LOS Drabbles

Pinterest Pints (LightningWolf 2)

Rough was probably the easiest way to describe the guy balled up in the corner of the cafe, with his back shoved to the wall like he expected somebody to sneak up behind him.

His leather jacket bore off-colored patches and worn down buttons; his jeans ripped and his black boots scuffed from what could be seen about them.

His face was something like a basset hound's, droopy-eyed and kinda sad, with smudged eyeliner, dark circles, and a long scar on his cheek; the whole thing framed by pale, loose curls that were something of a shock against the rest of his inky hair.

Topping it all off, the piece de resistance that made the whole picture, was the fact he was chugging down a large, pastel pink shake like a college kid with caffeine on finals week.
—————

Timberwolf stumbled, trying to make a sound as he fell forward towards home and safety and the only unconditional kindnesses he'd ever known.

Instead of feeling concrete and dirt against his cheek or under his hands, arms came to hold him up, to pull him close, to stabilize him from all sides. Pink and blue and white blurred together as they closed in, murmuring reassurances and hugging him softly and avoiding all the bleeding hurts across his skin. He'd be okay. As long as he could stay right here, he'd be alright. He had to be, right?
——————

Brin shivered, curled up between Saturn and Lightning, his head buried in Lightning's neck, and his fingers a death grip around Saturn's hand.

The two were murmuring quietly between each other, patting his back and avoiding the vicious, open sores cutting over his ribs. Every now and again, Brin shuffled deeper down, eyes shut tight and ears pinned, and they fought the urge to finish that horrid wretch of a man; to make him hurt even a fraction of the way Brin was in a secondth of the time.

Nobody would've faulted them, but it wasn't their decision, wasn't their pound of flesh to take. That lied with the boy between them, hurt and starved and shivering as he leaked tears into Lightning's battle suit.
——————

Brin stood low and dangerous over his boys, hackles raised and muzzle bloody.

Cooling bodies made a wall between them and the Guild, a promise he wouldn't hesitate to make good on in the instant they stepped within reach of steel-cutting claws, and yet they still weren't learning as the pile grew and the crowd thinned.

And still they came, too stupid to understand how short their lives had become just by threatening Timberwolf's sons, much less hurting them the way they did.