#but yeah nope had a bit of a rough patch there

[aparticularbandit]

I will say - for those of you looking at spoilers - there was a moment near the end that cranked my anxiety in the same way balloons, with their constant possibility of popping but you don't know when, and fireworks, where you know the sound will happen but don't know when, does. That one was rough for me.

It did not happen as I was afraid it would. I expected far worse, and that was part of the issue there.

But I literally spent a good chunk of time trying not to look at the screen.

Because I knew it was coming. And didn't know when. And didn't want to see it (because I thought it would be bad).

You will know.

It will not be as bad as your brain thinks it will be.

[milkratz]

Don't get Soap wrong - He loved Ghost. The man who he had fought tooth and nail to wiggle into the heart of, who would stare blankly at him whenever Soap made even a slightly suggestive joke, the sharp glare when Soap would would bump shoulders or lightly punch his arm in humor.

It took a lot of work for their conversations to come as easy as they did now: Their comfortable banter on their fields, Ghost telling his outrageously stupid jokes, the way he'd rest his heavy hand on Soap's shoulder, brush their hands together.

The first time Ghost linked their pinkies together, Soap nearly combusted. The feeling of Ghost's soft but well worn gloves against his bare skin. He blamed his cherry red face on the heat in response to Ghost's concerns, but Soap went to bed that night wiggling in bed, face flushed with an uncontrollable smile, just barely muffling his honest to God giggles in his sheets.

The soft kisses shared in the deep of night, how they'd help each other bathe after particularly rough missions. When Soap would patch up the not grievous wounds that Ghost stubbornly refused to go to Med for. How Ghost would comb the dirt and blood from Soap's hair, massage the soap gently but deeply into his scalp.

So yeah, suffice to say they loved each other.

But the bastard was fucking cold.

The first time they shared a bed, Soap was a little confused. When he entered the lieutenant's room, he immediately noted the multiple blankets neatly stacked on the older man's bed (definitely not in regulation).

After all, any time they had touched previously, skin to skin, was most often on the field in the dead heat of the day, or under the warm water on base.

Johnny watched Simon begin to shuffle around the room, folding the blankets over each other with practiced ease. He slid into the bed, back near ramrod straight as he stared at Johnny.

Johnny realized he had been standing blankly just a little too long, seeing as Ghost's hands began to fidget with the edge of the blanket, could see the way his eyes scrunched just a little bit beneath his, yes still wearing his mask to bed, mask.

"Are ye sure?" Soap asked. At Ghost's puppy like tilt of the head, he clarified, "It won't be too... hot?"

"No," Simon said simply, before patting the space next to him. Soap shrugged, climbing into the bed beside him.

The second Ghost's bare hands began to slide up his shirt, he knew why.

With a totally manly, not at all girlish shriek, nope, Soap hurriedly twisted his body away from the icicle of a man. He stared in horror at Simon as the other man's body began to shake with just barely suppressed laughter.

"Yer a fockin snowman," Soap breathed incredulously, reaching out a hand to cautiously touch the skin of Simon's next. Just like his hand, if not just the barest hint warmer.

"Always ran cold," Simon smiled, before reaching over to grab Soap. He slid one hand up to take off his mask, tossing it towards the foot of the bed. He buried his face into the crook of Soap's neck, smiling into his skin as he felt Johnny wince from the sharp cold bite of his nose. "So keep me warm, yeah?"

Soap huffed lovingly, reaching a hand up to run through Ghost's soft curls, humming a small tune as he felt himself begin to drift off. The cold of Simon's skin contrasted the warmth of his own, and the what would otherwise be stifling heat of the blanket. Their legs twined together, Simon's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. It was... comfortable.

At least until-

"Simon, get yer FOCKING COLD ARSE FEET OFF MEH."

[hotxcheeto]

omgomgomg so i saw that u write for tess & when i tell u i never screamed louder!!1!1!!

can we pretty please get a toothrottingly fluffy smut where its readers first time & tess is just like gentle & sweet towards reader and making sure theyre comfy and stuff, sorry if this is kind of all over the place this is actually my first time requestin somethin 🫶🏽

━ 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Tess Servopoulos x Fem-bodied!Reader ( Written as game vers. Tess but can be read as both! )

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, v fingering ( r receiving ), oral sex ( r receiving ), mentions of alcohol / getting drunk ( in passing ), super fluffy cause omg they're cute, top!tess, bottom!reader, ( let me know if I missed something with the gender I tried to be as gender neutral as possible )

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope ( it's been hours and it's 2am I'm tired )

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - I'm so happy that I was the first you requested for! I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK TO LONG IT'S BEEN A ROUGH TIME. BUT ILY!!!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

Game tess has no gifs unlike HBO Tess :( They're both equally hot they should have equal gifs !!!!!!

REBLOGS APPRECIATED AND NOTICED

The lightning flickered against your eyes every time it made it's appearance, it's partner, thunder, never far behind. The loud sounds feeling as though they shook the entire complex and everything around it, even the QZ walls shuddered. But you payed no mind, staring down at the guards in the road. Very few, but they were there.

They'd talk back and forth to forget about the rain, ignore the chill of the wind nipping their faces. Talk about before or pretend the past never happened.

Sometimes you could hear them, but tonight you couldn't. Not with the rain and the loud banging on the decrepit buildings. Sometimes you wondered whether or not the buildings in the QZ would last much longer with storms like this.

Instead though, on this night, you just watched them, then sometimes the rain droplets, imagining them as two cars racing one another down the glass. As if you were a kid in the back of your childhood van.

The door then suddenly opened up behind you, but you didn't turn around. Recognizing how specific her boots sounded against the wood flooring, how she cursed underneath her breath and threw her stuff onto the table with a thump.

You knew who it was without needing to turn around so you kept staring. Eyes droopy but you were wide awake.

"What's so entertaining?" You heard the slight sass in her voice, the tone that never left even when she was being deadly serious. It made you smile, turning your head to the side to look at her.

"Everything and nothing." You took in a breath of the cold air that crept passed the window seal. "Gotta make do in the apocalypse."

She stood at island counters, hands spread apart and leaning her weight on the tile. Staring at you with a stupid smirk on her face.

"What took you so long?" Tess knew the question was coming but that didn't mean she wanted to answer it. "Ran into some trouble-" "What?" "-but I got out of it. Just some assholes that thought they wanted to mess with Joel and I."

You hadn't seen Joel in a while, but you reckon he hadn't changed a teeny, tiny bit since the last time you had. You took to liking to the grumpy man, you trusted him to make sure Tess came back breathing.

Despite is unfavorable gaze and his harsh wording.

"Are you hurt?" You stood from the chair, taking fast strides towards her while she shook her head, still smiling. "No, didn't even bump a hair on my head. I promise." A bit of a white lie, but she didn't want to worry you.

"Swear?" Tess quietly nodded, looking at you run your eyes over and over her face while turning her head back and forth. Looking for any scratch or slightly discolored patch of skin that wasn't there that morning.

"Say it." She grabbed your hands from her cheeks and holding them in her own. "Swear."

You leaned forwards to kiss her, noticing her slightly chapped lips and the mostly soaked in lip oil you'd let her borrow while out and about. Wanting to hide one of your favorite parts of her away from the unforgiving wind.

It didn't take her a second to kiss back either, grabbing your hips to keep you there until she decided to pull back. Grabbing either side of your cheeks and tilting your head down to kiss your forehead. Resting her mouth against your hair as she thought.

"How 'bout you go get ready for bed, I'll get my shit put away, okay?" Pulling away from her you raised an eyebrow. "And what am I getting out of this?" "You ain't gonna get anything you keep asking questions."

You huffed but shuffled off, squeezing her hand as you did so .

Tess and you were never supposed to go this far. Roommates. Someone to get drunk with to forget or tell stories and be each other shoulder to maybe shed a tear on. Never go further than that.

But it did.

You weren't sure who fell first, you just knew you did and it was hard.

She felt as if she was too old for you, even though you weren't the youngest yourself. You did know that there were some things that she had experienced that you just hadn't because of the world's terrible timing. But you never felt too young for her.

Just perfect, actually.

You were barely friends back then, and yet, you trusted each other more than most married couples. But, once it did go further it also went unspoken.

You were hers, as she was yours. Corny, but so were you.

As Tess would say anyway.

You laid down to wait for her, looking at the closed curtains in your small shared room. Only fitting a tiny closet and a bed, not that you had much for the closet to hold.

"Scooch."

Tess appeared behind you, smiling while watching you scoot towards the other side of the bed to make room for her. Feeling her arms wrap around your middle and her breath against your neck send shivers down your spine.

"What about your day?" Tess muttered, kissing the nape of your neck. "Boring. I did some odd jobs all day but they didn't last long. Mostly waited on your slow ass." You felt her laugh against your skin, chuckling to herself while shaking her head.

"Slow, huh?" "Mhm. Too busy getting jumped to come home to me, right?" Her grip tightened when she let a sarcastic 'ha ha', sitting up and resting her head on her hand.

"C'mere." Tess lightly gripped your face, giving you a much hungrier kiss than she had earlier when you had initiated. No, this one had need behind it, want seeping from it.

"I missed you today." She whispered, kissing you again and letting herself taste the mint contraband you'd been chewing earlier. "I missed you too." You breathed, a nervous feeling pooling in your lower belly.

"Fuck I missed this." Tess hated leaving in the mornings, and the afternoons, especially the nights as well. Tess just hated leaving, but she knew she had to if you both wanted to survive.

Her hand crept down to your sleeping pants, running her fingers over the band that was low on your hips. The rough pads feathering over your sensitive skin. Caressing your inner thigh through the thin, withered fabric.

Inches away where you began to felt the need for her. A need you hadn't felt in a long, long time. One you'd never satisfied, and you sure never had someone else satisfy.

"Tess." You pulled back slightly, a bit taken aback by your reaction just as she was. "Shit, I'm sorry, fuck I should've-" "It's... it's not that."

Your expression spoke a thousand words, shamefully glancing away from her and at anything else in the room to distract yourself.

"You're.." It was deadly silent besides the rain banging against the glass panes. "Y/n, you didn't think to tell me?" "M'sorry I didn't.."

Her voice held no malice, only genuine confusion making you finally look at her. Seeing her more concerned you didn't feel comfortable enough to tell her, the thought of you hiding it maliciously never crossing her mind.

"I was so young... when the world went to shit.." You trailed off in a broken whisper, trying to explain yourself but you didn't have to.

Not to her. Never to her.

Not with something like this.

"Hey, hey look at me." And you did, meeting her darkened eyes only illuminated by the light coming from the sheer covered window.

"You don't have to do all that. Not with me. It's up to you."

"I want to." You spoke, so low and soft, your voice sounded like a drug to her. Nervous and ready for what was to come.

You trusted her.

Tess looked away from your eyes and down at the hem of your oversized shirt, unable to give her a view of your silhouette that she loved so much.

Her hand moved to pull it up and over your boobs, lightly brushing the very tips of her fingers against your nipples. Getting a few light whimpers to fall from your lips.

"Look at that." Tess moved over your body, kissing your collarbone and then your chest. Making her way all the way down to your sensitive bud, licking your tit to get a reaction from you.

And it worked, her mouth making your breath halt, feeling the warmth wrap around your entire boob. Then quickly feeling her move to the other, only kissing it before giving your belly a peck. Sitting up again.

Tess scanned your face, leaning down to kiss your lips.

"You tell me when it's too much, got it? You tell me when to stop."

"Okay. Okay I will."

Looping around your waistband, Tess pulled the pants from your legs. Making the pulse between your thighs even worse as the layer was stripped away. Even squeezing them together to be rid of the uncomfortable feeling.

"God, you're so... shit just look at you." You felt your face warm, invisible to her eye but to you, you were burning up. A fever created from her words mixed with her starved eyes raking over your body like she hadn't ate in decades.

"Spread your legs baby, c'mon." And you did, her arms hooking under your knees to bring you even closer to you. The woman grinning when you shrieked in surprise at her sudden tug.

"There you go, so good for me. To think no one else has gotten to see any of this. Some unlucky fucks."

"Lucky for you though." You giggled, her warm palms trailing your exposed hips. Hooking under the tiny elastic underwear band.

"You sure about this?" Her eyes flicked to yours again.

"Positive."

Tess than pulled them slowly from your legs, a string of slick following after them making her own cunt ache at the sight.

"God, Y/n." She tossed them aside to find another time. Leaning down between your thighs. "All for me." Tess kissed your inner thigh, again and again while inching towards your heat.

"Ready baby?" You nodded quickly, the pain of your own arousal becoming too much for you to handle all on your own. "Yes, please, please Tess."

Her mouth soon wrapped around your clit, tongue tracing an infinity sign over the sensitive bud over and over. Not stopping and not slowing, just again and again while watching your reactions.

Your legs felt like they went numb, head falling back in to the pillows while loud babbles tumbled from your lips. Wanting to praise her but you couldn't. The feeling was so alien and so much, you didn't know what to say. Until you did.

"Oh- oh my god.. please more Tess... please.." Your hands went to her hair, the other to your mouth to try it's best the muffle the sounds. But you weren't sure of well it would work when you couldn't keep it there, instead gripping the sheets when she pushed your leg further to the side getting an even better angle to fuck you in.

"I'm gonna do something, okay, you tell me if it's too much." You hummed, a bit lost in your cotton-stuffed mind feeling like you were lost in a fog and couldn't find yourself a way out.

Tess's finger appeared at your hole, very slowly pushing inside your body. A whine of discomfort filling her ears and she hated it, only wanting it to be over as soon as it could be. Wanting your body to stop tensing so hard.

"I know, I know, but it's gonna feel good I promise." The woman kissed your thigh again, then your clit, beginning her assault on your bundle of nerves to distract the rest of you away from the twinges of pain.

And it began to, not only her warm tongue sending so much pleasure through your lower half, now a curled finger ran along your walls. The rest of you beginning to relax as her movements sped up, but only the more you began to get used to it.

"Tess... more. I want more please." You looked down at her, never having felt what you were at the moment, and you couldn't get enough.

Tess added yet another finger and giving you another deliciously nice stretch, the woman sitting up a bit, the thumb of her other hand circling your clit.

"How's that, huh?" She watched you nod, looking down at your cunt while she kept you full. Moving in and out at a faster pace while keeping her thumb going in whatever motion she decided.

"G-good.." You responded, "reall-ly good." "That's it." Tess went faster, kissing your lips, muffling your loud moans that wouldn't stop even if you tried. "You're doing so good." "Tess.. oh fuck.. I-"

"Come Y/n. Let go. Let go for me baby." The high-pitched shriek was cute, she thought. Watching you come undone on her fingers.

Pleasure shooting through your entire body, but her movements never stopped. Only going faster, the circular motion on your clit making you joke and try and squeeze your thighs together.

It was too much.

You'd never felt something like that, something so strong and so pleasure-filled, not in a world like this.

Your mind went into a hazed mush while you mumbled and cried out things to her. Your hand scratching at her upper arm while she whispered sweet things to you, calming you down while a tear or two trickled down your hot cheeks.

"You did so good. You did so good, baby."

"Tess... oh fuck." You cried out.

"I know, I know."

And you did, the only thing auditory besides the now slowed rain. Tess kissing the space between your eyebrows and then your nose. Finally moving down to your lips.

"You did so good." Her fingers pulled away from you making you whimper. "I really liked that." You mumbled, Tess smiling and letting out a light chuckle. "Yeah?" You nodded in response.

"M'glad it was you." You then whispered, your blinking began to slow as the exhaustion followed the adrenaline crash. Tess flustered in the darkness, the woman was glad you couldn't see it.

"Get some rest, I'll clean you up, okay?" She kissed your neck, sitting up just as you rolled over, laying almost completely on her side of the bed.

"Okay. But you better come back." "Well you better be out of my spot."

You huffed, "But it's comfier."

a/N: 2:22

[melodyofthevoid]

Last to Remember

It took some doing to craft nine small memorials, get the candles, make the small wooden vessels, all the steps she’d been taught, without getting caught in the act. She knew Louis kept a close eye on his matches and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the theft, so she had to be sneaky. Plus candles were enough of a necessity that Mariza almost almost felt bad snatching a few from the hold.

This wasn’t her ship, wasn’t her stock to take at her will. But these were small debts. She’d repay them eventually.

Delta’s ship had made landfall just off of the coast of Whitford, after she’d made something of an ass of herself attempting to get help from a captain who’d in no uncertain terms wanted her gone. Plus she needed supplies, as one of the few non-mer on the ship. Luckily it also gave her the chance to do this.

One by one, she set the small pieces of wood onto the lapping waves with the candles on top, setting a flower beside it. If Mariza had a bit more time, she would’ve bought a trinket for each of them too. But this worked well enough. For the largest one though, she did tear off a small piece of her— his- coat. It was the least she could do.

For a while, she sat on the beach, watching the moon’s light ripple over the waves. The barest hint of a breeze blew by, so the sea barely moved at all, the horizon endless. Sometimes Helena talked about poetry, how writers in little rooms on land tried to use words to describe the sea and use it to mean something else. She’d called it stupid at the time, and it still was stupid, but she understood the urge a bit more.

“Well, I wondered where you’d run off to, wasn’t expecting a candlelight dinner.”

Mariza flinched as Delta called from behind her, cursing herself for getting startled. The captain approached with a half grin that slowly fell as she looked over the whole scene. Eyes widening as something clicked in her head.

“Oh. Did I- Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah, but since you’re here, you may as well help me light all these so they can go off at once. Make yourself useful.”

“One of these days we’re going to leave you behind. I swear,” Delta's voice didn’t have any bite behind it, and the soft tone made something in Mariza’s heart shift, “you never stop do you?”

“Nope, I think that’s part of my charm.”

Delta rolled her eyes, but took one of the matches anyway, carefully lighting Rey, Al, Helena, and Arthur’s candles. Mariza stopped her before she got to Varan’s. Thankfully she took the hint and waited as Mariza did her part, lighting a wick for Ash, for Thomas, for Patch, for Elaine. For her… for her captain. For Varan. Her hand hesitated over the final one before she lit it and pushed it into the smooth surf, willing their journey beyond to at least be peaceful.

While it would be funny, in a twisted way, if they sunk now, she just wanted this.

“Nine’s a lot to light off at once. That’s how many were on your old crew then?”

Mariza nodded, watching the small lights flicker a bright orange on the inky black sea. Growing smaller and smaller as they floated into the distance.

“Mhm, close as any crew could be.”

“That uh, that must have been rough. It’s hard, when that happens.”

“I always knew that we weren’t going to live forever, I wasn’t stupid. We’d lost crew before. Every ship does. I guess… I never expected to be the last one standing.”

In truth, it made her feel small. Like there was some joke the world had made she wasn’t in on.

“Not sure anyone ever expects that.”

True. Varan had told a few stories, once he thought she was old enough, about the crew-mates he’d lost over the years. You didn’t go into piracy for safety, he’d said, but a chance to be remembered. Sometimes that meant glory, sometimes riches, sometimes for infamy, but that was it at the end of the day. Mariza squared up her shoulders, standing up now. Ignoring the flick of turquoise light in the corners of her vision. She had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

Whatever this was, it wouldn’t stop her.

“I’m the one who lived, so I have to keep going. They have to be remembered by someone. What’s the point if I don’t make it? So I’ll live, no matter what it takes.”

“Cheers to that,” Delta mimed raising a glass, “and I was kidding about ditching you. You fit in well here.”

“Told you,” Mariza stuck out her tongue, “it’s part of my charm.”

“Did it work on them?”

Mariza let out a small laugh.

“Of course it did.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then.”

“I might. I might.”

“Now come on, we’ve got to head out of here soon. We’re running low on coin, and there’s some good ports not far-”

“I’m familiar.”

“Good,” Delta bared all her sharpened teeth in a lopsided grin, “now let's get out of here.”

It wasn’t lost on Mariza that this was the longest she’d thought about her crew, her family since the beast. After so long trying to just survive, the extra time to breathe reminded her of the names she almost called on deck. The people she expected to see when she turned her head. The person she still looked towards, even as she wore the only piece of him she had left.

She wouldn’t let that thing get the best of her. Pulling her coat on around her, Mariza headed towards the ship, hoping for a good night’s sleep after all of… that. It was off her chest now, and that’s what mattered.

That, and making sure she snuck Louis some coin to replace his matches.

[herwritingartcowboy]

“The Villain”

A/n:

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Character(s): Venti

Warning(s): X

Readers Gender: Gn

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“How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?!” “I don’t know until I say so”, you said looking away from the bard.  You see the same bard every week you come over for a good drink. 

But now he was here taking your drinks and of course you got pretty pissed off. It might be the alcohol or the fact you have a huge crush on Venti. Yes you were very mean and/or rude but you have as you are known to be the ‘ruthless’ knight. So yeah here you were choking out the bard. “Oh Y/n we might need to get a room first~” “You stupid bard, i hate you”. 

Venti never knew why you were so rough with him, well not that he wasn’t complaining.  But he thought by now you would see his signs that he wanted to be more than buddies. But for now he’ll keep trying. Time went by as you were trying to get back home as you were just in a brutal fight and you had very bad injuries. As you were walking down an alley till you heard a voice behind you. “Y/n, are you okay?” “Yeah-yeah” “Oh Y/n come on let me help you”, you would’ve pushed him away but you were really hurting. Venti took you back home as he was helping patch you up. “Are you doing okay?” “Yeah I'm fine. You can go now, thank you Venti” “Wha-what No! You’re hurt really hurt ``''Again Venti i’ll be fine ``''Nope i’m not leaving till you are better ``''Venti ``''Y/n”. You two went back and forth till you gave up and just let him stay. 

As Venti helped you get comfortable on your bed he sat next to you and smiled at you. “What’s that smile on your face for” “Just when i look at your face i smile” “Shut it”. Venti laughed as you turned away from him. “It’s true Y/n you always make me smile in many ways”, you smiled to yourself a bit as you felt Venti get in bed with you. You quickly turned around as Venti jumped a bit as he tried to get up but you stopped him by grabbing onto his hand. “Are you going to sleep with those braids” “Um, do you want to help me?”. 

Once you were done you and Venti laid on you bed as Venti hesitantly cuddled you but this time instead or pushing him away you let him as you rubbed his back saying goodnight. 

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[pattonsfam-ily]

self destruct

ship(s): creativitwins & analogince (remrom/incest shippers/supporters dni)

description: Remus is having a rough time but his twin is there to patch him up (human au)

warnings: self harm, blood, alcoholism/relapse, eyelash picking, implied pica/disordered eating bc Remus, sexual innuendos/jokey flirting between brothers bc Remus, general grossness bc Remus, basically just Remus being Remus

note: so if you’re not following this blog and find this from tags this is a mini creativitwins focused fic for my sanders sides human!au/roleplay blog LRVerse/pattonsfam-ily where Logan Roman and Virgil are a throuple and live with Virgil’s older brother (my oc) and are best friends with the other canon sanders sides/shorts characters & more of my ocs

Remus was destructive. No matter how much help he got for his issues that was likely to never change. He enjoyed the thrill too much and he would never believe he didn’t deserve to cause pain to himself.

So, sometimes he got himself into some trouble. Like the trouble that had just transpired moments before he somehow made his way to his brother’s house alive.

“Hey, Ro! Your favorite intrusive thot has arrived! But, um, I did a little bit of an… oopsie…” Remus slurs, stumbling into the kitchen where Roman was.

“Ugh, what now? Remus, I swear if,” Roman starts to lecture his idiot brother, not even bothering to look up at him—he was used to his brother always just waltzing right into the house like he still lived there, he did still have a key to be fair—but he stops himself short.

His speech was slurred.

“Are you drunk?” Roman asks and finally looks at him.

He does not like what he finds. Remus’s hands are torn up and bleeding, and there’s a dried streak of blood down his chin. Remus grins at him, revealing blood stained teeth as well.

“Oh, Jesus Christ Superstar. What did you do?!” Roman yells, now making his way over to his brother.

“I… got drunk. Very, very drunk. And I wanted… a snack. So, like any sane person would do, I broke the bottles of the drinks I had and had a little munch. Big deal. No need to lose your shit, brother mine.”

Without another word, Roman gently grabs Remus’s wrist and brings him up to the bathroom.

“Sit.” Roman demands, pointing to the counter.

Remus hops up onto the counter, hissing at the sting in his hands. Roman cringes and grabs his brother’s wrist again so he can look at the hand with the most cuts. There was a small piece of glass embedded in his palm now.

“Sorry, I should have helped you.”

“Oh, please. I clearly enjoy pain.”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Okay, just give me a second.”

Roman turns to the cabinet behind them that held all of their first aid and rummages around a bit. Remus hums a little made up tune in the meantime which Roman would find rather pleasant if the situation was different.

“Okay, this should be good.” Roman mutters more to himself as he closes the cabinet, precariously balancing all of the supplies in his arms.

He then haphazardly dumps them onto the counter beside Remus once he turns back to him.

“Ooh, tweezers? What are they for?” Remus asks excitedly as he picks them up. “I use them to pluck my eyelashes.”

“You mean eyebrows?”

“Nope! I like to put them in jars so I can keep the mites as pets even though I can’t see them.”

“I… Okay, for the love of Artemis and Apollo, please just give them to me.” Roman begs, holding out his hand.

“Aw, Artemis and Apollo. Twins. Like us!”

“Yes, that’s why I say that, Remus. Please, the tweezers.”

Remus sighs dramatically but he does as he’s told, clumsily dropping the tweezers into Roman’s still open hand.

“Thank you, now come here,” Roman says, and turns Remus’s hand palm up. “I gotta get the stupid glass out of your hand.”

Roman thanks his lucky stars that he has steady hands and that Remus’s restless stim was just leg swinging. He’s able to get the glass out rather quickly and disposes of it properly before moving on. He does a quick assessment of the same hand and then the other to be sure there weren’t any other shards. He was clear so he picked up the gauze pads.

“What? I need to stop the bleeding.” Roman explained when Remus eyed him curiously.

“So, I can’t eat them?”

“No.”

“Lame.”

“Your mom is lame.”

“I’m telling.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Remus cackled and wiped a fake tear away. Roman just shook his head and placed one of the pads against his brother’s bleeding wounds. He then held his hand with his own free hand so he could apply enough pressure to stop it.

“Press harder.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Remus.”

Remus just giggled and ignored Roman. Roman sighed and pulled the gauze away to find that the bleeding had stopped. Thank goodness.

“Remus, listen to me. I need to use soap to clean the cuts. I don’t want them to get infected.”

“You’re lucky if I let you use water.”

Roman groaned in frustration but then an idea struck him. Saline wound wash was an acceptable alternative. Remus probably wouldn’t mind that.

“Okay, how about this?” Roman asks before grabbing the solution from the cabinet and showing it to him.

“Wound wash? Fuck yeah. Love that shit.”

“You’re not drinking it.”

“Aw. You’re no fun.”

Roman ignores him in favor of once again grabbing his hands so he could clean them. Once he was satisfied with that he grabbed the roll of gauze and started wrapping his hands. He tries to ignore the fact that his own hand was also bandaged due to self inflicted wounds. They were both idiots.

“Hey, if you’re gonna mummify me you should probably embalm me first.”

Roman decides to completely ignore Remus as well for the time being. He needed to focus. His stupid mouth was also all torn up. He didn’t know what to do about that. Logan would know. Once he’s finished wrapping his brother’s hands Roman pulls his phone out to text his boyfriend. He could easily just go get him but leaving Remus alone right now was not a good idea.

“Salt water,” Roman reads aloud. “Oh, yeah, that’s smart.”

“Huh?”

“Your stupid mouth. You need to swish some salt water to make sure the bleeding’s stopped and so it doesn’t get infected. Also you’ll be able to spit out any glass if you still have some stuck to you.”

“Mouth wounds heal fast. I’ll be fine. Plus I like having blood and glass in my mouth.”

“Clearly. But no. You’re doing it.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Really?”

“Hey, I almost said daddy. You’re welcome.”

“Okay, enough out of you.”

A moment later Logan appears at the door with a glass of salt water in his hands and a grumpy Virgil attached to his side.

“Babe, you shouldn’t have let them come with you…” Roman says, gratefully taking the glass from Logan.

“I tried to keep him away, but he wanted to see the two of you. He’s just concerned, love.”

Roman sighs, nodding understandably.

“Well, thanks, babe.”

Logan nods back so Roman turns to Remus and holds the glass up to him.

“Here. It’s probably gonna sting like a bitch.” Roman says, not as a warning but as encouragement.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

Remus smiles and tries to takes the glass but it’s hard to bend his fingers with his hands completely wrapped so Roman grabs it before it falls.

“Never-mind, I’ll do it.” Roman grumbles and helps Remus take a sip.

Remus just holds the water in his mouth for a while and scrunches up his face in pain. Stupid bastard was enjoying it too much.

“Swish and spit. Do not swallow it.”

Remus glares at Roman and tries to speak which of course only makes water dribble out of his mouth.

“Remus.”

Remus rolls his eyes and quickly swishes the water that managed to stay in his mouth around before spitting it back into the glass.

“Sorry, I was trying to say that spitting is quitting and is no fun. Unless your target’s a certain someone.” Remus lilts rhythmically.

“What… was that.”

“The phrase ‘spitting is quitting’ is boring so I made it more fun! Do you like it?”

“Sure? I guess?”

“Anyway! Thanks for taking care of me. I’m gonna go see if I can fit my morning star into my mouth now.” Remus says and hops off the counter.

“Remus.”

Roman grabs Remus by the arm before he can go. Logan who was still there with Virgil blocks the doorway as well just to be sure he can’t leave.

“You relapsed and hurt yourself. We need to talk.”

“No, I’m not doing that to you,” Remus says in an uncharacteristically serious voice. “I’ll be fine.”

“Reem, I’ve been sober for years now. I can handle it.”

“Sobriety can be broken at any time. Not worth the risk. Let me go.”

“Remus, I would risk my own life to protect you. I can risk my sobriety for you too.”

Virgil whining slams Roman right back into his harsh reality. For a moment it was just him and his twin. Nothing existed outside of their bubble. Roman almost wishes he could have stayed that way for longer.

“Hey, love, I’m sorry,” Roman says to Virgil. “Why don’t you and Logan go wait for me in our room? I’ll be there soon.”

“No, I wanna make sure you guys are okay.”

“I promise you we’ll be fine, honey,” Roman says and gives Logan a look. “I will come get you both if I need to.”

Logan silently nods his understanding at Roman’s look before picking Virgil up and walking out of the bathroom.

“Put me down!”

Roman sighs and quickly closes the door before Virgil can try to escape Logan’s hold and make his way back. Once he’s sure they’re gone he turns around and leans against it.

“Remus. Please talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

The twins both laugh at this which is enough to ease some of the tension between them. Progress, Roman thinks.

“Okay, look, Ro, I… I’ll talk about this at some point… Just not now, okay? I can’t.” Remus says softly, staring down at the floor.

Roman frowns at his brother’s dejected demeanor. It was so unlike him. Even when he was at his absolute worst he was always grinning like a madman and cracking jokes about his problems. He would even talk about them excitedly, like they were fun to endure. This was completely different and Roman did not like it at all.

“Did something happen? Something new?”

Remus looks back up and Roman is horrified at the unshed tears in his eyes. He only ever cried when something seriously fucked happened.

“Reem…”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Why? Are you in danger? Did someone threaten you? Because I swear to Zeus I will tear them apart with my bare hands.”

“Ro, you,”

“And my sword.”

“I get it. But, Ro, silly, you know threats don’t work on lil ol’ me. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what. Come on you know you can tell me anything.”

Roman steps forward and takes his brother’s hands in his, giving him a pleading look. He was desperate. He needed to know what happened to his brother. He wasn’t supposed to be sad like this. Angry, frustrated, anxious, manic, and depressed, sure. But not sad. His depression was different. It didn’t make him like this. This was something truly terrible. It was killing Roman.

“Ro, you’re my literal other half. We may not be literally psychically connected the way people think we would be but your pain is still my pain. I don’t wanna put this on you.”

“Put it on me.” Roman begs. “I can take it.”

“Heyo, take me to dinner first.”

Okay, he walked right into that one.

“Reem, it’s not funny.” Roman says, despite his laughter.

“It’s a little funny.” Remus says, giggling as well.

“Fine, but I still really need to know what happened. If you’re not ready to tell me now then okay. But eventually you will? Right?”

Remus nods, his tears now falling freely. Roman hates to admit it but they bring tears to his own eyes. He opens his arms, silently inviting his brother in for a hug but letting him choose. He’d wait here forever for his decision if he needed to.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait that long though. Remus crashes into his arms. He definitely would have sent them flying back onto the floor if the door wasn’t closed behind them and he was definitely getting snot all over the spot his face was pressed against as he sobbed but Roman didn’t care. He was a prince and so it was his sworn duty to protect his fellow prince—or duke, rather—and he’d do whatever it took to accomplish that. He wouldn’t say that out loud though. Said fellow prince—duke—would just make a bunch of duty jokes and those were never funny. Instead, he says something else to break the tension just a bit more.

“Twin hugs,” Roman mumbles against Remus’s neck. “I will forever be calling it that. You cannot stop me.”

Remus giggles and Roman has never been more delighted to hear it.

[littlemissagrafina]

Mongoose on Ice

@comfortember Day 14. Encouraging

Summary: Peter grasped Morgan's hands. "You ready?"

She gripped back tightly, and Peter helped her slide over the edge of the dock, balancing her when she wobbled, her feet sliding out from under her.

"Whoa!" She breathed, eyes darting up to Peter's face. Uncertainty painted over her expression.

"Hey! It's okay! You're okay! It's slippery and feels really weird but you'll get used to it. You'll slide around, feel wobbly, and probably fall, but I promise you'll be okay and I'll keep you safe."

Morgan was quiet, eyes darting between the ice and the dock before she visibly steeled herself. "I've got this."

Aka Peter teaches Morgan to ice skate.

Read on AO3

Peter and Tony had barely made it back through the door when Morgan appeared in front of them.

She stared up at them with wide eyes and a surprisingly serious frown. She already had her favourite purple beanie squished haphazardly over her braids, and was holding her matching gloves and coat.

"And? Is it frozen enough? Is it good, can we go? Can we, can we?" 

Tony smiled. "It's all good, baby. Peter and I both checked and we used a little drone so Friday could check too."

Morgan's eyes widened even more which was something Peter didn't even know was possible before she threw her hands up and yelled so loudly that Peter and Tony winced. "YES! SKATING! Petey let's GOOO!"

She grabbed Peter's hand and started pulling him towards the door, but Peter tugged her back.

"Nope." He shook his head. "Not yet. You're forgetting something, Morgs. What we're the rules that Mom and Dad made?"

She blinked, head tilting as she thought before she suddenly started giggling. "Whoops. I need my warm stuff on. And I need to listen to you and not pull you around. And we need our skates."

Peter held his hand out for a high five and waited for her to put her coat on, they almost walked away but Tony cleared his throat, eyebrow raised as he gestured to Morgan's pockets. 

"Gloves too, Missy."

"Oh yeah." She quickly slid them on. Turning to Tony, she held her arms out and waved her hands. "Ready now?"

"Nope." He shook his head and scooped her up to give her a hug and pressed a kiss to her head. When he put her down, he did the same to Peter, just without the picking up because he really didn't feel like pulling his back today.

"Now you're ready."

With that, Peter grabbed the small duffle bag he'd stored their skates in, and they trampled out the door.

-

Peter led Morgan to the snow covered dock, dusting the edge so she could sit on the edge without getting icy bits stuck to her pants just yet.

He hopped carefully onto the ice below the dock, leaving him at eye level with his sister. "Okay, the dock is the safe zone for this. It's the resting area, the putting-our-skates-on area, the entry and exit area. Whatever you think of, it's that. Got it?"

Morgan nodded, eyes shining with excitement, her legs swing back and forth over the edge of the dock.

"Cool! So now what I'm gonna do first is put my skates on. Then I'm just gonna skate for a bit and get used to it and see how bumpy or rough the ice is. If it has lots of snow and uneven patches, I'll know where to stay away from while I teach you."

He hopped up next to Morgan and tugged the duffle bag closer to sit between them. Slipping his boots off, Peter set them on the do behind them and opened the duffle. He grabbed his skates and left them next to the bag, grabbing the two extra pairs of socks he'd slipped in with them.

"Actually, let's have a first little lesson right now." Peter held up the skates for a moment, "We both have hockey skates, rather than figure skates. I only tried figure skates twice but I tripped over the toe pick enough times and had enough bruises to never want to go near them ever again. And I just think hockey skates feel more comfy and secure so that's what I'm gonna teach you in. If you like it and want to skate more and learn more fancy stuff one day, then we can talk to Dad about all that."

Morgan nodded along as he spoke. "Hockey skates are cool and that's what you like. Figure skates for if I like it and wanna do fancy stuff later. Got it. Are they really sharp?" She questioned, poking at the stretchy material of the skate covers.

"Yes and no. They're sharp that if someone gets hit really hard with the blade, they can get cut up really bad. But they're not sharp enough to cut you if you just touch them or rub your fingers or hand over the blade." Peter paused and gestured to the bag, "Hey, take yours out and I'll show you."

Morgan fished hers out, leaving the socks she saw behind for the meantime. 

Peter picked up one of his skates and took the cover off, prompting Morgan to do the same. Once she did, Peter took both skates and rested them on his lap, the blades facing his sister.

"Feel the blades, mine will be a bit sharper than yours. Can you feel that?" He asked as Morgan brushed her fingers over the edges of both blades.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I can feel it."

Peter hummed, passing her skate back and taking the cover off of his other skate. "Mine are a little sharper 'cuz I'm pretty good at skating. Yours are more dull to help you learn." He grabbed his socks, sliding one pair over the ones he was already wearing and then a fluffy pair for good measure. "They can't be too dull or your slip around too much and fall, but, while you're learning, it will be easier than having ones that grip and cut deeper in the ice the same way that mine do."

Peter slipped the skates on, tugging and pulling at his laces until they were tied so the boot of the skate was snug over his whole foot, especially his ankle. He repeated it with the one and tossed his skate covers into the bag before carefully hopping down onto the ice. It had been a while since he'd last skated and he needed to get used to the feel of the ice again.

"How are we doing so far, Mongoose? Not overloading you with any of this?"

Morgan shook her head, mimicking Peter's earlier action and taking out her other skate and socks. "Nope. It's interesting. I like when you explain things to me. I like learning."

Peter grinned at her, sliding backwards a bit. "I know you do. I do too. I'm gonna check out the ice a bit like I said, then I'll help you put your skates on."

"Can I start putting my socks on?" Morgan asked, already reaching for them while Peter nodded.

"Yeah, you can. Put the normal pair over your socks you have on now and then the fluffy pair last, like I did."

Morgan had already started tugging her boots off, so Peter pushed off, wobbling slightly before his 'ice legs' took over and he was gliding smoothly over the lake. He arched around in a fairly large circle, going back and forth until he was sure there were no hazards, be it snow piles or sticks or whatever could have blown onto the ice.

He skated back to Morgan, taking a moment to spun and start skating backwards, sliding smoothly to a stop in front of the dock.

Morgan handed over her skates, wiggling her fluffy, purple sock covered toes at him. "Can I lace them myself?"

Peter shocked his head. "Not this time. They've gotta be pretty tight so your ankle doesn't wobble in the boot and you don't get hurt. We use extra socks so we can minimize blisters and stuff, too. Your skates are new, so they'll be hard to lace for a while but once you've broken them in more, you can do the lacing for yourself."

Peter looked up, catching sight of Tony and Pepper walking down from the house as he slid both skates over Morgan's feet. He was almost done with lacing them when their parents stepped onto the dock.

"Guys, look! I have my skates on!" Morgan beamed up at them as they settled a thick blanket on the edge of the dock and sat down themselves, another blanket and a flask was placed next to them.

Tony smiled back and Pepper leant over, pressing a kiss to Morgan's forehead as she straightened the purple beanie. "We see, Baby. How's the ice, Pete?" 

Peter looked up at them as he double checked the laces on Morgan's skates. "Pretty good. It's frozen over really smoothly and there isn't too much snow on it that we'll get tripped up over. No sticks or anything either."

Peter grasped Morgan's hands. "You ready?"

She gripped back tightly, and Peter helped her slide over the edge of the dock, balancing her when she wobbled, her feet sliding out from under her.

"Whoa!" She breathed, eyes darting up to Peter's face. Uncertainty painted over her expression. 

"Hey! It's okay! You're okay! It's slippery and feels really weird but you'll get used to it. You'll slide around, feel wobbly, and probably fall, but I promise you'll be okay and I'll keep you safe."

Morgan was quiet, eyes darting between the I and the dock before she visibly steeled herself. "I've got this."

Peter cheered, Pepper and Tony calling out with their own encouragements.

"First things first, keep your blades as straight as possible for now, twisting, angling, and leaning to steer can come later. For now it's just balance. So keep them straight and try to keep your feet under you at shoulder width."

He nudged her skates slightly with his to help her pull them closer together, squeezing her hands in praise when she balanced herself on them automatically.

"Next. Don't haunch over too much or you lose balance. Leaning over is good for when you're going fast, but too much while you're learning or slow and you'll get all wobbly. Same with standing up too straight. That way can make you fall backwards if you lean too far back in your heels to stand so straight. So try to be in between the two."

Morgan only wobbled slightly as she stood up a bit straighter, but she beamed up at Peter when she kept her balance.

"Perfect!" He cheered. "Try and stay like that. I'm going to skate backwards and pull you along. I'll hold your hands just like this and we'll go super slow. If you slip, I can catch you easily."

He felt Morgan tense when he pushed off, leading them slightly away from the dock but not so far in the middle that Morgan would feel scared.

"I'm gonna turn a bit so we can go in a big circle. I'll go wide, so don't worry about trying to turn, I'm just showing you have it all feels, okay?"

Morgan nodded, excitement returning as she relaxed, adjusting to the feel of the ice even though she wasn't doing much herself.

Peter pulled her around for a while, stopping at the dock every now and then to let her stand and balance on her own in between being guided around.

After a while, Morgan asked to try skating forward on her own, so Peter stood next to her just past the dock. He showed her the way to lean from side to side to guide forward without having to pick up her feet, switching to teaching her to pick up her feet and actually push off once she had settled and got bored with just gliding forward.

Peter jumped and cheered, just barely dodging a fall in his excitement when she pushed herself across the ice without his help. He seriously hoped that Tony got it on video. He and Pepper had been taking so many pictures and recordings of them.

"Go Mongoose!! You did it!" He hollered, whooping and darting around on the ice before gliding over to her and squeezing her in a bear hug.

They spent ages on the ice until Morgan was eventually pushing off near the dock and skating towards Peter where he waited to catch her closer to the open area of the frozen over lake. Then she would skate back and catch herself on the end of the dock or on Pepper and Tony's legs where they dangled over the edge as they sat and watched.

"Can you pull me again? Faster this time?"

"Not too fast, but yeah. I'll take you around faster than before." Peter laughed at her pout, but pulled her out all the same and soon Morgan was giggling, cool air rushing over them and the slight unevenness of the ice making her feet feel like they were being tickled in her skates. It wasn't enough to make her wobble totally, though. Peter made sure of it.

Crossing his skates over, Peter grinned as he guided them over another bumpy patch and Morgan's giggles grew louder. Back and forth they went until they were both breathless from the cold air and laughter.

Taking a small break, they were given a mug of hot chocolate from the flask that Pepper and Tony had brought down with them. Morgan chatted away, asking over and over if their parents had seen how fast her and Petey had gone and how good she was skating.

Leaning against the dock, mug cradled in his hands and Tony's at wrapped over his shoulder, Peter knew that Morgan would be dragging him to the lake as much as possible. 

He looked forward to it.

[screechthemighty]

Well this took all freaking week, didn't it?? Sorry about that, I had to re-write the beginning and a section towards the end. Next two chapters should still be faster to release, though. AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the whole chapter below!

the unknowable tomorrow | a tristamp fanfic part six: meryl

note: translation for "sound life" taken from the subtitles of trigun '98 ep. 7 and 8 (japanese language version)

.

She stepped out of the portal into near blinding sunlight.

Meryl shielded her eyes and looked around. She was standing between two rough structures. Almost everything in front of her was obscured by the light; when she turned around, she saw a towering structure not too far away. It was part of a ruined ship. There were more buildings, too, sprawling out from the ruins like spokes on a wheel.

Is this a settlement? A town? Maybe one of the cities… Though it didn’t seem big enough for that. The sound of voices made Meryl duck deeper into the shadows. A few people walked by. One was dressed in a patched-up version of the uniforms she remembered from Ship Three; the other was wearing a similar shirt, but with faded jeans. “...really don’t know if there’s anything else we can scavenge,” Jeans said. “It’s been almost two years. We’re going to have to figure something else out.”

“I know. I just wish we knew if the Plant carrier really made it,” replied the other person. “I keep hearing rumors that the Sinners are up to something that way.”

“Yeah, well, real douchey of them not to come help if they are.”

Meryl watched them go, then kept looking around. There were more people, a lot more than she’d expected. Most were dressed in sand-stained white; a lot of the outfits looked like they’d been cobbled together from other clothes.

Almost two years, Meryl noted. She grabbed her notebook and a pen out of her jacket and started scribbling that down. So…two years since the Fall? Which would mean that Vash is…

“Squawk?”

Something poked at Meryl’s shoulder, nearly knocking her over. She yelped and turned around. It was just a thomas, a smaller one, but with a gleam in its eye that said it was thinking about doing something annoying. “H-hi?”

Of course, it tried to bite one of her earrings. Meryl squeaked and backed away. “Knock it off - !”

“Brad!” The thomas tilted its head at the shout, but kept staring at her earrings. “Brad, get back here!” Footsteps darted over; a hand reached out to grab Thomas's bridle. “I’m really sorry, he…”

The figure froze. Meryl did, too, for reasons that had nothing to do with the thomas still staring at her jewelry. It was Vash. His voice had changed a bit, but she knew it was him the second she got a clear look. His hair was a lot more like what she remembered, poofy on top and short on the sides. He was wearing a new outfit: sleeveless top, white pants, no visible Plant markings to speak of. His blue eyes stared at her, wide and startled, as if…

He recognized her, Meryl realized. He definitely did.

…oh, no, this is bad. No, no, stay calm. It’s only been two years, so…yeah, if you look exactly the same and are wearing the same clothes, I’m sure that’s fine, right? No one has new clothes in a situation like this, right? And it’ll be what, over one hundred years before he sees you again? Maybe he’ll forget the outfit? Think I’m my own great-grandmother or something?

Right. Sure. She’d just keep telling herself that.

“It’s - “ Meryl had to clear her throat. “It’s fine. I think he’s just, uh…” She took a step back when the thomas’s eyes fixed on her earrings again. “...curious.”

“...yeah, yeah, he’s…” Vash adjusted his grip on the reins. “He’s friendly, I promise. It’s actually my fault, I should’ve kept a closer eye on him…”

“It’s fine, really.”

“He didn’t…?”

“Nope. Still attached to my ears.”

“Okay. Good.”

And awkward silence settled over them. Meryl hoped her face didn’t reflect how panicked she was. Say something, anything, come on, you’re supposed to be a journalist! You know how to talk to people! “...soooo…”

“Sorry,” Vash blurted, his cheeks going pink. “But, uhm, were you…you were at the Ship Five wreckage, weren’t you? You probably don’t recognize me, I changed my hair, but you…you saved my life back there. If that was you. And I really hope it is, because otherwise I probably sound really crazy, but…”

“That was me,” Meryl said. There really was no point in lying about it; she could try, but her mind was still too scrambled to make an attempt. “I remember you.”

Vash’s face lit up immediately. She might regret lying later, but suddenly, for the moment, she was glad she’d told the truth. He looked so happy. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I thought maybe something had happened to you.”

“Oh, no, no, I just…I went back to help and I guess in all the craziness I ended with another group.” That seemed like a plausible story. That kind of thing probably happened all the time. “I’m glad you made it okay, too. Did those people take you in?”

Vash nodded. “They’ve been looking after me since.” The thomas finally dragged its attention from Meryl’s earrings and focused on nibbling Vash’s ear. He laughed. “Hey, don’t complain to me. You ran away before I could feed you.” To Meryl, he added, “How long have you been here?”

“I…just got here, actually.” She hoped that wasn’t too suspicious. “Sorry, I’ve had a long day.”

“Me, too. Have you had lunch yet? I was going to meet Brad…er, human Brad, but then this one got away from me.”

Lunch. Food. She actually couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last, now that she thought about it. “I haven’t,” she said. “I got kind of turned around, actually.”

“Yeah, this place is confusing at first. Come on, I’ll show you.”

This was probably a bad idea. Meryl didn’t know what the effects of talking to Vash twice now would be, but she also knew she couldn’t back out. Nothing to do but keep going forward.

Roberto had said she seemed blessed with good luck. Time to find out how good it really was.

On the plus side, there was so much to take in that Meryl didn’t have a lot of time to keep fretting. She didn’t think the settlement was big enough to be a future member of the Seven Cities, but she could see it becoming a decently-sized town. Especially if they had a Plant or two. Meryl desperately wished she had her camera. No one would believe her for a second when she got back, but this was history. This was the dark ages of No Man’s Land, a period so chaotic and focused on survival that not many records survived. She should be documenting everything she could. And if nothing else, it would serve as personal confirmation that this was all real. Meryl took in as many details as she could, trying to preserve them so she could write them down later. She probably would’ve lost Vash if he hadn’t stuck so close to her. “It’s great, right?” he said.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Meryl said. “How many people are here?”

“I…don’t know? Uhm, not quite a full ship crew, but a lot. I didn’t ask. Brad and I are just here to help with the Plants.”

“Both of you?” Vash nodded. “That seems like a lot of responsibility. How old are you now?”

“Three.” Vash immediately looked embarrassed. “I mean. By birthdays, I’m three. Which makes me…twelve or thirteen?”

Meryl was startled at first. Then her mind subtracted two from three, replacing her shock with horror. “So, back then, you were…” One. Maybe a little older, but a few months of change didn’t make it any more okay. “Oh, Vash, I’m so sorry.”

Vash stared at her, his frown only growing more confused. Or maybe that was discomfort. He looked away from her. “You didn’t do anything,” he pointed out quietly.

“I know, but…you shouldn’t have had to go through all that.”

Vash shrugged. “None of us should’ve,” he said.

That was true. It seemed especially unfair for him. He was going to have to deal with the consequences longer than almost anyone here. “Still. I’m really sorry.”

Vash glanced her way again, that uncertain look still on his face. Had anyone spoken to him about what had happened? Or was everyone more focused on moving on? She could understand if it was the latter–they had to survive somehow–but that couldn’t have been good for anyone. “Thanks,” Vash muttered. He turned his attention to the thomas. “Are you going to stay put now,” he asked sternly, “or are you going to keep being bad?”

The thomas chirped in response and tried to bite his ear again. Vash managed to push its head away before it could. “You’re lucky I like you.” To Meryl, he added, “You might want to take the earrings off. They all really like that kind of thing.”

Meryl barely managed to get her earrings off and in her pocket before they arrived at a makeshift barn. Vash veered towards a man standing near the entrance. “I got him!” he said.

The figure turned to face Vash. She’d met him before, Meryl realized. That was Brad, the man who’d been fixing Vash’s arm. It was startling to see this younger version of him; he wasn’t that much older than her, if she had to guess, early 30s at the absolute oldest. “About time. Did it run all the way out of town?” he asked. His gaze fixed suddenly and very intensely on Meryl. “And you are…?”

She hadn’t felt that self-conscious in a while. Was it her outfit? Had she done something wrong? “Uhm…”

“She’s okay,” Vash said immediately. “She’s the one who found me after the Fall. She’s…” He glanced at her expectantly.

“Claudia,” Meryl blurted. It was her great-grandmother’s name; if she was going to be seen by people, she might as well try to make this a bit easier for her past (future?) self. “I just got here.”

Brad still didn’t look convinced; Vash scooting a bit closer to her and giving him the puppy eyes did get him to relent a little. “Right. Welcome to civilization, Claudia…or the closest thing we’ve got.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Get that thing back in its stall. They’re serving lunch soon.”

“Got it.”

Meryl waited until they were a good distance from Brad before whispering to Vash, “Did I do something?”

Vash shook his head. “No, no, he’s just supposed to look after me. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone we know here, and some people are…” He trailed off, then smiled at her reassuringly. “And he’s got a grumpy voice. Don’t worry about it.”

…okay. She didn’t like that sudden change of topic. Now her head was going to be on a swivel. People couldn’t have already turned on Vash, could they? Or…did they know what he was? Did that make him valuable enough to kidnap?

Definitely keeping my head on a swivel.

“He’ll warm up to you, really,” Vash continued. “You can stay with us…I mean, only if you want to. Like I said, it’s confusing here, and…” He turned his attention back to the thomas as he kept rambling. “...since we know each other already…”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Meryl said. “Thank you, Vash.”

The tension left his face immediately. Vash glanced her way and smiled. “Okay. Cool.”

Once the thomas was safely in the stall–Vash triple-checked the door as the bird watched, as if it were checking to see if he’d missed anything–they went back to Brad. He still gave Meryl a suspicious look, but didn’t protest when she followed them. Vash taking her hand as they went back into the town seemed to keep him from saying anything. Meryl kept looking around as they walked, absorbing all the details, trying to guess what this place might become in the future. It didn’t seem like they’d put much thought into where to put the buildings. November was the same way; the museum in the city core talked about how structures were built and torn down as needed, giving that part of the city a less structured feeling. A lot of people were coming and going from the large, ship-remnant structure in the center. Vash held onto her hand tightly as they approached it, like he was afraid she’d vanish.

You did just drop him off and vanish. He might be scared you’ll leave again.

He still had both hands, she realized. Was that loss somewhere in the future? Or had she somehow spared him that by being at the crash? And what would it mean if she had?

What else could I change by leaving here?

They made their way inside. The interior was similar to what she remembered from Ship Three and the one refurbished Ship building she’d been inside during college. It was dirtier, though, still very much a ruin that people just happened to be living in. Some hallways were on strange inclines; no one seemed worried as they moved around, so she assumed it was still structurally sound in there. She hoped so, at least. She noticed Vash’s footsteps slowing until he was hovering next to her. His shoulders developed an anxious hunch as they entered a larger and more open space. Brad’s body language changed, too; he acted casual, but looked ready to intercept…

Who, or what?

The answer came quickly. A lot of people stared Vash’s way as they entered a bigger room full of tables and chairs. None of the stares were hostile–curious at worst, if Meryl had to guess–but it was a lot of attention for a pre-teen with only three years of life experience.

Meryl squeezed Vash’s hand reassuringly. He squeezed back. Despite his initial wariness, when someone smiled and waved at him, he waved back. A few more waves and nods of greeting later, and he was a lot more relaxed. She remembered Vash’s smile at the bar in Jeneora Rock, how happy he’d been to see other people and be accepted by them.

He’s not shy. He likes company. He just knows that he’s different…he knows that other people know. Her heart suddenly ached for him. It wasn’t going to get any easier as he got older; $$6,000,000 tended to make people view you as a payout, not a person. Jeneora Rock had proven that, too.

Poor Vash.

“Stand storm changed directions again, so we may not be going anywhere for a few days,” Brad told Vash as they gathered up their food. Everything was carefully portioned, Meryl noted, not too small, but she’d probably be laughed out of the room if she asked for seconds. Were they trying to avoid putting strain on the Plants, or was this all they had? Or both?

“Will Ship Three be okay?” Vash asked.

“Not our first storm. They’ll be fine.” Brad gave Vash a stern look as they sat down. “You stay inside this time. There are other people to look after the thomases. Got it?”

Vash laughed awkwardly. That sound hadn’t changed at all. “Yeah…” He changed the subject quickly as they sat down. “Claudia, where’d you get that gun?”

Oh, the Derringer. She’d forgotten it was still in her belt. No wonder Brad looked so suspicious. “It was a gift,” she said. “From…my boss.” She was surprised by how steady her voice stayed. Maybe she’d cried all the tears she had in that elevator. “He thought if I was going to keep running off, I should have some protection. I guess I look pretty snack-sized to those bug things.”

“The burrowing ones?”

Meryl shivered. “All of them.”

Brad grunted in a way that said he knew exactly what she meant. Vash, meanwhile… “Some of them are just curious, I think,” he said in between bites of food. “We did land in their house.”

“You call that one that tried to eat you curious?” Brad said skeptically.

“No, that one was hungry. But that’s just nature, right? You can’t…” Vash trailed off suddenly, then stared down at his food. “...you can’t blame them for eating,” he said finally.

Whatever that thought had been, it slowed Vash down. Meryl recognized that look again–closed off, quiet, lost somewhere she couldn’t reach. She’d caught glimpses of it before in the rear view mirror; Vash always noticed her staring and covered it up with a smile. Guess he hasn’t learned how to do that yet…but how is he already so sad? He hasn’t been here long enough for that.

Meryl’s mind scrambled to think of something that could ease the sadness in Vash’s eyes. “So, uh…your thomas. Was he already named Brad?” she asked a bit weakly.

Luck was on her side again; the question got Vash to smile, small but with a hefty spark of mischief to it. “No, I picked that out,” he said.

Brad groaned quietly. “Yeah, you’re a real comedian,” he said. “Just eat your food, okay?”

Vash did finish his meal. It was more of a relief than Meryl had expected.

Almost the second they were done and returning the dishes, they were conscripted into helping close up the settlement. They’d be hit head-on by the sandstorm, they said, and it was a big one. No one was going anywhere for a while. Meryl tried not to flinch at the sudden attention, but fortunately, no one paid her any serious attention. It seemed like there was something to the old act like you belong and no one will question it trick, because as long as she helped and stuck close to Vash, no one gave her a second glance. Everyone here, at least, seemed to trust him when he said she was from another group.

How does he go from that to being a famed outlaw?

Probably because he’s going to outlive everyone here.

Meryl finished tying off the knot she’d been assigned–after school skills camp was finally coming in handy–and glanced Vash’s way. He was growing now, but he’d stop again in just over a decade, if the police’s assessment of his age was accurate. He’d stay the same; everything else around him would change, and a lot of it for the worse.

How lonely must that be?

Frustration at her inability to solve the problem reared its head again, gnawing at her thoughts as she worked. She was sweaty, frustrated, and hungry all over again by the time they finally wrapped everything up and headed back inside for dinner. She knew most of this was unfixable, or at least beyond her ability to fix, but there had to be something she could do. She was tired of just watching things happen. So tired of feeling fragile and useless.

And of course, that was when her arm decided to start hurting. She’d almost forgotten about her burn, but all the moving around and working must have agitated it. She tried to ignore it–she could look at it herself if she ever got any time alone–but that was easier said than done. She started formulating a lie when she noticed Vash glancing at her in concern. Fortunately, she'd come up with a decent one by the time he hesitantly asked if she was okay.

“Actually, is there any first aid stuff I can use? I burned my arm on the way here.”

Trying to be casual about it only half-worked. Brad was calm about it, got a first aid kit and started helping without much fuss. Vash, meanwhile, hovered anxiously near her as she carefully (painfully) peeled off her jacket to survey the damage. She hadn’t really managed to get a good look at it that night; she’d been more worried about Vash than herself, and wasn’t sure what she’d see when the sleeves came out.

Her right arm was surprisingly fine, though still a bit dust-coated. A little red, maybe, but she could pass that off as sun exposure. Her left arm had taken the brunt of the damage: a few smaller burns scattered across her upper arms and forearm like random bullet fire, and the bigger burn on her upper arm was still bright red and inflamed. “You’ve just been walking around like this?” Brad said as he examined the injury.

“We’re short on medicine,” Meryl said. It seemed like a decent excuse, considering the state humanity was in. “I meant to have someone look at it sooner. I just…forgot.”

“Might want to do that tonight. Only so much I can do for this one.” Brad started applying burn cream to the smaller wounds. “You’re lucky it was just your arm.”

Apparently, I’m swimming in luck. Meryl tried to distract herself from the injuries by looking around. Vash was staring at the wound intently. Just as she was about to reassure him that she was okay, his eyes met hers.

He knows.

She couldn’t be sure, but he was definitely underreacting to this. The concern in his eyes was slowly replaced by quiet awe; his head tilted slightly as he looked at her, as if he were trying to figure out what she actually was.

Fortunately, he didn’t ask any questions. Meryl had a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

I just hope I can come up with a good enough cover story.

.

She spent the rest of the evening watching carefully, both for anyone who may have worked out that she wasn’t supposed to be there, for anyone who might try something with Vash, and for her way out.

None of those things happened.

Not only did another portal never appear, but she apparently blended in well enough that she was assigned a bed and given a time slot when she could go get a bath. Meryl suspected she had Vash to thank for her invisibility. A simple she’s with me turned out to be a really good social buffer; basically everyone bought it when he vouched for her. He was decently trusted, if not well-liked. It made things…mostly easier. She felt bad about taking from their limited resources, and worse when Vash found her a change of clothes. He was quick to reassure her that the former owner had passed, so she wasn’t stealing from anyone, and just as quick to realize how disconcerting that reassurance was.

“It’s really not a problem,” he tried again. “Really. They’ve got enough for newcomers.”

Meryl’s desire for clothes that didn’t smell like humanity’s attempted funeral pyre won out over her guilt. “Thanks,” she said, taking the clothes carefully.

“You’re welcome. Uhm..” Vash shifted from foot to foot, suddenly looking lost and uncertain. “I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

She had no idea. For all Meryl knew, she’d be whisked away in her sleep. But she forced a, “Yeah, see you” out anyway before darting off to the showers. No sense in killing Vash’s joy when she didn’t know what would happen.

The showers were apparently spotty at best, so her “bath” was really just a bucket of water in a stall with limited toiletries. Meryl didn’t care; the shower she’d gotten on Ship Three felt like it was a lifetime ago. She still had the ashes of Ship Five in her hair. Even a simple wipedown and awkward hair wash was better than nothing. Between that and fresh clothes, she felt a lot better…but not able to think through her problem. Exhaustion was starting to set in.

When did I sleep last? Over a century in the future? She almost laughed to herself. This is insane.

Despite her exhaustion, she thought for sure she’d have a harder time sleeping. Her thoughts were still buzzing like bees, and the sleep spaces weren’t private. She was on a bottom bunk in a room with a lot of other women, all friendly, but still strangers who might figure out she was an interloper.

Meryl was out like a light within seconds anyway.

She woke up to the sound of other people moving around and grumbling among themselves. It took her a long, awkward moment to remember where she was and why there were so many people there. She sat up straight when the realization finally sank in, her eyes scanning the room.

I’m in the past. Vash is twelve. I’m still here. She looked down at her new, borrowed clothes. White tunic, white pants, both a little big for her, but she was so far the shortest person she’d run into, so that wasn’t unexpected. At least I’ll blend in a little better now.

“I don’t know how you slept so well,” said someone as they climbed down from the bunk above hers–a woman with red hair, green-gray eyes, and eye bags that were probably a permanent fixture. “You were still out every time I woke up.”

Woke up why?

The structure groaned slightly as a gust of wind swept past. Oh. Right. The sandstorm. Meryl could see how it was disconcerting, but she’d grown up hearing those sounds. Every structure she’d ever lived in was stable enough to weather No Man’s storms, but never sounded like it. You got used to it after twenty-three years. These people had only had two. “Deep sleeper,’” she said sheepishly.

“Lucky you. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through a few days of this.”

You and me both. Just for very different reasons.

Everyone seemed to be heading in the same direction, so Meryl followed. The sight of Vash waiting outside the sleeping space was a relief. “Where’s Brad?” Meryl asked.

“He got up earlier. They needed him for engineering stuff.” Vash fell into step next to her, pausing to wave when a few of the other women greeted him. “I was going to help with cloth harvesting after breakfast…if you want your stuff cleaned, I can bring it down.”

Meryl had never been happier to hear a place had laundry. “Do you need an extra pair of hands? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“What did you do before?”

“Communications.” Another not-technically-a-lie. She was getting too good at those.

“You’ll probably be fine with me, then. Most of the specialized work is for…” Vash bumped into her to avoid running into someone else. “Sorry. Engineers and stuff. To make sure nothing breaks.”

He kept holding onto her sleeve even after he backed off. Meryl decided not to point it out. “Cloth harvesting it is, then. I don’t know anything about keeping things from breaking.” She’d probably make things worse, if her experiences in car maintenance were any indication. “I’ll follow your lead.”

That was how she found herself in a room that had once been some kind of lounge, going through bags of fabric pre-sorted by usability and getting them as clean as possible before they were recycled. It was a process she was familiar with; even in the future, clothes were handed down until they couldn’t be, mended until they couldn’t be, and broken down into whatever was still usable for patches, cleaning rags, whatever. Waste not, want not. That probably went double at a time like this.

She didn’t remember having to deal with this many mystery stains, though.

“This isn’t blood, is it?” she whispered to Vash.

He examined the stain carefully. “Rust,” he said. “It’s fine if it doesn’t come off. That’s a rags bag anyway.”

Meryl breathed a sigh of relief and got to work scrubbing. “So…I assume this isn’t everything you do for fun around here.”

Vash laughed quietly. “No. I have a book I’m reading. The adults play cards, but Brad said I shouldn’t because I don’t have a poker face and I’d just lose all the time. They’ve been surveying when there’s no storms, so I guess if you like walking…”

Meryl snorted. “Yeah, the never-ending sand and rocks are real stimulating.”

“Truuue, but some of the rocks have fossils in them. I’ve got two.”

“Really?”

Vash nodded eagerly. “They said that’s a good thing because if there’s fossils, then there’s probably fossil fuels. But…it’ll probably be a while before they can try to drill for them.”

Yeah, that’s not going to work out as well as they’d hope. Meryl didn’t say that out loud, though.

“One’s just a scale pattern but the other is a whole worm, one of the flying ones. I left them back on the ship so I wouldn’t lose them,” Vash finished as he wrung out a slightly more intact shirt. “If you ever visit…” There was a spark of hope in his eyes. Meryl wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it really just that she’d saved him two years ago? Was that all it took?

How lonely must he be if it were something that simple?

“Yeah,” Meryl said. “I’d like that.”

Vash beamed.

They were silent for a while afterwards, focused on their tasks. Vash hummed his tune to himself as Meryl finished the last of her assigned bag and started cleaning her own clothes. It didn’t sound so somber this time. It actually sounded happy. It made the process of scrubbing ash and dust out of her jacket a little less grim. She got most of the stains out. She also scrubbed the Bernadelli logos, already faded from her weeks following Vash, down to smudges. Good, she thought. One less thing for people to ask me about.

She’d get a lot of questions when she got back…or, then again, maybe not. She’d been hunting the Humanoid Typhoon, after all. She doubted anyone would be shocked if she came back looking like she’d been through the wringer. Most people would say she was lucky to be alive at all.

Vash let out a startled eep as he nearly knocked over his washtub, just barely catching it in time to avoid getting wet. Meryl bit back a smile. He might’ve looked closer to the adult she knew, but it was still hard sometimes to see how that clumsy kid could grow up into the…still ridiculous and clumsy, but also highly competent adult she’d remembered.

Maybe he could’ve stayed like this if life hadn’t made things so difficult for him.

Everything was hung up to dry, and then they got started on mending. As in the future, mending time really meant gossip with your friends time. Meryl’s first instinct–one she called an investigative urge, but that other people called “being nosy”–was to eavesdrop. Gather as much information as possible. Figure out how this place worked, and what people were worried about two years post-Fall.

…might be a second storm right after…

That’s not normal, right?

I don’t think we can say what counts as “normal” here…

…he just seems a little young to be a plant engineer. I didn’t even know they had kids in cold sleep.

Who cares? We still have power because of him. He could be a bundle of worms in fake human skin for all I care.

Meryl wondered how true that sentiment really was.

“Has everyone been treating you okay?” Meryl asked.

Vash looked up from the patch he was sewing. He had very neat stitches. Meryl was a little jealous. “Yeah. Why?” he said.

“Well, you…” There really was no good way to say you’re not human and that might bother people, was there? “...people can be…unkind if they don’t understand something. It’s not right, but…”

Vash’s gaze stayed a little too focused on the patch for a little too long. “They know I’m here to help,” he said finally, “so it’s fine.” He tried to force a smile. He wasn’t very good at it yet. “You don’t have to worry.”

Meryl thought about the impossibly small infant that clutched at her finger, already so full of joy. About the frightened child, still just small enough for her to carry. She thought about the Vash who smiled at Tonis’s bugs, who pushed her out of the way of danger, who’d insisted on staying in that town to bury a man who had tried to kill him.

What did being helpful have to do with anything? Wasn’t it enough that he was just a kid? Or that he was kind?

Meryl moved in her seat so she was between him and the people who had been speaking about him. “I still will,” she said, “but I’m glad to hear that.”

“You shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m going to. Have there been any other kids your age?”

There hadn’t, but apparently a few women were expecting, despite everything going on.

Meryl wondered if she knew their families.

.

The next time she saw Brad, he nearly passed out into his dinner. Vash kept poking him in the ribs every time his head slouched. “Kid…”

“No sleeping at the table,” Vash said. “Your rule.”

“I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want.”

“Everyone has to follow the rules equally, otherwise what’s the point?”

Brad glared; Vash grinned brightly. “Luida’s letting you get away with too much.”

The lights flickered as a particularly strong gust of wind whistled past. Everyone froze, even when the lights stayed steady. “Vash?” Brad said.

Vash tilted his head, his blue eyes growing distant. “She’s…” He paused, then shuddered violently. Meryl grabbed his hand, but whatever the moment was, it passed quickly. His eyes refocused, his shoulders relaxed, and he squeezed her hand before letting go. “She’s okay. It wasn’t her.”

Brad sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Knew that patch job wasn’t going to hold,” he grumbled.

“Can I…?”

“No, no, you get some sleep. One of us has to.” Brad ate a little faster, finishing up what was left on his plate and standing up with a resigned expression. “Let me know if it is her, okay?”

“Yep.”

A few people started glancing Vash’s way once Brad was out of earshot–curious or wary, Meryl couldn’t tell. She held eye contact with them until they looked away. Vash had noticed their stares, though, and kept his head down in response.

Maybe there’s a reason I’m still here after all.

.

She woke up the next morning to a power outage. It wasn’t any surprise to her that Vash wasn’t there to meet her at the door again; they probably needed him for whatever it was he did with the Plants to help them work. She still felt worried until she ran into him–literally–as she followed the cluster of people brave enough to see if they were still serving breakfast. “Sorry!” Vash blurted. Someone shone a light in their direction; the Plant markings on Vash’s eyes flared briefly as the beam crossed his face. “Are you okay?”

“Bit turned around, but fine…mostly.” This place was eerie in the dark. It didn’t help that a lot of surfaces had permanent marks from the crash. Her mind kept filling in how much worse it must’ve looked in the immediate aftermath. She wasn’t a firm believer in ghosts, but a place like this made it hard not to. “Not a Plant problem?”

Vash shook his head. “It’s…wiring, maybe? Brad wasn’t happy about it. They may have to go outside.”

In all of this? They walked past a window as they moved through the ship-settlement. It was only marginally brighter out, and all that light showed was sand swirling by. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

“It’s that or risk a fire. If they can’t get everything fixed, they'll have to redirect the Plant to something else.” Vash peered out the window and pointed at a barely-visible structure. “She’s in there with the others.”

The distance between them and the Plant storage wasn’t too far logically, but it would probably take twice as long with all this wind. Meryl did not envy anyone who had to go out in that. “So, you and me again today?”

Vash looked up at her and beamed. “Yeah!”

It still took her off guard how normal he could be.

Breakfast was still being served, even if it was cold. They took a detour to bring some food to Brad, who had the same middle-distance exhausted stare Meryl was used to seeing from Roberto (though fortunately, it was the only thing about him that reminded her of Roberto). He didn’t even crack a smile when Vash told him he’d made sure to grab the right cut of jerky for him. His mumbled “thanks” did seem less rough than usual. Meryl thought there was something in Brad’s quick glance away from his food. Less fondness, more…guilt?

Vash didn’t seem to see it. Either that or he was ignoring it. Vash seemed to ignore a lot of things.

The mending circles huddled a lot more closely together, surrounding the handful of rechargeable lights in the space. The lights still weren’t back on by the time they finished, not that they had much left. Meryl found herself fiddling with a square-ish piece of fabric while Vash dug through his bag for something. “...know I packed it, I think it’s just…” His head bobbed back above the surface of the table, then did a double-take. “What is that?”

“Oh, it’s…” Meryl sighed and stared down at the attempt. “I’m…trying to make a crane? Not like the machinery. It’s a kind of old Earth animal, I guess.” She nearly started undoing her work, but Vash was staring at it so intently that she couldn’t bring herself to wreck it in front of him. “My mom showed me how to make them. It works better with paper.” A part of her cringed at doing it, but she pulled out her notebook and carefully tore out a square-ish piece from one of the empty back pages. “See, like this…”

The movements were automatic, even in the low light. Meryl must’ve made dozens of them throughout her life. Vash’s eyes stayed fixed on her hands, somehow growing wider and wider the longer it went on. “Like that, see?” She passed him the finished product. “Head, wings, tail…obviously, they didn’t look exactly like that, but…”

Vash held the crane carefully. “That’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “Your mom showed you?”

“Yeah, back when I was a kid.” The sudden ache of homesickness was accompanied by a deep sense dread. Her parents would flip if they learned about this. They worried about her back when she was just running around the office giving out coffee. Now she’d been sent to the past while chasing down Vash the Stampede. Good thing this whole situation was so unbelievable; she’d only have to lie about the rest of it. She shoved that thought away and kept talking: “There’s a legend that says if you fold one thousand of them, you’ll get one wish granted.”

Vash’s fingers brushed over the wings. “...I don’t think we have enough paper for that,” he said quietly.

Meryl wondered what he would wish for if they did. For Rem to come back? For his brother to stop being evil? For an end to all of this? Now she felt bad for bringing it up, like she’d given him false hope. “There’s other designs you can make,” she said. “Like…maybe…” She finally unfolded her first cloth attempt and tried something else. “This might work a bit better.”

The resulting box was lopsided and didn’t want to stay upright, but it was enough for Vash to understand what she was trying for. Vash was still fascinated, despite how bad it looked. He eagerly told her he’d be right back, ran off, and returned with a solid handful of some wrinkled but mostly flat metallic paper. “Would these work? They haven’t figured out how to recycle them yet.”

It looked like the packages for sanitary bandages. The phrase do not use if seal is broken printed in multiple languages was a bit of a giveaway. “That should, actually.” It wasn’t quite paper, but it held a crease. “I think that’ll be perfect.”

Vash was a fast and eager learner. Meryl showed him boxes, cranes, butterflies (like worms, but prettier), and hearts. She tore a longer piece into strips and showed him how to make stars, which Vash really liked. He probably would have been content to keep making those the rest of the day had the power not come back on. Murmured thanks to assorted deities broke out around the room. Even Vash looked more relaxed. “She’s fine,” Meryl heard him whisper to himself. Then, when he noticed the look on her face, “Yeah, she’s fine!”

Oh.

Meryl knew that look.

But they were out in public around a lot of other people, so she decided not to ask. Not then, not at lunch, not when they got roped into helping sort cuts of worm meat (definitely not then, since she was too focused on not gagging to talk), and not at dinner, when a somehow even less chatty than usual Brad finally rejoined them. The closest thing to a response Vash was able to get out of him was when Vash showed him the origami they’d worked on. “It’s cool, right?”

Brad looked at the pieces and grunted. It seemed like a “yes” grunt. Vash definitely seemed to take it that way. He plucked one of the little stars out of his box and stuck it in Brad’s pocket. “There,” he said cheerfully. “Now you have one, too. For luck.”

Brad stared at Vash as if he’d started speaking gibberish…but he didn’t take the star out of his pocket, either. In fact, his next grumble almost sounded like a “thanks.”

Maybe Vash is right. Maybe he is just terse.

It wasn’t a surprise when Brad turned in early. Meryl was a little relieved; it finally gave her a chance to talk to Vash alone. “Are you worried about the Plants?” Meryl asked. It was an easy first guess; they were sitting next to one of the ship’s few windows, Meryl jotting down her notes on the situation so far, Vash staring out the window with a book that he’d never actually opened (Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, a story Meryl suddenly felt a strange affinity for despite having never read it in full). He held the book to his chest and stared out where the Plant building probably was.

“...a little?” Vash said. “It’s…I’m sure everything is…”

There it was again. If this were the future, Vash would be deflecting with a goofy smile and a well-timed change of subject. Here and now, his responses were too slow, his anxious body language too obvious. “You can tell me,” Meryl said as she tucked her notepad away. See? Off the record. “I won’t even tell Brad if you don’t want me to.”

Vash tucked his knees up to his chest. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I still feel kinda shaky, but I don’t know if I’m feeling something from them or if it’s from me.”

“Shaky, like…hungry? Tired? Nervous?”

“...a little bit nervous?”

Probably more than a little bit. “Why? Is it something I…”

Vash immediately shook his head. “No, no, not you! I actually feel a lot better now that you’re here.” He smiled at her gratefully before looking back out the window. “I wasn’t expecting Brad to be so busy this trip. He doesn’t usually leave me alone this much.”

She remembered Brad’s suspicion when he first saw her, the way he seemed to scan every group that got too close or stared too long. “...has Brad been keeping people from bothering you?”

“No…I mean, not here…”

“But he has other places.”

Vash didn’t answer. Meryl didn’t need any of her journalism classes to put the pieces together. “Do they know?” she asked softly.

“Some do. Some…only know a little.” His blue eyes met Meryl’s. For the first time this entire conversation, he looked nervous. “Does it bother you?”

“What? No, no, no.” She felt guilty for a second, horrifically guilty. Vash didn’t know about this yet, but she still wished she hadn’t reacted the way she had on the sand steamer, that she hadn’t frozen in place and looked at him with…fear? Confusion? She still didn’t know how she’d felt then, but it was definitely something that could be mistaken for fear. Fear for something he couldn’t control. Fear for something he hadn’t asked for. “I don’t know everything about you, but that doesn’t mean it bothers me. I just…have to learn. Nothing wrong with that. That’s how everyone should be acting. And if they’re not…you don’t have to put up with it.” Vash immediately looked skeptical. “Yeah, I know, that can be hard. I have to do it, too. It’s not the same thing, but people underestimate me all the time.”

“Why?!”

“I’m new at my job. I’m only twenty-three…don’t look at me like that! That’s young for an adult!” Meryl had to bite back a laugh at the baffled look on Vash’s face. A twenty-ish year age gap probably seemed ancient to him. “The point is…I can’t always make them change their minds, and maybe I’m not always right, but I told myself when I started doing this that I wasn’t going to let people talk over me. Even if I can’t change their minds…” She tapped her chest. “...it’s important to remind myself. You know?”

Vash seemed to think about what she said, then nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I think I know what you mean.”

Meryl wasn’t sure he sounded convinced. She thought about asking, but something in his eyes said that door was closed. She’d only make things worse if she tried to force it out of him. Give it time. Look for another way in. But for now…

“Is the book good?”

Vash hugged it more tightly to him and smiled sadly. “Not as good as the first time I heard it.”

Meryl pictured a much younger Vash safe in his bed, dropping off to sleep as the woman from the ship told him a story. About every second of childhood that had been torn away from him.

She could see how it wouldn’t be as good now.

.

The next day had all the controlled chaos of a sand steamer station right before departure.

The first of the sandstorms was about to blow over, leaving a small gap before the second one hit. People scrambled to check equipment, repair damage, even leave if they were heading away from the storm. Brad and Vash weren’t in that group; the path back to Ship Three took them right through where the storm was coming from. They’d be staying put a little longer. Brad was assisting with repairs, leaving Meryl and Vash to stay out of the way.

Second storm’s coming, they’re calling everyone inside now…

Just wish we still had radar…

Are we sure everything is secure?

Vash was holding tightly to her hand again. A gust of wind, sharp as a warning shot, made the wall behind them tremble. Vash’s head shot up, his body going tense. “What?” Meryl asked, suddenly nervous.

“I need to find Brad.”

He was on her feet and dragging her after him before she had time to ask questions. Meryl kept holding on and helped him force his way through the crowds. No sign of Brad, but someone did see them. “Hey! Hey, kid!” Someone in a knit sweater that was almost as much patch as it was sweater ran over. “This is bad, right?”

He was holding a glass of…honestly, Meryl wasn’t sure what it was. Vash reached out to take it, his hand suddenly flinching back as they touched the glass. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Out of the faucet.” Meryl reached for the glass carefully. She worked out why Vash had flinched away; it was cold. She’d only had ice cream or shaved ice a handful of times, but she remembered how cold it was. This felt even colder than that. The texture of the substance, now that she was looking at it, seemed like semi-melted shaved ice, except the frozen parts were more jagged and harsh. “I’m not a Plant expert, but I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

“I…” Vash looked over his shoulder, back towards the front door. “Have you seen Brad?”

“No, we were hoping he was with you.”

“He was with a group working on the electricity plant,” Meryl said as she tilted the partially-frozen fluid. “I don’t know if they’ve come back…Vash!”

He’d let go of her hand and taken off running. Meryl passed the water glass back and went after him, back through the crowds, this time going in the opposite direction. She lost sight of him pretty quickly, but deep in her gut she knew where he was going.

She really hated being right.

“Hey! Kid! Hey!”

By the time Meryl caught up, Vash was already out the door and running full speed for the Plant building. Meryl scrambled to a halt at the doorway, her eyes widening at the scene. Vash was well-lit from the sun being directly overhead, but the storm was so close that it darkened the sky directly in front of him. He was running straight towards it; if he was fast enough, he might make it, but…

No, I’m not taking that risk.

There was a line of cord connecting the downed ship to the Plant building. Meryl could see chest harnesses that allowed people to clip themselves to the line. She grabbed one and started throwing it on as she ran out the door, ignoring the shouts of warning that followed her. Come on, come on… There were too many straps on the damn thing; getting it on while staying close to the line and keeping an eye on Vash took more time than she would’ve liked. The wind picked up as the storm came closer and closer, like an incoming grand worm ready to swallow her.

Come on!

She got the harness secured. She clipped it to the line and ran faster. “Vash!”

Vash finally seemed to register how close the storm was. He hesitated, looking up at the storm and then back to her. Vash turned around and ran towards her, a look of panic on his face.

Meryl grabbed him just as the storm hit.

The initial wall of wind nearly knocked her off her feet–probably would have, if she hadn’t been strapped to the lead. As it was, the panicked part of her wasn’t sure it would hold. They were closer to the Plant building than the main structure, and she had a feeling Vash would try to fight her if she went back, so she kept pushing forward, eyes closed, hoping that she wasn’t inhaling too much sand.

Please, please, please…

Her eyes flew open when hands grabbed her shoulders, unclasping the harness and dragged them inside. The door shut behind them. “Are you two okay?!” someone said.

Meryl gasped. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until then. It hadn’t helped much–the inside of her mouth and nose still felt gritty–but she guessed it was better than nothing. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay…Vash?”

He coughed fiercely as he carefully let go of her. “...I think I owe you two now,” he said with a shaky smile.

I think this makes us even, actually. But she couldn’t say that. He’d figure it out later.

“Well, that was…exciting, but I’m glad you’re here,” said one of the crew members. “The water Plant…”

That was all he needed to say. Vash sneezed once, hard, and dusted himself off. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

He was all business as he followed the crew members, much more like the adult Meryl remembered. She had to struggle to keep up with their long strides. “The tank is still blue, but its vitals are abnormal,” said the crew member. “The output tubes have started freezing, too. We’ve got engineers looking for structural issues with the tank, but…”

“Right. I’ll ask her.” Vash said it so casually. It was strange to think that he didn’t have to hide here, even if that came with its own downsides. Meryl jogged to catch up, hovering close to Vash’s side just in case any of those stares became a little too curious.

The Plant room itself, as always, evoked a certain amount of awe. Meryl hadn’t been in many, but there was always something about them–the grandeur of the lost technology, the alien build of the Plants, the knowledge of what they could do and how much humanity depended on them. One was curled up in her bulb still, but the other…

Vash broke away from Meryl and jogged to the second tank. The Plant inside was partially unfurled, the inner body visible but still curled up. Knees up to chest. Arms wrapped around them. It reminded her of how Vash sat when he was tired. The Plant lifted her head slightly as Vash approached. “I’m sorry,” Vash whispered as he rested his hands against the tank. “I hear you…”

The Plant reached out to him. The room seemed to go completely still as their hands touched. Vash slowly began to light up–not just his face, but stretching down his neck, his arms, even down his exposed ankles and the top of his feet.

The adrenaline rush came back, just like it had the first time. She was able to analyze it a bit more this time. It felt less like fear and more like sheer confusion. Her mind didn’t want to accept it as real. A human shouldn’t look that way. A Plant shouldn’t look that way. Vash existed somewhere in the middle, standing with both hands on the tank, humming gently as he met the Plant’s eyes.

But the feeling of wrongness faded more quickly this time. It was just Vash, Vash and his song, and whatever the Plant was saying back to him. Nothing dangerous about it.

It was just Vash.

Vash suddenly leaned away from the tank, looking up above him. “Something’s coming loose up there,” he said. “She can hear it rattling.”

Someone swore; crew members broke off to go check on the machinery that covered the ceiling. Meryl, meanwhile, risked stepping closer to Vash and the tank. He’d gone back to looking at the Plant. Her face remained impassive, but as she got closer, Meryl noticed the way her markings seemed to…pulse, almost like an anxious heartbeat. “...so, she’s okay?” she asked.

Vash glanced at her, then back to the Plant. “She will be, I think. They just need to get that fixed.” The skin in between the lines on his face grew pink. “I just wish I’d come sooner.”

“It’s not your fault.” Meryl looked away from him and up at the Plant. The Plant’s eyes stayed fixed on Vash. “What’s she saying?”

“Nothing right now, not really. She’s just…” He chewed on his lower lip, then glanced at her again. “Hey, uhm. Do you mind trying something?”

“...sure?”

Vash pulled one hand away from the tank and held it out to her. Meryl took it carefully, letting Vash press it over where the Plant’s other hand remained. “Do you feel anything?”

Meryl stared at the set of three hands–Vash’s, his touch light and careful; the Plant’s, all long fingers and pulsing markings; and her own, sandwiched between them, looking somehow wrong in comparison. She wasn’t supposed to be there.

But Vash had let her in, hadn’t he?

Meryl closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation. Without her eyesight getting in the way, she felt something vibrating against her hand from both sides. The vibrations were different, like the delay of an echo, or the alternating notes of a chord. It was like holding her hand against a speaker and feeling the vibrations of the voice or song–not a song she recognized, not any words she recognized, but…

“Something…humming? Vibrating? Is that you two?”

Vash’s fingers jerked slightly in surprise. “You can feel it?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

When she opened her eyes, Vash looked excited. The markings on his face pulsed like the Plant’s, but she got the impression it was eagerness, not distress. The humming from his hand matched it, and slowly the Plant’s humming did, too. “I thought that you might, I just…wasn’t sure…” He looked back at the Plant in the tank, beaming. “...you can hear her.”

The Plant was staring at her. Meryl suddenly felt very self-conscious, the way she did when meeting someone’s parents for the first time. She waved sheepishly. The Plant blinked slowly, her head tilting slightly. “Is that good or bad?” Meryl whispered.

Vash laughed quietly. “It’s good. I was telling her you’re a friend.”

“Oh.” That didn’t make the stare feel any less piercing, though. Did the Plant know, somehow? Could she sense that Meryl wasn’t supposed to be here? She had been sent there by something related to Vash’s powers, after all. Maybe another Plant would know.

How do I ask him about all of that without sounding suspicious?

The sound of clanging and cursing caught her off guard. The vibration against her palm suddenly felt so sharp and agitated that she yanked her hand away instinctively. It was like holding a very live, very angry worm in her hands, feeling its stinger scrape the skin without piercing it. “Are you okay?” Vash asked.

“I’m fine, just…” She flexed her hand carefully, “Really felt that.” She looked up, not at a sound, but a sudden absence of sound. There had been this grating humming coming from somewhere in the ceiling; she had just assumed that was normal until it suddenly wasn’t there.

Vash breathed out a heavy sigh. “There…see? All better.” The Plant must have thought so, because she started curling back up immediately. “There you go.”

It was so strange, watching her repeat back into that orb. So strange to think that all this time, there had been something alive in there, something that could…respond, given the right stimulus. A thousand questions suddenly flooded her mind. Could the Plants understand human speech? Human facial expressions? They didn’t seem to emote with their faces much, not that she had noticed. Before she could ask, one of the crew members approached Vash. “Did that do it?”

“I think so. They’re noise-sensitive. That’s all.”

The relief in the room was palpable. It could’ve been worse and everyone knew it. At least she hadn’t gone red. I never did find out what that meant. The Beast had talked about a Last Run that Millions Knives was saving them from, but…what did that mean?

There’s so much I don’t know. She was starting to wonder if anyone really knew. Vash may have been the only one who did.

Now that the crisis was averted and everyone had calmed down, it was decided that Vash and Meryl had to stay overnight. The storm was too strong for them to make a return trip, and they wanted Vash closeby in case something happened. They’d basically be sleeping on the floor, but Meryl had gotten a lot of practice sleeping in weird places on her impromptu road trip to find Vash the Stampede. At least in here, there was less chance of a worm getting in and crawling on her while she slept.

Ugh…

“You can ask.”

“Hmm?” Meryl swallowed down a mouthful of soup. “What?”

“If you want to know anything. I saw how you looked earlier. I don’t mind if you ask.”

“Are you sure?”

Meryl watched Vash’s reaction carefully. He didn’t seem withdrawn, his smile wasn’t forced, and, perhaps most tellingly, he kept eating as he answered. “You said you wanted to learn, right?”

She did. She really did. This seemed one of the safest places to do it, considering the subject matter.

“Okay, well…if you don’t want to answer anything, you don’t have to.” She took a deep breath. “But…okay, how does this…work? Where did you…come from?”

“No one knows. Independents just kind of show up. If there’s a way to tell if a Plant is pregnant, no one’s been able to record it or anything.” Vash’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t even know if they get pregnant. I could’ve just been made. Weird, right?”

“All babies are pretty weird, to be fair.” You were a cute little kid, though. She wasn’t sure she could say that, so she moved on. “When you talk to the Plants, do you hear words? Are the vibrations like another language?”

Vash inhaled deeply, his brow scrunching in thought. “...noooo? It’s…hard to explain. You know how if you know someone really, really well, you know what they’re thinking without them having to say it? It’s…kinda like that?” His spoon tapped against the side of his bowl. “It’s hard to describe unless you’ve actually experienced it.” The spoon tapped faster, then stopped. “Oh! Oh, it’s like instrumental music. Because there’s no words, but you still know what it means.”

That made sense the more she thought about it. “So you know exactly what they’re trying to say…that must help with misunderstanding.”

“Sometimes, but then sometimes I say something too human-y and they don’t get it. Like…what sour is. They really don’t get eating, at all.”

“So they don’t get fed anything in there?” There weren’t any tubes attached to the Plants themselves, nowhere they could eat. She’d always just assumed the liquid they were suspended in had nutrients or something they could absorb.

“No. Everything they need comes from…” Vash paused again. “...it’s like…a bright light? Like the sun, almost. All Plants are connected to it, even me. They get everything they need from it.” He suddenly looked self-conscious. “Except me. I still need to eat and sleep.”

But Millions Knives doesn’t. Conrad had talked about that. She wondered what else they didn't have in common, what it all meant. “Is it okay if I write this all down? I think better when I write.”

“That’s fine.” Vash looked curiously at her notebook. “Does it really help? Luida gave me one, but I don’t know how to start.”

Funny; she didn’t picture him as the journaling type. Her mind skipped to a memory of one morning when she’d miraculously woken up at the same time Vash did. He’d stretched out, sat cross-legged by their dead campfire, and stared out over the landscape, body relaxed. She remembered freezing in place, worried she was going to interrupt his prayer, meditation, whatever it was. But in less than a minute…

Whelp. That’s enough. And suddenly he was on his feet, walking a safe distance away from his camp to start doing push-ups. Apparently, he did that every morning. You have to keep your skills up, you know? He seemed to prefer staying in motion. Not the kind of mentality that led to sitting down and journaling. Then again, she could’ve been wrong. Maybe he did, and he’d just given it up when he moved off the ship. You probably didn’t want to keep a book of your darkest secrets in your pocket when you were on the run from military police.

“It can,” Meryl said. “I don’t think there’s really a right way. I just try to write everything down and figure it out after. It’s easier when it’s not just stuck in my head.” That went for stray facts and her feelings, sometimes.

Maybe I should get back into journaling. She’d been so busy with work lately. She was sure there was a lot in there to pick through.

Meryl put that thought aside and started scribbling down everything Vash had told her. She asked more questions. How far away do you have to be until you can’t hear them anymore? (Pretty far, actually.) Do they have names? (Not like how humans did, but every Plant he’d met had their own feeling.) Do they understand humans? (Some more than others, it seemed to depend on if the humans talked to them regularly.) Do they understand that you’re different? (Yeah, they know.) The most interesting thing she learned was what he meant by helping the Plants. The more they used their powers, the weaker their connection to that light that kept them alive became. He could strengthen those connections, repair them, basically give them a second chance. He couldn’t explain how, but so far, he’d been able to help every sick Plant he’d ever met.

“But if they…stopped producing,” Meryl said, “would that work?”

Vash thought about it, then shuddered. “I think,” he said, “they’d live. But I don’t think they’d be comfortable. They always feel so weak and sad when I help them. I wouldn’t want to leave them like that forever.”

Meryl thought about the rows of red Plants in July City. Did Millions Knives know that he was keeping them in pain or discomfort? She didn’t think letting them die was right, either, but…why not reach out to Vash to help them? Why just take them away and leave them like that? Did he have a plan or did he just not know any better?

Of course, she couldn’t ask Vash about that. Most of the questions she didn’t ask were about Knives. Did the other Plants know about him, about what he had done? Did any of the humans? Could Vash sense him, too? There were other questions, too, things that might help her piece together what had happened in July, but she couldn’t think of a good way to ask. As far as Vash knew, she only knew that he was an Independent Plant. She couldn’t start asking very specific questions about powers he didn’t even know he had yet. It would blow her cover, maybe even scare him.

It was frustrating, but she tried to console herself with what she had. She’d probably learned more about Vash the Stampede than anyone back in the future had. Even if she never shared that knowledge with anyone–and she definitely had no plans to–it was something.

Maybe one day she’d be able to figure him out entirely.

.

They had to sleep on mats near the Plants. Meryl was so tired after all the excitement of the morning that she dropped off almost immediately, even with the blue light of the tanks still illuminating the room.

She woke up the next morning with the strangest feeling gnawing at her mind.

She’d had a dream, she knew that much. It hadn’t been a nightmare…it clung to her like one, but she’d woken up feeling soothed, comforted, not afraid. It was only as she recalled the details that those feelings seemed strange.

In her dream, she’d opened her eyes to a space that reminded her of Ship Three’s flora garden. The layout was a little different, though–she didn’t remember Ship Three having such a large tree in the center–and the glass dome didn’t show the blue skies and clouds of No Man’s Land. Instead, she saw stars, more stars than she’d ever seen even in the middle of the desert, pinning up a sky of pure black.

Music drifted over the space. It wasn’t any instrument Meryl knew–more like a chorus of choices, singing the notes in perfect harmony. Vash’s song, she realized. She felt like she was floating as she walked down the path, trying to find the source. A few times, it felt like something was watching her. She’d glance up at the dome, catch a glimpse of something that was almost wing-like, a hand retreating from the glass, the feeling that the stars were eyes…but she never saw anything concrete.

One of the voices changed suddenly, breaking off from the chorus, the wordless humming turning into lyrics.

…on the first evening, a pebble from somewhere drops upon the world…

There was someone else on the path. She could only see his back from this distance, but she knew him. Pale hair, small and young again, his white clothes unblemished by the fire of Ship Five. Only a child.

So, on the second evening, the children of the pebble join hands and compose a waltz…

The song didn’t quite fit, but she had a feeling it wasn’t meant to. He was singing for someone else. Trying to call them back to him.

So, on the third evening… He stopped to pick a flower. Bright red, just like his coat. …the children of the waltz make waves upon -

“Vash?”

He stopped and turned around. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, Claudia.”

“What?”

The next thing Meryl knew, it was morning. Vash was carefully shaking her shoulder and asking if she liked coffee. He looked normal, but for a long second, she felt like he shouldn’t.

It could have been nothing, but she wrote the dream down anyway. It felt…important. It didn’t occur to her until she’d recounted the entire thing, but…

I feel like I was allowed to see it.

Meryl stared at the sentence. She almost crossed it out.

She didn’t.

She almost asked Vash about it, but she didn’t do that, either. A few times she thought he was going to ask her something, but he never did.

Maybe that was for the best.

.

The storm lightened up enough by lunch that they could make their way back to the main structure–this time with both of them in harnesses, cloth masks, and goggles. Brad was waiting at the door. Saying he looked unhappy would be an understatement. “Do you have a death wish?” he asked.

Meryl was glad for the mask; it did a good job of hiding her wince. Vash, meanwhile, just laughed awkwardly. “Sorry…”

“I leave you alone for five minutes…”

“Hey, it wasn’t the thomases this time. I did listen.”

“Drop the rules lawyer act. You could’ve gotten killed.”

“He was just trying to help,” Mery interrupted. Brad was right to worry, she knew, but it seemed a little harsh. “The water Plant needed his help. It was an emergency.”

Brad gave her a long look; Vash’s grip on her arm tightened, as if he were trying to keep her from jumping into a fight. To Meryl’s surprise, though…

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” It wasn’t quite Brad relenting, but his tone felt more concerned, less aggravated. “Okay? Just…get me first.”

“Yes, sir.” Vash relaxed slightly. “Sorry.”

“You’re lucky she was crazy enough to run after you.”

Vash beamed at her. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“It was nothing,” Meryl said quickly. “Anyone could’ve done it.” And I had to. I couldn’t save you in the future. I had to do it now.

She didn’t think she could live with herself otherwise.

There was some good news later, for Vash and Brad at least. Unless the storm made any unexpected moves, they would be able to leave the next morning. It was good to think that Vash would be safe again soon, but Meryl didn’t miss how he stuck a bit closer to her after their meal. There was an unasked question in his eyes, one that she was pretty sure she could guess.

What are you going to do?

Honestly, she didn’t know. She was surprised no portal had come to whisk her away by now. Last time, it had been pretty obvious why it may have appeared–Vash was safe, Meryl had carried him out of the wreckage, no need for her to stick around. This time, she wasn’t sure what the end goal was. Keeping him company? Making sure he wasn’t hurt in the sandstorm? Maybe once he had left for Ship Three…

I wish I knew. This whole situation was still barely manageable. She felt like she was floating in a mass of quicksand, only kept aloft by dumb luck.

I wish I knew what to tell you.

She tried to make up for that lack of knowledge by being extra supportive. They made a little more origami. She listened while Vash read to her from his book. (Something about the way he read some lines felt familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.) When it was time to go to bed, they took the long way to the sleeping sections. They walked in silence at first, but as they got closer…

“Hey, Claudia?”

“Yeah?” Meryl braced herself for the inevitable question. Her mind scrambled to think of a good lie or deflection. Hopefully something that could dull the pain of her answer.

But maybe Vash saw the hesitation in her eyes, or maybe he knew, somehow, because the question that came out instead was, “Is…it okay if I give you a hug?”

Oh. That was almost worse. “Yeah, of course.”

Vash’s arms wrapped tightly around her. He was already taller than her, but in that moment, he felt so small again. “Thanks for everything,” Vash said.

Emotion swelled up in her chest, the same feeling she’d felt outside of Jeneora Rock. She hugged him back just as tightly. Don’t cry. You’ll just upset him. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Not tomorrow. She couldn’t promise that. But later, she could promise.

“Okay,” Vash whispered. He held on a little longer; when he pulled away, he was smiling his hiding the sadness smile. It looked even worse on such a young face. “I’ll see you.”

He only made it a few steps before he turned back around. Before Meryl could ask what was wrong, he pressed something into her hand, hugged her one last time, and jogged away. When Meryl opened her palm, she saw one of Vash’s crooked little paper stars.

For luck.

Despite the ache in her chest, Meryl smiled. “Thanks, Vash,” she whispered.

She’d need all the extra luck she could get.

.

Meryl sat up suddenly.

The wind had finally died down. Everyone around her slept soundly. But there, in the center of the room, she saw a slice of darkness, darker than the shadows around it.

TIme to go. No sense in hesitating this time. She changed into her own clothes and left the borrowed clothes folded at the foot of the bed. One of the paper cranes she’d made with Vash fell out of her notebook as she slipped it in her pocket, but instead of putting it back, she left it on the clothes. Hopefully he’d see it if he came back to say goodbye again.

II’ll see you later.

The portal was quiet this time…or, more accurately, Meryl didn’t hear her name. Instead, she noticed that the air around it seemed to vibrate. Like the humming of a speaker.

Like Vash, talking to the Plant.

She’d have to write that down later. Meryl filed the thought away, braced herself, and stepped through.

What have you got for me this time?

[strawbxrryneptune]

Breathe, baby

Personal trainer!Southern!Bakugou

Porn with plot, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism??, praise ig, implied pining, my shitty endings

Masterlist

♡♡

You loved the gym.

Not because you liked working out .

It was a pain when you woke up sore, or when you got sticky with sweat, even though the high of a workout is always worth it, and it meant you could finally fit into that tiny skirt from the mall you saw last week.

What you loved was how your undeniable attraction towards your new personal trainer made for good entertainment.

Katsuki Bakugou.

He was beautiful, new in your city, came from some place down south, and you're sure he knew every time he saw you how much you wanted him.

You couldn't stop gawking, always looking at his ass when he showed you how to do the squats, doing over his pure strength when he did pull ups.

You had arrived right on time, stretching before hand and making sure you looked good.

You strolled into your training room, already hearing some upbeat music and seeing Bakugou doing pull ups, grunting and muscles shaking from the slight strain.

You stand in the doorway, watching sweat trickle down his neck, into the wide neckline of his cami, which clung to his body, nipples peaking through the shirt.

His jaw was clenched, little huffs leaving him as he brought himself up again. The veins on his arms popped against his complexion, and you startled when you realized you were drooling.

You gave a soft cough, alerting him of your presence and watching as he hopped down, red eyes locking onto yours as his chest heaved, cheeks pink and eyes low. The headband holding his hair out of his eyes was slipping, so you went into action.

You dropped your bag on the ground, making your way towards him quickly. When you reached your hand out to touch him, he narrowed his eyes at you and stepped back, cheeks darkening further.

"Somethin' the matter, miss?"

You smile, body flushing at the way he draws out the formality.

"Oh, I just saw your headband was a little crooked. Wanted to fix it, was all."

He nods, giving you a once over before pushing it back up his forehead, turning to get a mat out.

"Oh I already did some workouts before I got here. Unless you wanna stretch me out some more. "

The wicked smile on your face doesn't go past Bakugou, his vermilion eyes widening as he steps back, grumbling under his breath as he turns back around, setting down two mats and sitting on one.

"We're doin' yoga. Noticed how yer' body was shakin' las' time so we're takin it easy t'day."

You give his strong back a dreamy smile.

Fuck, he's hot, healthy, and attentive? You could feels yourself start to swoon.

You make your way over to the other mat, sitting on your knees.

"M' gonna guide you through each pose, then we'll do em together, yeah?"

You let out a breathy "yeah" in response and watch as he rises to his feet, towering over you, before positioning himself behind you.

"Gonna touch you now."

Shit.

You feel a big, heavy hand gently land on the middle of your back, pushing you to rest on your elbows.

"Stand up, but keep yer' arms down f'me"

You raise your lower half into a standing position, arching your back forward. Bakugou goes to your front and squats, taking your hands and placing them in front of you so you're in downward dog position.

"Hold it there for 15 seconds."

You close your eyes and breath in, shuddering when you get a whiff of his musk, smoky and sweet.

"One"

"Two"

You peek open your eyes, looking up slightly to see him looking at his watch, counting the seconds down.

"Six"

"Seven"

You take the time to really admire him, his strong thighs, the way you can see freckles dotting the exposed skin, the way his shorts hug his waist, his top riding up on his abs and showing off a patch of hair trailing down..

"Thirteen"

"Fourteen"

You close your eyes at fifteen, pretending like you weren't just imagining ripping his shorts off with your teeth and running eager fingers through his blonde happy trail.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the way he runs his hand back down your spine, easing you down and murmuring a raspy,

"Good girl."

Before straightening up and walking over to the speakers.

Dazed, you watch as he puts on more relaxing music, walking back over to you.

"M' gonna try somethin' a little more difficult, kay? Let me know if ya start to ache."

Oh, you're already aching.

Aching for that di-

"Okay, I'll let you know."

He grunts in approval, twirling his finger for you to stand up.

He comes to your side this time, placing his hand back in the middle of your spine and bending you backwards slowly, humming when you reach your hands to brace yourself.

"Doin' such a good job fer me, yeah? Think ya can be a good girl and hold it fer 30 seconds?"

You almost audibly whimper.

"Mhm, I'll be so good Bakugou."

He starts counting, a deepness to his voice that wasn't there before, and you can feel your thighs begin to shake.

Bakugou can't take his eyes off of you, the way you bend so easily, taking his every word so nicely, eyes hazy and dazed and so so pretty.

The way your thighs shake makes him want to drop to his knees and sink his teeth into them. He wants to mark you up, leave bruises on your pretty ass and then kiss them better, eat out your sweet cunt and stuff you with his fingers when you get too loud.

He was raised with manners, though, and before he does any of that has taking your fine ass on a date.

"Thirty."

You breath out a shaky sigh, letting his hand guide you back down to the floor.

You look at the time, almost jumping in excitement when you realize your session is almost over. You need to get home now. Your panties are aboslutely drenched and you don't know how long you can go without saying something too bold.

Bakugou notices your excitement, raising a brow as he situates himself on his mat.

"Got smwhere to be, Miss?"

You flush, images of you with your hands between your legs and a certain blonde on your mind flashing through your head.

"Nope. Just wanna shower and eat my loneliness away."

He chuckles at that, sitting in lotus position.

"You have any plans?"

He looks up at you, studying your face for a bit, lips turning up slightly when you squirm.

"Nah. I got nuthin'."

You gulp, copying his position and fiddling with your fingers

"Well, uh. Do you wanna maybe.."

"Spit it out, angel, times runnin' out."

You bite your lip, the way he rasped the pet name had your head spinning.

"We could maybe get something to eat,, together? I can cook for you,, Like a date."

You're met with silence, and you feel embarrassment wash over you for a split second before you see a rough, veiny hand on front of you, then feel a warm palm on your face.

You look up and meet red eyes in searing eye contact, his lips curled in a smirk and cheeks dusted pink.

"A date, hm? I'd fuckin' love to Darlin'."

You squeal internally, missing his warmth when he pulls away to count to 30 once again.

♡♡

After stuffing yourself and Bakugou with some curry chicken, you invited him onto the balcony, sitting next to him on the swing seat.

You couldn't take your eyes off him the entire night. He was wearing a simple shirt and joggers, but the top hugged him so well and his sweats were low, riding up everytime he lifted something from the top shelf for you.

There a was a thick tension in the air. You wanted so badly to lean over and grab his jaw, to kiss him and make him groan, make him breathless with pleasure-

"Hey, ya listenin'? I asked ya a question."

You stratle, realizing you were staring at his face for too long.

"Sorry. I just wanted to kiss you- I mean,, fuck-"

Yeah, you shouldn't have drinking so much wine.

Bakugou’s eyebrows raise almost comically, eyes wide and lips pulling back in a grin, his handsome face inching closer to you until you can almost taste him.

"Ya wanna kiss me? Go 'head, I ain't stoppin' ya."

You immediately crash your lips against him, wasting no time in bringing your hand up to cradle his jaw, moaning when his big hand curls around your throat.

He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth and grabbing a thigh with his free hand, dragging you onto his lap. You roll your hips slowly, relishing in the groan it pulls from him.

He pulls away momentarily to suck at your bottom lip, biting down on it before kissing the stinging flesh.

He fiddles with the hem of your sun dress, gaze burning into you.

"Can I take this off, Darlin'?"

You pant above him, shivering at how sexy he sounded.

Damn, consent was hot.

"I don't know, can you?"

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he flicks at your nipple through the dress, nipping at your collarbone.

"May I take this off, Brat?"

You whimper and nod, earning you another searing kiss before he pulls your dress up, watching your tits bounce out, taking a nopple into his mouth as his hand slides down.

He squeezes your doughy thighs in his hands, fingers pinching and kneading until he reaches your cunt.

You pray that he doesn't tease, you've been worked up for so long, and thankfully, he doesn't, slipping a finger into you and rubbing gently at your clit, picking up pace gradually and adding a second finger as you arch your back.

You pant and lean forward, hands lacing into his hair and hips grinding down onto his fingers. He groans into your nipple, moaning "harder" against you.

You comply, and he shudders, hips canting up to meet the downward roll of yours.

You feel your high creeping up on you, but you wanna feel him so bad, so you sluggishly push him away, earning you a confused grunt.

"Wanna cum on your cock."

Bakugou growls at that, lifting you up with one hand on your hip while the other pushes his sweats and boxers down, his thick cock springing free. You gape down at it, fat and veiny, flushed and dripping with pre as it twitches under your gaze.

His balls are fat too, heavy and round amd you just wanna take one in your mouth and suck till he creams from how good it feels.

Bakugou interrupts your staring with tap to your hips, slowly easing his way into you.

His thick mushrooms head pops in, and it burns so good. You feel like he's in your throat by the time he's all the way in, veins pulsing and dragging along your gooey walls. He leans his head back agasint the swing, mouth opening to pant as he move, feet digging into the ground and hips thrusting harshly into you.

His face is a dusty pink, eyes going crossed and drool starting to slide out of his mouth as he moans, hips picking up speed and fingers rubbing into your clit so good you almost collapse.

"Hah, yer so good, Darlin', fuck squeezin' me so good, gnna make me bussst"

"S'so close-"

"Mmh fuck, me too Angel. You wanna cum on my cock, Darlin? Cream all over me, make a mess of my balls and this cute little swing fuck fuck fuck- gnna bust baby, fill you up so fckin good."

You give a silent scream, arching your back and cumming hard, Bakugou following as he shoots thick ropes of cum into you, sliding down his base and pooling at his fat ball, still twitching.

"This is gnna be a bitch to clean up ain't it?"

@miggiisdumb @lady-bakuhoe

[phoenixyfriend]

The New Torch and the Teenage Veteran

(Read on AO3)

A very belated holiday gift for @brawltogethernow! I've never written this character before, but I hope I did him justice!

----

In May, there was something of a kerfuffle involving the Fantastic Four—or rather, Reed and Sue, because Johnny was at school, and Ben was visiting a friend in frickin’ Ithaca—and some of the so-called Defenders. It was cleared up quick enough, but Luke and Jessica—he got to call them by their first names now, how cool was that?—had enough experience with cops and the law to get some attorneys involved before anyone started talking, and definitely before they—Luke and Jessica—started asking Reed to pay out for damages incurred.

Who knew a PI’s camera could be so expensive?

Johnny spends a lot of time hanging around the Baxter Building. His friend count is… low, to put it bluntly, so he’s there when Jessica’s lawyer—Murdock—and Luke’s—Nelson—come by. They have a teenager with them, maybe a year older than Johnny himself, who mostly takes notes and hands things to people. Sometimes he whispers to Murdock about something Reed’s guys are doing, probably because of the whole blind thing. At one point, for reasons that probably have something to do with lawyer privacy stuff, the teenager has to leave the room, along with one of Reed’s assistants, and the Baxter paralegals.

Johnny’s bored. Sue him.

“You want a soda?”

The guy looks up from his phone, like he’s surprised to be addressed at all. He even looks around for someone else Johnny might be addressing. Then, “Um, yeah. You guys got, uh, like a vending machine? Or something?”

They do. The guy gets a can of iced tea. Johnny files that away for possible future use.

“So, I’m Johnny,” he introduces. “My older sister is the blonde in there, Sue Storm.”

He gives the guy a moment to process that, yes, the black guy in front of him and the blonde white lady in the other room are siblings, and follows up with, “You?”

“Peter Parker,” he says. “I’m Mr. Murdock’s intern.”

“You’re going into legal?” Johnny asks. He’s putting a lot of effort into sounding interested. So much effort. Look at all the effort he’s making here.

“Uh, no, actually, I’m aiming for engineering,” Peter says, “but I hit a bit of a rough patch, and Mr. Murdock was really nice about it and just… made a whole intern position for me? Mostly I do secretary stuff, and some web design, fix the printer, uh…”

He trails off, looking uncomfortable.

Johnny knows how to fix this.

“You wanna go up to the roof?”

--

Peter is a lot more relaxed about the height than Johnny imagines most people would be. He hasn’t exactly brought anyone else up here. Sue doesn’t count.

“It’s been a while since I got to be up this high,” Peter explains, leaning against one of the big ventilation box doohickeys, even though Johnny didn’t ask, because that would be rude, and he’s really trying to do better on the whole ‘friends’ front these days.

Also, Sue would lecture him about learning how to behave so he can make a good first impression, again, and he really doesn’t need more reminders about how much she’s been worrying about him being back to having no social life because all his so-called friends were—

Nope. Cut that. Not helpful!

Johnny is cool he is suave he is chill and a superhero and rich and a badass. He just… had to talk to this Peter guy like a normal person. Talking about being up high. That was a normal person conversation.

“Empire State Building?” he guesses.

“Stark Tower, back when it was, you know, still Stark’s,” Peter says. “I was… sixteen? Not a lot younger than I am, but it was a while ago, ‘cause… you know. Blip.”

“You got dusted?” Johnny asks, not entirely able to stop himself.

“Yeah,” Peter says. He looks uncomfortable, way more than most people who got to skip the five years. “You?”

“Nah, but my parents did,” Johnny explains. It doesn’t really hurt to talk about, now that they’re back. It’s just… weird. “I was ten, but Sue was already seventeen, which was close enough to being an adult that a judge gave her access to our parents’ accounts and, like… custody of me? But with emancipation? I dunno, the main thing I was aiming at with that was that it feels like she raised me more than Mom ‘n’ Dad did.”

Peter looks at him sideways, and the back out at the horizon, which is really just the cityscape, even from this high up. He takes a long sip of his iced tea, and then offers, “I was raised by my Aunt May. She, uh, she wasn’t my mom, technically, but she… basically was, anyway? I can remember my Uncle Ben—he died when I was thirteen—but I can’t even remember my parents. May was… she was everything to me. Only family I really had. So I get it, kind of.”

‘Was.’

Johnny… really doesn’t want to touch that.

“Did she do engineering, too?” That’s a neutral enough comment to make on that whole situation, right?

“She was a nurse, emergency room.” Peter smiles, and his eyes look wet, and Johnny would love to backpedal out of this entire conversation. At least Peter’s just looking out at the city instead of at Johnny. He’s, like… wistful. “She ran a food pantry? Like, as a volunteer? She was such an amazing person.”

“She, uh, sounds like it,” Johnny offers. He has no idea what to do with this conversation. Is this normal first-meeting stuff? Maybe it’s recent enough to be on his mind all the time. Grief does weird things to people’s brains. He remembers that coming up a lot in school, after the Blip first happened. Maybe he can just keep on the ‘family occupations’ topic and hope he doesn’t hit more trigger topics. “I don’t really… I mean, my dad’s a physicist. Sue does biophysics. Mom… isn’t really around, much, but Reed—you met him, Sue’s fiancé—he’s in aerospace engineering and astrophysics.”

He doesn’t know where to take that.

Peter takes pity, or maybe he’s actually interested. “Did they meet during the Blip?”

“Um, yeah, they shared some uni classes, sort of; he was the TA, and they started dating as soon as it wasn’t going to get them any flak from admin,” Johnny says, relieved that he can actually keep going. They already got kinda deep with the whole aunt thing, and both of them about the parents; maybe he should get kinda deep in response? That’s a thing, right, reciprocation in conversation? “Sue and Dad are really pressing down on me about doing college, but I still don’t really know what I want to do.”

That’s not even that deep. Dammit, Johnny. Be cool.

“I mean, isn’t that the case for most people our age?” Peter asks. “You’ve got time.”

“Well, yeah, but Sue and Dad and Reed all knew what they wanted to do, at least in general. I don’t even know if I want to go STEM, and that’s, like, a super wide category.” Johnny’s pretty sure he’d be good at it. He’s great at math, and Reed has him assist with ‘hand me the wrench’ duties enough that he’s picked up a lot just from the impromptu lectures that he sometimes gets.

But does he want to? Unclear.

“Take a gap year?” Peter suggests, startling him out of his thoughts. “Your family’s pretty rich, and you can afford it. Take up some hobbies, do some odd jobs, grab a weird internship that nobody else wants because the hours are too demanding or the topic is too weird for a full-time student; that’s how Dr. Darcy Lewis got into Astro, you know? Do some, I dunno… male modeling? You could pull off ‘Gap catalogue for the college prep,’ probably.”

“Gap?” Johnny protests, absolutely aghast. “Wow. I don’t know if I should feel flattered that you think I could model, or insulted that you think I’m plain-bread boring enough for Gap.”

“Sometimes you need a cool plate to distract people from how boring the food is,” Peter says. He’s definitely teasing. Maybe. “Interesting person? Boring clothes.”

“You’re mentally putting me in khakis,” Johnny whines. “We just met. What could I have possibly done to annoy you so quickly that you’d put me in khaki?”

Peter grins, and hides his smile behind a sip of his iced tea.

(Continue on AO3)

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Update

Hey I’m not gone! I’ve just been working out my notice in my old job and it’s been a lot of hours and then I got vaccinated and felt like death on my one day off 😖

So I will have the next chapter of An Inconvenient Affection up soon, I’ve got the first 3000 words of it written already, I just haven’t had the time to finish it. If it helps to know, it’s almost entirely fluff and smut 🥰

But as a little treat I wanted to show you guys what I had originally written for chapter 2 of this series. I wanted to make it more of a slow burn so I ended up scrapping it, but I thought I’d show you anyway

Alternate timeline under the cut:

“Well making drinks isn’t the only skillset a bartender possesses” he looks at her quizzically. “You gotta be able to talk to people, or let them talk to you I guess. It’s part of the appeal, getting people to trust you, to like you, and maybe a few drinks in you get them to confide in you, slip up and spill something if you’re lucky” she explains.

“You really have done this before” he raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“I told ya so, and on that note, tell me what’s on your mind, what brought you in here this evening?” She takes a dishcloth and begins to wipe up the little spill on the table. Spencer just lets out a small chuckle but stifles it when she looks at him. Her eyes are trained on his, awaiting his response.

“Oh! You’re serious.” He takes a beat, “Well, um, I guess my wife and I have been going through a bit of a rough patch lately” he tries his best to make it sound genuine, but something about the bubbles in the drink and Y/N in her sweats opposite him has him feeling a little giddy.

“Oh that’s terrible I’m sorry to hear that” she sympathizes quickly, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Yeah she’s been sleeping around behind my back, should’ve seen it coming really” he takes a long gulp from his glass, staring into the fizz at the bottom.

“What do you mean?” She probes, “Was she the town bicycle before you got hitched?” She says it as a joke but Spencer’s head just snaps up to look at her with confusion.

“What?”

“Everyone got a ride?” She wiggles her eyebrows as she explains and he can only roll his eyes in response, his face screwing up a little with distaste.

“No!” He’s quick to shoot it down, “Nothing like that!” He waves his hand to dismiss it before downing the remainder of his drink. “She was always out of my league” he says it with a shrug like it doesn’t break her heart a little.

“Spencer” she pleads, it comes out a sort of gentle whisper, “I’m sure that’s not true”

He shakes his head, “Nope, she always has been. To be honest I don’t even know why she liked me in the first place! She’s—” he takes a moment to think, “she’s so incredibly kind, and warm, and she’s so much smarter than I am” he smiles to himself.

“Well that’s definitely not right” Y/N says in an effort to derail him, Spencer’s tolerance for alcohol has always been bordering non-existent. She didn’t want him to say anything he wouldn’t feel good about later. But it was so hard to ask him to stop.

“It is, she’s just not one to gloat about it” he thinks for a second, “y’know what, she actually is one to gloat” he says it like he’s just realized it himself and Y/N lets out a small snort of laughter. “But that’s part of her charm too, she’s funny. The kind of funny that makes my cheeks hurt whenever we hang out.” His lips spread in a wide smile that reaches his eyes as he says it, just from thinking about her. “And on top of all of that, she’s pretty. Like so pretty that when I first saw her I couldn’t remember my own name” He goes to take a sip from his glass once again before noticing it’s empty. Placing it back down on the table with an over dramatic sullen expression. “Shame she had to go cheat on me, but it’s understandable I guess. She’s her, and I’m just—”

“An idiot” she offers and he starts to laugh, nodding his head, “don’t agree with me you fool!” She reaches across the table to punch his arm gently.

“You’re an idiot for thinking about yourself like that. Like you’re not the most special person. Like you’re not deserving of love, or attention, like you’re not desirable Spence” she reaches out to grab his hand and he just stares down at them, not daring to make eye contact. He had just humiliated himself by accident and had no idea how to walk it back.

“Y/N I—” he whispered but nothing else came out.

“Shut up Spencer” she sighed, “you’re my best friend for so many reasons and I can’t have you thinking about yourself like that” her words of reassurance do little to actually help him feel any better.

He felt like he’d just made this horrifically sappy declaration of love to his best friend and now he was being lectured on his self deprecating tendencies.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have said anything” he pulls his hand out from her grip, and rising up from the table. “I think I should probably get some rest, it’s been a long day” he wipes his already sweaty palms against his pajama bottoms.

Y/N clambers to her feet to follow him but he reaches his bedroom a little too quickly, shutting the door behind him. It’s not dramatic or petulant, the action just wreaks of upset more than anything.

Y/N didn’t want to pry, especially if he didn’t want to talk but she had no idea what she’d said wrong. For a second there it felt like Spencer might’ve felt the same way she did, she could see that glassy look in his eyes that she recognized from her own. But he’d withdraw as quickly as he’d opened up.

She took some time to think, gathering up the things from the makeshift bar and returning them to their homes in the kitchen. She busied herself until she found herself staring down at the couch, at the little pillow and duvet folded neatly and ready for use in the armchair next to it. She’d slept here so many times before but didn’t want to do it right now.

Carried on an uncharacteristic wave of courage she marched up to Spencer’s door, knocking loud enough that if he was already asleep she had a hope of waking him. He hadn’t done anything other than sit on the edge of his bed and stare at the doorknob since he’d come in. Willing himself to get up and just go back out there.

Thankfully he didn’t have to. All he had to do was open the door to a waiting Y/N, arms awkwardly fidgeting at her sides. He didn’t say anything when he opened the door, just waited patiently. There was a small lull of silence before she spoke.

“Just to clarify” she cleared her throat, “was that all about— were you— did you mean all of that?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. He nodded when he didn’t quite have the words yet.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just, had to say it sometime”

“Oh god you are an idiot” she breathes out before lunging at him, pulling him down by the lapels of his pajama shirt to capture his lips in a tentative but sweet kiss.

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

WINTER WARMTH

__________________

Hi, everyone!! This is a part of the Citrus Dome Snowed In collab! I’m so thankful to be a part of this round and super grateful for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten and @tomurasprincess for letting me be on the masterlist! I’m so excited, but I’m not super proud of this one, so please feel free to give feedback.

Masterlist Here!

Go see everyone’s super awesome fics and art pieces they worked so hard on!!

ART BY @brttpaige on Twitter🖤 Go check out her artwork, she’s fantastic!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

The snow outside was pretty at first, but now with the doors and windows to your small cottage-type home half covered, it seemed almost oppressive. With the power outage, there was no television to drown out the quiet, only deafening silence and the movement of your new roommate, Sero Hanta.

It didn’t start this way, you hadn’t always obsessively paid attention to his mannerisms. At one point in time, he was just a hero working for the same agency you provided medical care for. You were just support staff, until a dumb villain thought you were “important” and kidnapped you, leaving the heroes you saw as coworkers to rescue you. After that, the agency wanted you to live in the adjacent apartments, but you refused. Magically, two days later, Sero Hanta approached you asking about your spare room under the guise of his lease running out. You thought it seemed a bit suspicious, particularly that this gorgeous man had “nowhere else to go”, meaning no significant other to take him in. Of course, you agreed, being a nice person and maybe bit naïve. He moved his stuff in, didn’t make much of a fuss, and mostly left you to your own devices. That is, until you noticed some... abnormalities. The lingering glances, the newly installed security cameras, the not-so-subtle ideas to spend time with you of having meals together or watching movies, making sure you’d eaten or slept... He cared too much. He was so perfect- gorgeous, tall, easygoing, had similar goals as a rescue hero, funny, and he cared. He cared for you, which made living with him so much harder. You found yourself enjoying nights with him, wanting to sit a little closer, wanting to impress him with new dishes to make for dinner, ditching your ex’s sweatpants for cute sleep shorts, relishing in fantasies of his protective nature and dominating stature with your hand between your thighs... You thought you were going to choke when he started walking around in only gray sweats or a towel after his shower. You tried your best to keep eye contact, not stick around too long, not encroach upon his comfort in his own house. You failed to notice the smirk on his face when you quickly excused yourself or when you turned away too fast after being caught staring.

Sero had originally taken this as an assignment, although he did have a bit of a crush on you from the times you’d patched him up after rough shifts. He thought of himself as your own personal hero, but that mindset soon turned into more than just an assignment. He was protective over you, and he found himself getting defensive if you even mentioned another guy. He had tried flirting within reason, just making dinners and watching movies, but he got cocky when he had walked past your door one night and heard your little whimpers. He decided to test his theory, wearing his sweats lower than he normally would and walking back to his room in a towel, and delighting in strolling past your room to hear your muffled moans and the vibrations of the toy you never used to use. You were getting desperate, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego to hear his name through the walls. This, however, was NOT something he’d planned on.

Everything was fine, being stuck in the house together was nice, until the power went out. The heat somewhat remained in the house until night, when you curled up on the couch under every blanket you had and he layered on an extra hoodie and lounged next to you. He looked cold...

“H-Hey... Sero? Um... You look cold. Do you want a blanket?”

“Hmmm, but then wouldn’t you be cold too?” He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well... Maybe... But that’s okay! You need to be warm too!!” God, you’re so sweet.

“I mean... You could always come over here, we can be warm together!” He stretches out his arm and beckons you over, inviting you to curl up next to him. You shift over, spreading the blankets over your roommate and hiding your blushing face under the pile of softness, keeping at least 3 inches of space between you before he rests his arm behind your head.

“Thanks, y/n, this is uh... nice!” He hides his disappointment at your perceived rejection, going back to look at his phone.

After 20 minutes of scrolling, you can’t take it anymore. He smells so good, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I’M GONNA GO TO BED NOW. Uh, goodnight!” You basically shouted, too loud to be natural. You abruptly stood up before slightly shrinking from the frigid air. When did it get so cold in here?

“Hey, it’s really cold... We don’t really have a ton of blankets, and I’m worried you’re going to freeze, so maybe we could sleep in my room tonight? Just for, ya know... body heat?” He sounds nervous, like he expects you to freak out and reject him completely.

“Well... I-I guess that’s smart... You’re right. So... Let’s go?” Holy fuck, you are so nervous. You were originally escaping to your room like you normally do, too horny to continue hanging out with Sero and retain your sanity, but now you’re sleeping with him?! What the fuck are you thinking?!

He gathered the blankets and lead you into his room, holding the door for you before plopping down your nest of fabric. You stand awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting for something you have no idea what. Sero unceremoniously strips himself of his hoodies and sweats and climbs into bed, seemingly out of habit, before turning his attention to you and holding the blankets open.

“Are you coming?” He smirks, putting on a confused voice that doesn’t quite match the mischief in his eyes.

“I-...” FUCK, he’s beautiful. Lean muscles flexing with every movement, shaggy hair falling over his face, and holy... The tight black boxers are NOT helping the whole “too turned on to function” situation.

“Oh... Sorry, I read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact is better for warmth. You’d probably know better than me, I guess.” He grins, as though this entire thing is nonchalant and completely normal. “I can help you if you’d like~”

“Uh nope, yeah, you’re right!! I’ll uh just... Can you close your eyes?” You are panicking. Every insecurity you’ve ever had is coming to bite you in the ass. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how much space your body takes up, remembering everything those stupid bitches in high school said about you.

“Y/n, you’ve seen me in that skin tight hero suit and you’ve patched up most of my body. It’s totally fine! PLUS, you’re sleeping in my bed, am I gonna have to close my eyes the whole night??” He jokes, not knowing that your shyness isn’t rooted in principle, but fear. Upon seeing your face, his smile falters and he autocorrects, “You know, I think you’re beautiful, but if you want me to turn around, I promise I will.”

“No, it’s-it’s fine. It’s okay. Wait- did you just call me beautiful?” You try to cover your shocked expression as you take off your sweater and slide off your fuzzy pajama pants. Sero is thankful your head is stuck in your sweater as his jaw practically drops. Oh fuck, he’s screwed. His eyes follow your curves from your chest, down your sides, to the pouch of your tummy and the plump fullness of your thighs... If he thought he was having trouble focusing before, there’s no way there’s gonna be enough blood in his brain when you’re half naked next to him... Speaking of... Shit, he’s hard... Okay, it’s fine, just tuck it in your waistband like you did back in school...

You climb into bed as quickly as you can, still keeping a few inches between you and Sero until he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You squeak in surprise and he chuckles, “You can’t be warm unless you’re over here! C’mere.” He nestles his face into your hair and splays a hand across the curve of your lower back. Feeling very naked and very nervous, you shift in his hold and snuggle closer to the heat he gives off, but halt your motions when you feel him twitch against your thigh. Neither of you are breathing, praying the other didn’t notice the rock hard length pressed between your bodies. Somehow, in the time you spent essentially playing dead, you both fell asleep cuddled together.

Over the course of the night, you had shifted to straddle your leg over his torso and he had turned on his back with his hand resting on the space between your thigh and your butt. Sero was the first to stir from his slumber when he felt you move against him, a small whine escaping your parted lips as your hips rolled against his. Oh... OH... Is y/n-? oh fuck y/n is dreaming... and grinding on me... fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good... He tries his hardest to go back to sleep, but the feeling of your sleeping body brushing up against his cock keeps him wide awake. He was trying to stay perfectly still until he heard your tiny whisper “Hanta~”... His hips involuntarily thrust, drawing out the most sinful moan from your throat as the head of his dick added friction on your clit that woke you up. You start to move away, embarrassed and hoping to check that he’s still asleep, but Sero’s grip tightens around your thigh and presses you harder onto him.

“Good morning to you, too~... If you needed my help getting off, you could’ve just asked, babygirl~” The lust and sleep clouding his voiced, combined with the steady roll of his hips makes you whimper and tuck your face into his neck.

“Awww so shy~ You were moaning my name earlier. Why don’t we see how loud I can make you, princess?” He speaks lowly as he flips you onto your back, hovering over you.

“I- I... Please.” You breathe wrapping your legs around his waist and stare up at him, wiggling your hips and sliding your hands up his biceps.

“Can I- Can I kiss you? Are you sure you want this? I’ve had feelings for you since before I moved in and I just... I never want to hurt you.” Cupping your cheek and searching your face for any hesitation, Sero starts succumbing to his own insecurities. He never wants to hurt you, and he knows he isn’t the flashy hero some of his friends seem to be... He needs to hear you say it.

“Sero... Yes~. I want you, please kiss me... I feel the same way. Please~...” Upon hearing your confession, Sero slotted his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, gentle. Breathing each other in felt so right, so natural, and you followed his lead when he slid his hold to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His hand drifted down, following the curve of your breasts, tracing your sides and resting on the pouch of your tummy. Just as you were starting to feel self conscious, Sero groans and moves to kiss your neck, mumbling “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Fuck, so perfect. You feel so soft, I need you so bad~” The whimper he draws from you when he sucks a deep mark into the column of your throat is absolutely lewd, you can barely believe it came from you. He kisses his way down your body, leaving hickies along your skin and squeezing every inch he can get his hands on. You look down at him, his eyes dark with lust and admiration as he leaves opened mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, making you more needy than you thought possible. He strokes his thumb along your clothed slit and moans at your wetness.

“Fuck- you’re so wet for me, angel. I want to taste you, you’re so cute like this. Let’s take these off, yeah?” He looks to you and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, asking for permission and grinning like an idiot when you lift your hips to help him. Before you can say anything, he’s prying your legs open and diving in, moaning as he laps your slit and sucks your clit into his mouth. You run your fingers through his hair and grip him, pulling him into you and grinding against his face. His groans send vibrations straight to your core, pinning your hips with one arm and sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“M-more!! Oh god, please Sero, just like that- I want more!” You moan so prettily for him, but he wants something more. He releases your clit with a pop and leans up, stilling his fingers inside you and wrapping his free hand around your neck. The pressure and dominance has you clenching around his fingers, and he takes notice.

“You either call me Hanta or Papi, nothing else. You understand? I want you to say my name when you cum.” He commands, and sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh you like that, huh?~ I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Why don’t you tell me what you want, baby?~”

Your brain goes hazy when he leans in and places little love bites on your neck and collarbones. “PAPI~! Yes, I love it! Please fuck me, I want to feel you, I need moreee~” You pant as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you unbearably empty.

“Oh baby, I’ll fill you up, don’t worry. But first, why don’t you suck my cock?~” He strips himself of his boxers and flips the two of you, pulling you on top of him. He’s so long, just thick enough to stretch you and reach every amazing spot inside of you. The sight of his hard length has you drooling, anticipating feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You give the head a few kitten licks, relishing in the way he groans and twitches in your hand. He laces his fingers at the base of your head and lets you set your own pace, wrapping your plush lips around him. Bobbing your head up and down, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his dick and swirling it around the head- you love seeing his reactions. The way his breathing increases and his hips buck when you hollow your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this, you can’t help but rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Luckily, he notices how desperate you’ve gotten and pulls you up to straddle him with one hand still on your hair and the other gripping your hip, calloused fingers digging in and massaging the fat there.

“As much as I want to cum in that perfect little mouth, I think my baby needs to be filled, yeah?” He fists his cock and strokes the head through your wetness, gathering your slick and making you involuntarily grind against him. “Beg for my cock, babygirl~, tell Papi what you want.” The smirk on his face is utterly sinful, teasing you and enjoying the fucked out expression on your beautiful face.

“PLEASE I want your cock, I wanna be full, just fuck me already!!! Please stop teasing me Hantaaa~” Just as you grind your hips down onto him, he thrusts into you, cutting off your pleading with a needy moan. “Ah~ fuck- so full, so full, oh my god! Yes Papi~!”

“Oh shit angel, fuck- you feel so good.” Hanta grabs your hips and helps you slowly fuck yourself on him, “Just like that, baby, just like that. Ride my fucking cock. Fuck- you’re so tight...”

The dirty talk pouring out of Hanta’s mouth, combined with the stretch of his hot length stirring up your insides, you find yourself embarrassingly close to climax already. Your first orgasm hits you like a train, completely knocking the air out of your lungs and causing you to collapse onto Hanta’s chest. He seizes the opportunity to flip the two of you, holding you underneath him and fucking you into the mattress.

“Ah ah ahhhhh~ Hantaaa~ I can’t! I can’t, I just came, it’s too much!!! oh FUCK Papi!!!” You feel the tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“Yes you can, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, you’re such a good girl. I know you love it, I can feel your pussy flutter around me. So honest, angel. You’re so perfect like this- fuck.” Hanta grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to the bed, hitting even deeper within you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust and makes you scream out, nails digging into his back, and egging him on.

“Come on, mi amor, cum with me. I know you can, I can tell you’re so fucking close... Cum on my cock, that’s right. Cum for me.” His long fingers reach down and rub quick circles on your clit. He leans in to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sending you over the edge into your climax. Your vision goes white and you clamp down around him, cunt spasming as you squirt all over his thighs and abs.

“F-fuck!!! That’s so fucking hot~ I’m gonna- Ah~” He fills you to the brim with his sticky release, the warmth spreading through your core and coating your walls. Hanta releases your legs and lays on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together until he comes down from his high.

“That was so amazing, angel. You were so good for me. Such a pretty baby, all mine...” He pulls back to kiss your temple and rolls over, petting your hair and lightly scratching your back.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me... I always want to be yours.” You giggle, bubbly at his claim on you and still buzzing from your high. You curl up into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm, all yours.” He breathes a chuckle and places a kiss to your hairline. “I’m glad I can warm you up, lovebug.” He smiles as your breathing evens out, falling asleep with you in his arms.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[violetnotez]

HC: Tending to Their Wounds

Just some soft headcannon for my 2k Celebration! You can check out the original post here

Pairings: Mirio x reader, Shoto x reader, Bakugo x reader

Buy Me a Ko-fi! | Masterlist

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Mirio

This dude^^^^right here^^^^\

HAS 0 CONCEPT OF PAIN

Like he feels it he KNOWS its theree

He just CHOOSES to ignore it

he could have literal slashes all over his body and insists that he’s okay

He main priority is to get healed ASAP of course

BUT HE WONT SIT DOWN

he will be cracking dad jokes, insisting he’s fine when he’s clearly NOT

You cant even get ahold of him hes just soooo fast

He will only really chill out if you FORCE him and he sees how nervous he’s making you

Its gonna be wierd cause he gonna be worried about you

Lots of soft touches, asking if your doing alright, and cracking jokes to make you smile

Honestly this baby has a heart of golddddd

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Mirio, please Im begging you-” you sighed, your feet scrambling to keep up with the hero, the first aid kit clanking in your hands.

“Begging me? Geez, didnt realize you were that  worried!” he laughed good naturedly, his body sauntering over to open the refrigerator door. “Honestly, babe, Im fine, honestly!”

You squinted your eyes at him, his arms outstretched as if to show you just how “fine” he was.

What a big ass lie- his suit was in shambles, his skin scraped and dusted with dirt...he was a wreck.

“Mirio, you look like you got hit by a bus,” you stated plainly, your face clearly not buying his remarks.

He simply laughed at you, his beaten body reaching into the fridge and pulling out some food.

“Ah, c’mon, y/n, you gotta believe me, Im feeling perfectly fine!”

Oh, so now he wanted to make food?! When he looked like that, completely trashed and bruised?! 

You shook your head, your lips pursed- deseprate time called for desperate measures.

MIrio began to look through the drawers, trying to find some utensils in the small kitchen.

“Hey, sunshine, do you know where the-uh,uh- sunshine?”

You had his tattered suit balled in your hand, your body pressed up against his own. You face was mere inches away from his, his blue eyes wide with shock as you kissed him square on his mouth. 

Mirio dropped the loaf of bread in his hand, his digits wrapping around your waist and giving it a squeeze as your hands began to work his suit off his battered torso.

Mirio smiled on to your lips at the feeling of you working his clothes off him.

“So this was why you were desperate-” he chuckled softly,his hands pushing you flushed against your body.

He was quickly snapped away from his hazy thoughts once he felt you push away, your hands quickly opening up the first aid kit and getting some supplies out.

“Nope- I just needed to give you a distraction,” you smirked at the boy, his pout making  you laugh

Mirio  gave you a sad look, his lips pouted out as if like a child.

“Ah cmon sunshine, now thats just cruel,”

Shoto

Shoto has nerves made of STEEL

And same with his pain tolerance

You could probably give this boy stitches and he’d only wince like twice

Honestly it kinda scary how calm he can be

If your kinda new to bandaging people up, he’s got you COVERED

Like will guide your hands and tell you what to put on what wound, etc etc

Hes a sweeetyyyy pieeeee

He will be blushy hardcore tho, no matter how long you’ve known each other or how long you’ve been dating

Hes a soft baby, and the feeling of your hands on his bare skin makes him melt into your touch

But even though he’s good at taking pain, make sure to remind him to breathe

Cause he has a tendency to hold his breathe, and it literally freaks you out when you see his lips turning purple lmao

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You had your legs cradled against Shoto’s thighs, your hands busy at work to patch up an open wound left on his chest. His hero suit was pooled around his navel, showcasing the beautifully pale skin of his torso.

You had to admit it- the boy was built like a god, and you couldnt be more pleased to be so close to him, even if it was because he was injured.

“Are you doing okay?” you asked quietly, looking at him with waiting eyes.

Shoto gulped, his cheeks gaining a little red hue- you were so cute sitting on his lap, and the way you looked at him could have made his heart stop from just pure happiness. He felt so calm yet so nervous around you, and he was intoxicated by the feeling.

“Y-yes, thank you,” he stuttered out, his tone a bit more flushed.

You simply smiled, happy he was feeling okay, continuing with your work- 

until you felt heat radiating under your legs. 

At first you didnt pay any mind to it, letting it seep into your pants and warm your skin...but it began to hurt a little, almost like if a laptop was burning under your thighs.

You cocked your head looking up at Shoto’s face, his eyes downcast as if lovesick and his cheeks a fiery red...he was flustered.

“Shoto,” you mused quietly, taking your finger and resting it against his chin. His eyes met yours quickly, those bi-colored eyes wide in an owlish expression.

“Yes y/n?” he asked nervously, his tone deep and rich like honey.

You gave him a small smirk, tilting your head ever so slightly. “Are you nervous? Because your kind of heating up on me-”

“Oh, I-Im sorry!” he instantly apologized, his hands wrapping around your outer thighs, “I wasnt paying attnetion, I-Ill cool you down...”

Shoto’s kept his hands cradled on your sides for the rest of the time you were working on his wounds, his face a reddened mess as he sent cold sensations down your skin.

Bakugo

He definitelllyyyyy got hurt from training, fighting Deku, or both

Your probably gonna have to get used to bandaging him up cause his pride wont let him get patched up 

but he will be too rough to properly fix himself up

tHIS LITTLE BRAT THO

He thinks he is being all tough,,,,

but honestly he’s not

Like he might be quiet at first, only a couple groans here and there-

but once you pull out that bottle of alcohol for his wounds hes gonna be FERAL

just throwing a damnnnnn temper tantrum

Once you get that part over with he’ll calm down...maybe even say thank you if your lucky smh

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(This scene was definitellllyyyyy inspired by Indiana Jones and Ive been DYING to write this since like Christmas)

“Shit y/n, it fucking hurts!” he yelled, his vermillion eyes a deep red as he spoke through gritted teeth.

He was holding his scratched arm away from you, shielding you from being able to properly clean it. You couldn't help but roll you eyes- yeah, cleaning the wound stings a little, but you it wasnt like you were doing durgery on him. He seriously was a little too much to deal with at time.

You leaned away from the whining boy, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. 

“So where does it not hurt then, Katsuki,”

Bakugo gave a sulky look, his eyes squinted at you as he pointed at his elbow

“-Here.”

You leaned forward quickly, your lips placing a soft kiss on the skin. Bakugo’s cheeks immediately erupted in red, his eyes wide and all pain erased from his face as he gazed at your slightly annoyed face.

“And-and here,” he stuttered out, his voice a little less forceful as he slowly pointed to his collarbone with bandaged digits.

This needy little prick-a small smirk enveloped on your face as you leaned in gently, careful to not press your body too much on his as you left a small kiss on his skin.

Bakugo watched you with wide eyes, his whole body tingling and the spots where you kissed him leaving electric sparks on his skin.

“Anywhere else?” you asked, your eyes glowing mischievously as you looked at he flustered boy.

He grunted slightly, his mouth swallowing thickly.

“And-and here,” he slowly stated, his hand pointing to his lips.

You simply rolled your eyes, your smile growing on your lips as you happily obliged to his request.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

[winchester19-67]

Playing Pretend - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Sick Reader, Fluff

Word Count: 2,593

Summary: Whenever the subject of marriage is brought up, Dean gets upset by it. You don't want to fight, and yet you can't understand why he is so against marrying you. When you have to play husband and wife for a case, you find that trying to play a happy marriage isn't as hard as you thought it would be despite you hitting a rough patch in your relationship. While playing pretend, you find out something about yourself that you kind of wish you didn't know, and maybe you can get Dean to finally tell you why he's so against marrying you.

A/N: This is Part 3 of Playing Pretend. Feedback is appreciated!

Series Masterlist

"Then, not even a day after Jason packed up and moved out, Christy was mugged in an alleyway a town over."

"She wasn't hurt?" you ask and take a sip of your iced tea that Dean brought over to you, demanding that you drink something to stay hydrated.

"Nope," Jenny, a red-haired girl who introduced herself to you first, tells you. "Christy walked away with a few scrapes but said that the guy who mugged her whispered to her that it was punishment for putting up with her husband for so long."

"And how did he know?"

"No idea," Jenny shrugs. "But, Christy didn't question it even though I still find it a bit creepy."

"Has Christy spoke anymore about the incident?"

"No," Alicia, the blonde one,  tells you as she leans over a bit so that she's able to whisper to you. "We've been good friends since kindergarten and honestly, it's like she never even knew the guy now."

"Weird," you frown. "So she plays it off as he just walked out on her?"

"Yeah," Alicia shrugs. "Why shouldn't she? I mean, that's obviously what he did to her."

"Oh yeah," you nod and take a deep breath. These people don't know that the guy's probably dead, you tell yourself.

"She's filed for divorce," Alicia tells you. "Put all the papers in the mailbox to mail them to his parents' house, went to the store, and when she walked up on her front porch there were the papers laying in front of the door with his name on them."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. Are these people honestly buying these stories? Do they not understand how ridiculous they sound?

"So she mailed out divorce papers and they got to Jason and he signed them all in the same day?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Jenny tells you. "But it's not the first time that it's happened around here."

"Yeah, I know," you sigh. "My husband and I were debating on whether or not we should buy here."

"Well, I don't think that you have to worry about that because you and him seem to have the perfect relationship," the dark haired one tells you as she motions over towards Dean. What is her name? You know that she introduced herself and yet you just can't seem to remember it.

"Yeah," you sigh. "It might seem that way but you know, nothing's ever perfect."

"Huh-oh," Jenny says. Perfect. You got the gossip's attention. "What do you mean?"

"Well," you sigh as you glance over at Dean as if you're seeing if he's walking your way. "This may be nothing, but Dean's been acting a little odd lately and in the three years that we've been married he's never treated me like this."

"Like what?" the dark haired one asks. Gosh, what is her name?

"Well, he'll tell me that he gets off at five but some days it will be almost the next day before he walks through the front door." Three sets of eyes widen.

"Do you still love him?" Alicia asks you.

"Of course I do," you tell her truthfully. You do love Dean. That part ain't a lie.

"Well, I'm sure that he's probably just been going out to a bar or something. You know how guys are when they're drinking. He probably doesn't mean anything by it."

"Still," you sigh as fake tears well up in your eyes. "It would be nice if he'd let me know."

"Sweetheart." You bring your head up and smile a bit as Dean kneels down in front of you. "You're looking a bit tired. What do you say you and I go rest, alright?" You nod and wave at the other three women sitting around the table. Dean gives them a friendly smile and he nods his head a bit at them. "Ladies," Dean says as he stands up and pulls you along with him. Dean wraps an arm around your waist and you can hear the other three whispering as you both walk away. "You alright?" Dean asks you softly. "You looked like you were about to cry or something."

"I'm fine, babe," you tell Dean as you give him a soft smile. "Playing my part is all."

"Ah, I see," Dean chuckles as you walk around to the front of the house and start walking down the sidewalk. "So what all did you tell them about me?"

"That you stay out later then what you tell me you're going to," you tell him. "Nothing too serious. They think that you're probably going out to bars at night. Why? What all did you tell the guys about me?"

Dean smiles. "Well, I told them how amazing and perfect my beautiful wife is."

"Whatever," you giggle.

"I seriously did," Dean chuckles. "In all of the stories that I heard while talking to them, the wife was always important to the husband even if he was being unfaithful to her or whatever."

You take a deep breath. "Find out anything that you want to share?" you ask him.

"Actually, yeah," Dean says. "So I found out that the wife always had some kind of accident..."

"Within twenty-four hours of the husband packing up and leaving her."

"Exactly," Dean says. "So?"

"So what?" you giggle.

"So did my absolutely adorable wife find out anything interesting?"

"You're ridiculous," you laugh.

"I know," Dean chuckles as he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Seriously though, anything that I ought to know that might help us with this case?"

You swallow hard and look Dean in the eyes. "Nope," you breathe out even though you know that that's not true. "Nothing at all."

"Alright," Dean sighs.

Your heart breaks knowing that you're lying to Dean. You actually did find out something that might help. You know what made the wives that were left alone different from the ones who were injured. You know and yet you just can't tell Dean because you don't want your theory about what's happening to you to be true.

"Babe?" you move your head to look at Dean and you see a worried expression on his face. "You alright? You zoned out on me."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smile. "Just thinking about what our next move is."

"Well," Dean sighs. "I think that we should maybe check out Irene's house."

"No, Jenny's."

Dean gives you a look. "Sweetheart, I know that you don't want to believe that that little old sweet lady could be a witch..."

"Trust me, Dean, Irene wasn't the one who was asking all of the personal questions," you tell him. "I think that it's Jenny."

"Well, I know how we can flush her out and find out which one of us is right," Dean tells you.

"How's that?" you ask him.

"I act as bait."

"Dean, no!"

"Hey," Dean tells you softly as he stops walking and turns to that he can gently grab onto your shoulders with both of his hands. "Sweetheart, I'll be fine."

"Not if you die you won't be because I'll kill you."

"Honey," Dean frowns. "I don't think that the guys are dead."

"What do you mean?" you ask him as tears well up in your eyes at the thought of Dean getting hurt.

"I think that she's hiding them somewhere."

"Why?"

Dean shrugs. "Why do witches do anything that they do?"

You laugh a bit as Dean leads you up onto your front porch. You love seeing the happiness in Dean's eyes. You don't know if it's this case or maybe even you but you know there's definitely something that has Dean so giddy.

"Man, I'm stuffed," Dean groans as he heads straight over to the couch and plops down. You laugh as you follow Dean across the living room, but you get halfway there before another dizzy spell hits you.

"Dean," you get out right before you're brought down to your knees.

"Sweetheart?" Dean asks as he turns around so that he can see you. Dean's eye widen when he sees what's wrong and he jumps up to his feet. "Sweetheart, you alright?"

"Yeah," you breathe out as you squeeze your eyes shut tight. "Room's spinning."

"Gosh, I wish that we could have figured out what was happening with those other women," Dean says. "Right now the only thing that I care about is knowing that you're alright."

"I'm fine, Dean," you tell him as you try and straighten up a bit. Dean keeps his hands on you and you smile softly at him. "Honestly, honey. I'm alright."

"I know," Dean sighs as he gently helps you up off of the floor. Dean makes you lean on him as he walks you over towards the couch. If you try and straighten up then Dean just pulls you over towards him. "Maybe I shouldn't play bait," Dean sighs as you slowly sit down onto the couch.

"Good," you mutter as your eyes side shut.

"I don't think that you need to be here by yourself."

"Dean, I'll be fine if you think that this is how we're gonna do this," you tell him softly. "I'm not happy with you playing bait ,but if that's what we have to do then I guess it's what we have to do."

Dean sighs and he drops his head  a bit. "Maybe I can call Sam to see if he'd be able to..."

"I do not need a babysitter here with me," you scowl.

"Sweetheart, you're barely able to stand up right now," Dean tells you softly.

"I'll be alright," you tell him softly. Dean pouts, causing you to playfully roll your eyes a bit at him. "Pitiful."

"I love you," Dean tells you softly.

"I love you too, Dean," you breathe out. "Which is why I don't want you to do this but like I said, we have to to flush out this witch."

"Yeah," Dean sighs. "Tell you what. If you need help you call Sam."

"Okay," you say and you nod your head a bit at him. "If you think that you'll need help you call me and then I'll call Sam."

"Got it," Dean nods. "But I won't need help. If I just let that witch take me then I can find where she's been keeping these guys."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Just please be careful."

"I will, sweetheart," Dean whispers as he leans in to give you a sweet kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," you tell Dean softly.

"I'll be at that bar right around the corner," Dean tells you.

"Alright," you sigh. "But you'd better not be getting drunk or flirting with the other girls."

"No promises," Dean chuckles but he grunts when you slap him in the chest.

"Behave," you laugh.

"I will, sweetheart," Dean smiles as he leans over to give you another kiss. "Text me if any neighbors show up here because I'm sure if Irene notices that I'm not here, she'll stop by asking you a bunch of questions."

"You mean Jenny?" you giggle.

"Troublemaker," Dean chuckles as he stands up off the floor. "Remember to call Sam if you have to."

"I will," you say and you nod your head a bit at Dean. "Go have some fake fun without me."

"Will do, sweetheart," Dean chuckles before he walks on over towards the front door. Dean throws a wink at you over his shoulder before walking on out and you let a tear slip when the door shuts. You know what's going on. You just can't tell Dean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're almost asleep when you hear the doorbell ring. Sighing, you stand up off of the couch and you try not to let your disappointment show when you find Irene standing there on your front porch.

"Can I help you?" you ask her.

"Oh, I was just stopping by to see if you're feeling any better," Irene tells you. "I knew that you still weren't feeling well at the picnic."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you tell her softly as you give her a friendly smile.

"So," Irene says as her eyes skim around the living room. "Where's that husband of yours? He's taking care of you, isn't he?"

"Well, he's supposed to be," you sigh and you try to fall into the role of the upset wife. "Dean went out to try to find some medicine for me."

"Well, that's understandable," she nods.

"Three hours ago," you say and Irene's eyes widen a bit at you. "I'm trying not to worry about him though. I mean, moving into a new neighborhood is a big deal. If he needs to have some fun to ease his nerves a bit then so be it."

"And it doesn't bother you that your husband is out doing who knows what with who knows who?"

"Oh, it bothers me," you tell her softly. "But what am I supposed to do about it? I mean, maybe I am just being paranoid but there's the risk of making him upset with me if I ask Dean about it. And, even if he is doing something that he shouldn't be, I still love him. I always will and I couldn't possibly let Dean walk out of my life."

"Well, then," Irene frowns. "If you need me you know where to find me."

"Thanks so much," you smile as you shut the door on her. When you hear Irene walking down off of the porch, you pull your phone out of your pocket and dial Dean's number.

"Hey, everything alright, sweetheart?" Dean asks as he answers the phone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you sigh. "Except I owe you the biggest apology ever."

"Why?" Dean chuckles.

"Because sweet little Irene just showed up at our front door asking me questions about where you went and didn't it bother me that you were out doing things that I didn't know about."

"Uh, well, I would gloat but I think that we were both wrong about this one, sweetheart."

"Why do you think that?" you ask him.

"You remember that dark headed girl that was sitting with you three at the table?" Dean asks you.

"Yeah," you reply. "I can't think of her name though."

"Well, she's here," Dean tells you in a hushed voice.

"So you think that she might be the witch?" you ask him.

"I don't know," Dean says. "She's walking out though. I'll follow her."

"Please don't get arrested," you groan and Dean chuckles.

"I'll try not to, sweetheart," he tells you. "I think that I just heard the people this girl was speaking to call her Beth."

"Beth," you frown. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I don't know," Dean says. "But she's walking out right now and she is making a right turn onto the sidewalk."

"Beth. Beth," you keep saying her name over and over hoping that it will spark something. "Oh my gosh. Dean stop following that girl!" you yell into the phone.

"Why?" Dean flinches as he pulls the phone away from his ringing ear.

"Because she's the first victim," you tell him. "Her and her husband were the first targets of the witch so that monster is still out there. Stop following her and get your butt somewhere..."

A loud smack echoes through the phone right before the call is dropped. Your heart starts pounding as you grip tightly onto your phone.

"Dean?" you say but you know that Dean is not able to answer.

Series Taglist:@compresshischest09 @awkward-and-indecisive @foxyjwls007 @im-a-light-child @prettysourabbie @lover-of-nights @agirlwithdemonblood @doctorlilo @impala1967dwinchester @stoneyggirl2

Tags: @mlovesstories @idksupernatural @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @deans-baby-momma @lyssaholic @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @justanotherwinchester @campingmonkey @polina-93 @hobby27 @adoptdontshoppets @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @thoughts-and-funnies​ @lyarr24@flamencodiva @deandreamernp @440mxs-wife

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Go the Distance

Prompt: Hello, I absolutely adore your work 🥺😍🥺 your Sanders Sides angst is just so goooood!!! If you're up to it, I'd love to request a fic <3 Virgil has noticed [side(s?) of your choice; they're all good choices, I can't decide ;-;] has been distant and avoiding him and he just can't figure out what he did wrong but it's actually because [side] loves him and are trying to take some time to 'get rid of/push down their feelings' The angster the better but don't push yourself ^ Feel free to add or change whatever Have a great day and no worries if you don't do this 💜💜💜~@im-an-anxious-wreck 💜🖤

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re the best

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, some lite™ angst

Pairings: prinxiety, background platonic dlampr because found family dynamics motherfuckers

Word Count:  4191

Virgil and Roman's relationship hasn't always been, well, great. But it's been getting better!

Or, at least, it was.

Listen, Virgil knows he and Roman haven’t exactly had the most…painless history. Virgil’s introduction to the series was Thomas telling Roman his dream was to get rid of him and, well, Roman was first and foremost loyal to Thomas. Then the whole…insult thing, ducking out, and the absolute mess of the callback wedding debacle, it’s not exactly been smooth sailing.

 But—okay, and maybe they’d been a little harsher about things than absolutely necessary, and maybe Roman got hit with the consequences of their fights more than Virgil, and maybe Virgil hadn’t exactly been…overwhelmingly accepting of all of Princey’s little ticks.

 But they’d still been talking!

 After the wedding, no one was on good terms with anyone save Patton and Janus—and wasn’t that the shock of a lifetime—and Remus and Virgil. Because they made the smart choice and decided ‘nope, fuck that, I’m out.’

 It was a good choice. You have any idea how high their scores are in GTFO now? The first rundown’s a fucking cakewalk.

 Anyway.

 They’d been talking! Virgil still doesn’t know exactly what happened right after—he saw the video, of course he saw the video, but Roman sunk right to his room and there’s a good twelve hours between that and the next time Virgil saw him—but Roman had come out and approached him!

 Probably because he was still hurt by the end of the video—which oof, Virgil does not blame him for, that was harsh—and his only options were Logan, Virgil, and Remus and Logan, um, didn’t want to see anyone for a while and Remus is Remus.

 Side note: those two have been getting on better. Something about their twin Creativity thing meant Remus knew that Roman was hurting bad before even Thomas did.

 But Roman did seek him out, asking him quietly if he had a moment, just a moment, to sit together. Virgil had shrugged and passed it off as nothing only for Princey to literally sit on the floor and not make a fucking noise. He’d frowned and poked his shoulder, asking if he was alright.

 “Perfectly fine, Dark and Stormy,” Roman had said lightly, “and I’ll leave you in a moment.”

 “But you’re…” Virgil had waved to his silent form. “…not acting like you normally do.”

 Roman had laughed. “And here I thought I’d never hear you say you missed me being loud.”

 “Now let’s not jump to conclusions.”

 Sure enough, a few more seconds had passed and Roman had gotten up, quietly bid Virgil good day, thanked him, and left.

 You bet your ass Virgil sunk straight into Patton’s room to ask hey what the fuck did you do to Roman.

 Patton had sighed and said that they’re not sure what to do now—‘they’ being Janus and Patton. Virgil, still recovering from the whiplash of those two being close had shaken his head and told them to get it the fuck together.

 If he sunk into Remus’s room to ask how to take care of Roman, that’s his business. It’s also his business if he tackled Princey in a hug two minutes later.

 So. Talking.

 Roman, for all he talks, doesn’t really say much. The few things he does say are easily passed off as jokes, off-handed comments that no one really pays much attention to.

 Not that anyone pays nearly enough attention to Roman, come on, guys, he makes it easy.

 But Roman talked to Virgil. He’d come in and sit and Virgil would sit next to him, trying to make sure his arm didn’t burst into flames from where it was pressed against Princey—the dude’s a fucking space heater, okay?—just to listen. Some of the time it was Disney rants—okay, most of the time it was Disney rants—but some of the time…

 “Virgil?”

 “Yeah?”

 Roman looked down at his costume. Today was repair day, unofficially called when Virgil’s hoodie ripped during the night and Roman’s sword cut through his sleeve. Virgil looked up from his own mass of fabric, needle stuck in carefully so he wouldn’t prick himself. He frowned at the look on Roman’s face.

 “What’s up, Princey?”

 “Do you think my logo looks bad?”

 Virgil blinked in shock. Roman didn’t look up and see the surprise on his face, instead running his thumb slowly over the patch on the costume.

 “What the fuck are you talking about, Princey?”

 “It’s so complicated,” Roman said, still looking down, “Logan and Patton have really simple ones. You have a pretty simple one.”

 “Janus doesn’t. Remus doesn’t.”

 “Yeah, but they’re…”

 Virgil frowned deeper, putting his hoodie on the ground and shifting closer to Roman. The prince didn’t even look up, still clutching his logo in his hands.

 “They’re what, Roman?”

 Roman swallowed. “…allowed.”

 A growl sounded from Virgil’s throat before he knew what was happening.

 “And you���re not?”

 “Hmm?”

 “And you’re not allowed, Roman?” Virgil gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, Princey.”

 Roman looked up. Virgil swallowed another growl at the despondent look on the prince’s face. Instead, he gripped Roman’s shoulder tighter.

 “No one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to tell you your logo is bad. You hear me?”

 Roman blinked.

 “I mean it, Roman,” he said, softening his voice a little, “it’s you. It’s yours, no one’s allowed to tell you it’s wrong.”

 “So that’s…okay?”

 “Yeah, Princey, it’s okay.”

 “Oh.” Roman looked back down at his costume. “Okay. Thank you, Virgil.”

 “Anytime.”

 Virgil would come to be astounded at how much he means that.

 Because, really, now that Roman’s talking? Virgil’s fucking shocked that they didn’t realize how much Roman actually has to offer.

 First off, Princey’s smart as hell. Sure, L’s the resident braincell but you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.

 If Logan tries to tell you he’s not a dumbass sometimes he is wrong.

 Roman can puzzle solve with the best of them. Do you have any idea how much brainpower it takes to write a story? A script? Understand how all those moving parts fit together and make sense as a whole? Virgil sure as hell didn’t. He spent one afternoon trying to help Roman only for it to end up as Roman explaining what he was doing and Virgil frantically trying to keep up. Don’t even get him started on how impressive the Imagination stuff is.

 “It’s my job, Fall Out Brood,” Roman laughs every single time Virgil expresses how fucking cool this is, “have to be good at something.”

 And Roman is. He’s good.

 Second: Patton may be the heart, Logan may be the brains, but no one is as good at reassuring him as Roman. Probably has something to do with the Creativity gig. Roman had asked, politely, if Virgil would be comfortable telling him what to do when he gets really anxious, whether to leave him alone, get him somewhere safe, get him things, what have you. Virgil had told him, bemused, only to be shuttled into somewhere that screamed safewarmcomfortableeverythingisokay the next time he had a panic attack. Roman, with the lack of shame truly becoming of a theatre kid, had no problems cheering him up by loudly declaring he would fight whatever shadowy figures plagued his little nightmare, swatting at the air with his sword until Virgil’s sobs had turned into giggles. He never made Virgil talk about anything if he didn’t want to, didn’t try to sit and work through things if they weren’t ready, and never touched him unless he’d gotten the okay. The first time Virgil told him he’d be fine with receiving hugs in the aftermath was the warmest he’d felt in years.

 Princey gives really good hugs.

 Third: Roman’s fucking funny.

 Remember the whole ‘smart as hell’ thing? Know how Logan’s funny as fuck too when he lets himself be?

 Virgil’s lost count of how many times he’s had to gasp out for Roman to shut the fuck up because his sides hurt too much from laughing. He ends up sprawled across the fucking floor or the couch or Princey’s bed, dying very happily but painfully because Roman won’t stop making him laugh.

 Most of the time it’s due to something they’re watching and Roman’ll notice some detail that he picks apart until they’re both howling or Virgil will make one sarcastic comment that turns into a full fucking bit for like…ten minutes. Roman will just keep riffing off of the smallest thing until he’s laughing too hard to keep going—not very likely—or Virgil will flail out desperately and smack him—much more likely.

 Princey said he makes fun of the things he loves.

 …maybe that’s why he doesn’t make fun of Virgil anymore.

 Virgil curls tighter around the pillow, clutching it to his chest. As he rubs his cheek against it, he grimaces. It’s too rough. It’s not warm enough. It doesn’t smell right.

 They’d been talking. It had been good.

 But that was before.

 Before Roman had cautiously approached Logan with an apology, the offering of a new planner for him, the promise to listen to him, hear him out, give him space to speak. Logan had accepted.

 Before Roman had opened the border between his and Remus’s side of the Imagination, sending a little puppy scuttling over to his brother’s castle with a note, a dagger, and a vial of acid. It returned as a kitten with a beautifully poisonous rose.

 Before Roman had finally, finally, after days of trying, opened the door when Patton knocked, letting him come inside so they could talk, about everything that happened since…well, ever. They hadn’t stopped hugging long enough to walk down the stairs.

 Before Roman had let Janus, Janus, take care of him.

 And now…

 Now Roman didn’t want to be in the same room as him.

 It feels as if they’re walking on eggshells around each other again, Virgil appearing in a room only for Roman to completely disappear, getting up and leaving a conversation entirely just to avoid him, Virgil knocking on Roman’s door only for Roman to shout that he’s busy, not to come inside, Virgil, trying, trying to figure out where Roman’s gone, what’s happened, only to receive the cold shoulder.

 A problem none of the other Sides seemed to be having.

 He clutches the pillow to his chest.

 Did he—did he do something wrong?

 Does Roman—does Roman not like him anymore?

 Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard about talking to the others. Roman needed space, needed time, he didn’t need someone else breathing down his neck. He should’ve let Roman set the pace, listened more, been kinder to him when he needed reassurance.

 Maybe he shouldn’t have made Roman think it was his fault that the others were taking so long, or suggested that if he wanted things to get better he should try talking first. Roman had been taught by everyone else that things were his fault already, Virgil didn’t need to jump on that train too.

 Maybe he should’ve been kinder to Roman, less focused on making the others understand that they hurt Roman. Everyone in the Mindscape knew that Roman was hurt, Virgil should’ve helped fix that, taken care of Roman, not pushed the blame onto everyone else.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like what he had to say about Disney films. They were Roman’s comfort watches, the last thing he needed was for someone to cruelly rip away his enjoyment of one of the few things he could enjoy.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like Virgil’s way of taking care of him. Virgil never pushed, never did Roman the courtesy of asking, like Roman did with him, just assumed he knew best how to comfort someone and left it there. Roman might’ve needed more hugs, more time, less distraction, just something other than what Virgil gave him.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like how much Virgil ended up hoarding him to himself. Not letting him go to the others for comfort, just to work things out. Maybe he thought Virgil was just keeping him upset so he could hang out with him more.

 Or maybe…

 Virgil muffles his sob in the pillow.

 Maybe Roman needed or wanted him anyway.

 Maybe Roman was just waiting until he could get the comfort he actually wanted. Maybe he waited until the others were easier to talk to so he could go back to what he really needed. Maybe Virgil was just a placeholder until Roman could get hugs from Patton and Remus, talk with Logan and Janus, not him. Never him.

 Maybe that’s…okay.

 It’s not, it won’t be fucking okay for a long time, but one day, it will be okay.

 Virgil curses and throttles the pillow in his arms, wishing for it to be real, to be warm, to be a chest of white and gold and a splash of red, for it to wraps its arms around him and say it’s okay, shadow-ling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, shh.

 But it’s just a pillow.

 Has his room always been this cold?

 Have Disney movies always looked this flat?

 Has music always sounded this gray?

 Has Virgil always been this alone?

 He can hear them in the living room below him. He can hear Roman and Logan throwing quips back and forth, can hear Remus tackling his brother into the wall, and Roman protesting. He can hear Janus scolding Remus and checking to make sure Roman’s not injured, can hear Roman wave him off gently and go right back to verbally sparring with Logan. He can hear Patton laughing too hard, falling off the couch and begging the two of them to let up, let him breathe, can hear Roman coo and call him sweet, adorable, in that soft voice he only uses when he’s talking to someone he cares about.

 Can’t hear any of them worrying about where he is.

 Maybe it’s better this way.

 He got greedy, took too much of what was never his to take, what wasn’t given to him freely. He latched onto the first thing he thought was for him and didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t. He may think he’s been included in the famILY but he knows he’s still an outsider.

 He may be Virgil now but deep down he’ll always be Anxiety.

 So here he will stay, in the cold of his room, in the dark of his face smushed into a pillow that will never be real. He will stay and he will be happy.

 But not today.

 He sniffles and smears his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, not bothering to pull away from the pillow long enough to wipe tears properly. His limbs start to protest as he hugs it tighter, tighter, tighter, but it’s no use. He can feel his own arms through the pillow. There isn’t enough—there’s too much give in the pillow. It’s just a fucking pillow but it’s not enough.

 Another laugh from downstairs and Virgil growls, burying his head in the pillow until he can’t hear himself think.

 Can’t hear anything but his own muffled sobs ringing in his ears.

 Can’t hear anything other than the thought swirling around and around his head that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be wanted, that he’ll never be anything other than Anxiety.

 Can’t hear the soft knock at the door.

 “Virgil?”

 The voices in his head must be getting pretty powerful because he’s certain he can hear Roman calling for him. He buries deeper in the pillow.

 “Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”

 Yes, he thinks, yes, I can hear you, which means I’m not crying hard enough.

 “Can I come in, shadow-ling?”

 Yes, he thinks, come in and make me forget that you don’t need me anymore.

 He must really be losing it because he thinks he can hear the door open and close again with a soft click, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a soft coo.

 “Oh, shadow-ling,” the imaginary Roman murmurs, “come here, little Stormcloud.”

 Oh, his imagination is being cruel to him right now because the sensation of warm arms around his waist and shoulders fucking burns. He buries his face in the pillow until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, not sure how he’s tricked himself into imagining Roman’s cradling him but too unwilling to let the illusion go.

 “That’s right, Stormcloud, relax for me, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh, you’re alright,” the imaginary Roman keeps whispering in that cruelly soft voice, “you’re doing great, shadow-ling.”

 Virgil wants him to be real. So bad he aches from it. But he knows he’s not.

 What happens next breaks his fucking heart.

 The imaginary Roman kisses him.

 It’s chaste, a barely-there brush of his lips against his forehead but it tears a whine out of Virgil’s throat before he can stop it. The imaginary Roman hushes him gently, pressing another kiss to the part of his cheek not buried in the pillow and it taunts him with how real it feels. The slightly chapped lips, the warm rush of air as Roman breathes, the light brush of his nose as he pulls away.

 It’s too much.

 It’s too much and he wants it to be real so badly but he knows the instant he pulls away it will vanish and that might just break him.

 Then he realizes the imaginary Roman is talking to him.

 “Breathe, Stormcloud, you’ve got to breathe,” he coaxes, “I know it’s tempting to stay buried in a pillow all day, but you can’t breathe properly like that, sweetheart.”

  No, no, don’t call me sweetheart, I’ll break.

 “Shadow-ling, Stormcloud, my darling,” the imaginary Roman says instead, “come on…”

 Well, now he’s disappointing imaginary Roman too. Figures. He can’t do anything right.

 “Of course you can,” the imaginary Roman pleads, “just breathe for me, shadow-ling, I’m right here, I’ve got you, you can keep your eyes closed if you need to, just breathe.”

 Another whine. Another kiss pressed against his head. The whine grows louder.

 “Shh, shh, my darling,” imaginary Roman murmurs, “breathe, come on, just—trust me, okay? Can I ask that of you, Stormcloud?”

 And goddamnit, this is why Virgil can’t do anything.

 Virgil trusts him.

 So he prepares himself for heartbreak and lifts his head.

 “Thank you, shadow-ling,” imaginary Roman—wait, he’s still here?—murmurs, rubbing his back, “there you go, now just breathe—oh! Oh, come here, lean on me, I’ve got you.”

 Having listed to the side horribly, Virgil lands against a solidwarmsafereal chest and—and—

 “R-Roman?”

 “Yes, my darling,” not imaginary Roman says, still kissing Virgil’s forehead, “I’m here, I’m here.”

 White-hot rage burns Virgil’s tears.

 He lets out a yell and shoves, not caring that it throws them both horribly off-balance, threatening to send him tumbling to the floor. He hears Roman cry out, trying to keep ahold of him, but he scrabbles and gets his hands around the bedpost and pulls.

 “Virgil—Virgil stop, you’re going to hurt yourself—“

 “Why do you care?” The rage coats his tongue. “You fucking left, you—you—you fucking didn’t care about me anymore, you decided you didn’t want me anymore and you fucking left so don’t try and care now!”

 “Virgil—sweetheart, I—“

 “Don’t fucking call me that!” He keeps his eyes squeezed tight. “You didn’t give a fuck about me when you left, when you got your fucking family back, you think—you think you can just waltz back in like you didn’t abandon me?”

 “Virgil—“

 “Because you did, Roman!” Virgil blindly shoves at where the prince was before, knocking him into the wall. “You fucking left me as soon as you got the others back like I—like I never did anything for you and now you—now you can’t even look at me.”

 “I’m looking at you now.”

 Virgil laughs.

 He throws his head back and howls until his chest and throat ache.

 “You didn’t give a shit when the others started talking to you. You just fucking up and abandoned me like you never cared about me in the first place. You replaced me with them or—or abandoned me as your placeholder and I’m fucking hurt, Roman.”

 “I know.”

 “Then why did you do it?”

 Silence.

 Virgil’s heart stops.

 No.

 No, no, no, no—

 He fucked up.

 He fucked up so bad.

 Roman left.

 Roman’s not here anymore.

 Roman left again, he made Roman leave, he—he fucked up so bad, he shouldn’t have yelled, he’s fucked up, he hurt Roman, no, no, no, no—

 On instinct, his hands hook into claws.

 Only to be caught by warmsolidreal hands and brought to something soft.

 “Don’t,” comes Roman’s softsaferealhurt voice, murmuring in his ear as he holds him still, “don’t scratch, sweetheart.”

 “Don’t—“

 “I know, I know,” Roman says immediately, “you said not to call you that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

 …what?

 “I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” comes the voice again, “that’s no excuse, I know, but please, Virgil, I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to abandon you.”

 Virgil swallows. “What the fuck do you call it then?”

 “I didn’t want to push my luck.”

  What?

 “You were being so good to me, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, oblivious to the internal struggle Virgil’s currently facing, “so kind, so supportive, that I…I realized I wanted to ask more from you. Things I had no business asking. And the longer you kept on being you, the harder it was to resist the urge to push and risk shattering everything you’d let me build with you.”

 “What—“ Virgil swallows— “what the fuck did you want?”

 Roman stills in front of him. With his eyes still shut, he can’t tell what’s going on, but when Roman speaks next his voice is hoarse.

 “Before I ask,” comes the whisper, “I want you to know that you have every right to say no. You can push me away, shove me out of your room, stay angry at me for as long as you want. I’ve hurt you, badly, and I have no right to ask this of you. I want you to know that. That I’m okay with you asserting that right.”

 Fuck, Princey.

 “…what do you want?”

 A pause. Then a soft rush of air, right on his face.

 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 “R-Roman?”

 “That’s it,” Roman murmurs and oh, his mouth is right next to Virgil’s, “that’s what I want, shadow-ling.”

 He shifts a little until Virgil can feel Roman’s warmth.

 “That and everything that goes with it.”

 “Why—why did you leave? I-if that’s what you wanted?”

 “Because that would mean to push,” Roman says immediately, “and the last thing I wanted was to push you away. I thought if I could…rein it in, control it, I could…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

 A soft chuckle.

 “Look how well that turned out.”

 “But the others—“

 “I needed Remus to tell me what was going on,” Roman says wryly, “Janus to point out that I was okay in wanting something, Patton to help me figure it out, and Logan to kick my ass into doing it.”

 “To…to ask me?”

 “Yes, Stormcloud,” comes the whisper, “to ask you.”

 “And if I say yes?”

 He can feel Roman’s lips turn up.

 “…then I’ll kiss you, Stormcloud.”

 “Are you really here?”

 The question bursts out of him before he can stop it, immediately biting his lip in reprimand for letting it.

 “Open your eyes, Virgil,” Roman says softly, “look at me.”

 He shakes his head, not wanting it to be imaginary. Not now, not after this. Roman squeezes his hands.

 “Look at me, Stormcloud,” he whispers, “look at me.”

  Fuck it.

 Roman smiles at him, real and warm and soft and here. He squeezes Virgil’s hands again and takes the smallest step closer.

 “I’m here,” he says, wrapping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “I’m right here, shadow-ling.”

 He’s here.

 This won’t fix everything. But it’s one hell of a start.

 “Ask me again.”

 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

 Virgil shakes his head. “Not like that. Ask me properly.”

 Confusion dances on Roman’s face before realization hits. His smile widens and he brings a hand to Virgil’s head. Virgil clutches Roman tight as he gets dipped into the prince’s arms. Roman leans forward until his mouth almost catches Virgil’s.

 “May I kiss you, sweetheart?”

  “Yes.”

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