, ache, and warning your body is giving you to stop. This time when you burst through, the wave was gone–well, not totally gone, just smaller in size and closer to shore.

Shore was further away than the last time you looked at it; the water must have pushed you further out. Before you began to try and swim the distance to shore, you took a moment to breathe and calm your racing heart. But something tugs at you, and your mind goes into sheer panic, thinking you were going to get pulled under again. You began kicking away to go to shore again, but a pair of what felt like hands held a tight grip on your waist.

"Hey, hey, y/n," you recognize that voice. The hands pull you toward the person in the water with you. "You okay?" you turn around, and John B's face comes to view. His brown eyes scan your face and then lock back onto y/e/c ones. His hair was wet, making his usually golden brown locks dark against his tan skin. Concern filled his eyes, and the grip he had on you was one you could tell that he wasn't going to dare to let go.

Nodding your head and taking a deep breath, you reassure him to cease his worries. "Yeah, yup–I'm fine. I just lost my balance." You take your hands and place them on his wrist to push his own hands away from your waist. Reluctantly at first, he does let go but stays close.

"That looked pretty rough,"

"I thought it looked bangin to me," you say, trying to hide your previous mild freak out with wit and humor. John B's face got serious for a moment, which made you shrink back and cringe, knowing he didn't find humor in what just happened.

"Well, you're opinion on what looked like what happened is a bit bent since you didn't see it from a different point of view."

"And yours is prejudiced. You weren't out here, so it looks like we're in the same boat, hm?" You retorted; John B shook his head.

"Whatever; let's head back. I have to swing by the Chateau first before I take you home," he tilts his head, gesturing to the beach. "I'll grab your longboard." Getting out of logging that big thing back to the beach was an offer you weren't going to let by. Your legs ache–swimming against the water wasn't helping with that–and you weren't sure if it was just from kicking extra hard, but it felt like a sharp pain kept shooting up your leg every few minutes.

"Alright, I won't pass on that offer." You say, and the two of you swim back. You were expecting the touch of sand to stab against your feet once you were able to touch the ground. Even the little fish swimming around your feet; what you weren't expecting was the sudden intense pain from your right ankle when you put all your weight on it. You would have fallen if it weren't for John B there to catch you. Oh, how you are so grateful for him to be around all the time. He's truly the sweetest.

"Woah, woah, what's going on?" he quickly asked; you hold on to one of his arms and squeeze your eyes shut. Ow, ow, ow, ow. It went through your mind a thousand times before you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again. "Y/n," the boy said once more with a different tone, more pressing.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, Routledge. I just stepped on a tough and sharp shell. You know the ones that feel like the legos that Gabe plays with." He knew what you were talking about. Your kid brother loved playing with legos. He gets a new set about every other week and builds it. You adore his little hobby, but he leaves pieces everywhere. And your misfortunate enough to step on them every day.

John B seemed convinced enough, so you guys keep walking, but the pain is excruciating that you want to rip your foot and ankle off. About halfway to his van–limping the entire way–you think you're still in the clear until your knees buck and a hand grabs your arm to steady you. Your eyes meet his stern look. Rolling your eyes, you turn away.

"Routledge, I'm fine–quit your fuss."

"You've almost fallen twice. I don't think you're okay," he says, then wraps an arm around your waist. "I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if I didn't worry about you."

"It's fine–" you go to walk away, but his arm around you pulls you back.

"You just tried, and you nearly fell, don't try it again." You go to object, but he slips an arm underneath your leg and fixes the other to go on your back before lifting you effortlessly. You don't know when he dropped your board, but soon you were up higher in the arms of your beautiful boyfriend. "Don't tell me you're okay. You're clearly not. But I've got you.", you have your arms wrapped around his neck, sighing you give up the fight you were about to put up and let him carry you to his van. "I'm going to put you down for a sec." He said once you got to the van. You nodded your head and prepared yourself; he dropped your legs, arm still around your waist, you balanced yourself on your uninjured foot. John B. opened the passenger door and helped you get in.

"Don't forget my board you dropped; I'll be having you pay for another if you leave without it." John B couldn't help but let the laugh that bubbled up in his chest out as you pointed to him. He knew you were serious, but you were too darn cute when serious.

"I wasn't, I wasn't. Hold back your sass before it attacks me."

"Oh, it can attack you whenever it pleases," with a matter-of-fact tone, the sass he was talking about from you sass seeped through, which caused another laugh to escape him.

He shook his head and began to walk away. "See, there it is." You roll your eyes, tearing them away to look out at the ocean and the orange and yellow sky from the sunset. It never failed to amaze you with so much beauty the Outer Banks carried. The town sure did have shitty people–like every other town–but the town still had so much that overlooked that, and it's beauty was one.

Your boyfriend made it back to the van and drove you both to the Chateau like he said he would. You watched him get out but figured he would just run in and back out quickly, so you pulled your phone out of your bag at your feet. You start to scroll through tweets on Twitter–thank goodness the island’s power and the internet was still on after the storm last week–but it was cut short with the creek of the passenger door opening.

"Alright, come on you're coming too," John B says as you look at him. Your face scrunched with confusion and noticing that, he further elaborates. "It was going to be a quick stop until you hurt your foot. It still is, but I get to play your nurse, now come on," he holds his hand out, and you take it whether you want this help or not. John B helped you out of the van and into the comfort of his home; you sit down on the couch in the living room while he disappears in the back. You're tempted to make yourself extra comfortable - the Chateau is like your second home - but this is a quick stop. And your ankle is killing you, so you adjusted the way you sat, sitting against the arm of the couch and laying your leg across the cushions.

When John B does walk back into the room, he is already speaking to you, but John B focused his attention on the things he had in his hand. You see an unopened package with the bandage he would wrap around your ankle and a bag.

“So I did find the bandage I was talking about; I’m surprised it hasn’t been opened considering the number of times someone gets hurt between JJ and I.”

“Is that a bag - a bag of frozen peas?” You ask, interrupting him, not trying to be rude, but the bag you know he grabbed from the freezer in his hand messed with your mind. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes averting from his hands to you on the couch, different from when he left you. He stared at you with lips parted and his brows pinched together to top off his confused expression. You continued, not letting him have the chance to answer yet. “You know, as my nurse, I expected you to have an ice pack at least,” you gestured to the bag of peas as his expression wavered with a shake of his head.

"Hey, I had a bandage wrap in the cabinet and pain killers. A bag of frozen peas won't kill you; they're the best home remedy actually." he pointed and continued to make his way over to you, making the coffee table his seat, then gesturing his hands, wanting you to turn toward him.

“Who told you that?” you ask him, turning and making sure you avoid bumping your foot against anything. You managed just that, even guiding your foot toward his lap in a slow movement, but it was when he reached to help you that your success turned into failure. A sharp intake of breath came from your lips as pain struck your bad foot and then left your ankle and the lower part of your foot in throbbing pain.

"Are you okay?" your sweet and sometimes clueless boyfriend asked, concern dripping into his words, matching with his worried look. You nodded your head, but your eyes shut tight as you waited for the pain to subside. "I'm sorry you're in pain Bugs," his gaze scanned your face, and you knew he was without having to look at him; a ghost of a smile graced your face at the nickname.

“I know, Doc; it’s not your fault. I’m the one who didn’t swim back when I needed to.”

“You were just you...stubborn and daring,” one of your eyes snapped open, catching the smirk he had on his lips and the glint in his eyes. You didn’t have that long of a glimpse to figure out what that glint was, but you had a feeling you knew what it was. You muttered ‘whatever,’ making him chuckle as he set up his hands to hover over the spots on your foot he was going to touch first. “Alright, I’m going to turn your foot a little and move it to wrap the bandage around it.” You nodded your head, shifting your body and preparing for the pain you know you were about to feel. “Oh! I almost forgot. I found something else that could help the next person that gets hurt. I have my old hard cast from when I broke my arm if you or someone else ever needed it.”

“Ew, John B, that’s disgusting, you’re a horrible at-home nurse - no proper equipment and made up home remedies,” you shook your head, both of your eyes opened now, but your head tilted back against the back of the couch.

“Hey, I never said I was an at-home nurse, just your nurse temporarily,” he reminded you. He opened the package that contained the bandage, eyes switching between what he was doing and your figure.

“Well, I expected my nurse to at least have something a little more than an OLD - “ you pause yourself as the most pain you felt so far since hurting your foot traveled from your ankle, through your foot, and up a bit in your calf. You tried to pull your foot away, but John B was already ahead of you with his hand on the back of your calf prepared to keep your leg still. “ - dirt cast and peas.” you exhale the rest of your sentence out quickly so you could hold back the screams in your throat. Your hands clawed at the couch cushions for some leverage as your teeth pinched tightly at your bottom lip. John B whispered a bunch of sorries to you as he tried his best not to mess up the beginning of wrapping your foot again.

"You have far too much faith in me," he muttered, way too focused on the job at hand. You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth multiple times. Your fingers twitch, ready to grab onto the nearest thing with a death grip if need be.

With a shaky breath, you manage to get out a few words as he begins to finish up, "And you have far little." A soft huff came from him, followed by a short hum - you knew he agreed with you, but it cracked your heart knowing that he hardly had faith in himself, but he had so much faith in other people. Once he did finish up, he rubbed his hand up and down your calf gently. The gesture made your eyes flutter open and slowly tilt your head back down to look at the boy of your dreams. He was already looking at you with a soft look, making your heart swoon and the pain go away. You reached out to him with a pouty face, and he automatically knew what you wanted. So he slowly and nicely helped you move your leg to lay across the couch before he stood up to join you. You lift your leg and sit it against his lap, the both of your getting comfortable. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm not going to like what you're about to tell me...am I?" With one hand caressing your thigh, the other sat on your calf, rubbing small circles against it. You shrug your shoulders, give him a grin.

“You might like what I have to say,” you say to him; with a lifted brow, he gives you a look to continue just as his lips also tug into a smile but a small one. You don’t say what you have to say right away. You take the next few moments to look at him. The sandy, golden brown locks that were in his face get pulled back as you take a hand and run your fingers through it gently. This causes his eyes to flutter shut; when you repeat the motion with your fingers, he pushes his head into your hand more and lets out a hum. Your eyes dance across his face, admiring his features such as the freckles scattered across his face, the few scars he earned from being the wild personality he is, and those soft kissable lips of his. They were probably a bit chapped since you didn’t bring your chapstick with you today. He usually stole it because he always lost his own. You didn’t mind it, though, “I love you,” it almost comes out as a whisper, but it came out loud enough to be considered something more than a whisper, but it was quiet. He heard you, and you knew he did as his eyes opened and those hazel orbs gazed right into y/e/c ones.

The smile on his lips grew wider; all the adoration he had for you and possibly more echoed through his eyes, and just looking into them made you feel so loved and wanted; you blushed a couple of seconds later at how intense his stare became. “I know,” he said not too long after, and you pout at his words, already knowing he was teasing you. To top it all off, he chuckles, and you avert your gaze away from him, but his hand grasps your cheek. Thumb rubbing the soft skin as he tilts your face up a bit so you can look at him. When you did, that big grin was still present. “I love you too, bugs,” and you knew he meant it. His hand on your cheek slides to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer until your soft lips grazed his. Your eyes flutter shut, and then take a kiss from him, a deep, slow, and passionate one. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his, not opening your eyes just yet because you wanted to cherish the moment you had.

➣ End Note:

Again sorry this took so long to get out.

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc

[If you want to be added to the taglist add yourself here! If you no longer want to be on it let me know. :) ]

#john b routledge #john b obx #john b x reader #john b x y/n #obx fic #obx netflix #obx #outer banks

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years

Text

Something Stupid

Word Count: 1,337

Characters: Isaac Lahey, Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin

Pairings: Isaac Lahey x Mccall!Reader

Warnings: small angst, mainly fluff?

A/N: Uhm, did I ever post a fic called Wolf Boy? Cuz I have a draft on google docs but I don’t know (It’s and Isaac Lahey fic)

Masterlist

“Yes, I’m ready to go back to school.” you groaned for the millionth time, convincing your brother and mom.

“Okay, but what if something happens?” Scott asked.

“Like what? I’m surrounded by werewolves everywhere I go. I have a knife with me. Derek and Argent have been training me.” you said, crossing your arms.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Scott said.

“What? Mom, help me out here! I have been home every day for the past 3 weeks. Please.” you begged.

Melissa looked between you and Scott. Scott kept you at home because he thought that the Alpha Pack or the Darach was gonna hurt you. You didn’t really care, knowing you could easily defend yourself, but Scott didn’t agree with you.

“Okay, fine.” Melissa agreed with you.

You gave Scott a smirk.

“What? Mom!” he started.

“Nope! No, no, no, no!” you quickly yelled, grabbing your bag.

“Thanks, Mom!” you yelled before quickly running out of the house.

-----

You took a deep breath as you smiled, walking down the halls.

“(Y/N)” you heard Isaac gasp from behind you.

“Oh look, it’s the giant!” you exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, and ran to you, giving you a hug.

“I missed you so much.” he practically lifted you off the ground, holding you tightly.

You closed your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you replied.

You broke off the hug, holding his hand.

“So how have you been?” he asked.

“I texted you 24/7, I'm pretty sure you know,” you said.

He put his arm around your shoulder as you started walking to your locker.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. So, wanna hang out after school?” he asked, leaning against the lockers.

“No, I have school to catch up on,” you replied, pushing him softly.

“Nerd.” he scrunched his face.

“Asshole. I’ll catch you later, k?” you said, getting your books out.

“Yeah. Love you.” he kissed you and ran off.

Your eyes went wide for a second, realizing what just happened.

Oh dear god

----

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Stiles asked you, sitting next to you on the table.

The rest of the pack gave you a look.

“Shut up. We’re friends,” you replied.

“That’s a lie. And the fact you know who we’re talking about.” Lydia said, sitting on your other side.

“Look, I don’t know and I don't need to know,” you said, looking down.

“I heard and saw,” Lydia whispered in your ear.

“Ugh” you replied.

“Uhm, what? What happened?” Scott asked, using his werewolf skills to be a protective older brother.

“Seriously, it’s nothing.” you gave Lydia a look.

“Well, then I’ll ask him myself.” you looked up, watching Isaac head towards the table.

Your eyes went wide.

“Uhm, I just forgot, I have to go….” you quickly grabbed your things and ran off, leaving a confused pack and slightly embarrassed Isaac.

----

You avoided Isaac for the rest of lunch, going to class. You waited for Lydia to sit next to you, but instead, Isaac did.

You looked around, trying to find another seat, but everywhere was full.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Isaac whispered to you.

“No, we don't. Nothing happened.” you didn't know what to say. You knew you liked Isaac for a while, but there was no way he meant that kiss.

“Yes, something did. Look, I just wanted to say sorry, okay? It was an accident, something stupid. Let’s just forget it ever happened and go back to being friends, okay?” he asked.

You felt your heart shatter.

“Done”, you said softly.

“(Y/N), Isaac, detention.” you heard your teacher say.

“For what?!” you exclaimed.

“Talking. Class has already begun.” you looked at the clock.

40 seconds ago?! Are you kidding me?!

You rolled your eyes but kept your mouths shut.

-----

You walked into detention, seeing Isaac was there. You took a deep breath and sighed as he motioned for you to sit next to him.

Instead, you sat in front of him, thinking.

There was no way you could be mad at him, you knew the kiss was a mistake the second it happened. But hearing him say it, hurt you. As much as you didn't want it to, it still hurt you.

“(Y/N), Isaac, you can restock the Janitor’s closet.” you heard your teacher say.

You quickly raised your hand.

“Uhm, does it have to be with him?” you asked.

“Now that I know you’d prefer now too, then yes, it does.” he gave you a smile.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the closet.

“(Y/N),” Isaac said to you.

You ignored him, doing what you had to do.

“(Y/N), god! I said I was sorry what more do you want?!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not mad at you Isaac!” you nearly shouted.

“Yes, you are! I can read you, (Y/N)! You’re clearly pissed at me because I kissed you! I already told you! It was an accident! It meant nothing!” he groaned.

“I’m not mad-” you sighed.

“Yes you are!” he exasperated.

“I’m not mad that you kissed me! I’m mad because-” you started, before stopping yourself.

“Why? Why are you mad then?” he asked.

You sighed. You could speak, or you could keep quiet.

“(Y/N),” he said.

“I’m mad because you regretted it!” you exclaimed.

“W-What?” he stuttered.

“Can we just ignore it, okay?” you sighed.

“But you can't like me! Me?!” he exclaimed.

You gave him a look before signing.

“I mean, you like Stiles!” he said.

“What?!” you almost screamed.

“You! Like Stiles!” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I don't like Stiles! That’s gross!” you exclaimed, the thought of you and Stiles sent a shiver down your spine.

“What?! B-But I thought you'd never like me!” he exclaimed.

“Wait what do you mean?!” you asked, confused.

“Well….. I like you, (Y/N).” you looked up at him.

“Shut up,” you replied.

“Why?”

“Because! You like Allison!” you replied.

“I don't like Allison! I like you!” he exclaimed.

“W-What?!”

As you looked at Isaac, you heard the door slam shut, causing you to jump slightly.

“What? No.” Isaac almost immediately ran to the door, trying to open it.

“Isaac?” you said, concerned, walking to him slowly.

“N-No, I can’t be trapped.”, he said. A few seconds later the lights went out.

“N-No!” he pushed the door, banging on it, trying to open it.

“Isaac, calm down.” you out a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I can't be trapped! Help! Let us out!” he yelled.

“Isaac-” you started. You saw his eyes glow yellow. He was turning.

“Isaac, calm down. Just breathe. It's gonna be okay.” you tried to calm him, stroking his back lightly.

“(Y/N), stand back, please. I don't wanna hurt you.” you could feel him shaking.

“You’re not gonna hurt me. I know you won’t,” you said softly.

He turned, facing you. He stood tall, looking at you. You took a deep breath, looking at him, not sure what was about to happen.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips, holding your hands.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the kiss.

He moved his hands down to your waist, holding you tightly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

You didn't know how long you two were together, but you loved every second of it.

Both of you didn't notice the door finally opening, as you continued holding each other.

“Isaac?! With my sister?!” you heard Scott exclaimed, as you quickly broke the kiss, opening your eyes.

Isaac looked at Scott, and opened his mouth, about to speak.

He quickly pressed a small kill against your lips, before running off.

“Oh hell no! Isaac!” Scott ran after him.

You held in your laughs, or your cries, you couldn't tell your own emotions.

“Ha! I knew it! You owe me 10 bucks!” Lydia turned to Stiles.

“You guys bet on it?” you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

“And now it’s our turn to run!”

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

surprise performance ~ eminem

word count: 1288

request?: no

description: on the night of her first big award show, her boyfriend isn’t even responding to his text messages, but little does she know, he’s already there

pairing: eminem x actress!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

i’ve had this in my drafts since the oscar performance and i wasn’t going to post it cause i didn’t think anyone would like it but fuck it it’s happening now

She checked her phone again as they called for another commercial break. She sighed in annoyance upon seeing that her boyfriend still hadn’t responded to her text messages.

On any other occasion, she wouldn’t have been this pissed about. He had just released an album and was working on a tour for the album, she understood that. He wasn’t obligated to go to these award shows with her if he didn’t have to, and she knew how much he hated award shows.

But this was different. This wasn’t just any normal award show. This was the fucking Oscars, and (Y/N) was nominated for her first Oscar! In the Best Actress category too! This was a big deal for her, and Marshall knew that.

She wasn’t upset that he couldn’t come as her date, that was fine. But the fact that he wasn’t even responding to her texts was starting to piss her off. He may be planning a tour, but she knew he had at least a second to text her to wish her good luck, like he always did.

(Y/N) shook her head, trying to let the anger wash out of her. The last thing she needed was to be caught looking upset and have every entertainment news outlet write an article about why she looked so upset - they’d probably even twist the story to make it seem like she was angry if she lost the award.

They announced that the show was starting again and advised everyone to return to their seats. The lights went down and a spotlight lit up the stage. Lin-Manuel Miranda took the stage to announce a segment about music within films, and showed a compilation of famous movie scenes that included famous songs.

The compilation had the room grooving along to the songs, (Y/N) included. It started to lift her mood, until the instrumental for Lose Yourself started to play and scenes from 8 Mile were shown. Her slight annoyance returned for just a moment, but seeing Marshall’s face on the screen, she couldn’t help but smile.

The compilation ended and the opening chords to Lose Yourself began to play. (Y/N) sat up a little straighter, not sure if she was imagining the situation. An entire orchestra rose from the floor, and Marshall was stood in front of them, starting to perform his Oscar winning song.

The entire audience was in shock but were soon jamming out to the performance. Marshall had the entire room captivated. (Y/N) was glowing with pride for him. Her face was hurting from smiling for so long.

When the performance ended, (Y/N) was the first out of her seat, cheering the loudest as everyone followed. Another commercial break was called and (Y/N) immediately ran for backstage, determined to find Marshall as soon as possible. He was stood talking to some producers of the Oscars, his back to her. She ran for him - at least as fast as she could in heels - and jumped on his back, nearly pushing him over.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” she asked, jumping off his back and properly giving him a hug.

“I wasn’t allowed!” he told her. “Sworn to secrecy. These fuckers had a snipper to my head on the regular. If I even hinted at it my head would’ve been gone.”

The producers laughed and continued on to make sure the rest of the show was going smoothly. Once they were gone, (Y/N) took Marshall’s face in her hands and kissed him.

“You could’ve at least answered my texts,” she told him. “I was starting to get upset. Full on ready to be a crazy bitch and start a fight.”

“You’re a crazy bitch anyways.” (Y/N) hit his arm. “See? You’re just proving my point.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come as your date, and I’m sorry I didn’t text you but I knew I’d accidentally tell you and ruin the surprise. I wish I could’ve seen your face.”

“Oh, I’m sure someone caught it on video,” she assured him.

“You know I would’ve walked the carpet and been in the audience with you if this wasn’t planned. I know this is a big night for you.”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned into him. “I know you would’ve. And because your surprise was so epic, I’m not as mad anymore.”

“Not as mad?”

“Yeah, I’m still mad cause you didn’t fucking tell me!”

~~~~~~

Instead of going back to her seat, (Y/N) decided to stand backstage with Marshall until the Best Actress category was called. Suddenly, she was filled with nerves. She was shaking so bad she could barley even see.

Marshall squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Whatever happens, you’ll always be a winner.”

“That’s way too corny of a thing for you to say, say something insulting,” (Y/N) told him.

Marshall chuckled. “You’re a fucking loser.”

“Thanks, I needed that.”

The presenters gave a brief monologue about the nominees before presenting the award. The mere seconds of silence felt like forever as (Y/N) held her breath in nervousness. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

“And the Oscar goes to...(Y/F/N).”

(Y/N) nearly collapsed when her name was read out. Marshall wrapped his arms around her, holding her up while also hugging her tightly. Tears started running down her cheeks and she thanked her stylist for recommending waterproof mascara.

When she finally was able to compose herself, she walked onto the stage and accepted her award. She took a few deep breaths before beginning her speech.

“Wow, this is...wow,” she breathed. “I didn’t even prepare a speech, I really didn’t think I’d win. Um...first and foremost, thank you to the cast and crew. Everyone worked so hard to make this movie a possibility and, I know it’s cliché, but every one of you guys deserve this Oscar too. I wish I could just list off everyone but I’d be here all night. Of course, thank you to my mom and dad who were always there for me, who always hyped me up and told me I could do whatever I put my mind to.”

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder, spotting Marshall standing backstage, watching her speech. “And finally, thank you to the absolute love of my life, Marshall Mathers. Before I even met you, you were such an inspiration to me, and ever since we started dating you’ve been so supportive of me and you’re always pushing me to take any movie opportunities that come my way. You always believe in me, and if it weren’t for you I might’ve let this role pass me by. I owe so much to you, I love you so much. Thank you, and thank you to the Academy for this award.”

The crowd cheered as (Y/N) walked off the stage, gripping her Oscar so tightly as if her life depended on it. Everyone standing backstage cheered and congratulated her. She thanked them all quickly and made a beeline for Marshall, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply, so lost in her happiness that she forgot the full room behind them.

“Let’s go back to my hotel room,” she told him.

“You don’t want to wait for the end of the show?” he asked her, although he didn’t look like he was about to fight back on the idea of leaving.

“Why? I already got my award. And this statue is pretty cool, too.”

Marshall smiled, kissing her again before wrapping an arm around her waist and escorting her out of the building.

#eminem #marshall mathers #imagine #one shot

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bufu · 3 years

Text

I've been wanting to make this post for awhile, and I keep stopping myself because I know this isn't worth my energy, but it is getting harder and harder for me to ignore someone blatantly telling lies about me, my partner, and my friends. So I would just like to set the record straight, mostly to retain my own sanity. I'm only going to talk about the things that affected me specifically, since pretty much everything else has already been said.

Everyone probably knows who this is about, but I'm gonna leave it vague.

I was not one of the people they considered a "popular" creator. I had (and still do have) consistently fewer hits, comments, and kudos on all of my fics. This was already something that was discouraging to me, but I constantly saw them saying that their fics must be horrible and they must be a horrible writer because they don't get enough hits/comments/kudos. Given the fact that my fics got even less engagement, it felt as though they were saying I was a horrible writer, too. I told them multiple times that them putting themself down like this so often was hurtful to me, too, but they didn't stop doing it. They kept using an excuse to say that when they said those things, that it only applied to them, but I still felt worse about myself every single time.

Still, I always tried to reach out to them and encourage them about their work. I was a "small creator," too. I also struggled to get words out in my writing. I also had trouble feeling good about my writing. I also found it difficult to do things in order to improve my writing. We had a lot in common and I wanted to support them and their work because I knew how hard it could be. I read their fics. I had conversations with them about their fics. I gave them compliments, and I gave them constructive criticism that I thought would be helpful. And they did none of this for me in return.

That, in itself, would literally be fine. They don't owe me support or engagement on my work. I wasn't supporting them just so I could get support back. I genuinely wanted them to feel good about their writing and give them encouragement so they could improve. What bothers me, is that they insist that they did read my work. However, I have a very, very strong belief that they didn't. This part is frustrating because I can only speculate, and there's no way to prove whether or not they did, but it really goes beyond just that.

I have two versions of my only longform fic on ao3. The first version was a rough draft where I posted chapters as they were finished. When they read it, there were over 10,000 words. This can be a lot for someone to focus on, specifically for this person, who has said multiple times that they struggle with reading longform and focusing on reading in general. It is very hard for me to believe that they read my 10,000 word fic in one day, and didn't even mention that as being any sort of accomplishment for them. They left me a comment that gave no indication that they read it. I know it can be difficult to word comments or compliments, but even after that, it was clear to me that they didn't read it based on interactions we had in the server.

Specifically, I asked for an opinion on a scene I wanted to write, and they suggested I write a scene that I had literally already written and was already published on ao3 that they had already read. They chalked this up to the fact that they just forgot what happened in the fic. They assured me and promised me for months that they were going to read my fic, but they never did.

Finally, they have now told me that they aren't ever going to read my completed fic, because when they tried to last, they realized they were uncomfortable with the ship. I'm not sure how they read 10,000 words worth of my fic focused on that ship extremely easily, and then somehow realized months later that it made them uncomfortable actually.

I could be wrong about all this. They could've read it. All of these things could just be a coincidence. However, I take issue with their hypocrisy over this whole situation. They guilt trip people into giving them "book report" comments, but are unable to do the same for others. Which, in itself, is fine. You don't need to be great at leaving comments, but I don't understand why they can leave short comments and everyone else has to leave long, detailed ones.

Aside from all of this writing shit, they have had a history of ignoring me and my feelings. I asked them to stop making jokes about sex being wrong and bad because it was genuinely hurtful and damaging, and they made little effort to stop or understand my side of things. They made a xenophobic comment, and instead of recognizing this and apologizing, I had to tell them multiple times why it was wrong and hurtful before they even barely apologized. They made another awful comment implying trans men on hormones are I guess constantly horny.

I know they eventually apologize for these things. They backpedal and say they didn't mean it like that, or they didn't mean any harm, but that doesn't absolve them of the hurt they do cause. They will defend themself constantly before ever admitting any fault or responsibility for hurting others.

Anyway, I know that if they do read or acknowledge this post at all, they will give more excuses, and more defenses, and likely only focus on replying to one little detail in this whole long post. I know they won't acknowledge that I am an actual human being with actual feelings who was actually hurt badly by their actions. I've struggled immensely with making friends. I find it hard to talk to and socialize with people even just on the internet. I made a small Persona server with my partner so that I could find people who I had things in common with that I could just talk to and be friends with. It wasn't even a writing server. The only thing I wanted was a safe place where I could talk about something I loved with people who also loved it. I never wanted this.

#alright this will hopefully be the last time i acknowledge this situation publicly #who knows #blue.txt #long post #vent /#drama cw

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years

Text

Scutum

Title: Scutum

Word Count: 9424

Summary: Sci-Fi AU. Roman sees the weapon first. The rest is just instinct. Found family. Platonic Logince, Platonic LAMP/CALM. Features Cartoon Therapy characters + Remy/Sleep.

Warnings: cursing (a lot woops); whump/angst/hurt/comfort; violence a la sci-fi/sci-fi weapons; science stuff that’s like 10% research and 90% made-up; sci-fi colonization stuff; passing mention of drunkenness; poison/being poisoned; feelings of guilt and misplaced blame and stuff like that; talk of death and dying; Elliot is briefly a little bit of a jerk but they’re anxious/traumatized and also kinda young so they’re doing their best; injury and blood; let me know if I forgot any.

A/N: Have some sci-fi escapist found family hurt/comfort. This took forever, wow. Several weeks and three drafts later and here we are. Glad it’s done! My huge, undying thanks to @creativenostalgiastuff for all of her help as my beta for this fic and answering my many, many questions and dealing with my general self-doubt. First time writing sci-fi. Would love to know what you think! <3

…

Captain Logan Sanders scrubs a hand underneath his glasses and leans his head back against the glass of the circular window. The metal of the spaceship—affectionately coined Foster by the ship’s medic, Patton Hart—creaks with a dull groan. The captain usually uses the window in the ship’s armory when he needs a moment alone, as its size allows Logan to comfortably lean up against the glass and look out into the “void of space”, as their pilot—Virgil Shea—tended to describe it.

Their relations officer and navigation coordinator, Roman Prince, usually hated looking too long at it. Logan had the feeling it made him feel lonely, or homesick. Maybe both.

Logan doesn’t mind it, though he also wouldn’t have necessarily called it a “void”. Billions of stars and the occasional swirl of color meant a certainty of life that existed out there. The universe is always teeming with it, and Logan finds a greater comfort from this distanced reminder than the crowded, bustling bazaars that Roman seemed to thrive in.

Logan hears the door swish open, his head swiveling over towards the sound. The light that floods into the room illuminates the dusty iron walls and the shelves of weapons—phasers and guns lined up beside one another, boxes of ammo on the shelf above—and Logan sees a familiar figure silhouetted against the light.

“Hey, Captain,” Kai Dwyer greets, unfazed by the sight of Logan sitting in the window.

“Kai,” he replies, pushing himself up to his feet off the window ledge. He grimaces slightly as he stretches his back, having forgotten how stiff the metal makes him when he sits too long.

Kai grabs a clipboard off the wall adjacent to the door. “Thought I’d do a quick inventory check before we dock.”

Logan frowns. “Are we close?”

“Virgil said we were still a few hours out. But I wanna be thorough. Make sure I know everything we need before get on planet.”

Logan inclines his head, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering stiffness before he crosses towards the door. “Acceptable. Carry on.”

Kai gives a small mock-salute. “Roger that, Cap’n.” The door slides shut behind Logan.

Foster is an old ship. Even to someone unfamiliar with the schematic, it’s evident in the grated flooring, the worn metal walls and beams that hold it together, the way the pressurizer hummed on occasion. Newer models tended to be sleeker, more streamlined, and generally brighter than the dark iron walls that adorned Foster’s interior.

Logan would never admit it—even to his own crew—but he trusted Foster more than he trusted other ships. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous. In the vast majority of cases, Logan believed that newer generally meant improved. But when it came to Foster, Logan had never even considered trading it in for a newer model. Instead, if something needed fixing on the ship, then Logan would consult Virgil and their engineer, Remy, to give Foster the needed updates. The ship was as much a part of the crew as any of the rest of them and it had gotten them through it’s fair share of close calls. As far as Logan was concerned, Foster had earned the loyalty of the crew.

But of course… that an inanimate object could earn loyalty didn’t make logical sense. So Logan kept that particular sentiment to himself.

Logan hears a familiar sound of the door swishing open down the short pathway and sees Roman duck out of his room. The relations officer is wearing his white and red armor suit, and Logan arcs an eyebrow when the officer meets his gaze.

“Hey, Specs.” Roman gives a small salute that echoes Kai’s a moment ago. Logan rolls his eyes.

“Greetings. Might I inquire as to why you’re wearing armor? My understanding is that we’re about to dock for a benign venture.” Logan pauses. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“What? Oh.” Roman glances down at himself as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Sorry to disappoint, Logan. Patton wanted to check the monitors in the suit, so I’m supposed to wear it around for a little bit. Make sure the readings are all right.” He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ve gotta say, Kai’s upgrades to the armor are pretty cool. Check this out.”

Roman stretches an arm out to his side, and Logan has barely registered that his palm has started to glow when something bright shoots out from it and Logan throws an arm up to protect his face.

A moment later, Logan lowers his arm to see a glowing hole through one wall of the ship. Through that hole, Logan sees the med bay and Patton staring out at them with wide, startled eyes. Picani is standing on the other side of the med bay, a ukulele in his hand, having just startled out of the chair he was sitting in. Logan clenches his jaw, turning a frustrated gaze at Roman before he hears the metallic clang of footsteps climbing up the ladder and the unmistakable voice of the ship’s primary engineer.

“Girl, you better not have busted a hole in my ship again!”

At the end of the hall, Remy García’s head pokes up with a glowering look as he pulls himself up onto the top layer of scaffolding. His dark goggles are pushed back into his hair, and he’s got streaks of grease smudged across his forehead and along his cheek.

“Your ship?” Logan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His comment goes ignored as Remy stalks down the pathway and Roman starts stammering out either an apology or an excuse.

“You’re lucky you didn’t punch a hole straight through the outer shell or we’d all be dead.”

The intercom announces its presence with a familiar click and faint static before Virgil’s voice chimes through, echoing slightly off the metal walls. “Yeah, Remy and I might’ve fixed the damage from last week but we’d rather not test it while we’re floating through the great abyss of space.”

Roman’s holding his hands up in surrender. “It was an accident!” He glances through the hole in the wall. “Sorry, Patton. Sorry, doc!”

Patton waves. “It’s okay!” he calls from inside the med bay.

Picani chuckles and waves as well. “Nobody’s hurt!”

Remy sighs and looks to Logan. “That won’t be the cheapest fix, Cap, and we maxed on the budget for ship fixes last time we docked. That pirate gang did a number on Foster.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Roman, it’s coming out of your pay.”

Roman opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it before nodding. “No, yeah. That’s fair.”

Remy gives Roman one more glare before turning and heading back towards the ladder that descends to the lower deck. Logan is about to head to the bridge when he hears Roman say, “I mean… you gotta admit that was pretty cool.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Logan replies dryly as he heads in the opposite direction of Remy. “At some point, I’ll have peace and quiet on my ship again.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that!” Roman calls after him brightly.

…

“We’re probably about 3 hours out from docking, Captain.”

Elliot—Virgil’s co-pilot—makes the announcement as the door to the ship’s bridge swishes open. The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly, always impressed by Elliot’s ability to know who was coming through the door without looking. Anytime Logan asked them about it, they merely shrugged.

Foster’s bridge is relatively small. Green, red, and blue dots of lights cover both walls above a row of seats with harnesses for emergency cases. Each dot of light was information about how Foster was functioning, and Logan scans both walls quickly. Everything seemed to be operating efficiently.

“Understood,” Logan replies to Elliot.

A few feet past the emergency seats along the walls are the two pilot chairs, occupied by Virgil and Elliot. Virgil flips a small metal switch, then glances over his shoulder at Logan. Virgil had been the last person to join his team when Logan was first recruiting—Picani, Kai, and Elliot didn’t join until a few months ago. Logan had been uncertain when someone whose call sign was “Anxiety” responded to his flyer in search of a pilot. But word on the street had been that Virgil was the best of the best, and Logan was running low on potential candidates that measured up to his expectations.

Virgil had more than proved the rumors. Logan owed his life to him and his piloting skills more times than he cared to admit. The entire crew did.

“So why exactly are we docking in Vannaheim?” Virgil asks. “Not that I’m not, like, totally jazzed to be going to a planet that’s 99% desert.”

Logan crosses the short distance to stand between the two pilots chairs. “Vannaheim’s dune pattern is being impacted by gravity shifts that they can’t explain. We’re there to take some observations and perhaps help their scientists develop a solution.”

Elliot glances at Virgil, then snorts at the look on his face. “You’re just mad because you can’t wear your hoodie.”

Virgil points a finger at them. “I can, and I will.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan interjects with a pointed look. “I will not have one of my best pilots suffer heat stroke.”

“It’s my aesthetic and I like to suffer.”

Logan shakes his head, looking out above the ship’s controls to the window that spanned in front of the pilot seats. It was a similar view to the one Logan had been enjoying a moment ago in the armory window, with the addition of Vannaheim in the distance—a small, red and orange planet that was approximately half the size of Earth. Hot and dry, but slightly higher oxygen levels than were present in Earth’s atmosphere.

Logan had been to Vannaheim six years ago when an old friend of his, Corbin Wright, had requested his help with developing vegetation alternatives given the arid biosphere of the planet. He’d been concerned at the potential ecological ramifications should they introduce flora and fauna that were not native to the planet. Instead, he and Corbin and a few other scientists spent a few weeks researching the native vegetation and fauna and determining what options were most compatible with human nutritional needs.

The effort had been met with some resistance from a minority of the colonists on the planet. They formed something of a resistance group—called themselves the ‘Retribution’, which Logan still thinks is a bit excessive—that started with some minor disagreement at community meetings, but quickly devolved into accusations that their ‘way of life’ was ‘under attack’. Which was ridiculous. Logan left as things continued to escalate, knowing that his presence on the planet was likely to only heighten the tensions. It was Logan’s original idea, after all.

When Corbin reached out about the gravitational shifts, he’d said tensions had remained after Logan left—even reaching moments when Corbin worried it would turn violent—but that things seemed to have mostly settled down in the recent weeks. Logan had asked if Corbin was sure that Logan returning wouldn’t have an adverse effect on the peace in the colony.

One way to find out, Corbin had replied dryly. Logan didn’t find it particularly comforting.

…

Two and a half hours later, Logan is passing by the med bay when the click through the ship’s intercom perks his ears.

“Heads up. We’re T-minus 27 minutes until we’ll be pulling into dock.” Elliot’s voice is distorted slightly by the static hum.

It clicks off in the same moment that the doors to the med bay swish open. Patton steps out, looking down at a chart that’s projected flatly from the gauntlet on his wrist. He glances up and smiles.

“Heya, Cap.”

Logan arcs an eyebrow. “Greetings. Everything satisfactory?” He inclines his head to the chart Patton had been looking at.

“What, this?” Patton glances back down. “Yeah. Just going over the charts from the new suit readouts. I was gonna have you try yours on before we docked, but Roman’s little… surprise earlier did some damage to the chest plate as I was downloading the software.” Patton laughs. “Kai said he can fix it, but not before we dock. I did manage to salvage your helmet, though. Ya have a minute?”

Logan follows Patton through the entryway into the med bay. Perhaps “med bay” was a bit of a gracious term for it. The room was relatively small, with two gatch beds fixed to one wall, and a variety of medical equipment and read-outs that Logan only vaguely understood how to use. The room was well-equipped for as small as it was, but Patton was also the only medical doctor on the ship.

On the left gatch bed, Logan sees black armor with blue accents—and the half-melted chestplate. It resembles, in style, to the white and red armor Roman had been wearing earlier.

“I updated the heartrate monitor display, plus the one for oxygen intake,” Patton is saying behind Logan as he minimizes the chart he’d been looking at and moves to a monitor on the far wall. “I also added a body temperature gauge and a toxin sensor since you can never be too careful, y’know?”

Logan nods, lifting the new helmet and inspecting it. The exterior of the helmet looks the same as before Logan had turned it over to be updated. A dark visor shields the face, the rest of it black with dark blue accents. It matches the damaged suit that sits in pieces on the gatch bed.

“Ya like it?” Patton asks. Logan looks over his shoulder at the doctor, who had stopped what he was doing on the monitor to look expectantly at the ship captain.

Logan glances back. “It appears to be the same helmet.”

Patton grins. “Looks that way. It’s cooler now, though. I also added in some ecological monitors. Simple stuff, at least for now. Atmosphere make up, surface temperature. Working on some other stuff, but that seems like enough for a prototype, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose it does make sense to limit variable additions when testing new technology.”

“Try the helmet on for me? Oh, and you should probably take your glasses off. Kai made sure the display will adjust for your vision.”

Logan obligingly slips the dark armor helmet over his head. He reaches up to his temple on the outside of the helmet and presses in. There’s a high-pitched blip and Logan’s vision goes from dark to a bright, staticky blue. Logan instinctively shuts his eyes against the blinding onslaught.

“Yikes!” Patton yelps, and Logan senses him suddenly standing beside him. A slight pressure on his left temple, a quiet blip, and Logan’s vision goes back to black. “I’m sorry, Logan. Not sure why that happened. I’ll have Kai take a look.”

Logan slips the helmet back off. “Not to worry, Patton. I’m confident in Kai’s engineering capabilities.”

Patton gingerly takes the helmet from Logan’s arms and sets it back on the gatch bed in front of them. “Yeah, but still. We were so close to all of you getting to try the new suits!”

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair to pull it back under control from its disheveled state. It was always a mess when he took his helmet off. He slips his glasses back onto his face. “Nevertheless. Roman and Elliot’s test runs on Vannaheim should still be adequate in assessing whether the new software you’ve developed will serve its functional purpose adequately.”

Patton gives Logan’s helmet a sad pat. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, thanks for giving it a shot, Cap! Good luck down there.”

“Your luck is unneeded, but appreciated. Thank you, Patton.”

…

The blast of arid heat stings Logan’s eyes slightly as Virgil lowers the ship’s docking track. Logan smiles politely at Corbin—slightly aged from the last time he saw him, but unmistakable regardless—and the two other individuals that stand with him. Roman and Elliot linger closely behind him as Logan descends the ramp and shakes Corbin’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Logan,” Corbin greets with a faint smile. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my partner, Sloane. And this is Valerie.”

Logan shakes both of their hands, thinking idly that Sloane’s evident excitable energy rivaled that of Patton’s. Valerie has her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, which isn’t necessarily a surprise given the heat. The orange and yellow sands stretch into rolling dunes in the distance, unheeded by the small colony network they’d docked in. A bright blue sky stretches above them, and Logan sees Elliot slip on a pair of sunglasses out of the corner of his eye. Roman squints and brings up a hand to shield his own vision.

“Rainwall’s gotten bigger,” Logan remarks as Corbin leads them from the dock and further into the colony.

The last time Logan had been here, it had barely been a few temporary settlement structures—really just glorified tents, in Logan’s humble opinion--cohesive enough to call a colony network but only barely. The structures look more permanent now, and there are certainly more of them. Pathways between them are not paved but are certainly worn enough with foot and vehicle traffic, and Logan is pleased to see that they put his prior suggestion of solar panels to use. The roofs of nearly every building—most of them white and domed structures of varying sizes—are covered with them.

There’s a gust of wind, kicking up the sand and dust at their feet. Logan turns his face into his shoulder to keep from inhaling. Roman coughs behind him. “Oh great,” he says with an air of drama that makes Logan roll his eyes. “This planet is going to ruin my hair.”

“You get used to it,” Valerie says.

“I definitely do not want to get used to it.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks. “We could return to Dal’tera, Roman.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of Dal’tera again.”

“You and Virgil agreed to never speak of what happened on Dal’tera again. I made no such promise.”

Although Logan doesn’t turn around, he can feel the way Elliot’s gaze flickers between Roman’s face and the back of his head. “What happened on Dal’tera?”

“It was four years ago—”

“Which is why we are leaving it in the past!” Roman cuts in insistently. “Unbelievable. The lack of trust. First, Kai disables the cool blaster-thingy on my suit, now my own captain is betraying my trust.”

The accusation is empty and with a certain familiar affection underlying the dramatics, but Logan holds his hands up in mock surrender regardless. “To Kai’s credit, you did damage the ship less than half an hour after having the technology made available to you,” he says, and Roman makes an affronted noise behind him.

“It was an accidental—”

Elliot interrupts him, sounding amused. “Did you just call it a blaster-thingy? Really?”

Logan glances over his shoulder in time to see Roman look down at his armored hand. “I don’t know the name for it.”

“It should be named something cool.”

“Yes, I agree. Perhaps we should come up with some options to run by Kai when we return.”

As they pass one of the vegetation fields, a pair of colonists wave at them from a distance. Logan sees Sloane wave enthusiastically in return out of the corner of his eye. Corbin lifts a hand in a more subdued greeting. A pair of children cut out between the buildings in front of them and barely dodge Logan and Corbin at the front of the group, shrieking with laughter. Behind him, Elliot and Roman chat about potential names for the new technology that Kai had inputted into the suit.

It’s a familiar thrum of background noise as they make their way through the settlement. The excitable chatter and increasingly ridiculous suggestions for naming technology makes Logan vaguely grateful that Kai tended to name his own tech rather than leave it to those two. Regardless, Logan is content to let them chatter away. Especially if it kept their attention occupied as they navigate through Rainwall.

As much as the colony had grown since Logan had last seen it, it doesn’t take them too long to reach the far end of the small town. They’re led to one of the white domed structures at the far end of the network of buildings and worn pathways. Corbin inputs a four-digit code into the keypad beside the door, and Logan hears a lock click before the door swishes open.

…

Logan feels the beanbag hit the back of his head for the fourth time and doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Sorry, Captain!” Roman says, also for the fourth time.

Logan, Corbin, and Valerie had been pouring over data spreadsheets, charts, graphs, and notes regarding the anomaly in Vannaheim’s dune pattern for the past three hours. Roman and Elliot both had tried to assist for the first hour and a half, but while they were extremely bright and intelligent people in Logan’s opinion, neither were particularly practiced or well-versed in theoretical physics or planetology. Elliot’s understanding of piloting had been helpful briefly in identifying some smaller anomalies in the gravitational shifts in the planet’s atmosphere, but that was about the extent that their expertise could help.

The pod—as Sloane had been calling the one-room building they were in—was small and simple on the inside, but certainly functional. The couch and table towards the front of the pod had been pushed against the wall to make room for the game that Roman and Sloane had started with a beanbag that Sloane happened to have handy. Towards the back were several computers, and a few chairs. Corbin sits in one, scanning over the contents of the most recent read-out, and Valerie sits in the other. Logan stands and paces in the space between them and the game of beanbag. There were a few unpacked crates blocking part of the pathway, having previously housed brand-new computer parts.

Roman sheepishly jogs the short distance between himself and the beanbag at Logan’s feet, snatching it up. Logan opens his mouth to say something when Elliot cuts him off, sitting up a bit from where they’d been lounged against the couch.

“Did you guys hear that?”

Logan frowns, but it’s Valerie who speaks up, looking up from the tablet in her hands. “Hear what?”

But then they do hear it. It’s distant, but rapidly getting closer. Shouting. Someone screams. And—

“Was that phaser discharge?” Sloane asks, his face draining of color. Elliot scrambles to their feet, crossing towards Logan and further away from the door.

“Corbin, take Sloane and get out of here,” Logan says immediately. “Valerie, you too. Get somewhere safe.”

The shout is right outside the door. Corbin grabs for Sloane and yanks him back behind him as the door swishes open, fumbling to pull the phaser out of the holster at his belt.

Logan barely has time to register that the strangled cry from Roman is his name before he feels a weight slam into him, sending him crashing to the floor just as phasers go off. Logan doesn’t know who fired first, his ears ringing slightly and Roman, a heavy weight, on top of him.

“I knew he’d come back!” a new voice—grating and sharp and a little hysterical—shrieks. “I knew fucking Logan Sanders couldn’t keep his distance! You’ve ruined our way of life one too many times you fucking piece of—” Corbin fires his phaser, a streak of green light slamming into the figure’s chest. Even through the chaos, Logan can see the switch set to stun.

“Roman,” Logan grunts as he shoves his relations officer off of him, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Roman rolls off him with a tight grimace, an arm wrapped around himself. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t sit up, and it’s only then that Logan sees the skin of Roman’s waist—a sickly green and black—exposed between his fingers and broken armor.

Logan’s mind kicks into overdrive, the shouting between Corbin, Valerie, Elliot and the intruders overlapping with exchanges of phaser fire fading into background noise.

Logan goes to reach for his comm at his belt before he realizes that it’s been shattered into pieces. Parts of it are melted, apparently having taken some phaser damage. Unusable. Logan changes tactics immediately, pulling the identical equipment piece off Roman’s shoulder and clicks in.

“Foster Crew,” Logan says, clipped and urgent. “Come in. We have a Code Black. Repeat: Code Black. We need immediate assistance.”

“Fucking shit,” is Virgil’s instant response, muffled from static. “What’s your location?”

Logan looks to Elliot on his left, who is staring at Roman with wide eyes having heard the call go through the comms. “Elliot,” Logan says. “Send our location.”

They blink quickly and nod, pressing a button on the gauntlet on their armor before firing another round of their phaser. It cracks against the wall. Elliot ducks back behind the create as the corner of it splinters into shards with a ricocheting crack.

Logan reaches for the wound on Roman’s waist, but Roman won’t move his hands. He’s pale, already with a thin sheen of sweat, and when his eyes flutter open, Logan doesn’t miss the glassy look in them, nor the way that they don’t seem to focus.

“Roman. Hey.” Logan taps his face, then pulls Roman’s hands away. “Look here.”

“Cap?” Roman’s voice is distant. Hazy. Confused.

When Logan yanks Roman’s hands away so that he can better assess damage, Roman makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound fully human.

Logan doesn’t respond. The wound isn’t just phaser damage, from the little Logan can see. Phasers didn’t generally turn skin into that green-black mottled mess. There appears to be several tiny puncture wounds. Toxin, Logan thinks, and reaches for Roman’s comm again. He helps Roman sit up and lean against the crate behind him.

“Patton. Come in, Patton.”

Corbin is shouting something from where he’s taken cover against the wall on the opposite side to Logan’s left. He fires twice more.

“Roman’s vitals are all over the place,” Patton answers without having to ask what Logan needed to know. “Toxin levels are elevated and climbing. What’s happening down there?”

“Virgil, what’s your ETA?” Logan says instead of answering. He’s on autopilot, his mind racing. He can barely keep up with his own thoughts. Flashes of green phaser fire streak overhead and leave scorch marks on the white walls of the pod.

“Two minutes but it looks like you guys are pinned down. We’ll do what we can. Might be two and a half before you guys can get out.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” Logan asks to the open air.

“Not yet,” Corbin replies, ducking as another round of phaser fire hits overhead. “They’re Retribution though. No mistaking that.” He aims again, fires a few more rounds. Logan hears something heavy slump to the ground. Roman grunts and leans his head back against the crate he’s propped up against. His breathing is fast and shallow.

Despite himself, Roman gives Logan a pained smile. “I got pretty good reflexes, huh?”

“This situation hardly classifies as a testament to your reflex speed.”

“Virgil always said….” Roman grimaces. Shudders. Tries again. “Virge always said he was fastest but I could give ‘im a…. a run for his money.”

Logan frowns. “Your speech is slurring.”

“Sorry.”

Roman starts saying something about the last time he was drunk—Logan was there; they’d been celebrating Virgil’s birthday—but Logan has mostly tuned him out. His mind is still spinning. Toxin-equipped phasers were new technology to Logan. He’d heard there was potential for it, but he hadn’t looked much into the tech or its development. For it to be possible, then they’d need access to existing natural toxins. Synthetic ones wouldn’t pair as well with the phaser tech and would risk overloading or overheating the weapons. What natural toxins existed on Vannaheim?

More than one, from Logan’s memory. It had been a subsection of his research when looking into native vegetation options from the planet six years ago.

“Logan? Come in. Logan?” Patton’s voice over the comms not only interrupts Logan’s sprinting thoughts, but also causes Roman to cut off his slurred, barely coherent speech.

Logan grabs the device. “Here.”

“Roman’s getting worse. I think he’s panicking, ‘cuz his heartrate is through the roof, but that could also be the toxin. Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t. If I were to guess, based on the damage and situational factors, I’d probably assume it was a hemotoxin or necrotoxin but without more information or the ability to run tests, I cannot be certain.”

Virgil’s voice cuts into the conversation. “T-minus one minute.” Even distorted from the static, Virgil’s voice sounds strained in its own right. “Fuck, I’m going as fast as I can, Logan. Tell Princey he’s not allowed to die before I have the chance to kill him myself for being an idiot.”

Roman scoffs, but it’s weak and pained and sounds a lot more like a cough. “An idiot?” he demands incredulously.

“Message received,” Logan says dryly before setting the comm down. “Roman, take a deep breath.”

Roman sucks in a breath—shaking and thin—and winces. “Ow. Shit.” Roman’s arm wraps around his torso and he tosses a shaky smile to Logan. “I can’t believe I’m really gonna die having never beaten you at chess.”

It’s Elliot that answers him first, their voice tight and strangled and desperate. “You’re not going to die.”

“You’re not going to beat me at chess,” Logan adds. He can still hear shouting outside the pod. Roman gives a breathy laugh before his eyes unfocus again, blinking owlishly. Logan sets a firm, grounding hand on his shoulder. “Focus. Roman, tell me five things you can see.”

“Tell me five things you can see.” Roman blinks hard, then looks around uncomprehendingly. “Where… am I?”

“Vannaheim,” Logan replies smoothly despite the way his chest clenches. He cannot panic. Logan takes a breath.

Roman makes a face. “I hate Vannaheim.”

“Because the wind messes up your hair. Yes, you’ve told me.”

The door swishes open and Logan grabs Roman’s phaser from its holster and fires a shot. It cracks against the wall of the pod slightly to the left of the intruder. Logan had left his phaser on the ship. An oversight on his part. Deal with it later, Logan tells himself firmly.

“A prince has got to slay,” Roman says, his words slurred. He takes a breath that seems to tangle in his lungs, and wheezes out a cough.

“You’re wearing a uniformed suit of armor,” Logan finds himself saying. Wasn’t enough to protect him, something hisses in Logan’s mind. Logan shakes his head quickly. He’d deal with that thought later. “If you’re that worried about your appearance, wear the helmet.”

Logan estimates that it’s been about twenty seconds since his last communication with Virgil and Patton. They hear the door swish open. Valerie fires. There’s a startled cry and the door closes.

“I like the—” Roman cuts himself off with a clench to his teeth, his body visibly shuddering. He curls around himself, his head nearly pitching straight into Logan’s chest. The captain catches Roman’s shoulders, holding him steady until the trembling is back to a more manageable level a second later. He guides Roman to sit back again.

Roman’s head leans back to thump gently against the crate, his brow pinched. “Logan… you’re shaking.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies distractedly, trying to tune in to the conversation Corbin and Valerie are having on the opposite side of the small pod given the lull in combatants. They can still hear the fight raging outside. Someone screams. Pounding footsteps.

Sloane is typing frantically into one of the computers. A second later, there’s a click by the door. “Doors are locked. Should at least slow them down,” he says.

Corbin glances back at Logan, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. His jaw sets when his eyes flicker to Roman slumped against the crate.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” he says. “Valerie and I will cover you. As soon as Anxiety gets here, make a break for it. They’re not here for a war. They’re here for you.”

Logan opens his mouth to reply but Roman’s strained, slurred speech interrupts him. “Logan… give m’ th’ phaser.”

“Why?”

Roman’s brow furrows together like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “Figured I’d take a few of ‘em down with me while… while you two…” He grimaces again, but Logan gets the picture.

“No.”

Roman levels a look that would be a glare if his eyes would stay focused on Logan. “Be logical, Captain.”

Logan doesn’t deign the challenge with a response. He just stares at Roman—the sheen of sweat, the shallow and rapid breath, the way Roman can’t seem to support the weight of his own head—and then looks back at Corbin. “If we flee and they’re here for me, it’s not impossible that they’ll give chase.”

“We’ll ground as many as we can,” Valerie says, quickly adjusting some calibration on the phaser in her hand.

“Captain,” Roman insists, but Logan ignores him.

“Virgil will just have to shake the rest,” Logan says grimly.

“T-minus five seconds. Incoming.” Virgil’s cracked, staticky voice breaks through the comms on Elliot’s and Roman’s shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Let’s move,” Logan says, crossing back to Roman.

He figures that offering a hand to help Roman stand up wouldn’t be enough support, given that Roman seemed barely capable of holding up his own head. A fireman’s carry? Seemed excessive, at least for the time being. Perhaps Logan would default to that should Roman lose consciousness.

“’m gonna slow y’ down.” Roman’s voice is quiet, and it takes Logan a moment to decipher what he said given the way the words run together.

Logan crouches down and takes Roman’s arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and bracing one hand against Roman’s armored chestplate. “Think you can stand up?”

“Not lis’ning.”

“Answer the question, Roman.”

Roman swallows. Shudders. His arm tightens around his waist. “Yeah.”

“Three. Two. One. Up.” Logan stands, bracing most of Roman’s weight into his side. Roman nearly pitches into the floor, but he manages to get his legs underneath him and though Logan can feel him shaking with the exertion of effort, Roman is standing.

Progress.

“I’ll wait to unlock the door until you guys are right in front of it,” Sloane says and if there’s a bit of strain to his voice—if he casts a long glance at Corbin—well, Logan doesn’t say anything about it.

“Logan,” Roman says. “Lemme… lemme st…” Roman spasms, and nearly pitches right out of Logan’s grip. His hand on Roman’s chest is the only thing that keeps Roman from tumbling to the floor.

Logan goes to take a step with him—he can see black bleeding up through Roman’s neck like spilled ink and it tightens something in his chest—but Roman doesn’t move. Logan gives Roman a sharp look, opens his mouth to explain that they didn’t have time to waste, but there’s something fiery and bold beneath the haze of pain and poison that clouds his gaze.

“’m not worth—”

“It’s not your decision!” Logan cuts him off sharply. Furious. His gut twists against what he knows was the rest of Roman’s sentence. Roman releases a breath that would sound annoyed if there wasn’t a bit of a hitch to it.

“Doors opening in three. Two. One.”

Corbin and Valerie duck out first, and it’s a mess of dust and wind as Foster’s engine roars overhead, touching down as close as it reasonably can. Logan hears the reverberating pops of phaser fire exchanged somewhere in the cloud of dust. Streaks of green light criss-crossing in the sand-clogged cloud around them. Corbin yells for them to go. Elliot fires off a few shots of their own, sticking close to the two of them to fill in the gaps of phaser coverage left between Corbin and Valerie.

They run.

Or, as best as they can manage. It’s barely a loose jog, really, with Logan having to support most of Roman’s weight. But Roman manages to put one foot in front of the other and from his strangled breathing and how hard he’s shaking, Logan knows it’s about all Roman can manage to do.

Logan estimates that the distance between the pod and Foster is about a hundred or so meters. At the rate they’re moving, it should take them about twenty seconds to reach the docking ramp that Virgil lowers as soon as they touch down. Maybe less than that, if they can push the pace a bit more.

It takes ten seconds before Logan feels bright heat rip through his upper right bicep. Warm liquid spills down his arm.

“Captain!” Elliot yells, alarmed, over the chaos.

“I’m fine,” Logan grits out. “Go! Go!”

Patton meets them on the docking ramp, his eyes wide, and takes Roman’s other side to help Logan get him the rest of the way up. Elliot fires their phaser twice more as the ramp closes before ripping their comm unit off and calling into it.

“Virgil, punch it. We’re gonna have tails.”

“Fuck. Everyone accounted for?”

Logan grabs Roman’s comm. “Affirmative. Get us out of here.” Logan braces himself, and Roman, for the shift as Virgil lifts them off and takes off.

Roman sways.

Patton reaches for his wound. “Ro—”

The navigations officer collapses. Logan grunts as he and Patton both catch him before he crumples entirely, the effort tearing at the wound in Logan’s arm. Bright, hot pain ripples down his arm and up through his shoulder. Logan clenches his teeth against the sharp cry that tries to tear up his throat.

“Roman!” Elliot steps forward, but Logan holds up a hand, trying to get his breathing back under control from the fresh wave of pain.

“No, Elliot. Pilot with Virgil.”

“But I want to help!”

His arm is throbbing and Logan glances down at it, noting with a certain level of detachment that it just looks like a normal graze. No sign of toxin damage. “Help Virgil,” Logan tells them firmly, leveling a steady gaze that leaves no room for argument.

Elliot’s expression darkens before they turn and head towards the cockpit.

“I gotta get Roman to med bay,” Patton says quietly. “And get you patched up too.”

“I’m fine,” Logan says, helping Patton hoist Roman up from his half-collapsed state on the floor. “Just a graze.”

“But still.”

“It’ll heal, Patton.”

“Logan.”

Logan’s jaw snaps shut. He gives a single, stiff nod in return.

…

The next several minutes are frantic.

Patton and Logan carry Roman to the medical bay and Patton immediately pries Roman’s suit off him to get a closer look. It’s a flurry of movement as he hooks Roman up to various machines to read off information about his vitals, extracting some of the toxin from his system so Patton can run different tests on it separate from Roman’s body, all of which is made more challenging by the frequent shift in g-force as Virgil and Elliot try to lose the ships that had followed them off Vannaheim.

Logan is still on autopilot. He doesn’t stop moving. Logan helps Patton as much as he can, and it’s not until Patton is very gently helping Logan into chair to bandage his wounded arm after Roman has been fully equipped that Logan realizes the warm liquid that he’d felt down his arm was his own blood. Logan stares at Roman on the gatch bed with numb detachment and lets Patton clean and wrap the wound in his arm. It’s while Patton is tying the knot on the bandage wrapped around Logan’s bicep that Virgil clicks on over the intercom.

“I think we’ve shaken the last of them. Status update on Princey?”

Logan and Patton exchange a glance. Patton offers a sad smile and slight lift to his shoulders. Logan stands from the chair and walks to the intercom on the wall. He presses the button, waiting for the click before he speaks.

“No change. Did we take any damage?”

It’s Remy’s voice that answers him. “She’ll hold together, but Foster’s warp drive is out of commission until we can dock and I get some parts. What the hell was that all about?”

Logan swallows and leans his head against the wall for a moment. A damaged warp drive meant that getting to the next planet would take a bit longer than originally planned. He glances over at Patton, whose lips press into a grim line. Logan swallows before he answers over the intercom. “It appears that some prior work I did on that planet in an effort of sustainability warranted a minority of individuals harboring some… hostility.”

Behind him, Patton is peering at the monitors with Roman’s vitals. “Seems like more than just some hostility.”

“And we’re sure Wright is gonna be fine down there?” Virgil asks.

“Reasonably,” Logan replies. “Their hostility was directed predominantly at me.”

“And yet Roman—oh, wait. Hey, Cap, you might wanna come up here. We’ve got a message inbound from Vannaheim.”

Logan sighs. “I’ll be right there.”

Logan isn’t sure what to expect. He can’t fairly say that he is surprised. It made sense that they would attempt contact, especially given that they had successfully evaded their trail. And expecting the message to wait certainly wouldn’t have made sense—they’d be out of signal range within a few minutes. Logan considers, briefly, letting the message go unanswered. But there couldn’t be any harm in talking, right? Perhaps Logan could even appease them enough to quell some of the hostile action that could—had, did—put innocent people in harm’s way.

His arm throbs. Logan looks over his shoulder at Roman, prone on the gatch bed. Pale, except for the side that got hit being a smattering of mottled green and black. The black bleeds in curling tendrils across his chest, up his shoulder, his neck.

Patton catches him staring and gives him another one of those sad smiles. “I’m doing what I can for him, Captain.”

Logan swallows and nods. He squeezes Patton’s shoulder on his way out.

He tries very hard to not look at the hole through the wall that Roman had blasted earlier today. Instead, he focuses on the weight of his measured, calculated footsteps against the grated scaffolding. The very faint and yet oddly familiar, comforting scent of iron that lingered on the inside of the ship despite Patton’s best attempts to fix it. He counts in his head how many steps it takes from the door of the med bay to the cockpit.

The answer is eighteen.

The door swishes open and Virgil cranes his neck around. Elliot doesn’t even show signs of having heard the door opened at all.

“Ready, Captain?” Virgil asks, his finger poised over one of the buttons in front of him.

Logan steadies a hand on the back of Virgil’s chair and nods. “Yes.”

The screen in front of them blips on and Logan stares in surprise as Corbin, Sloane, and Valerie’s faces fill the frame. “Hey, they made it!” Sloane says brightly. Logan can still feel tension pulling his shoulders taught.

“Barely,” Elliot says, so quietly Logan almost doesn’t hear it. Logan sees Virgil glance at them, his brow furrowing.

“How’s Roman doing?” Valerie asks.

“We’re working on it,” Logan says.

“You mean Patton’s working on it,” Elliot cuts in.

“Yes,” Logan acquiesces. “I do mean that. Our ship’s medic, Patton Hart, is doing what he can. How are things there?”

“Our earlier assumptions proved accurate,” Corbin replies with a shrug. “They followed you. The ones that didn’t were angry, but hostility tapered off once they realized they were outnumbered and that you were gone.”

“I apologize for bringing you under some fire. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not like you could’ve known,” Sloane says with a dismissal wave.

“We’re about to lose signal,” Virgil says quietly.

“Hey, keep us updated about Roman, will you?” Corbin asks.

Sloane and Valerie both nod. “We’re just as worried about him as you are!”

Elliot mutters something under their breath that Logan doesn’t quite catch, but from the suddenly furious look Virgil shoots them, perhaps it was better that he didn’t. Logan assures them that they will let them know as soon as there’s any change to report. Virgil cuts the feed and flexes his grip around the ship’s controls.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil demands suddenly. For a moment, Logan frowns in confusion before he realizes that the question was meant for Elliot and not himself.

“Forget it,” Elliot replies with a quick glance to Logan.

“Bullshit,” Virgil shoots back. His grip on the controls look too tight to be comfortable. “You’re not good with confrontation. Fine. But you don’t get to sit there and make passive-aggressive jabs at our captain after the shit-show we just dealt with. One that he got you out of, I might add. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay—” Logan says, placatingly, but Elliot interrupts him.

“What’s wrong with me?” they demand, waving a hand towards Logan. “What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t seem phased in the slightest! Roman was shot trying to protect him and he just acted like he didn’t care—”

“Because that’s his fucking job!” Virgil turns a glowering look onto Elliot.

“Virgil,” Logan tries, bewildered at the argument, but they both seem to have forgotten that Logan is even there.

Virgil continues, tearing his gaze back to the stars stretching in front of them. “He’s the Captain, Elliot. It’s his job to make sure shit gets done, and that is especially true when one of us gets hurt. Logan doesn’t fall apart during a crisis but don’t you dare suggest that means he doesn’t fucking care.”

Elliot is silent. Logan doesn’t know what—if anything—he should say. Virgil heaves a sigh and rakes a hand through his long bangs. “I mean, shit. Look, I know today has been a lot. The past two hours have been a lot. And you haven’t been with us very long. But if you don’t know anything about our Captain, know this: Logan speaks how he cares in his actions. All you have to do is pay attention.”

Logan blinks. He forgot sometimes how closely Virgil watched other people, including himself. He’d noticed it in the beginning when Virgil had first joined, but Virgil had mostly dismissed it and said it was an “anxiety thing”. Logan didn’t know that he believed that, but over time, Virgil’s steady, watchful gaze had become less unsettling and more comforting. Until Logan forgot entirely just how much Virgil paid attention to the people around him.

Elliot sighs. They don’t look up, but Logan hears their words regardless. “I’m sorry, Captain. I was… unfair.”

“It’s understandable,” Logan replies, surprised at being suddenly addressed. His mind is still reeling. Too full of information that is racing through his mind to fully process the argument that just ensued. “Take a breath, Elliot. Get some rest.”

“I…” Elliot looks like they want to argue, but they seem to change their mind. They stand up and look to Virgil. “Are… you good?”

Virgil glances at them, and something softens in his expression. “Yeah, kid. I’m good here.”

Elliot nods absently, then disappears through the cockpit doors. Virgil glances over his shoulder at Logan. “You should get some rest too, Captain.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil sighs. He doesn’t press him.

…

Days go by. Patton manages to get Roman to stable vitals and Logan thinks he can hear the collective sigh of relief across the ship when the announcement comes over the staticky intercom. But Roman doesn’t wake up, and Patton tells them that he isn’t sure when—or if—it’ll happen. Logan spends most of these days in the med bay, doing what he can with his scientific knowledge to assist Patton’s tests on the toxin. Kai joins them for short periods of time, putting his knowledge of weapons and tech to some use in the long hours.

They manage to come up with an antidote somewhere around what would be a little past two in the morning Earth-time of the second day. It cleanses Roman’s system of the poison, but damage had been done. It was difficult to ascertain exactly how much.

Logan doesn’t sleep much. He thinks Patton notices, but whenever the doctor tries to bring it up, Logan shrugs him off. His usually rigid circadian schedule had been disrupted by bad dreams that echo with Sloane’s pale face and Elliot’s shaking hands and Roman’s strained words. The last words he’d gotten out. I’m not worth—and every time, Logan wakes up before Roman can finish the thought. So Logan gets enough sleep to function, and he spends the rest of his time in the med bay and around the ship making himself useful.

All the crew find time to stop in on occasion as the days press forward. Virgil and Elliot take shifts. Picani makes sure that Patton and Logan are eating, and sometimes sits and talks to Roman’s unconscious form. Patton does that too—talk to him. Whenever he gives Logan an update with a new chart read out, he speaks as if Roman can hear him.

When Logan eventually asks him about it—if he thinks Roman can hear them—Patton lifts a shoulder and replies, “I don’t know. I hope so. And it helps me to talk to him anyway, y’know?”

Logan tries it when Patton goes to bed that night. He sits in the chair that Remy had grabbed and set beside Roman earlier that day and listens to the way the silence of the ship at this hour seems to echo against the old metal walls and bracing. Foster had been quieter in general in the past several days. Less laughter. Less teasing. Less… vibrant.

“That’s your fault, you know,” Logan says quietly, looking at Roman. “As much as I always complain about your insufferable noise level, I’ll admit I had grown… accustomed to it.”

Roman’s face is still startlingly pale, but it had lost the sickly sheen of sweat. He breathes evenly. Regularly. Logan listens to it for a moment, grateful that it at least wasn’t the shaking, shallow wheezes it had been on Vannaheim. The black-and-green stain on Roman’s skin had mostly faded. He’d have a scar, Patton said, on his waist where the initial hit happened. But the rest of it should go back to normal in a day or two.

“Now the quiet just seems…” Logan sighs. He listens again as the ship groans. “It seems heavy. Though you’d probably mock me for the use of the chremamorphism. Ordinarily, I’d qualify it with literal or figurative, as I know that silence cannot carry a physical weight, but…” Logan breaks off. It feels like a literal weight, hanging over the ship like a fog and darkening the iron walls. Weighing on the shoulders of those who move within the space.

Logan sighs. Scrubs a hand across his eyes under his glasses with exhaustion. “There’s something that has been bothering me, Roman. Something that I need to say to you.”

Logan leans forward. Bows his head. “You tried to tell me that you weren’t worth the risk of getting you to safety. Which is, honestly, bullshit. I don’t leave my people behind, Roman. You, of all people, should know that. And you… you shouldn’t have taken that shot. That was meant for me.”

Logan wonders, now that he’s said it aloud, if the weight on his shoulders from the silence is really the weight of his own guilt. Poised over his head like a pendulum on the verge of snapping.

Bearing Roman’s weight on Vannaheim had not felt this heavy. Logan realizes suddenly that his hands are shaking. He clasps them together in front of him between his knees.

“I’m the Captain,” Logan says. “It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I let you down. That’s on me. And… I am sorry, Roman. I am sorry for my shortcomings as a leader and as a friend. Because if you felt unworthy of being saved, I’m afraid I have failed in both responsibilities.”

A voice from the door to the med bay startles Logan. “It isn’t your fault, L.”

Logan looks over his shoulder towards the sound and finds Virgil leaning against the entry way. Logan blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even heard the doors open. Virgil just watches him with a quiet, unwavering gaze, even if there’s something a little softer in his eyes than Logan is used to seeing.

“Virgil,” Logan greets, pushing his glasses further up his nose and standing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Virgil shrugs a shoulder, glancing to Roman. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in on Princey.” He pauses, his gaze flickering back to Logan. “And you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Virgil says, stepping further into the medical bay and letting the doors swish shut behind him. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his purple plaid-patched hoodie.

Logan shakes his head. “But I do. I should have been more vigilant.”

“Weren’t you the one who taught me that dealing with ‘I should have’ is a dangerous and unproductive thought pattern?”

Logan hesitates. He can’t argue with that. He remembers the conversation from years ago. “Roman shouldn’t have been put into that situation.”

“He did it to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But—”

“Logan,” Virgil cuts in, tossing his hands up in exasperation, “All of us? On this ship? We’re a family. You didn’t ask for that, but it happened. You are not the only one who cares about other people on this ship.”

“I know that.”

“Then know that any one of us would do what Roman would do if meant protecting you. We look out for each other.” Behind him, the door swishes open again but Virgil doesn’t even turn around. “We protect one another. All of us. You protect us, we protect you. That’s how this shit works.”

Patton steps into the med bay in a cat onesie. His pajamas. He pads quietly into the room, tugging the hood off his head. “Virgil’s right, Cap. We’re a family here. Like it or lump it.”

“And while this may be your ship,” Virgil says as Patton crosses to the monitors on the wall. “We don’t plan to go anywhere any time soon. You’re stuck with us.”

Despite himself, Logan cracks a faint smile.

“Yeah,” croaks a voice from the gatch bed that makes Logan whirl around. “Couldn’t get rid of us if ya tried, Cap.”

Roman’s eyes are open and glinting with something that Logan can’t quite decipher in the dark. Amusement, but something softer too. Patton gasps and rushes over, helping Roman sit up a bit more and grabbing the glass of water with a straw that he’d been refreshing each day for this very event. Roman takes a grateful sip and leans his head against Patton in silent gratitude. Patton smooths his hair with a gentle pat before helping Roman lean back in the bed again.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asks.

“Like I was shot.”

Virgil snorts.

Patton asks him a series of questions that are a bit more pointed—“Any dizziness, Roman? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Are you feeling nauseous?”—and adjusts some of the machines to accommodate for an awake patient. Roman is a bit slow with his answers, and a bit slower still for the orienting ones, but he answers them accurately and cracks a few jokes in the meantime, and Logan just watches, feeling some of the tightness in his chest ease a bit.

When Patton makes a joke and the ship hears Roman’s laughter for the first time in almost a week, Logan thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep through the night.

...

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #lamp/calm #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sci-fi au #violence tw #cursing tw #heed warnings #blood tw #injury tw #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #let me know if other warnings should be in the tags themselves too!#kjfksdjfksdlfj #hope it turned out okay

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