Got asked for a ‘you nearly died

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(Somehow managed to delete the original ask, sorry! Cruella AU)

It happens so fast.

They are walking out of the labs, still arguing. He wants to expand their little semi-illegal operation into undermining the illegal fur trade directly- selling on sites like The Silk Road- Hermann is not quite so into that idea.

“And if the products are traced back to us,” Hermann snaps, striding across the pavement, “What do you think that will do to our stocks?”

Newt rolls his eyes, “I’m making this stuff, dude, of course I can make it different enough they can’t trace it. I’m careful.”

“So careful you almost got arrested-” Hermann is half turned to him as he storms over the gutter and into the road.

He says something more, but Newt doesn’t hear it, the volume knob for the world has suddenly turned down to mute, and Newt feels the rumble of the enormous truck in his bones, tastes the vibration of it’s roaring klaxon between his teeth.

Everything seems to slow, slick and liquid as syrup. Newt reaches out and his fingers close on the thick, clinging strands of Hermann’s furs. They clump and stick under his sweat-slick hands, clutching against him as though trying to save themselves.

Newt pulls, his mind jammed on the strength of the stitching, the tensile resistance of the furs he had made as they snatch tight against Hermann’s slender body, a tight little net as Newt hauls him- with the strength that makes children fight off bears and pregnant women lift trucks- out of the way.

Sound and time returns with deafening speed. Hermann’s body clashes against him and they stumble, a whirl of arms and legs and furs and the screaming, tearing wind of the huge truck as it catches them up and whirls them backwards to the pavement.

“Hooligan!” Hermann gasps, fights his way free of Newt and back upright. His face is pinched and bright red as he races after the disappearing truck. “Barbarian! Scoundrel! Visigoth! I’ll have you flogged, you upstart, delinquent-”

Newt should probably go after him. Hermann is working himself into a frothing rage and someone should calm him down. He should probably check the security footage, that guy was going easily twice over the legal limit-

His body doesn’t seem interested, pinned against the blissful solidity of the pavement. And Hermann is so gloriously alive, almost jumping up and down in his fury beside him. The furs swirling like stormclouds around him and not hanging, lank and filthy and sprayed with blood against the road.

Newt manages not to throw up, but his throat locks in a dry heave.

Hermann pauses, “Newton?” He turns, then the flush of rage drains for his face. “Newton! He hurries back, and drops beside him. “Oh Gott, he didn’t harm you?” Hermann fumbles with Newt’s coat, Newt half heartedly reaches up to bat those hands away but oh fuck it feels so good; those dancing, beautiful hands so warm and alive-

Hermann’s eyes are wide, “Newton- say something, if that- that brigand, that gangster hurt you-”

“No,” Newt croaks, he manages to lift a hand up, against the impossible pull of the Earth, and draws it to Hermann’s cheek. “Just- you’re okay. You nearly-”

“I would say so!” Hermann’s nostrils flares in renewed outrage, there are two little white marks on each side of his nose, and it rather makes him think of the General in a rage. “We could have been obliterated, that thing was going easily a hundred miles an hour-”

Newt’s stomach turns, he swallows. “Don’t.” He manages. “Just- don’t.”

Hermann grumbles, outragus interruptus, and subsides into a smoldering mutter about lawyers and the long arm of the law. But he doesn’t pull away from Newt’s hand, and even takes his free hand in his, squeezing, very tightly.

Yikes! Poor Newt. And poor Hermann, when he wakes up, presumably as himself again. He'll be so paran

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Hermann tries to pull away, but Newt refuses to let him. They are the only two of their kind, the only ones they can be near, if only for fear of being found out.

“I could hurt you.” Hermann breathes.

“You didn’t.” Newt repeats, for the thousandth time.

Hermann closes his eyes. “I could.”

“I could hurt you,” Newt throws back, and Hermann snorts. Its a bit hurtful but- he does have a point, Newt would have to work very hard to get his little claws through Hermann’s tough dark hide. He’s maybe a little more dangerous with his teeth, but that would mean exposing his throat and- yeah.

“You’re not going to,” He changes tack.

“You don’t know that.” Hermann turns away, his spines rising to force Newt away. “I don’t know that.” He mumbles helplessly.

Newt sits up, hugs his knees. “How about we check that?”

Hermann’s spines flatten, he rolls over, stares. “What?”

“There are- places you can get restrains.” Newt says slowly,  carefully pacing out the idea. “Not too much-” that could only end badly, “But I could tie you to the- probably the basement railing- by your tail, and if it does go bad, at least it would slow you- him- down.”

Hermann hesitates, frowns in bewilderment at Newt. “But why?” It’s almost a wail.

“Because you’re gonna keep freaking out.” Newt says firmly, the idea is solid now, and it feels like absolutely the right thing to do. “And you were starving and mad, and you didn’t hurt me, maybe if you’re fed and- calmer, you might- I don’t know, get to know me?”

Hermann looks down at his hands, flexes his claws in and out. “This is a horrible idea.”

“I think getting you- it- the Victor- to be sure you won’t tear me to bits is kinda a great idea.” Newt rebuts, and Hermann shuts up. “I’ll get some really solid stuff to tie you down, don’t worry.”

Hermann takes a deep breath, “I will do it myself.”

“Both of us,” Newt says firmly. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

And I didn't even have the cheese

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Whoa, that was easily the scariest nightmare ever.

I dreamed there was this video game I was kinda connected with, which was kinda good only I’d gone to an opening dinner and couldn’t remember any of it, there were no photos, nothing but this drawing from an eight year old the poor kid couldn’t even look at- I had to describe it to him. It looked a bit like a grey bat/whale, hard to tell what it was because- it was drawn by an eight year old.

All I knew was that something really terrifying happened there and all through this dream there was this overshadowing of something unknown but really awful, until the last thing before I woke up was a news report on this game.

It said that the games company had discovered character designs that went beyond the usual ‘adult’ classification. They were sorted into 'medium’ and 'bad’. The other people at the dinner had seen the 'medium’ design and had totally freaked. My table though? Had seen the 'bad’.

And we’re so scarred none of us could even remember it.

And these designs had been leaked and would start appearing in games.

And yhat’s when I woke up and he’d us brain, what kinda creepy pasta cliffhanger was that? I freaked out at the sight of my clothes rack before I put the light on.