#the cats stop scratching him which in itself is a miracle. now it’s only when wiress turns away and they go back to glaring at each other.

[thefloatingwriter]

wiress with cats.

[belettewrites]

Listen to the melody

In which Jaskier finds a puppy, immediately adopts him, and Geralt becomes the “dad didn’t want a dog//dad and the dog” meme. Oh, and some self-esteem issues from a certain white-haired witcher that lead to some hurt until they finally talk to each other. 

cw: the dog gets hurt but I promise he’s fine.

Around 8k words, link to AO3 here!

And a big thank you to @potatofu-art for giving the dog his name! Go check their blog, you won’t regret it (no seriously, do it, trust me)

Geralt and Jaskier had met again when the cold breeze had been replaced by a warmer one, when trees were starting to wear bright green leaves again and fields were blooming with small and fragile flowers.

A few months had past, spring leaving in favor of a warm summer, and they had not parted ways yet. It was something that they usually did, because sometimes Jaskier needed to go to a bardic competition that took place where Geralt would never be able to find a contract, or because Jaskier was requested to play somewhere Geralt would never be able to follow. It wasn’t really parting ways, actually it was more Jaskier leaving, but Geralt told himself that it was something he was fine with. The bard did find him again after, or Geralt did, and they would start traveling together again, Jaskier sharing gossips that Geralt pretended to care about.

He was… fond of Jaskier, and that was why when the bard stopped following the path that would lead straight to the village they had planned to spend the night in, Geralt stopped to wait for him.

The sun hadn’t set yet and wouldn’t for at least an hour, but cicadas were already singing around them, the luminosity dim even though night hadn’t fallen yet. They were just at the edge of the town, and so they had time.

Geralt turned around to see what Jaskier was doing; surely the bard had found a flower that he deemed worth picking, and- 

Jaskier wasn’t on the road anymore. He had jumped in the ditch by the side of the road, and was currently cooing at something. Now that Geralt thought of it, he could hear two heartbeats in that ditch.

“Jaskier?”

He didn’t draw his sword – there was no need – but readied himself for whatever he would find. He walked closer to the ditch, trusting Roach not to run away; the mare snorted but didn’t move.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just – can you hold him for me while I get out of here?”

Geralt looked down. The ditch was quite deep, Jaskier would no doubt stain his doublet to get out of it, as he had his boots when he had jumped in it: a layer of mud covered the bottom of the ditch. But that was not the part that interested Geralt at the moment; not, what made him pause was what Jaskier was currently cradling to his chest – a puppy.

It was not a small one; his legs, covered in mud as the rest of his fur, showed that he would grow into a big dog, the kind that kept herds of sheep in the mountains – not the kind that was left alone in a ditch by the side of the road.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his tone impatient, and Geralt reached out without thinking about it, taking the puppy in his hands.

It squirmed a little but let itself be carried. Geralt put it on the ground next to him, and helped Jaskier to get out of the ditch.

“Thank you, dear,” Jaskier smiled, before his attention returned to the dog. He squatted down to take it in his arms. “The poor thing wasn’t even making a noise,” he said, his smile turning sad, “and he’s shaking. He must have been in here for hours – why would anyone do that?”

Geralt looked at the puppy. His long brown and black fur was in a poor state, hairs matted together by the mud.

“He’s missing a leg,” he stated, and Jaskier frowned.

“And?”

“And people don’t want dogs with only three legs,” Geralt shrugged. It was stupid, but humans often were.

Jaskier’s eyes somehow got even sadder, and Geralt felt helpless. He didn’t want Jaskier to be sad, but there wasn’t anything that he could do to make humans stop being prejudiced against things that weren’t how they expected them to be.

Then determination shone in Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt suddenly felt afraid of what he would say next.

“We’re keeping Butterscotch.”

“We are not keeping him- you gave him a name?”

Jaskier scratched the dog behind his ears, and the puppy closed his eyes.

“Well it’s not as if anyone was going to,” the bard replied, and Geralt suddenly felt extremely tired. “Besides, I found him. I get to name him.”

“We can’t keep him,” Geralt said again, because it was something that Jaskier needed to understand.

“But he’s helpless,” Jaskier almost pouted, “and you said it yourself: people won’t want him. I am not going to leave him here all alone, ready to be eaten by wolves.”

There weren’t any wolves in the area, but Geralt decided against saying it. And of course they wouldn’t abandon him like that.

“His previous humans didn’t want him,” he said instead, “we can find him another family.”

The puppy yawned, which was the most noise he had made since they had found him, and tried to lick Jaskier’s chin. The bard smiled at him, a fond thing, and Geralt suddenly couldn’t tell Jaskier that a young dog wouldn’t survive on the path for long and that they couldn’t exactly afford to feed a puppy on top of their needs.

“No,” Jaskier said, still holding the puppy in his arms. Fuck, but he was cute. The dog – Butterscotch – tried to lick him again, and Jaskier laughed.

Fuck.

They were now doing what he had no choice but to call puppy eyes at him.

This was a bad idea. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea – a dog would need care and attention, and Jaskier’s life was chaotic enough as it was. And of course, dogs didn’t exactly like Geralt. Neither did other pets; cats avoided him like the plague. He didn’t want an animal to be near him all the time – that would cause it distress, and Geralt knew that Jaskier would choose to leave sooner than he usually did.

But one important thing that Geralt couldn’t push aside was that what he wanted most was Jaskier to be happy, be it by his side or on his own.

“He can stay,” he finally conceded, trying not to let it show that at this point there was nothing he would be able to refuse Jaskier. “For now,” he warned pointlessly, acutely aware that the dog would be with him on the path until Jaskier decided that he had had enough of following a witcher around.

He turned away, warmed up by the smile that was currently lighting up Jaskier’s face. He tried to hold onto that happiness when the thought that Jaskier would leave inevitably came. They started walking again, Geralt leading, Jaskier right next to him.

“We’re going to have so many adventures together,” the bard said to the dog that he was still holding in his arms, “and we’ll have a fantastic time. But for now, Butterscotch, let’s go back to the inn and get you a bath. I’m sorry to tell you, you poor thing, but you absolutely need it.”

***

Traveling with a dog wasn’t that much different. Butterscotch was a silent one, never barking at birds or other dogs, which was a relief; the last thing Geralt needed was a small animal broadcasting their location to every single monster around. Even if Butterscotch wasn’t exactly small anymore.

They had found another town and had decided to stay there; Jaskier had performed at the tavern, earning a fair amount of coin, and they had retired for the night when his set had been over.

Geralt was already under the covers, watching with half-opened eyes as Jaskier was getting ready to go to bed. His boots were already by the bed, his doublet folded nicely on the table. 

Butterscotch put his front leg on the bed, near Geralt’s face, and currently sniffed him. His whiskers were tickling Geralt’s nose, and he glared at the dog, who – tried to lick Geralt’s face. The witcher resisted the urge of hiding himself behind the cover.

"He's not sleeping on the bed,” he warned.

“Of course he is sleeping on the bed, we'll need the extra heat. And he's adorable, Geralt, how can you say no?”

The so-called adorable dog was currently making puppy eyes at Geralt, as if he had understood what was going on and was trying to convince him too.

“Because he'll get fur everywhere, and my pants and armor are already covered in them.”

Because that sounded petulant, he added.

“The inn will charge us double.”

Jaskier sighed, but Geralt knew he had to win this one. If he didn’t, then the dog would just take a bad habit, and they would end up regretting it when he would be fully grown. The puppy was already bigger than when Jaskier had got him and it seemed that he was not going to stop. He looked like a shepherd dog, and Geralt wondered how the fuck he had ended up in the small town in which they had found him.

In which Jaskier had found him. Butterscotch was Jaskier’s dog, not theirs.

“But he’ll get cold, and lonely, and he’ll think I don’t love him-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted his friend before it turned into a proper lamentation and it was too late, “the d- Butterscotch loves you already, he follows you everywhere. He won’t mind sleeping on the ground, especially since dogs like him are used to sleeping outside.”

“You’re- you’re right. And we’re right here, it’s not as if he’ll miss us!”

It’s not as if he’ll miss you, Geralt thought. I don’t think he cares much about me.

It was already a miracle that the dog could stand being near him. They usually ran the other way, but this one was surely soothed by Jaskier’s calming presence, always here to talk to him or pet him, or even carry him – Geralt had told Jaskier that he would regret it when the dog would be older, but the other man had ignored him.

“Hear that, Butterscotch? No sleeping on the bed for you. But you’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He heard Jaskier whispering to the dog for a few minutes, and let himself smile, knowing that the other man would never see it. It was nice to see Jaskier so happy; Geralt had given him some coins so he would be able to buy a brush for the puppy, and the way Jaskier had smiled still haunted him.

He heard more than he saw Jaskier slipping under the cover, yawning.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he whispered, and Geralt hummed his reply.

He discovered in the morning that Butterscotch had slept on his bag, successfully shedding fur everywhere. Jaskier had gone downstairs to get them breakfast, so he allowed himself to say to the dog:

“You’re a menace, little one.”

Butterscotch wagged its tail and nudged Geralt’s hand. Well. You couldn’t win them all.

***

The wind was howling outside, the sky was getting darker, and people were hurrying to get inside before the night fully settled. However, Geralt and Jaskier were too busy arguing to notice that.

“I’m telling you, Jaskier, you have to stay here for this one. It’s too dangerous.”

They had been arguing – calmly discussing – for a good ten minutes about Geralt’s next hunt; the witcher didn’t want Jaskier to come with him because it was too dangerous, while the bard absolutely wanted to come because it would “make a great song”. Geralt tended to disagree – he couldn’t exactly see the appeal of songs describing him fighting against monsters.

Plus, the fight would take place in a forest, at night, so it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be able to see anything, and extremely likely that Geralt would have to end up running for his bard’s life, because the other man was too busy taking notes to notice his surroundings. Though the night would prevent him from taking any notes, as would the rain that the dark clouds were announcing. There really was no point for Jaskier to come with him.

“Well what I am telling you is that-”

Butterscotch whined, effectively interrupting Jaskier in whatever he was going to reply.

They both looked down at the dog who was laying at their feet, his ears back on his head. Jaskier squatted down to take him in his arms.

“You’re going to regret that when he’ll be older,” Geralt warned, as he did every time Jaskier went to hold the puppy. Jaskier was strong, but not strong enough to hold the eighty pounds that the puppy would one day weigh. Somehow, Geralt knew that he was going to have to hold the dog when he would want to, and the thought itself was enough to tire him.

“We’ll see,” Jaskier replied like he did every time. “He doesn’t like when we’re fighting,” he added, showing the puppy to Geralt, who barely resisted the urge to pet him. Butterscotch’s ears had perked up now that Jaskier was holding him, and he and the bard made quite an adorable sight, not that Geralt was ever going to say that out loud.

It didn’t seem like Jaskier was going to change his mind soon, if the way he was frowning was a good indication of it. If the wind, the rain threatening to fall, and his possible demise weren’t enough to deter Jaskier from following him, it was time to change tactics. Jaskier might be the bard between the two of them but Geralt too knew how to wield words, though he didn’t choose to do it often.

“We can’t let him here,” he said, shoulders open as a proof of sincerity. Because he did mean it.

“I’m sorry?”

“Butterscotch. You can’t leave him here all alone. He’s still… young, it’s too dangerous.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who felt like he needed to go on if he wanted Jaskier to actually yield.

“He might get injured, I won’t be able to defend the both of you.”

And between you and him, I would choose you. Even if you’d hate me for not saving your dog.

Jaskier’s face seemed to fall, but he nodded, reaffirming his hold on the dog.

“You’re- yes, it would be safer for him.”

“For you,” Geralt insisted, because it was something that he needed to say. Butterscotch was a means to an end here, a way for him to make Jaskier stay in their room instead of running to his doom. And if it meant protecting the puppy, well. It was as they said, with the birds and the stone.

Geralt clumsily patted Jaskier on the shoulder before turning around to check if he had all he needed. It was easier than to see how his friend was looking now, his eyes too sad for Geralt’s liking. But it was something that he would do again – Jaskier’s safety was more important to him than what the bard actually thought about him.

He glanced at his things, quickly scanning what was in his bag: potions, a shirt that Jaskier had insisted had to be there, the stick that Butterscotch had given to him – wait.

He took the stick out of his bag, deciding against throwing it away, not because it was something that Butterscotch had given to him, but because… because. He could feel his swords against his back, their light weight a reassurance that everything was going to be okay – that even if he didn’t make it for a reason or another, Jaskier and Butterscotch would be safe here.

“I’ll go now,” he said to Jaskier, who had put the puppy back on the ground and was currently taking his lute out of its case. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Be careful, dear,” Jaskier replied, barely taking his eyes away from his lute.

Butterscotch tried to follow Geralt as he walked towards the door, and the witcher had to quickly close it to prevent the dog from escaping. He heard a whine coming from inside the room and Jaskier’s soothing voice who tried to calm him.

Shaking his head, Geralt walked downstairs, ignoring the way hearing how sad the puppy was made his heart clench.

Jaskier was reading when Geralt came back, thankfully uninjured, though damp because of the rain that had finally started to fall. The bard was already under the covers, his lute safe in its case, papers safely tucked away in his bag. A single candle was lighting the room, and Geralt was left once again to wonder about Jaskier’s powers. Could he see in the dark? Maybe that was why he had wanted to come with him despite the night.

“You’re back,” Jaskier smiled at him, not closing his book. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Geralt grunted, putting his bag and swords down. He had already cleaned them, knowing that Jaskier would already be in bed and not wanting to disturb him.

He started to unbuckle his armor, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what was currently sleeping on his side of the bed.

“Is Butterscotch-”

“Sleeping on the bed? Yes, I think he is. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Geralt sighed.

“I thought we had agreed not to let him sleep on the bed.”

“I know it’s going to teach him terrible habits, but you were away and he was looking so sad-”

“It’s unsanitary,” Geralt said, finally getting out of his armor. Quickly changing into a new shirt – one that wasn’t full of fur –, he woke the dog up by petting his head. “Hey,” he murmured, trying not to think too much about why he was so gentle with him, “get off the bed.”

Butterscotch slowly stood up, stretching and yawning, but finally jumped off the bed in one smooth motion. He immediately went near Geralt’s bag, curled up into a ball, and promptly fell back asleep.

“Hmm.”

“See? He listens, he’s well-educated,” Jaskier said, closing his book and putting it away.

“He was afraid of what I might do to him,” Geralt retorted while getting under the cover. “I don’t think that counts as listening.”

Jaskier blinked a few times, his face growing serious.

“Butterscotch isn’t afraid of you, Geralt.”

“He obeys me because he sees me as a predator. He’s afraid.”

“Is that- Geralt, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Didn’t you hear him when you left? He was sad because you were leaving without him.”

“You’re disillusioned, bard,” Geralt snarled before blowing out the candle. To think that a dog – that anyone, really – would miss him when he was gone was beyond stupid.

Jaskier stayed silent, the only sound in the room the deep breaths of the dog.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he finally said, his voice small.

Geralt didn’t reply, too busy hating himself to notice how Jaskier’s breaths became more irregular, how the air suddenly smelled like salt instead of them.

Butterscotch kept on sleeping, undisturbed.

***

Geralt hadn’t known how to apologize about that incident so he didn’t, and they kept on moving across the continent for a few weeks, Butterscotch still proudly walking beside them, following Jaskier or staying near Roach who, the traitor, seemed to like the dog just find, never minding when he walked near her.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned the incident either, so Geralt simply thought that it had been forgotten. He hadn’t made any other remarks after that, and Jaskier hadn’t tried to pretend that the dog loved them both equally when they both knew it was a lie.

It didn’t stop Geralt from thinking back about that night and the day that had followed, how Jaskier had talked but not really talked, how it had seemed more like a defense mechanism than a true desire to share every thought that came across his mind.

Butterscotch hadn’t been allowed to sleep on the bed again after that night though he kept on trying, and Geralt was left to wonder how exactly the presence of a dog had changed their dynamics so much. Or maybe, he thought as he watched Jaskier braiding a flower into Roach’s mane, maybe it didn’t change them as much as it revealed that they had already changed. Jaskier was getting older, and though it didn’t show, Geralt knew that the time for him to finally settle down somewhere would come.

He had mentioned the coast, once, how he would have liked to go there when he would be older, and Geralt knew that it was only a matter of time before Jaskier would leave him, taking Butterscotch and all the happiness in Geralt’s life with him.

But it was not something Geralt had control over; still, he couldn’t help but think about it, about when Jaskier would eventually leave, when he would be all alone on the path once again. He had forgotten how it was to truly be alone. Even when he and Jaskier got separated during the year, he knew they would find each other again. But to know that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him anymore would change the colors of the path from bright and lively to dull.

It was difficult not to think about it right now. They were sleeping outside, in the woods, because the weather was nice and they were too far away from any villages anyway. They had set camp early and the night had just fallen on them. Jaskier and Butterscotch had left for a walk, as they always did on evenings, and Geralt had stayed behind, as he always – no. That was not true. He should stop thinking like that.

He added another log to the fire, and sighed. He could hear them still, Jaskier walking on twigs and Butterscotch running around, but he felt… lonely. Which was ridiculous. He never used to feel like that before.

They were coming back, just in time to eat the rabbits that Geralt had been cooking. He had made sure to add spices to Jaskier’s part.

Butterscotch ran straight to him, his lack of a front leg not deterring him. He stopped right by him, and Geralt petted his head. The dog had surely smelled the rabbits, which would explain why he was letting Geralt pet him. Or maybe – but no. Dogs didn’t like him.

“He whines when you’re not here, you know,” Jaskier said as he sat down next to Geralt. “Which was cute when he was small, but now – I swear, he’s always silent when you’re near but when you’re gone? Gods, the only way to soothe him is to give him one of your shirts.”

That would explain why he kept on having dog hair on his stuff even when they had been safely packed away in his bag.

"Hmm," he replied, trying to ignore the way the dog wagged his tail as he pet him. It meant nothing.

He stopped petting Butterscotch to take the rabbits out of the fire, and the dog nudged his arm.

“He didn’t like how you stopped petting him,” Jaskier remarked, an amused smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, but resumed his previous task. Butterscotch sat down and put his head on Geralt’s tight, who tried his best to refrain the wave of affection that overtook him. Maybe – maybe the dog trusted him, after all. Maybe Jaskier had been right, the other night, when –

He quickly glanced at his friend, who looked the other way when their eyes met. Great.

Geralt hated it, hated the way they were right now – but he couldn’t say anything. It was too late. He should have apologized right after his outburst. But Jaskier had acted as if everything was fine the next morning and it had been too easy to follow his lead, to not think about what he had said, how it might have hurt him.

“We should eat,” he said, if only to break the silence. “And maybe – you must have a song or two, for after,” he added hesitantly.

Jaskier’s face cleared up, a sparkle of mischief lighting up in his eyes. It made Geralt want to smile.

Instead, what he did was take his share of the food and eat it slowly, giving as discreetly as possible pieces of it to the dog that hadn’t left his side. If Jaskier saw him, he didn’t say anything; he was talking about the latest gossip in a court whose name Geralt had forgotten.

Listening to his laugh as he recounted the misfortune of some nobles made it a bit easier to forget that this, that them being together and sharing a meal, was not something that was meant to last. Jaskier played soft tunes that Butterscotch fell asleep to, laying down at Geralt’s side, and Geralt closed his eyes. He never wanted the moment to end.

***

The day had been nice; the weather had been kind to them, the sun warming the streets of the town they had decided to stay in because Geralt had taken a contract there and because the inn looked “just perfect for me to perform in, Geralt”. So they had rented a room, Jaskier had given the innkeeper his word that the big fluffy dog that was with them wouldn’t hurt anyone and would keep silent, and they had spent the rest of the day preparing for their respective evening activities.

The fight wasn’t one Geralt was worried about, and it went without much problems. Jaskier and Butterscotch had stayed behind, as they did most of the time now, and Geralt had tried not to think about it too much. Because that was what he had wanted, right? But he couldn’t help but feel as if it were a sign of Jaskier’s soon departure, a proof that Jaskier wasn’t interested in staying with him anymore. It scared him, and the fact that it scared him scared him even more.

He managed to refrain from sighing wearily as he opened the door. He was ready to eat whatever was left of supper and to go to bed, because hopefully his dreams wouldn’t be plagued by thoughts of Jaskier and Butterscotch leaving him.

“Geralt!”

His name, said with so much angst and worry, made Geralt almost drop everything he had been carrying – namely, his swords and his bag of potions. Eyes wide open, suddenly perfectly awake, he all but ran to Jaskier, worried out of his mind. The last time he had seen him, Jaskier had been working at the table of the room, happily humming, the dog laying at his feet, playing with one of Geralt's shirts.

Now Jaskier was standing beside the door, eyes full of tears, while Butterscotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Jaskier, breathe,” he said, as gently as he could manage. “What's going on?”

Jaskier grasped Geralt's arm, his grip almost painful.

“I- it's Butterscotch. He's- he's not doing well, I brought him to the town's apothecary and they said to come back with payment, but I don't think I have enough coins and I don't even know if he'll be okay and-”

Geralt put his bag down and gathered his friend into his arms – to ground him.

“-and I don't usually panic but you were late and- oh, Geralt, what if something happens to him?”

That was exactly why Geralt hadn't wanted the dog to stay with them. Not because he was a liability and another way to waste coin – but because this exact situation could happen. Because loving a being as fragile as Butterscotch was the best way to end up hurt. He tried not to think about Roach, and the Roach that had been there before.

That also was why he had tried his best not to attach himself to Jaskier. Because the bard would die one day, and it was easier not to have friends than to have to face the pain of losing them. Though that line of thought had been cut short when Jaskier had casually said that he couldn't exactly die, and though Geralt didn't exactly know how that particular thing had happened, he couldn't say that he didn't like it. Now the only thing that would stop him from being with Jaskier – as a friend − was the bard deciding that Geralt wasn't worth his time and affection anymore, which would hurt too, but Geralt comforted himself by thinking that at least Jaskier would be alive.

“I have money,” he said at last, not knowing how to comfort Jaskier who was crying in his arms. “We should go there, and listen to what they say.”

He had no idea what had happened to their dog, but it must have been bad if Jaskier was in such a state. The bard loved so freely, it was sometimes worrying.

“Yes,” Jaskier nodded, “Yes. Do you think- do you think we should bring him his shirt?” he added tentatively, sniffing.

“I don't know when my shirt became his, but yes,” Geralt tried to joke just to make Jaskier smile, to bring back the spark in his blue eyes.

It worked, somehow, Jaskier smiling thinly, eyes still brimmed with red. How long had he been crying, alone?

“Come on, Jask. No need to stay here when they need us there. I have enough money, take the shirt, and we'll see how our dog is doing. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Jaskier nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you're right, yes, I- I'll tell you what happened on the way.”

They left the room without looking back, and Geralt, worried about Jaskier and about the dog that had somehow forged a way into his heart, let Jaskier take his hand. He needed the comfort, Geralt thought, and it wasn't hurting anyone. And there was nothing that he could really refuse Jaskier – the mere presence of Butterscotch into their life was proof of that.

Their brown and black dog was in a poor state, his breaths laborious and his eyes glassy.

“I gave him something against the pain”, the apothecary explained, “but it's going to take a few more days until he'll be fine again.”

Geralt felt Jaskier squeeze his hand.

“But he is?” the bard asked, his voice hoarse, “Going to be fine, I mean.”

The apothecary smiled.

“Yes, worry not,” they assured. “Make sure he doesn't eat anything like this again, though.”

As Jaskier had explained to Geralt on the way to the edge of the village where the shop was, he had taken Butterscotch outside for a walk right before the night had fallen, because he had planned to spend the evening playing for the townsfolk and the day was just too beautiful to resist a short stroll.

Since the dog didn't need a leash, Jaskier had let him wander around, keeping an eye on him but not worried. Nothing bad had happened, but right as they were going back into their room, Butterscotch had eaten something that had been left right in front of their door, and had started whining soon after. Jaskier had dropped everything to run to the town’s apothecary, Butterscotch in his arms, worried out of his mind and not even thinking about who could have done it.

It made Geralt's blood boil with rage. He could understand people being prejudiced against him, not liking him and fearing him. But to think that someone had willingly tried to poison his dog – it made him feel furious and guilty. What if they had decided to hurt Jaskier instead? 

“We brought him something,” Jaskier said, taking out the black shirt that was covered in fur, “Can he have it?”

The apothecary sent a knowing look Geralt's way but smiled at them. Jaskier hadn't let Geralt's hand go.

“Of course. I can keep him here for a few days, if that's alright with you.”

Geralt could feel Jaskier's hesitation, though he didn't know what caused it.

“I have coin”, Geralt told them, and he felt Jaskier relax next to him. “It's not going to be a problem. Please just... make sure he doesn't suffer too much?”

Jaskier squeezed his hand again, and Geralt squeezed back to let him know that everything was going to be alright.

“I will,” they promised, “He's lucky to have people as loving as you two are.”

“He's... good,” Geralt said, not really knowing how to answer that. He glanced at Jaskier, only to find that the bard was already looking at him.

“Thank you for taking care of him so late in the evening,” Jaskier yawned, and oh, right, it was well into the night at this point. Geralt hadn't even realized. “We'll be on our way,” Jaskier added, and Geralt took it as his cue to give the apothecary the amount of money they had asked for. “Thank you for taking care of Butterscotch, we'll be back tomorrow to visit him.”

They bid their goodbyes and walked back to their room. Jaskier was silent on their way back to the inn, which was weird but understandable; he seemed to be thinking about something, his scent betraying his sadness and his anxiousness. And if Jaskier's hand found Geralt's again, well, neither of them was going to comment on that.

***

“It's weird, not having to tell him not to climb on the bed,” Geralt remarked a little while later, as they were both trying to sleep, candles blown out a few minutes ago.

When Jaskier didn't reply, he opened his eyes to look at him. Jaskier avoided his eyes, and Geralt frowned.

“I'm worried about him too,” he said, “but they said he was going to be okay. You should try to sleep, Jaskier. It won’t change anything if you stay awake.”

Jaskier sighed, a sigh so sad and so full of anguish that hearing it made Geralt's chest hurt.

“I know, it's just- you aren't going to leave him here, right? After he's well again? Because I know we're both just liabilities to you,” Jaskier went on without caring about Geralt's stunned silence, “But this was my fault and he shouldn't be punished like this – because between you and him I don't know which one I would be able to choose, because choosing you would mean losing him and I think I would hate you for that, but choosing him would mean losing you and I- I can't afford to lose you, Geralt.”

To say that Geralt didn't know what to fucking say would be an understatement; he went for the thing he was the most familiar with.

“What?”

Jaskier sat up and so did he. He cast Igni absentmindedly, thinking that it was a conversation for which they needed to see each other clearly and not in the darkness of an unlit room. It was a mistake, though, because seeing Jaskier's desperate look in the light made Geralt feel... he didn't know what the feeling was, but it was not a good one.

“I mean,” he tried again, “Why the fuck would I leave him here? He's our- I mean, your dog, and you love him, why would I- I would never do that, Jaskier, I-”

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, what do you mean you're both liabilities?”

“What I mean,” Jaskier said, “and don't you dare deny it, is that I know I don't bring much to you, and that Butterscotch at best amuses you sometimes. And-”

“I love him, Jask,” Geralt interrupted. And I love you, he didn't add.

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, clearly not expecting such an answer. “Well, that's-”

“And you’re not liabilities,” Geralt went on, because that was something that he needed to say, that he apparently should have said sooner if Jaskier was able to say it with so much confidence.

“Geralt, you need to feed him, I’m useless in a fight, and I mostly make you end in problems which you would have been able to stay away from if you had been alone.”

That was… true. Not that Geralt cared.

“Jaskier, you don’t- I was alone. And you decided to be my – friend,” he managed to say, trying not to show how much it scared him to say it out loud, lest Jaskier denied it, “and I don’t mind paying for your dog, or for our food, it’s- it’s how I can take care of you. So. I don’t mind.”

He was the one trying to avoid Jaskier’s gaze, now. The mutations made sure he wasn’t able to blush, but boy did he feel like he was. Eyes cast to the side, he tried to say the last thing he had on his mind, because it felt like it mattered.

“And I- I’m happy that you’re here. On the path with me, I mean. And you’ll be welcome for as long as you want. But you don’t have to feel- obliged to stay,” he choked out, because now that it had been said, Jaskier would surely leave, no matter what he had told before. Geralt thought of the coast, of a blue-eyed man laughing on a beach, throwing a stick for his dog to fetch. “I know you’ll want to leave, and when that time comes I’ll make sure to bring you to safety, not because I don’t think you couldn’t handle yourself but because I know I- I know I would want to- to travel with you one last time.”

Silence fell on the room, but not the right kind of silence. It was not a comforting one, not the kind of soothing silence that seemed to wrap you in a hug, the kind that felt like balm gently applied to a burn; no, it was an burning one, a silence so loud that it hurt, and Geralt found that it was hard for him to breathe. He had said his piece, and now Jaskier knew.

The flame flickered and shadows danced around them, and he found himself wishing that it had been a windy night, because at least that sound would have filled the silence that was suffocating him. Geralt was still waiting for Jaskier to reply something, anything, to yell at him or to let out a relieved smile that would mean Yes, finally, I am free, but Jaskier’s face was completely blank and Geralt didn’t know what that meant.

“Or- or if you don’t want that,” he scrambled to say, suddenly understanding why Jaskier was always talking to fill the silence, “I wouldn’t accompany you, I don’t want you to-”

“Is that why you’ve been so odd lately?” Jaskier interrupted him, frowning, his blue eyes clear despite the low luminosity. “Because you think I want to leave?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, not daring to speak too much when Jaskier was finally saying something – and wasn’t that ironic.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, and the seriousness in his voice almost made Geralt shiver of anxiousness, “the only reason I would leave would be if I wasn’t wanted anymore. Which, if I’m being honest” he added, lips stretched in a bitter smile, “was what I was thinking was happening.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, and to Geralt’s horror he saw tears making their way down his face. He ached to tenderly wipe them out, but knew he couldn’t.

“Jaskier-” he said, suddenly desperate to get the words out, to make this right, to make them right again, “about the other night- when I snapped at you because you said that Butterscotch liked me- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

His friend sighed. It was a tired sigh, a weary one.

“That’s the thing, Geralt – you never mean it,” he smiled, but his smile was as happy as his sigh had been. “But whether you mean it or not, your words, the very few of them that I’m blessed enough to hear – they hurt.”

Geralt could only stare helplessly as Jaskier went on, tears still streaming down his face.

“You are my most precious friend, Geralt, and that’s why I have- why I didn’t say anything. Because you mean well, you’re a good person, and just being around you makes me – it makes me happy, Geralt, to be able to care for you, to give you the few things I have, because with you everything is just – better. And in the end,” he added, wiping out his tears with the back of his hand, “in the end the way I feel when I’m near you is worth the pain your words put me through. You are worth – everything, Geralt of Rivia.”

How had they arrived here? How, after years spent traveling together, could Geralt have been so blind about how he made Jaskier feel?

To learn that he had caused so much anguish and pain to the person he loved the most was making Geralt ache. His first reaction was to dismiss what Jaskier had just said about him, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

“I-,” Geralt tried, tried to be honest and to show more than just aggression for once, “I don’t think of myself that way, so it’s difficult for me to- to think that anyone would. Especially-” he gulped, fighting to get the words out because it felt like if he didn’t, he would lose Jaskier for good, “Especially someone as- as- perfect as you. And it was easier to just dismiss it and push you away than to think about how much – how much I care about you. Because caring about people is – dangerous. Gives them power over you, gives your enemies something to use against you.”

Jaskier was looking at him, hands on his tights; he wasn’t crying anymore, but tears were threatening to fall once again. Geralt hopped, prayed, that it wasn’t because he was hurting him again.

“But you have to know that-,” he started, then stopped because he didn’t know how to say it. “I- I don’t know how to tell you,” he finally admitted. “It’s- like- despite how dangerous it is, I- I let myself care about you, and I- I don’t regret it. I will never regret it, Jaskier, because you are – a blessing. You are a beautiful, perfect thing that my hands don’t know how to touch without breaking it.”

He ached to reach out, to take one the hand that he had been holding earlier.

“So it’s- it’s easier to-”

He had no choice but to say it, hadn’t he? He couldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore, he wouldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore – though was it a lie, to keep the truth silent? He was being a coward and he knew it, but being Jaskier’s friend was better than to confess and to lose his warmth entirely. Though he had been a bad friend to the bard, and – well.

“It was easier to act as if it meant nothing than to admit that I love you,” he mumbled rapidly, afraid that his courage would fail him.

Now that the truth was out in the air, he didn’t dare to glance at Jaskier. What would the look on his face be? Disgust? Pity? Or, somehow worse, just a blank look, synonym of the doom of their already fragile relationship?

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed out, and his voice sounded teary but the sadness from earlier had disappeared. “Is that how you’re thinking? That love is a – liability? That loving me is a liability?”

“That’s how I used to think,” Geralt corrected him, “before I realized that I was wrong. And that’s why – that’s why Butterscotch scares me. Because he’s young, but he will die, and I know that it’ll hurt and-”

“Darling,” Jaskier interrupted, moving on the bed to be sitting next to Geralt, their tights pressed together. Geralt could hear his heartbeat, knew that the other man was nervous, but the closeness felt like acceptance and maybe, maybe, requited love. A hand found his, and Geralt squeezed it without thinking. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, “Why do you focus so much on what is going to happen? It prevents you from enjoying life, darling. Butterscotch will die one day, yes, and I know that it will bring me pain, that it will hurt us both. But is that all that you’re thinking about when you see him playing in the dirt? When he sleeps soundly next to you? When you hear a song, darling, do you think about its last notes or do you listen to its melody?”

“I-”

“I’d be a hypocrite,” Jaskier’s voice dropped lower as if he was sharing a secret, “if I didn’t admit that when we meet up in spring, I can’t help but think about the day we’ll go on our separate ways, because it might be the last time I’ll see you. But then I- I force myself not to think about it, because at least six months of the year will be spent next to you, next to the man I love, and-”

“You love me?” Geralt interrupted him, turning his head to look at Jaskier. His red-rimmed blue eyes had never looked more beautiful.

“Of course I do, Geralt, how could I not?”

Jaskier dropped his head on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt didn’t know where their conversation was going, didn’t understand what had just happened – he had been this close to losing Jaskier, had felt the bard closing off, and now they were next to one another, Jaskier’s hair tickling his cheek.

“So that means I- you- forgive me?”

Jaskier stayed silent, but didn’t draw away.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and Geralt frowned slightly.

“I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness,” he started, squeezing Jaskier’s hand when he felt that the other man was about to say something, “but I will do my best to deserve it. I will – I will be more careful with you, Julek,” he swore.

They stayed silent for a bit, but this time Geralt didn’t feel as though he couldn’t breathe. The room around them felt more welcoming, the orange light from the candle warmer than it had been earlier.

“What does that mean for us?” Jaskier asked, and he sounded – hesitant, but hopeful. It was a question easy for Geralt to answer, because he had always been better at acts than at words.

“It means that we’ll stay as long as Butterscotch needs us to, and then we’ll go on with our travels. Maybe we’ll stay near the coast, there are always villages that are in need of witchers there. Butterscotch will go play in the water and I’ll complain when he’ll shake himself, but I’ll give him treats when you won’t be looking.”

A pause, then.

“But he still won’t be allowed to sleep on the bed.”

Jaskier snorted, and Geralt felt relieved beyond measure.

“For now, though,” Geralt added, “I think we should sleep. I did just come back from a hunt, after all, and it is quite late in the night.”

“My poor, dear witcher,” Jaskier smiled, and Geralt tried not to let it show how much it pleased him to be called Jaskier’s until he remembered that actually showing how he felt was important, “you must be exhausted. No kiss for you, then, only resting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier who was looking at him, mirth lighting up his eyes.

“I’m not that tired,” he objected, and Jaskier chuckled.

“Aren’t you? Then I guess I could be convinced to kiss you goodnight.”

Their kiss wasn’t mind-blowing. It just – was. Jaskier’s cheeks were still damp from his crying and their kiss tasted a bit like salt and the angle was weird, but Jaskier sighed in his mouth, a happy sigh, and Geralt found out that he couldn’t wait to do that for the rest of their lives.

Soon they would leave this place and travel, and Geralt would get more injuries and Jaskier would write more songs; but he tried not to think about it, and found it not so difficult to focus on the moment when Jaskier kissed him again.

It was a short kiss, a chaste one; it was a promise for more to come, for sunny days spent in laughter and gloomy evenings spent next to each other, for arguments and reconciliations, and for a life in each other’s company. Just him, Jaskier, and their dog – and Roach. 

[wickfursfanfics]

DCMKEmogust2021 03/08

My entry for DCMKEmogust 2021 - Week one - Tuesday 03/08

My prompt Inspirations for this one:

Word 1 - Expertise

Dialog 2 - “Either a fool or someone who has nothing left to lose. Wouldn't you agree?”

Intended Genre: Crack and humor

Rating: General

Starring: KID, Conan, a disgruntled Hakuba and some random unknowns.

>>><><><><<<

"Well, this could have gone better" Kaito comments. As he ducks his head before an incoming bullet has the chance to meet his forehead. Hakuba moved further from the edge with a wild look in his eyes.

"You think?!" Tantei-san equivalently shouts above the din of automatic weapons.

These guys were wasting bullets like they were shooting fireworks on new years eve. But considering all the ammunition they were carrying it wasn't all that surprising. 

He just didn't understand why they felt the need to empty out their magazines on a lowly thief and a high-school detective. Or in this case the wall, since thankfully neither one of them had gotten shot.

He had just finished his amazing heist and lured Nakamori-keibu into a merry chase after his dummy. When he noticed that his littlest detective hadn't shown up on the roof like usual. So being the concerned phantom thief he was, he went looking for him with Hakuba in tow.

To think he would run into him being carried around by a bunch of heavily armed robbers into a bank heist. That wasn't really on his list of potential hiding places for the reckless child. But considering it was Tantei-kun, he shouldn't be all that surprised.

He again chanced a glance around the wall they were hiding behind, so he could check on Tantei-kun. He looked very annoyed being handled like a small child in the arms of his captors, he seemed like a angry cat who wanted to get out of their clutches, but was unable to. The robbers looked as annoyed by the feisty child as he was of the robbers, it was just his Tantei-kun's luck to become a hostage in this scenario.

Kaito ducked back from a projectile with a little too close of a margin to his nose. His hat had already suffered a hole in the brim, no need to add that feature to his face.

Well, Tantei-kun looked fine, annoyed but fine. Considering he had gone into this armed robbery, alone in his best Tantei-kun fashion, he had gotten away with very few scratches. What he had been thinking when he waltzed in on the robbers, Kaito had no idea. Now it was just a matter of getting him out of the mess he had created.

"We better do something about this, don't you think so Tantei-san?" He said down to his cowering companion.

"We?” He asks scandalized “Are you bloody mad?! Haven’t you understood the situation we are in right now?”

"If I’m mad, can be discussed. But more importantly, if we don't do something soon Tantei-kun looks like he is going to bite his captor" He joked. But in all seriousness, if they don’t do something soon, he will cause Kaito a great deal of trouble. The mayhem he creates always ends in Kaito getting hurt one way or another, so he would rather avoid that scenario if at all possible.

Hakuba looks up at him with a confused expression on his face "Bite them? Why?"

Kaito grins with a chuckle "I think the robber holding him has a soft spot for kids, he is cuddling him like a newborn babe"

The detective looked like his brain stopped for a moment in error before restarting as he uttered a "What… why would that matter?"

He sighs dramatically "Tantei-kun hates being coddled" he bemoans. He wasn’t nice to those who coddled him too much. Kaito included.

“So that means I better go save the robbers before Tantei-kun does something crazy” he declared. Hakuba looked at him like he had a second head.

“Did you miss the part where they have automatic weapons, shooting at us? Ring any bells?”

“I can’t hear the bells over the spray of bullets unfortunately” he said, just to annoy the blond.

Hakuba slumps against the wall with a frustrated sigh “Why am I wasting my breath? …. Wait save the robbers??” he asks, confused.

Kaito ignores him in favour of looking around the corner and notices that Tantei-kun has his hands on his watch. He was about to pop the lid of his watch and shoot his captor with a sleeping dart. He better get out there and assist him unless he wanted the detective to kick the bucket. Which he really didn’t, however frustrating he could be.

He moves slightly closer to the edge, ready to go out there when he feels a slight tug on his cape. He turns around to Hakuba with an eyebrow raised.

"Did you need something? I'm about to get busy"

Hakuba frowns at him “KID, if you go out there you will get shot”

He only gives him a chuckle for his concern “Good thing that’s one of my expertise”

“Getting shot?” the detective says snidely.

“No of course not” he defends “Dodging bullets”

Hakuba groans in absolute frustration "You are a fool!”

He smiles and says “I’m either a fool or someone who has nothing left to lose. Wouldn’t you agree?” He then runs out into the mayhem, despite Hakuba's shouts of protest. He shoots a few cards from his cardgun at the lights, descending the room into darkness. He then shoots two cards right in front of the robbers that release smoke, to blind his captors. He hears some shouts, as the little detective takes this as his cue to act.

Between the two of them, they have them down and counted for, before the smoke totally dissipates. Hakuba takes it upon himself to be the responsible one and calls this in to the police. Meanwhile Kaito checks on his reckless little critic. 

He turns his little arm this way and that between his hands to check for any injuries. Then he did the same for the other arm. But fortunately he seemed to only have gotten a few scratches in his scuffle with the men thrice his size in body mass. Which was a miracle by itself.

“What if I hadn’t rushed in when I did, what then?” he scolded.

Tantei-kun just scoffs “I knew you would, so there was no need to think too much about it”

Kaito rolls his eyes skyward at the not-compliment “You, are a pain in my butt. But I feel slightly touched by your trust in my abilities” he says, a slight smile on his lips as he puts a Bandaid on his scraped knee.

But then he says “Not really, you are just a very convenient distraction” 

His smile drops off his face “Okay, and now I’m mildly hurt by your words”

Tantei-kun smirks at him.

“You will live”

Meanwhile Hakuba looks at their exchange with a confused frown. Shouldn't KID be asking the child if he was okay instead of bantering with him like he was a moody teenager?

He looks at the similar smirks playing on their faces and decides that's a question for another day.

END

Sorry if this is a mess, I didn't quite know where I wanted to go with this one xD But hopefully the crack could make you chuckle at least a little bit.

Until next time //Wick 0v0

[miracul0us-multishipper]

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special. 

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger. 

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

 “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

 The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

 “Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared  for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him. 

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected. 

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered. 

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

[whirlybirdwhat]

East Sea of Monsters - Chapter 19

Thatch loves his new brothers, but something is stalking him in the dark and its not friendly. Also ft. the spade pirates

-

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and author’s notes, especially warnings for content within the fic!! Tag “Ficart” on my blog should also show some fanart and podfics for this fic, as well as the link to translations! give them some love! 

- 

Thatch - Paranoia

There is something on the ship. Thatch doesn’t know what it is or what it looks like, or even if it's corporeal, but he knows one thing.

One.

Thing.

And that is that this creature is trying to eat through all of the Moby’s food stores, one meat slice at a time.

He laments such claims to Marco and Ace, who are training on deck.

“It’s horrible! Absolutely horrendous! I woke up this morning to three – three, Ace, three! – carvings of that sea king from yesterday gone! Gone! And I have no idea what’s causing it, and I’m 99% sure it’s stalking me!” He flails dramatically out, but dead serious in his words. There’s been something in the shadows of late, something he can’t sense with his haki, and little (and not so little) scratches outside his door at night. He’s not the sort to be serious about personal danger, so he explains it as best he can.

Through jokes.

Ace laughs at him, throwing his head back and mirth clear in his eye.

Thatch is proud of him, their newest brother of only two months. He’s going to be second division commander in a week, not that he knows it yet, and Thatch is just so, so proud of him.

He’s so far from the angry creature that stalked around deck and threw himself, with the intent to kill, at Whitebeard every day.

In the sunlight, without the shadows of his usual hiding places, Ace looks even happier than before.

(Thatch could give a description of him, talk about his freckles or the way he smiles, but feels like anything he could say could never truly describe, well, Ace. His eyes are never truly the color Thatch think’s they are and his smile is just so pointy in certain lights, that Thatch often jokes about his feral nature.  But, more than these oddities is the way Ace looks ashy and cracked when he suddenly pops into view and his smile too wide and skin covered in darkness and his fingers tipped in sharp edged claws.

It’s nothing, supposedly, just figures of the mind but Thatch wonders when it seems like Ace is burning from the inside out and not because of his fruit.)

Marco swipes at Ace for getting distracted and then gives Thatch a look. “Have you tried trapping it? Stalking it back?”

He doesn’t ask are you sure it’s even there because Thatch knows it has been clawing at Marco’s door as well.

(Deeper gouges, the scent of ash at sunrise, different from the cooling unburning flames of the phoenix.

And Marco hadn’t noticed it with Haki either)

Thatch huffs, flopping further on the crate he’s using as a table. “Yep. Pulled three all-nighters and tried three different types of traps in the galley, and only wound up with paranoia and giving Jim from Third Division a broken toe.”

Marco winces at that, because getting that means you go down to the infirmary, where their medical staff’s age is ten times worse than any injury.

(They seem to have a soft spot for Ace – Thatch doesn’t know if it’s because Ace is stupidly polite to them, or just makes this confused look when they imply they should be the ones to help his injuries.

Ace tends to go to Deuce more often, (something about fire proof bandages?) but still, the soft spot is there. Thatch has used Ace to get out of trouble for kitchen injuries once or twice.)

“Have you tried bait?”

“Yeah.”

“Ambush?”

“That’s what the all-nighters were for.”

“Asking for help?”

“That’s what I’m doing now.”

“How about- “

Before Marco can give another useless bit of information, Ace cuts in. “Have you tried just, hunting it?”

“Observation Haki isn’t working on the thing.” Thatch explains, casting aside the idea.

Ace’s brow furrows, as if Thatch is an idiot. “I never hunted with haki, you don’t need it.” There’s something more to his frown, something sharp peeking out, but Thatch dismisses it.

“Yeah? You want to try then?” Thatch challenges him.

“Sure, it’s been a while.”

And that’s the start of it.

-

Thatch leaves Ace to his hunting, trusting that he’ll get the work done or give up trying, but that doesn’t stop him from curiously observing his new brother.

“Doesn’t that hinder your grip?” Thatch asks, referring to Ace’s right hand.

“Hm?” Ace says from his position at the top of their storage hold’s rafters.

“Your right hand.”

“Oh! Nah, I’m used to it. Say, pass me the turkey?”

“To eat or for bait?”

“Uh. Both?”

Thatch laughs and almost misses the way a part of Ace’s body seems to sink into the rafters. He tries to ignore it, he really does, but he can’t even tell if he saw it in the first place.

What.

Ace notices his stares. “Thatch?” He asks in that concerned voice of his, which sends all sorts of guilt up Thatch’s spine.

“Uh, nothing!” He searches for a new topic. “How’d you lose it, anyway?”

Shit! Not like that! Could be sensitive you dolt!

The ever present watching invisible creature seems to agree in Thatch’s mind.

Ace’s body (which gets all fuzzy, save for the tattoos, when Thatch stares to long, which he associates with the flame-flame fruit) is missing a crucial part.

“My pinky?”

His right pinky is a stub, stretched with scratched scars, like teeth dragging over skin that didn’t sink in on the hand until the base.

(Thatch is growing increasingly concerned as he swears he saw those marks glowing, he did, he did but he can’t say anything, can he? He can’t mention how the pinky stub itself has something dark around it, like a promise, like a curse, can he, without seeming insane and untrusting?)

“Yeah.” Doesn’t seem to be a sensitive subject, because Ace looks down at his missing finger with a grin.

“Just something that happened when I was a kid. Accidents happen when you live where I lived.”

“And where did you live?”

“A bandit den, for a while.”

“What.”

“Then a trash heap, just for a bit. Place was fun, lots of fights.”

“What.”

“Built a treehouse too though we grew out of it.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Ace looks confused and it would be funny if it didn’t…

“This explains so much, oh hell.” Thatch rubs a hand over his face. No wonder Ace is half feral, it’s a miracle he learned manners at all. He ignores Ace’s face and changes the subject. He’ll wait till Ace brings it up with the others, then he’ll tease him about it mercilessly.  “You done?”

“Yep! If your little thief is who I think it is this should catch ‘em.” Ace looks proudly at his contraption in the rafters – a bed of blankets with a few slices of meat in a bowl.  “Can’t believe I didn’t know he crept on here the bastard. Should have known anyway.”

“Wait, you know who-” Thatch is interrupted by a deep mrrowh? Coming from his left. He turns, catches a glimpse of Ace smiling, and is greet with the vision of an absolutely monstrous cat.

It looks like a lynx with simply monstrous fangs – but that’s the thing. It only looks like it and the way its eyes are wide and unseeing… well…

“What.” Thatch says as Ace makes a delighted noise.

“Kotatsu you little bastard! There you are! C’mere.” The lynx flies into open arms and suddenly Ace is holding a cat almost twice his size. That’s wearing pants. “Have you been stealing from Thatch?” Kotatsu, as Ace calls him, swipes at Ace’s face, smushing it to the side. A faint burning smell fills the air but Ace appears unconcerned, so Thatch lets it slide in favor of staring at the cat.

Upon noticing, Ace smiles at Thatch and tells him “This is Kotatsu! The Spades’ Cat. I thought he was with Skulls and Banshee on Moby Four, but no, you like stealing my food, don’t you? Bastard.”

Ace shoves his face into Kotatsu’s fur and is almost consumed by the fur that… that doesn’t really look like fur.

In fact, a lot of things don’t look like they are when dealing with the Spades.

“I’ll take care of him, making sure he doesn’t steal anything else.” Ace’s voice is strangely unmuffled as he walks away, Kotatsu in his arms and trap untouched.

Thatch stares dumbly and feels the sense of oddness washing away.

What?

God, he sounds like a broken record.

But now that the mystery of the stolen meat is gone…

A new mystery arises.

How the hell did that cat hide itself?

-

Thatch can’t sleep at night, now that he knows the watching feeling is Ace’s giant pet cat, which is too large to fit in any shadow yet still stalks him.

Something is up with the Spades pirates. All of them.

(It’s in the way Ace laughs or fights or exists on deck. His eyes are never the same color, his teeth a tad too sharp in certain lights, and his tattoos, emblazoned on his shoulder and back by Deuce’s skillful hand, have an unworldly shine to them

It’s in the way there is ash left in his footsteps soot where his fingers grip a tad too tight. Looking at him, directly, it’s like there’s a burning sense to eyes, like Thatch is looking directly at a blinding fire.

It’s in the way Deuce never takes off his mask but his entire face reacts a little too late to what he is saying, like he’s a second behind himself, like he’s a fault mask at work. It’s in the way Banshee lives up to her name and Skull’s skulls are always different but look a little too real for the odd horned shapes they have. It’s in the way everyone gives Finamore a wide berth but he’s less than five feet and the way Saber’s hat has five holes on either side, same as Ace. It’s in the way they all grow blurry when the sun goes down but no one mentions it, and the way Ducky Bree’s eyes aren’t ever exactly eyes.

The crew loves Ace, loves the Spades, for they are brothers and they won’t ever not love them, but they shy off, sometimes, when the dark is a bit too dark for anything normal.)

Thatch is going to find out what, because while the rest of the crew may chalk it up to Grand Line madness (a crew of misfits, the newspapers said) Thatch, and the other commanders, and some of the old hands of the crew who were around in Roger’s reign, know better.

What are you, Ace, really? What’s going on here?

He starts talking to the other Spades more often, trying to find out what’s going on, only to be met with laughter.

(Deuce’s mask shifts when he laughs, as if it’s not used to making that expression. He turns his head to fix it and Thatch swears his face slides forward just a bit, like it’s not even his. Its dark, under there, and it's gone for a second, but Thatch can’t stop staring.

He doesn’t talk to Deuce for a while after that.)

“Thatch,” Mihar says, tipping his hat up. “Be careful, won’t you? There are things you do not want to learn.”

Thatch doesn’t heed the warnings and backs off from Mihar too. But the rest of the Spades? Thatch is going insane.

He can’t explain it, he really can’t, he tries to tell Marco and Izo and everyone but he can’t explain anything beyond “It’s off.” His throat locks up when he tries to speak about Deuce’s face or Finamore’s presence or the way Banshee walks through counters in the kitchen and he thinks he’s going insane.

Kotatsu waits outside his door in the morning, and Thatch see’s agonized faces in his fur.

(Save us, they seem to scream voicelessly in inky black non fur (wasn’t Kotatsu brown?) Save us from this -)

He shuts the door before they can finish, and doesn’t come out till Ace starts making noises at Kotatsu to move.

-

He keeps quiet about it to others aft that, but now Ace seems to have caught on. He smiles at Thatch, baring sharp teeth and pricking him with too sharp fingers. When they slump together at drunken parties Thatch feels the point of something poking into his cheek.  

Ace is Thatch’s beloved little brother but he can be a little shit sometimes. Especially when he takes his giant cat around (which Marco avoids like hell and is the source of Thatch’s amusement if not for the fact that Kotatsu keeps stalking him.) and rides the thing, leaving sharp gouges (in the Adam Wood deck) everywhere he goes like a king on a carriage.

(Thatch is sure the beast grown and shrunk twenty different time since it showed up. He doesn’t know how big it is, truly, only that Ace can ride it and carry it.)

He’s no closer to figuring it out than when he started, just more horrified.

-

As always, Pops has the answer, if in an unconventional way this time.

The sky is dark as the Moby battles in the midst of a hurricane. Some upstart pirate, strangely strong, had taken to attacking the ship.

Pops was impressed at his tenacity at first, then caught him throwing crewmates who objected over board. Then that impressment quickly turned to anger.

Now, in the middle of the storm, Pops was taking no chances to prolong the battle especially with the predictableness of a Grand Line’s storm.

Conqueror’s Haki cut through the air like an executioner’s sword, dropping everyone on the opposing ship dead. Thatch didn’t particularly care what happened to them.

But, for a second, Thatch’s eyes were opened.

(The Veil was gone, raging at a King’s force in which it could not fight.)

There was Ace, fire and volcanic ash in the rain, horned and glowing and made up skin just barely holding together some force. His eyes shone as did his tattoos, red in the light but shifting to blue as he watched. The necklace around his neck was floating wrapping around him with soft power as Ace raged with a sharp tooth grin across the deck.

Next to him, Deuce stood, if that was the word, tall, limbs bent and strange and his face…

Deuce didn’t have a face. Only a smile made of knives.

Hot breath went down Thatch’s neck.

Kotatsu, Thatch knew without seeing, K’oltqevo.

(The name comes in whispers)

He doesn’t look back. Ever.

(The Veil hides what should not be seen and not a soul knows why.

But, occasionally, it is so the world doesn’t fall for what it doesn’t know.)

Lightning strikes and Ace is ‘human’ again but Thatch knows what he saw.

-

He can’t come up with an explanation. He can’t. Thatch tries summoning stuff in the basement only to have Kotatsu land on him, maps out conspiracies, places where the Spades might have turned into this, this whatever it is.

Kotatsu laughs at him in that cat way of his, and Thatch is suddenly very afraid of how often Ace insults the lynx looking thing to his face.

(Little bastard, Ace affectionately says, coaxing Kotatsu to leap at Marco, who is more skittish now because he too saw the truth in that storm, Come on, get em.)

Thatch has gone insane.

-

Whitebeard laughs when Thatch tells him his theories.

“You’re brother,” Whitebeard says, “Is a true son of the sea. Tell me, what sea does your newest brother hail from?”

“The East- Oh.” Thatch remembers now.

His father, the one he was born to, had toured the world with him, but never went to the East.

“Son,” He had said, “The devil lives in that Sea.”

Guess it was literal.

(The whispers now, of Garp and Roger and Ace and Dragon, seem a bit more literal now, a bit more terrifying. Monsters, they were called, demons.

But who could have guessed it went beyond mere power?)

“Could’ve explained that from the start.” Thatch grumbles, though he knows no more now other than that the East Blue is a demon sea.

Whitebeard has a twinkle in his eye, and thinking back to the battle he had with Ace, Thatch wonders if he knew it from the start.

(After all, wouldn’t Whitebeard know better than anyone? Demons attacking you in the night (Ace, tenacious bastard, had attacked at all times) would alert anyone to the truth.)

“Where’s the fun in that?” Whitebeard rumbles. “Treat him kindly. This is his home.”

Thatch squawks. “Of course! He’s my brother!” Pops knows that, he knows, he’s just teasing.

He waves goodnight to his father and avoids Kotatsu’s giant tail in the hallway.

Brothers, we are brothers.

Ace smiles, the world darkens, and Thatch wonders what else he can’t see in the dark.

[knamjooned]

Magicae Foresta (5)

pairing: (forest)dragon!namjoon x (unpracticed)witch!reader

genre: magic/supernatural au, shifter au, fluff, angst, smut, soulmate au

chapter words: 1,936

chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy and difficult birth, VERY brief mention of sex experiences

chapter rating: PG

STORY SUMMARY: The magical world your grandmother told you about had always been real to you. Once she passed away, you find yourself honoring her memory by searching for the one magical creature she could never find.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You finally meet the forest dragon, learn how the Queen and King of the bees ended up as mates, and feel insecure about your lack of relationship experience.

FIVE

Bringing life into this world is a miracle in itself. It takes a strong person to take on the pain of childbirth. Women are the creators of life, the guardians of others. Even though my daughter was not chosen for this magical journey, I am proud of all she has accomplished and will accomplish. 

As soon as Taehyung sensed Jungkook buzzing outside the cave door, he stood and hurried toward it. You looked at Jimin, confused, who shrugged and stood. You did the same, and both of you followed the unicorn. When the shadow was pulled back, Jungkook stood, nude from head to toe, as if he had just shifted. You covered your eyes immediately with both hands.

“Sarah is in labor, but it’s taking longer than we think it should for the cubs to arrive. Yoongi wants you and Namjoon there, in case some kind of magic is needed. Sorry, Jimin, he only wants these two.”

“I understand, they have magic that may be useful for Sarah and the cubs. I’ll wait with Hoseok and Seokjin for any news.”

You heard shuffling, which probably meant Jimin had stripped and was shifting. A buzzing sound indicated Jungkook was on his way to either speak with the dragon or back to the panther. You lowered your hands. Taehyung smirked and shook his head, amused. Taking a deep breath, his face turned serious.

“Come, this will be as good a time as any to meet the dragon.” 

You hurriedly gathered your things. Taehyung held out a pack of tarot cards toward you. Blinking, you looked at them, then up at his face. He smiled softly at you. “To practice with. Next time you’re able, get the cards that call to you specifically.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, taking the cards as if they were the most precious thing in your possession. Taehyung handed you a cloth bag with a pull string to put them in. As you put them away, Taehyung shifted without stripping, causing you to stare with wide eyes. “Are you the only one who can do that?”

Taehyung flipped his blue mane with a twinkle in his eye. You pulled yourself onto his back, holding tightly as he took off in a gallop through the trees. 

A few hours later, Namjoon was a hundred yards from landing in Yoongi’s clearing when his heart started pounding. His blood pumped through his body, the scent of you almost overtaking his thoughts. Namjoon forced himself to concentrate as he flew lower. You were near, and his wild, instinctual side wanted to swoop down and scoop you up.

Unfortunately, he had more important things that needed his attention. The little panthers were struggling to come into this world, and he’d do all he could to help them along. Still, as he glided down and shifted quickly, you stayed in his mind. As he put on trousers, Namjoon cursed to himself as he ignored his whole body pulsing with the need to be close to you.

It only took him a few moments to walk to the large tree house Yoongi and his mate resided, and he jogged up the stairs swirling around the tree trunk to the door. Namjoon lifted a fist to knock, but froze when he heard a voice he’d never heard before, but knew immediately.

“I will wait outside if you are uncomfortable with me staying. I understand the need for just the beings close to you to be here.” Just then, the door was pulled open. Namjoon came face to face with you, his mate, the new guardian of the forest.

“Oh,” you said quietly, eyes widening and cheeks flushing. As soon as she recognizes the connection to you, Namjoon, she’ll experience the same wild thoughts and feelings as you. He cleared his throat as Taehyung’s words came back to him. “You… are Namjoon. The forest dragon.”

“Yes, but we have more pressing matters at hand,” he replied, gazing into your eyes. He curled his hands into fists at his sides, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms. Namjoon looked over your shoulder to the few friends in the living room. Yoongi had shifted into his panther form, and was lying next to Sarah, who was panting heavily.

“Of course,” you agreed, back straightening. You glanced back toward the small group and nodded. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I will wait at the bottom of the tree.”

“My Queen and I will join you,” Jungkook murmured, pulling Minji toward the door with him. She gave Namjoon a smile and bowed her head of greeting as they passed. You glanced one last time, for now, at Namjoon, then made your way down the stairs. Namjoon swallowed, his breath stuttering as he tried to keep his emotions even.

“Joon, focus,” Taehyung called, making Namjoon turn. The blue-haired mystical being was sitting next to Sarah, running his hand over her stomach, softly petting her. Namjoon knew the only reason Yoongi was letting this happen was for the calming magic Taehyung could use.

“I am. Do we understand what is happening?”

“It seems these little ones are scared to come into this big, scary world.” Namjoon’s face softened as he stepped forward and sat down quietly next to the two large cats. He put a hand on Sarah’s head.

“I’m not sure I can do anything but be here. Taehyung’s calming magic will most likely be just what you need to sooth your cubs’ fears. When you two are calm, they will be calm.” Namjoon glanced at Yoongi, who took a deep breath and nuzzled the side of Sarah’s face. After a moment, Taehyung’s face lit up.

“I suspect they are ready.”

When you stepped off the last stair into the ground full of grass and leaves, you leaned forward, hands on your knees as you took slow, deep breaths. Jungkook and Minji frowned, watching you with worried eyes. When they stepped toward you, you held up a hand to stop them, then straightened. You blew out a heavy breath.

“ I was just… overwhelmed. I… had no idea it would so…..” You struggled to find the right words to what you had felt. Was it like this for everyone? You closed your eyes and pressed your lips together, going through each thought and feeling that had bombarded you as soon as you felt Namjoon was close. You didn’t see the way Jungkook and Minji glanced at one another and started to whisper. 

It was half an hour before Namjoon had shown up that you had started feeling his presence. You understand the idea of feeling magic, but this was different. It wasn’t magic you were picking up, it was him. Your heart had pounded in your ears, your head swimming with thoughts of Namjoon. You had almost dashed out of the tree house to meet him when he landed. Yet, you had never met him face to face, had only the little information your grandmother and your new friends had given you. 

As you were about to open your eyes, you felt a presence inside of you. Cool, calm, and comforting, the vision of Tata’s face came. A soft, happy smile pulled on her thin lips as a tear fell down her wrinkled cheek.

“I suppose I was never the one who was supposed to find him. It was you, my dear granddaughter. Don’t be afraid to take a chance, to explore these new feelings. This is where you are meant to be, who you’re meant to be with, but you always have a choice. I love you.”

You opened your eyes, slowly, blinking everything into focus. Minji and Jungkook stopped murmuring to one another and looked at you with wide eyes. She took a step toward you, just as she had a few moments before. 

“Are you okay?” Minji asked. “Need water, a chair, anything?”

“I’m okay, I mean it.” You sent her a small smile, feeling more at peace about the situation you were still confused about. You sat on the grass and looked up at the tree house where new life was being birthed. “I take it that my reaction to the forest dragon is not normal, right?”

“Ah…” Jungkook glanced at Minji, who smiled and nodded toward him, indicating he should go ahead with his thought. She winked at him and he winked back before turning his grin to you. “No, that’s reserved for mates. A mate is-”

“A being the Great One has deem the perfect match to compliment your flaws and strengths,” you interrupted, eyes still gazing at the home. Jungkook burst out laughing, and Minji slapped his on the arm, glaring at him playfully. 

“Sorry, but that’s exactly how Jimin describes it.”

“That’s almost a direct quote,” you quipped, grinning, turning your face toward the pair. “Will you tell me how you two met? How you ended up being Queen and King of the honeybees?”

“I’m not entirely sure how it happened, either, if I’m honest,” Jungkook answered, scratching his head. Minji rolled her eyes and sat on the ground near you, pulling her husband with her. You all settled comfortably as she started to talk.

“As a honeybee, we don’t mate for life, but for some reason, this one stuck out to me. As cute as he is, he can sometimes be a smartass.” Jungkook scoffed, but she raised her eyebrows at him. He stopped, then nodded in agreement, gesturing for her to go on. “Anyway, I got that warm, overwhelming, needy feeling when he was near. It took a while to convince me to marry, though.”

“I’m not smart enough to trick you, babe. It was all your decision to hook up with this.” He flexed his arms, causing you both to laugh loudly. 

“Even though you were clearly mates, you still took your time to decide.” As the two of them nodded, you looked down at your hands in your lap. After a quiet moment, you returned your grace to them. “What happens if you decide not to be together?”

“I can’t tell you with complete understanding, but I assume the need to be with your mate never goes away. Maybe with time it lessens, but…” Minji shrugged, reaching out to take Jungkook’s hand. It seemed like an involuntary movement, the way they would reach for each other randomly.

“I suppose it’s different from a typical relationship, human or not…”

“It’s ten times as intense,” Minji laughed. 

“I don’t have anything to compare,” you admitted softly, looking away. You had never been embarrassed by your lack of interest in dating. Now, though, would your lack of experience contribute to Namjoon rejecting you? The thought made your chest hurt. You cleared your throat and blinked away tears you didn’t know had come. 

“You… nothing? No partners, love interests?” Minji blinked in surprise. “And I thought most humans thought about sex every six seconds.”

“I’ve been attracted to people,” you murmured, your cheeks turning pink. You lifted your chin, though, pride making you ignore your embarrassment. “I just haven’t acted on it with other people.”

“Ah.” Minji nodded, grinning at you. “I think Namjoon might enjoy that part.”

“Are you sure he even knows what he’s doing?” Jungkook asked curiously. He looked up at the house. Frowning, you considered the possibility of the dragon, who was surely much older than you, not having experience in sexual relations.

“I’ve heard mentions of his human form being seen in the city. Namjoon is not above seeking pleasure and entertainment for the night with a willing partner.”

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Time travel rescue crossover fic; 11th Doctor x teen reader ft. Queen

*Author’s note*

Well guys this is it. After tomorrow I will be HOME FREE OF SCHOOL AND THEN GRADUATE AND LEAVE COLLEGE FOREVER NEXT THURS. So now that I FINALLY completed my assignments save for my final tomorrow, I can finally start posting some more stuff up. Now this series came from a wattpad request, and not only that but I’ve seen several time travel fic regarding Queen but this one is a little different, welcome to my 2nd crossover series and this one is based around.

DOCTOR WHO!!!  Yep and as mentioned in the title it takes place during the 11th gen. of the Raggedy Doctor. So in this fic it’s the ACTUAL band Queen, not the BoRhap boys being Queen. So some facts I’m pulling based off people posting facts through here and some knowledge I began to find myself. I hope you all enjoy the first few chapters of this series and give it a shot :) Happy reading the next few parts I’ve got. And if you’d like to be tagged in this series, just leave a comment below.

Taglist (this series open):

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@ixchel-9275​

@waddles03​

@platawnic​

@bensrhapsody​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________

*December 20th, 2019*

I was riding my bike through the streets of London which was packed with Christmas decorations.  Everyone scrambling around trying to do last minute shopping, I however had a different agenda.  I was going to meet a friend of mine that I promised I would meet.

I arrived off the corner of Kensington street and there I saw the famed blue police box.  I parked my bike just across from it and looked around to make sure no one was watching or coming towards this direction before finally hopping on in.

And once I stepped inside, I found myself in a place that looked bigger on the inside.  For you see this wasn’t any ordinary police box, this was the TARDIS, a time machine in English that was owned by none other than…..

“Ahh so good to see you’ve arrived on time (y/n).” Well speak of the devil.

“Don’t I always when it comes to you?” I said as I walked towards the raggedy old fool and hugged him.  A man known as The Doctor.

“How’s your nan doing?”

“She’s better.”

“I know she is, now that she don’t have to worry about you hanging around with those no gooders. Aren’t you glad I found you when I did?” To make a long story short, after both my parents were thrown in prison on various charges, my nana was the only legal guardian to take care of me.

Well by the time I reached 13, I was starting to follow down the same path as my parents.  A life of petty crime, mostly gang banging and some drugs.  That was until the Doctor came into my life when I was turned 14.  After a few time adventures with him, it got me to see that life really is too short.  So I left the gang life and tried to make things up with my nana and I’ve been clean and good for 2 years now.

It’s hard I’ll admit, especially trying to get away from the violence that I had been known in my gang.  Back with them they called me the ‘Tigress’ cause I showed no mercy when it comes to fighting, I could literally become a savage animal at the snap of a finger.

We hugged each other and he said.

“So what shall it be today?”

“Well…..” I pulled out my phone and opened up my Youtube playlist and went to the first channel that was labeled QUEEN concerts and I clicked the first link.  “Could I maybe tempt you into taking me back to a Queen concert? Specifically their Christmas Eve concert they did after the release of a Night at the Opera in 1975. I think next to the Live Aid performance, that’s my favorite concert of theirs.”

“Well as I once said I didn’t ever want to tamper with actual history. But it’s Christmas, the time for miracles. Maybe I could overlook this just once. Plus who could refuse a Queen concert?”

“Apparently most kids my age.”

“Alright so Christmas week 1975.” The Doctor went over to the control and flipped some switches and soon we were off.

However as we were traveling through time and space, there was a sudden jolt.  The lights flickered and I was knocked over towards the railing.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. We shouldn’t have hit something.” He activated a few buttons and turned on the monitors.  The look on his face turned pale with horror.

“What is it Doctor?”

“We picked up a straggler.” The TARDIS jolted again.

“Is there any way to shake it off? I mean what exactly has us?”

“I’m still trying to read into it’s vital signs but it’s cloaked itself good, even from this old girl.” Suddenly the doors opened and soon coming in was this figure.

It sorta looked human as it did have a human form but it’s skin was like a dolphin or a sharks, it had long claw-like nails with webbing between each finger.  It hissed at us and the Doctor quickly improvised and directed the TARDIS in a sudden right jolt.

The creature went towards the wall but it kept its eyes locked right on us.

“Doctor the doors!” I cried out.  He looked towards the doors to still see them open.

“Hang on and don’t let go whatever you do! Just hang on tight to the railing!” I nodded and he tried as best as he could through the wind of the time vortex we were still spinning through.  I kept my eyes on the Doctor unaware that the creature was slowly crawling up towards me.

Suddenly I felt this painful grip on my forearm and slowly claw down it.  I let out a cry and I turned to see the creature standing right before me.  It hissed at me revealing razor sharp teeth, it’s black soulless eyes staring deeply into mine.

“Doctor!” I cried out.  Then without warning, the creature dug its claws into the back of my hands and pushed me outward forcing me to fly out of the TARDIS, barely hearing the Doctor calling out my name.  Then I guess I must’ve blacked out because I couldn’t remember anything after that.

When I finally came back around, the first thing I felt was cold and something wet.  When I slowly opened my eyes, I saw nothing but white powder in front of me, as well as flakes falling onto my face.

Slowly I got up and found myself in London, or at least I hoped it was.

“Doctor? Doctor!?” I called out.  I looked down at my hands to see they had indented claw marks and were bleeding.  As a wind chill blew across me, I began shivering and I walked out of the alleyway to see people walking along the streets with shopping bags.

‘Okay so I know I’m on Earth, or at least I think I am. But when exactly am I?’ I thought to myself.  I thought if I kept walking then maybe I could find a store or something to shed some light on where and when I am.

I walked along and I could see Big Ben as well as the London eye, okay so I am in London. And based on the fashion choices that I saw people walk by in, I could be in the 70’s.  Finally I reached a newspaper stand and I quickly grabbed a newspaper and read the date.

December 19th, 1975.  Okay so I was one day and 44 years into the past, thank god for that at least.  I mean I could’ve landed somewhere far worse.  But what happened to the Doctor? And just what was that thing that attacked us? As I went to turn around I bumped into someone.

“Sorry I—I was looking where I was…..”

“No problem love, it was an accident.” That voice it—it couldn’t be.  I looked up and the first thing I see are those entrancing blue eyes and long golden hair that shined like the sun.

“You’re—you’re……” I was completely starstruck because standing right before me was none other than Roger Taylor.

“Roger Taylor? Yes, I’m going to assume you’re a fan of Queen?” I softly nodded.  Oh my god I can’t believe that I’m standing in front of the Roger Taylor.

I mean—it was because of him I became interested in the drums.  Shortly after I left the gang life behind; since I had always been a Queen fan since childhood, my nana bought me my first ever drumkit after my six months of being clean of the violent outbursts.  She thought I could do have a better outlook banging the drums instead of banging with another gang.

His style of drumming has always fascinated me and sometimes I would try to copy some of his solos as best I could, and I’ll say that I’m a pretty decent drummer but I’ll never be up to his level of drumming.

“Well since you seem to know my name, may I know yours?”

“Uhh (y)—(y/n).”

“It’s nice to meet you (y/n).” he held out his hand for me to take.  I was nervous to take his hand but I didn’t want him to think that I was a bitch. Hopefully the bleeding has stopped, so I reached out and I took his hand.  Unfortunately he immediately noticed the blood.  “(Y/n)….what happened to your hand?”

“Oh well I—I was…..a cat scratched me.”

“These don’t look like any cat scratches I know. And believe me Freddie has over 7 and I’ve been scratched by almost all of them at some point in time.” He then tucked some hair away from my face and he continued, “Be honest love, I won’t judge you but I need to know. Did—did some arsehole…..assault you?” Well to a degree but not in the way he was implying, but how do you tell your idol that? So to kinda put him at ease I whipped up a quick excuse.

“Well…..I—they just came out of nowhere…. I-I-I tried to stop them but they…..”

“Ohh you poor thing,” he cooed as he gently embraced me.  “Come with me. I can help heal those scratches and make you a warm cuppa, eh?” I nodded and he then guided me towards the Hammersmith Odeon.

When we got there, I’ll be honest that I couldn’t believe that I was in the actual Hammersmith Odeon theater.  Cause back—well forward in my time it’s called the Hammersmith Apollo and it’s mostly shown dance acts, and live performances for comedians.

“First aid’s in the dressing room. That’s the last known place I know it was at when Fred was dealing with some blisters the other day.” He guided me towards backstage and I saw dozens of roadies and other volunteers and workers getting ready for sound checks, probably for a rehearsal.  “Here we are.”

Roger opened the door and guided me inside. Already I saw four sections of the big dressing room where each band member got ready.  I saw from the photo of Veronica holding baby Robert that the section I was standing near was Deacy’s corner.

Just ahead where the red special was and what appeared to be an astronomy book was Brian’s place.  And of course the one where dozens of cat pictures along with the beautiful Mary Austin’s picture was Freddie’s.

“Okay let’s see; first aid, first aid, first aid.” Roger muttered as he went through Freddie’s side.  Lifting up various music sheets, journals and drawers. “Damnit Fred where the bloody hell did you put it—Ah-ha there you are!” He then pulled out an old school style first aid kit. “Right have a seat over here love.”

“I—I don’t know. I mean am I even allowed to be in here?”

“No not really but this is an emergency. So come on, sit. I don’t bite.” Cautiously I walked further in the dressing room and sat down in Freddie’s seat. “Okay let’s see here, we’ll need antiseptic cream, and…bandages.”  He took out the cream first and he told me to show him my hands.

He then began to doctor up both my hands, but just before he put the first aid kit away, he noticed that my right sleeve was stained with blood.  He carefully rolled it up and that’s when I saw the four long scratches that went from just an inch or two below my elbow to my wrist.

“Oh my god love. I—I’ve never seen a weapon do something like this, what did they use?”

“I—I couldn’t see what it was. Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so. But let me go a bowl of water, and a couple of towels to see what we’re dealing with here. Blood always makes things seem worse than what they are. Just stay here for a moment okay?” I nodded and he smiled at me before exiting the dressing room.

Once he came back with items, he set them down on the table and gently guided my arm over the bowl and dipped one of the towel into the water.  He wrung it out and slowly began dabbing away the blood.  I hissed on occasion and with each hissed, he apologized.  Once the blood was cleared away, he dabbed the dry towel over my wet forearm before carefully observing it.

“Well they don’t look too deep for stitches, otherwise we’d need to call the hospital.”

“Yeah, thank god.” I was grateful for that because I won’t even be born until 30 years from now so there’s no way any hospital would have my records.

“Hey (y/n), if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?”

“It—it’s honestly a blur to me Roger. I was—just minding my business with a friend of mine then next thing I knew we got jumped and….oh shit my friend he….he doesn’t know where I am! I-I have to find him!”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey (y/n), (y/n) calm down. Deep breaths for me.” He gently calmed me down and got me to take a few deep breaths. Man, who would’ve thought the Roger Taylor would be the one comforting me during a freak out episode.

“Sorry.” I muttered.

“No, no don’t apologize at all. Look let’s get you healed up first, and then we can think about finding your friend, alright?” I nodded and he said as he gently cupped the side of my face and gingerly thumbed across my cheek “Atta girl.”  Suddenly the door opened and a voice said.

“Whoa were we interrupting anything here my darlings?” Oh my god—no way. It was him, it was really him.  Freddie Fucking Mercury. Vibrant and young Freddie Mercury. Alongside him I saw Brian May to his left and John Deacon was to the right.

“No not at all guys.”

“Whose this?” asked Brian.

“This is (y/n). I found her—well actually she ran into me while I was at the newsstand. Shortly after she got jumped by some thugs.”

“Oh you poor darling!” Freddie cooed as he raced up towards me. “Who were the bastards that did this to you? You give me descriptions and I’ll fucking murder them!”

Aww, I can’t believe that after just meeting me not even 10 seconds, Freddie’s already wanting to defend my honor and beat up the fake thugs that did this to me.  All those interviews of people calling Freddie nice, seeing it with my own eyes, they weren’t even close to describing Freddie’s kindness and loyalty.

“It’s alright Freddie, there’s no need for you to go to jail for assault.”

“Well fuck that! Anyone who gangs up on a girl like that deserves to have their arses beaten.” Can’t argue with him on that. Suddenly I felt the stinging sensation of the antiseptic cream go onto my scratches.

“Sorry love.” Roger apologized.

“It’s—alright.”

“Roger give the girl fair warning next time!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Would you like anything to drink (y/n)? Water? Tea?” asked Deacy.

“Well Roger was gonna offer me a warm cuppa.”

“How about a hot chocolate instead. After a night that you had, why not take something a little warmer. Plus nothing cures trauma better than chocolate.” Deacy offered.

“Okay, I can go for a hot chocolate.”

“Coming right up.”

“Lucky duckie. Deacy dear makes the best cup of hot chocolate ever.” Freddie told me.

“Sneaky bastard won’t let us in on how he makes it!” Roger called out.

“Because you lot don’t deserve to know!” Deacy called back as he peeked back in the room before heading back down the hallway to make my hot chocolate.

“Right, time for the bandages.” Roger said.

“Here Rog, I’ll take care of that.” Brian stepped forward and took over the doctoring.  My god if you had told me three years ago that I would be getting doctored by Brian May and Roger Taylor, be served hot chocolate handmade by John Deacon and having Freddie Mercury rub your back comfortingly as your being doctored by the.

I would’ve told you, you were crazy.

As Brian began wrapping my arm up, he looked up at me and asked.

“Too tight?”

“No, no it’s fine.” I assured him.  He softly smiled and kept wrapping my arm up till it covered up the last of my scratches.

“There all done.”

“Thank you Brian.”

“You’re welcome (y/n).” he said with that warm smile of his.  It was then Deacy came walking in with a cup of hot chocolate.

“Here you go (y/n), I just took it out of the microwave so be careful.” I took the cup between my hands and allowed the hot mug to warm up my cold, numbing hands.  I blew on it before taking a light sip.

Holy shit the guys weren’t kidding. I mean at first my nana’s hot chocolate was always the best but now I’m starting to think Deacy’s overpowers my nana’s special recipe.

“Oh my god, this is so good.”

“Glad you like it dear.”

“I mean—I think you just kicked my nana’s famed recipe out the window.”

“Well I mean no disrespect to your nana.” Deacy said apologetically.

“No, no, no hell if she were here, she’d be wanting to get your recipe herself.” Deacy smiled that sweet, eye crinkled smile as he softly chuckled.

“Not only the best bass player we could find but also the best hot chocolate maker we could ask for.” Freddie praised as he placed an arm around Deacy’s neck.  Aww my god I can’t believe I’m witnessing firsthand of the bond these two shared. No wonder why Deacy left after Freddie died.

“Oh stop it you old tart.”

“Ahh Brian! Deacy’s using those dirty words again!” Freddie whined out.

“Hey lads, the manager’s closing up the stadium for the night if you all are done for the night.” Queen’s future manager Jim Beach came into the dressing room.

“Thank you Miami.” Freddie said.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight (y/n)?” asked Brian.

“Uhh well I—”

“Yes. As we were on our way here I told her that she could stay with me for tonight. Just in case those thugs try and find her again.” Roger spoke as he wrapped an arm around me.  I looked to Roger and he looked down at me assuringly and winked at me.

“Well then let’s get a move on. I’d rather not be locked up in here over night.” Deacy said.

“Well said Deacy. Not like back in Atlanta eh?” Freddie teased.

“I thought we vowed to never talk about that!” Deacy snapped.  As the guys walked on ahead, Roger and I lagged behind and I asked him.

“You sure it’s okay for me to stay with you?”

“Yeah. I’ve got an extra bed in my room. Plus I don’t want you to be out in the streets in the middle of winter.”

“Thanks Roger. But what will I do about clothes?”

“I’ll let you borrow some small clothes as pajamas for tonight. Then tomorrow Freddie and I can help you shop for some clothes. Maybe we can also find that friend of yours.” I smiled softly and said.

“I—don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing, c’mon let’s get back to the hotel and into bed. You’ve had a long night and look like you could use some rest.” We then got into the car and the driver drove the five of us back to the hotel. Roger guided me towards his room and using his key, he allowed me in first.

It was a pretty big sized room with two beds as he said, a small telly and a closet.  Roger went inside and muttered to himself before finally pulling out a plain black t-shirt and some sweats.

“Here, these are too small for me, hopefully they’ll do you some good. The loo’s just over there.” He pointed towards the jointed room beside the bed farthest from the window.  I walked inside of it and changed out of my clothes and into Roger’s old stuff.

The pants were obviously a little too long but the shirt fit snug around me.  I then went over to the mirror and looked down at my bandaged arm.

“Oh Doctor, I hope you’re alright. Where—whenever you are.” I don’t know what that thing was that attacked but I prayed that he was alright and somehow managed to lose it.

“(Y/n)? You okay in there?” I heard Roger’s voice say.

“Yeah, yeah Roger I’m good.” I then stepped out of the loo and Roger looked me over.

“Not bad, I’ll give the pants a trim so that they’re not dragging across the floor tomorrow. Then tomorrow when Freddie and I take you out, we’ll get you some clothes that will fit you.”

“Do you think he’ll want to join us?” I asked

“Absolutely. Besides he looks for any excuse to shop and he’s better at picking clothes than me. I just pick what matches based off of fabric, damn eyesight.”  That I did know for a fact.  But I chose to act like I didn’t know that fact.

“Thanks again for all that you’ve done for me tonight.”

“Again love, no thanks are necessary. I just hope your friend didn’t get into the squabble you were in.”

“I hope so too.” I muttered before letting out a long yawn.  Roger softly chuckled.

“It’s getting late, why don’t you get some sleep?” I nodded and walked over to the bed that was closest to the radiator.  I tucked myself in and almost immediately fell asleep on the old, lumpy mattress.

*Roger’s POV*

Even though she had taken my bed next to the radiator, I didn’t have the heart to move her.  After the night she’s been through, she deserved to have as much comfort as possible.  

After taking my nightly shower and changing into my pajamas I looked over at (y/n) hoping that we would find her friend in good health, cause if (y/n) managed to get away with scratches like those, then I pray her friend’s not worse.

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 18: Whispers - A Strange Kind Of Ferality Chap. 1: Hushed Voices To End Mundane Life

People say a lot of things, and they’ll speak the most about the strange and usual. Sometimes words make living normal impossible for those who are not normal.

For Danny’s own sake he always tried to avoid paying attention to the whispers. Or simply not being around for people to start making them. They always made his paranoia war with itself. If he paid attention their hushed words it would make him paranoid. If he ignored them he’d be paranoid about what they could be saying and wanting to find out. And sometimes he actually did need to know.

So, if he’s honest, sometimes super ghost hearing kind of sucked.

In the beginning they weren’t so bad. Always about simple things or things that didn’t matter all too much. Sure sometimes they hurt or annoyed him, but what did Danny care that everyone thought his parents were weird and crazy? They weren’t really wrong and Sam’s right, weird’s good. Danny considers himself an example of that.

‘I still can’t believe those lunatics were even allowed to keep those kids’.

‘I heard they perform weird experiments, probably only themselves too’.

‘What if they kill someone to prove their theories?’.

But like all young teens, eventually he stepped out of his parents' shadow, the whisperings around town became more about him. But when it came mostly from teachers and judgemental adults, Danny couldn’t even attempt to bring himself to care. Sure he wanted people proud of him as Fenton, but being the hero always came first. If his grades and ‘good kid’ status had to suffer then so be it.

‘He used to be so bright, now he’s just another problem child’.

‘Oh look it’s the little ‘baddie’ thinking he’s cool or whatever for breaking stuff’.

‘I think the weirdo Fenton kid is missing a bladder or something...experiment gone wrong you think?’.

When it really started to bug Danny, is when people started noticing he was seemingly involved in ghosts without being involved in ghosts.

‘Why’s he always around? Does he just like seeing the end results?’.

‘I’m pretty sure I saw Fenton running AT a ghost fight actually’.

‘I overheard some ghosts talking about him. Thought it was about Phantom at first but they mentioned his ‘hunter parents’. Pretty obvious who the town’s hunter parents are’.

But that sort of thing was easy enough to pass off, to explain, and for people to simply shrug off. They were the curious kinds of whispers not the concerned or secretive kinds of whispers. But when his body became the focus, that’s when he knew there was going to be trouble and when he started pulling away from people, from the public. After all, there’s only so much baggy sweaters and loose clothing can cover. And wearing that all the time was suspicious in and of itself. What was worse was that he was actively proud of what all his hero work had earned him in both physique and scars. And sometimes bodies just naturally wanted to show off, even if he pushes it down as best as possible.

‘Dude, did you see Fenton stretching? The Hell has he been doing all summer to look like that?’.

‘I saw Todd throw a pencil at the back of his head, he caught it without even turning around’.

‘I saw down his shirt and there’s this nasty scar. It’s like someone tried to murder him or something. Think he’s in a gang or some shit?’.

And it was obvious at this point, to Danny, that people were only going to notice more. Which they did. People were curious things, they were hooked on his oddness. He always did his best to hide his more ghostly features. Grew his hair out to cover his tapered ears, started a habit of wearing beanies. But hats couldn’t always stay on and hair moved. Made a habit of always covering his mouth when he yawned, only ate small foods in public, drank through straws. The thing his friends found the saddest is that he had to stop laughing so damn much, though he’d often just covered his mouth instead. But people notice when behaviours change like that and people will always be able to catch glimpses. His nails were the easiest, simple trim every morning. But even trimmed they were still just a little too sharp. So he developed the habit of not touching people, but a hero’s fighting instincts and ghost instincts were strong things. Sometimes he really couldn’t help grabbing Dash’s arms when he tried to choke him or drag him somewhere. That didn’t go unnoticed.

‘The little freak scratched me. And look at this shit? It looks like a damn cat scratch. The Hell?’.

‘I managed to get the cafeteria to serve burgers right? Fenton loves those things and, I swear to you, he had FANGS’.

‘So I punched the locker next to his face, yeah? Teach the loser who runs this school. But I think his ear scratched me. HIS EAR. How is that even possible?’.

At least stuff like that, he really could pass off as body modification. People did that. Which his how he quelled his paranoia back then. So long as he had an easy excuse it was easy. But it was inevitable that people would eventually notice his ‘angry eyes’ problem or his ghost sense. It was honestly a miracle they didn’t in the very beginning. Though both him and even his parents, simply passed off those rumours as being because of his strange ecto-contamination. People still whispered. Especially about his eyes.

‘Walked into the bathroom and I swear, the kids' eyes were glowing as he stepped out of a stall’.

‘Half the time I go after him he does that damn eye-trick thing for a split second. It’s like he’s trying to be some scary ghost or something. It’s pathetic really’.

‘Honestly, I just avoid looking at his face now. It’s just so creepy. Especially if you think over how he probably got that. His parents are scientists! He’s probably, like, Frankenstein’s monster or something’.

But when people started whispering about behaviours, pointedly not human behaviours, that’s when Danny’s paranoia really came to a head. He couldn’t just not snarl and growl. It came too easily. And being around Sam and Tucker more than the rest of society came with its down falls. He could be himself around them, he got comfortable being himself around them. But that made it easier to slip up in public. Sometimes they tried to call him on it, but often that just ran the risk of people being more likely to notice. Then there was the compounded problem. Snarls required showing teeth. Sounds made people look. One thing getting noticed leads to other things getting more noticed. Whispers compounding.

‘He holds his hands like claws half the time, pretty sure he actually extended claws once’.

‘He came in this morning snarling and bearing those damn fangs at the floor for, like, two whole periods. Even my dog doesn’t do that’.

‘I bumped into that Fenton kid on the street, you know the one. Short and kind of acts like a feral animal. Yeah, well, pretty sure he growled at me and there’s was this weird glow to his face’.

But at least even those whispers could be passed off. Teens acted weird, that was considered a fact by adults. The fact that there were wolf packers, kids who like to pretend to be werewolves and in a pack, helped. Everyone knew those kids ran around howling and would growl at people. But it didn’t help him that they kept trying to make him ‘one of them’. Sure it would be a nice cover story but it would draw more attention to him. Especially since people already thought his snarls and growls were more ‘real’.

‘Okay dude, look at this. So I recorded Fenton when Dash tried punching him yesterday. And look, I put it next to my dog snarling. Fenton sounds more animalistic, and like, look how Fenton holds his mouth? It’s the same, more aggressive even’.

‘My night was not fun, I got woken up but what I could have sworn was coyotes fighting, but no. It was that creepy Fenton kid and some biker dude getting in each other’s faces’.

‘I’m positive he was just about to bite you. And not like those cringy kids with the weird lunging bit they do’.

But of course, of course, that lead to them really noticing. Noticing things he himself didn’t. Which was far far more worrying. How could he hide something if he wasn’t even the first to notice? Sam and Tucker too used to him to notice the gradual change themselves. And once others picked up on it, even one, it was pretty well too late. It fell into the gossip mill and then everyone was looking for it. About reflexes and senses. Even his paranoia was being noticed.

‘He literally never opens any doors while in-front of them. Like he’s about to be attacked or something’.

‘We need code words for the freak. Pretty sure he can hear us. And look! See! His ears damn twitched! He totally can’.

‘I’m not sure if I’m happy or terrified. I nearly ran over the Fenton boy, should have slammed straight into his back. But he fucking backflipped over my car, the entire damn thing, at the last second. How the Hell’.

But when the whispers became dangerous. Got him fully avoided. Got the G.I.W. to come knocking. He knew he didn’t really have much of a choice anymore. He had to leave. Not fully, no, just a town away. Just hide, a name change here, style change there. Seems people could deal with weird. Didn’t really care about it other than it was good gossip. Until they started putting things together, until they started to feel like you were a wolf and they were sheep. The bad part was, they weren’t wrong. And like all ghosts, Danny has pride. He, by his very nature, wanted fear, to scare, to alarm. And that always got harder to hide, to ignore. But the body and mind have ways of getting around its own barriers. Doing things so subtle you might not notice at all. All it took was slight changes in posture, how his eyes looked, how he moved. And he became a predator amongst prey.

‘Is it just me or does Fenton look like he’s actively stalking people? Like a cat or something? It’s really damn creepy’.

‘He stares, like constantly. He just doesn’t blink enough and he seems to scan rooms. Like there’s some threat, it makes me feel uncomfortable. But what’s worse is how he looks over everyone, scans them over, it’s like he’s picking out prey or something’.  

‘I swear the freak can tell when people are looking at him. Like just watch, his posture will change. Slightly tense like he’s about run off. And you can easily see his face and hands, he’s being threatening. It pisses me off that it works’.

Of course, his friends would never let him skip town on his own. It was only a lucky thing they were off in university by this time and he was perfectly content to keep them in the dark. Besides, if they up and ran off too. People would whisper.

And looking around, that’s one thing he likes about bigger cities. Even more so when you looked all for the world like a battered, easily ignored, poorly dressed, homeless man. When people whispered it wasn’t anything to be alarmed about.

‘Poor man, wonder when the last time he washed was’.

‘Gross, I really wish this damn city would clean up the filth. How can I let my daughter walk around with people like that just sleeping on the sidewalk’.

‘Hmpf, probably just another damn druggie’.

But of course that would change.

‘Wait...he’s not actually sleeping? Weird’.

He’d have to watch himself more.

‘Oh holy shit, that bastards got fangs?!?’.

He’d have to move around more.

‘Don’t go downtown, there’s some creepy predatory guy there. He hasn’t hurt anyone from what I hear, but it’s all in how he moves. In his eyes’.

People would eventually actively start seeking him out, a mystery to solve.

‘Dude, we have to steal his bag. I heard some kids from the park did and he reacted like a feral dog or some shit’.

Connections would be made, people would start to feel unsettled or scared

‘Destruction seems to follow that one. Keep your distance’.

And he’d have to pack, leave in the dead of night.

‘His eyes, you can see them in the dark. Pretty sure they’ll follow you too. Whatever he is, he sure as Hell isn't a human’.

Of course, he made sure he found his way back to Amity, as Fenton, here and there. Especially when his friends got back. But the downfall of leaving, of running off. Is that it was impossible for people to not notice his return. And being alone for so long would make anyone act less human, less socially normal. For someone who wasn’t actually entirely human, you might as well just write normal off as a lost cause.

‘James! James! That Fenton boy’s back! He snarled at someone’s dog. Should we do something?’.

‘How is he more off? He’s so...twitchy. Like he’s constantly on the edge of trying to murder someone or something’.

‘He came into the cafe and he just stared around for a while. Then he drank nothing but espresso shots and I’m sure he ate a spoon. He even clacked his teeth at me after ordering’.

So yeah, the G.I.W. would come. He’d wind up getting tracked. But Amity was his and that wasn’t ever-changing and he was a goddamn force to be recond with. And his friends would come back, they would take him by the arms and all three would slingshot at the future. Like always. Because, after all, Fenton wasn’t the only one people whispered about.

‘Okay, I’m pretty sure that goth is actually a witch. Summoning ghosts and shit. ‘Cause they’re always near her’.

‘She has a pet Venus-flytrap in her purse, it bit me’.

‘I swore she ran through a fire just to throw her boot at someone for insulting that freaky Fenton’.

‘If that technofreak is visiting the bank then no way am I. I heard he got put on a watch list for hacking a plane, twice’.

‘He scaled a thirty-story building just to clean his windows, who does that?’.

‘I walked in on him making out almost aggressively with a PDA...he growled at me’.

Because really? If you spend enough time around the glaringly inhuman, you’ll lose your human aspects too. So Danny’s not exactly surprised when they decide to hit the road with him. They’ll always come back, of course they will, and maybe they’ll find some other towns they love as they go. But at least being able to make portals now will mean they can go as far as they like, without Phantom ever being far away from the town he protects.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Without Question (12)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: the...walking dead? Like in a good way.

Warnings: …yes Steve!

Word Count: I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to live in a quiet town with my one cat and one dog and oh so fucking hopefully my lover. Lover! Wherefore art thou, lover? What seas must I cross to have ye look for stars in mine eyes and rest thy head in bosom? Huh, Lover?

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The peace that comes with the silence of the compound is not as comfortable as the residence had measured it would be in the past. The battles have been won. The deeds have been done. The ones who are lost have been mourned and the ones who have survived have walked past their guilt. The ones who keep the threads together now sit under the trees in the garden, looking into nothing, waiting for news- any news- that might stir them in some way that makes them figure out for themselves whether they're alive. But none comes in through the gate whatsoever.

Yet Natasha sits in the garden, her hands mingling with each other because they're not sure what else to do for now. She considers it a true miracle to have survived this much inactivity, still feeling herself jolt up in the seating under the tree when she sees Loki walk into the garden towards her.

"Any updates?" No one does it better than the Balck Widow bringing her composure to a still when required. Even Loki admires this of the redhead. You don't find such humans. You don't find such creatures anywhere for that matter who can replicate a perfectly functioning life form even when they’re broken to smithereens inside. Loki’s knows it all too well.

"I contacted Rocket and Danvers. The entire species has been annihilated throughout space. No sign of survivors. Even if there are," he mentions matter-of-factly, permitting himself to sit at a decent distance beside her, "they won't be enough to go about destroying planets."

She breathes. Her hands have paused the torture on each other, the fingers nearly running red from all the unwanted pressing and rubbing onto each other. Loki notices it too. Not that she’s trying to hide it.

“How is he?”

Natasha blinks, looking at the horizon- or maybe even further than that.

“He thinks it’s his fault,” she nearly croaks, “again. He thinks he could have stopped it. Even though he knows she would have still found a way. The fact that she turned to dust makes it worse.”

“And she did not want to lose any more of the love,” he mumbled in deep thought, making Natasha turn towards him.

He read her mind, she remembers the God’s ability before passing a soft smile. Loki sighs and looks out at the compound. The sunny weather with clearest of skies is bringing in birds on their road to migration, travelling by in perfect sync in the sky. The breeze carries with it the fresh and sweet scent of spring.

“I’m guessing he is keeping his promise?”

Natasha silently chuckles, the back of her index finger wiping something off the corner of her eye. “Yes,” she nods, turning to Loki with a tender smirk on her lips, “yes, he is.”

Both of them sit there for some more time, enjoying the silent yet fulfilling company, watching nature heal itself like it always does, while wondering what the future holds for them now.

.

The last bit of loose soil is patted by gloved hands into place. Untamed drops of sweat drip over the very ground, mixing in with the dirt before the hands break contact with the freshly prepared field, standing up to finally take a breather after a long day’s work.

The sun reflects sharply over Steve’s face as he watches the cherry blossom tree stand in its full glory right where it was always supposed to be. The breeze is already playmates with it in their playground, making it swing and dance under the bright yet soothing sun.

She’s beautiful. Steve chuckles to himself, if only so faintly in comparison.

“It’s stunning, I must say.”

Steve turns to find Loki standing a few feet away from him, admiring the little cherry blossoms tree, giving him a nod. “It is,” he acknowledges.

“How are you doing, Captain?”

Right to the concern. I like him. Steve gives a faint smile, removing his gloves, throwing them into the toolbox before keeping his hands on his hips. “I’m fine, Loki. What’re you doing here?”

Loki shrugs. “Just making sure you’re not wallowing in survivor’s guilt.”

Even though he is sharp and straight to the point- which pricks, really- Steve can’t help but find a shade of honest concern in his eyes. “As I said, I’m fine,” his words are nearly a whisper as he bends to gather the tools in the box, “and I’m sorry.”

Loki’s brows crinkle. “For what?”

Steve stands back up with the toolbox in his hand. “Sorry, there was no one when you were suffering through survivor’s guilt.”

The breeze passes between them, running an invisible hand through their hair, caressing their unspoken wounds and winding around their allyship, doing all that deemed it not necessary now to be spoken in words.

Steve walks back towards the house and a bark makes Loki turn to look in the direction of the forest. Stacie comes running through the wild field towards the God, barking her happy bark before coming to a halt at the tree, sniffing it to her heart’s content. He can hear a low whimper from her throat when she smells something familiar off the tree. Her paw scratches the trunk a little, her head snuggling with it for a few moments before coming to stand by Loki and sniff him.

“You miss her too,” he states, down on one knee to pet her, an involuntary smile finding its way on his lips. “I think she left you in charge of that one. Make sure he’s okay.”

Stacie huffs and wags her tail, happy to receive a scratch behind the ear when suddenly both she and Loki pause where they stand before standing in high alert.

Steve comes out with Stacie’s bowl and two beers, pausing at the porch on seeing both Loki and Stacie in defensive stances.

“What is it?” the Captain is curious now. 

Loki is still looking at the forest while Stacie has started to growl. All he does is raise his hand for Steve to stop. “Stay here,” Loki declares before vanishing into a light of gold and green.

Steve, reasonably, is left shocked and confused, walking to Stacie’s side, who is growing agitated, jumping and barking at something in the direction of the forest that he cannot see.

“What is it, Stace?” he asks softly, not peeling his eyes from the trees in front of him till a brilliant streak of gold and green out of space has Loki standing in front of him with another figure supported by his left arm.

A gasp escapes Steve when he recognises the long dark hair and metal that bounces the light off its surface, finding it hard to believe what his eyes are seeing.

 “Bucky!”

.

At first, it is a microscopic sensation which slowly turns into a coherent vibration. It is not comfortable until it is an unnecessary shiver running up and down your skin, forcing you to go into the fetal position. Still, the cold does not stop bothering you, gnawing at your skin, your flesh, every corner of your insides, even your heart.

Heart.

But it was not supposed to be cold in the void.

The shiver forces you to draw your limbs closer and makes you feel this unspoken rage at not being able to feel any heat.

Why?

Y/N.

I’m dead. I’m not supposed to feel cold.

Y/N?

Sleep. I am supposed to sleep now.

Y/N! Wake up!

No, let me sleep for a w-

“Y/N!”

A scream escapes your lungs at the jerk as your eyes jerk wide open at the sun way too bright for the shocked pupils before being blocked by a familiar face.

“Loki?”

You look at the God in question. Is he dead too?

“Yes,” he answers with a careful nod. “Can you get up?”

“Why?” As soon as the question escapes you, you know it does not make sense except for the fact that maybe your body just doesn’t want to. “Wait. Where are w-”

You stop yourself short when you notice the forest clearing- looking somewhat brighter and less murder-y under the spring sun.

“You’re home.”

Home.

But I was supposed to be…

“Oh no!” The sudden panic confuses Loki. “No no no! I am supposed to be dead!”

Loki tilts his head at you.

“I’m supposed to be dead! She promised she’ll bring Bucky back! Bucky’s the one who’s supposed to be alive.”

And suddenly it all makes sense. Love- makes us do the most outlandish things.

“I think we should go home,” he mentions gently, grabbing your full attention before inhaling a lungful and unclasping his cape, “and not to mention you are stark naked right in the middle of the forest, darling.”

You look down at your figure that is letting the sunlight dance all over it before feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as Loki covers you up.

“Oh.”

.

Natasha, Clint and Sam are already here as soon as Loki informs them of the news- never telling Steve they were already on their way to see how he was doing- not believing their eyes when they see Bucky sitting on your porch, taking in the sun and sounds like a newborn man. The hows and whats are set back for future interrogation, for right now, tight hugs and misty eyes take the room. 

The smile on Steve’s face is incurable. How many people can say their best friend gets to live even after death. Twice! What more could he want?

His heart knows.

So does some mysterious force in the universe, testing his emotions, when another streak of gold and green rips the space apart by the cherry blossom to give place to Loki and you resting all your weight on the former, wrapped in green.

Everything stops.

Every sound is on mute, every change is on pause, every inch of his skin that the breeze touches is numb. Nothing is sensed in the way of him taking you in. The y/h/c hair strands float in the breeze while your eyes glimmer in the direct light, looking at Steve. Only Steve. The hitch in your breath gives him hope that you are real when he starts to walk towards you. The movement of your feet towards him raises it even more. The lone tear escaping your eye sets the truth in stone, forcing him to take two long steps to cover the distance and have you in his arms. “Y/N,” he nearly sobs your name, finally making it a reality for himself.

His arms. You wrap your arms around his torso as tightly as you can, breathing in the familiar scent. His scent. This is real. The heartbeat. The relieved breaths and deep kisses in your hair. Real. You are back. You are home.

“Steve,” your voice softly reverberated through each other’s existence, making them hold on to each other tighter, bringing everything that was on pause- majorly his entire life- back to normalcy.

His arms break the hold they have on you to take your face in them while yours try to keep the cape in place, something that doesn’t miss his eyes.

“Are you-” he lowers his broken voice when his eyes see it- “are you naked under there?”

You nod, smiling sheepishly through the tears. “I love you,” you don’t waste any time. Not this time, getting on your toes to get closer to his lips.

He reciprocates with a deep kiss, letting go of your jaw from one hand to secure his arm around your waist. His lips, soft and supple, tasting of apples and cinnamon, slowly turn a little rough to push his tongue through your chapped yet tender lips. His hand goes into your tousled hair to bring you closer when the tongues discover each other once again with a need to declare their love for each other, only letting go when there is no more room for air.

“I love you too,” Steve breathes as soon as your lips part, his calm ocean gazing directly into your eyes. “God,” he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on yours, never letting go of you- not this time- “I love you so much. Please don’t leave me like this. Ever.”

You chuckle, the tears never stopping. “I won’t,” you sniffle, “I promise.”

You wrap your arms- this time with the cape- around him, closing your eyes to rest your head on his chest.

Home.

“Not this time.”

The rest of the gang sits on the porch appreciating the relief you have brought them and their Captain and yet looking everywhere else with stretched smiles on their faces, holding a very excited Stacie in place.

“So, she’s the reason I’m alive?” a very curious Bucky asks the rest of the group.

“Yup,” Clint answers, opening the beer bottle Steve left on the ground, “she’s the one. The reason all of us are alive, I guess.”

“She’s the reason he’s alive,” Natasha hums, sharing a knowing look with Loki- who simpers in return, “again.”

[ethereal-not-occult]

There was a cat in Aziraphale’s lap.

Crowley stopped short at the threshold of the bookshop and stared. He blinked. The baffling tableau before him did not change. Aziraphale was sitting in his armchair absorbed in a book, which was usual for him. What was unusual was the grey tabby cat curled up on Aziraphale’s legs, purring to its heart's content.

“There’s a cat in your lap,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale looked up, a smile already spreading over his face. “Hello, my dear,” he said, beaming. “I wasn’t expecting you until six—”

“There is a cat,” Crowley repeated, stepping forward, “in your lap.”

Aziraphale looked down at the cat, as though he himself had forgotten it was there. “Oh, yes,” he said, stroking a hand down the cat’s spine. “Crowley, meet Dorian. He’s a dear little fellow, aren’t you, darling?” The cat purred louder and arched its back, and Crowley tried not to feel envious. Then he remembered he was a demon, meant to encourage the spread of deadly sins among the populace, and he stopped trying to hold it in.

"Why is there a cat in your lap?”

“It’s rather a funny story, actually,” Aziraphale said absently, scratching the cat under the chin. “I have this customer, you see, who’s been coming to the shop for years now, ever since 1981—”

Crowley sighed. “The short version, please, angel.”

He extracted the story from Aziraphale eventually. Said customer[1] had an old relative who had passed away recently. The passing itself hadn’t been all that tragic, as the old relative had apparently been “a bigoted fool who’s surely among your coworkers Down There by now”, as Aziraphale put it. However, the relative had owned a cat who was nothing like his owner, and who had quite suddenly found himself without a home after his master’s timely death.

[1: Evidently, no person who actually bought books would ever be allowed to step foot in the shop again. However, Aziraphale had a small group of dedicated “customers” who were permitted to leaf through his books to their heart’s content, so long as they handled the manuscripts carefully and didn’t try to purchase anything.]

“...and so I told Xiuying that I could certainly help find a home for him, and that home was with me,” Aziraphale finished. He rubbed Dorian’s furry ears, to the cat’s delight.

“So you’re keeping him,” Crowley said slowly, still wrestling with the concept of a cat sitting in Aziraphale’s lap where there hadn’t been one before. “Forever.”

Aziraphale visibly drooped a bit. “Not forever, I suppose, in the strictest sense of the word. He still has another good twenty years in him, if we care for him well, but…”

“Never mind that,” Crowley said hastily, heart dropping at Aziraphale’s expression. He went up to the angel’s side and pressed a kiss into the halo of thick black curls. “Just — Dorian, really? I thought you said his former owner was a bigot.”

Aziraphale relaxed and twined their fingers together. “He had a different name before he came here, of course. But it just seemed terribly unfitting, and, well. I reckoned it was about time for a change.”

From the way Dorian looked up expectantly at the sound of his new name, he seemed to agree. Crowley studied the rotund ball of grey fluff, and thought he could understand where Dorian was coming from.

“I think it’s a great name,” Crowley said, perching on the arm of the armchair. He flinched a bit when Dorian craned his neck over to sniff his hand, but Aziraphale only chuckled.

“He doesn’t bite, my dear. You have nothing to fear. Now, Dorian,” he said sternly to the feline, “I trust you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station. Crowley here is my dearest friend and I love him very much, so I expect you to treat him just as well as you have treated me.”

Whether or not Dorian heeded the gentle scolding didn’t seem to matter. He bumped his nose against Crowley’s curled fingers, and then, apparently deciding that this new man-shaped creature was a satisfactory addition to the bookshop, pressed his furry head hard against Crowley’s hand, purring up a storm. Crowley had turned into a puddle of befuddled-but-warm mush at Aziraphale calling him “my dearest friend”, but he collected himself enough to reciprocate Dorian’s affections, tentatively scratching the cat’s ears and then more boldly stroking through his soft fur. Dorian melted into fourteen pounds of fuzz and feline bliss.

Eventually the three of them found themselves in the back room of the bookshop. Logically the settee shouldn’t have been able to hold two fully-grown adults and one large cat all curled up together, but a discreet miracle ensured that they could all fit without anyone rolling off.

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s sweater and breathed in the comforting smell of old books and starlight. Then he wrinkled his nose and withdrew.

“You’re covered in cat hair,” he complained.

Aziraphale was already half asleep, but the corners of his lips quirked faintly upwards. “I could say the same of you, too, my dear,” he murmured.

Crowley thought of his nice black suit all covered in clinging light grey cat hairs, and groaned. “I’ll never get them off my clothes at this rate,” he muttered. “Furry little devil.”

The furry little devil in question was curled around the region of Crowley’s back, rumbling away like a particularly contented mini-lawnmower. Crowley had to grudgingly admire his air of smug feline satisfaction.

Aziraphale hummed. “He’s only a cat, my dear. Not hellish nor heavenly in the least.”

He opened his eyes to meet Crowley’s, and smiled.

“After all,” he whispered, with a sly glance, “There is only one demon in the universe whom I love.”

Crowley caught Aziraphale’s lips in a kiss. They continued along this vein for quite some time, and would’ve gone on for much longer, had Dorian not grown tired of the proceedings and eventually yowled for his dinner.

(And if, in years to come, Dorian survived long past the possible lifespan for a mortal cat, no one else was around to notice.)

[click for part two] [three]

[ao3]

[full series]

[vergils-daughter]

Nero x V x Reader. Because why not. "I want both of you"

Sooner or later it had to come to this. Your group fought your way through districts full of demons week after week and all that time spent together brought you closer to each other, whether you wanted it or not. All that intensive fighting, long hours spent searching through the ruins, heavy physical exertion. You on the edge of your nerves because death is always very close. All this created sort of a gap between your group and the rest of the world – all that you had left behind the military blockade set up to keep the civilians away from the forbidden grounds. One moment you caught yourself thinking that all that you could recall from your previous life seemed almost like a dream – something stupendous, far away and unreal.

It's here and now. There is blood, sweat and adrenaline that pushes into your veins every time you encounter an artifact or a group of demons. And then there is them – these two men, in the beginning so very distant and now so close. Perhaps the only remaining human beings in the distance of many kilometers. Nero and V, the young boy with artificial arm and the tatooed summoner.

To be honest, it is hard to say when exactly you started to notice them. When their status changed from brothers in arms to someone you really depend on. Whose attention and applause you seek. Whose touch and voice you need so desperately in this scary place. It was enough that one of them lent you a hand and supported you when you were climbing. You knew that he held you longer than was needed. Or when you were standing next to each other and your arms touched. You were feeling that your skin was tingling and you felt warmth. Or when you were staying in one of the many abandoned houses, locking doors and checking every corner before laying down. You were all sleeping in one room, for safety reasons. After the whole day you were so exhausted that it wasn't important if you fell asleep in a single bed or on the same couch. Well, not cuddling, but so close that when morning caught you, you woke up with someone's leg on your thigh or fingers entangled in your hair. You where changing your clothes without paying attention whether any of the two saw you. But then there was the day you realized that something changed in the way they looked at you, it distinctively began to feel as if they were touching you.

And then you knew that you want to be touched by them.

It started to disturb you a little. Not that it made you feel embarrassed, but you could not stop thinking about it. When you caught yourself staring at Nero's butt and almost twisted your ankle, you rebuked yourself: the missions should be above it all. Artifacts and demons' nests – those are your priorities. You cannot allow dirty thoughts to hinder you in fulfilling your duties, goddammit!

Or so you were saying to yourself. But the tension between you three was beginning to grow just to big to ignore.

That night you managed to find quite a groovy apartment. The place did not suffer much from the recent events and somehow even had running water! That itself was a miracle. When you finished your meal, Nero went to the bathroom first, wordlessly leaving all the preparations for the night to you and V. That always took some time, but at night demons could be a great pain in the ass. Some doors and windows still needed checking and barring.

Then it was finally your turn to take the advantage of the unusual blessing of water. You returned, relaxed, with your hair still wet. As V disappeared in the bathroom, you noticed Nero trying to tend to his wounded arm all by himself.

You told Nero to lay down and, ignoring his feeble protests, you kneeled next to him. Outside it was dark now and you did not light any lights to avoid bringing unwanted attention. However, you needed to have a look, so you decided to light a single candle. You took Nero's hand and placed it gently on your tights. The wound did not look serious. It must have been caused by a strike of a Qliphot tendril, probably the last one that all of a sudden bursted from beneath the surface. It could be infected, though, so you decided to take care of it. After all, you were the only shaman and healer in this group, which made your hands full almost all the time.

The boy put his cybernetic arm under his head and watched you from under the eyelashes. He looked as if he was going to fall asleep. As you were focused on casting a healing spell and wrapping the arm in bandages, your mind - ever alert in this environment - took an  almost subconscious notice of V returning. The summoner sat just behind you.

"It should be okay now" - you said, knotting the bandage and putting off the candle. Despite the darkness, you saw his bright eyes fixed on your face. Faint moonlight penetrated the cracks in the windows and illuminated his white hair, still wet and glittering as though they were made of silver. He looked so innocent and... appealing. A paradox. Not thinking much, you raised your hand to his face and ruffled his hair. The surprised look on his face amused you.

"Its time to sleep" - you said, but in the meantime you realized that with the other hand you were still holding his wounded hand on your tights. Pressing it to your skin, not wanting to let go. And his fingers slowly began to react, barely noticeably stroking you. As if he were scratching a cat's ear.

And all of sudden you noticed several things. The silence, which was thick and heavy, the only audible thing being your breaths. That you are wearing only your tank top and panties. That both men were half naked. You became very aware of V's silent presence, just behind you, perhaps closer than before. Nero's stroking hand slowly, slowly moved around your thigh. You were so very close to each other that you could feel the heat that came from them. You were all still wet, cooled with the shower, but burning hot inside.

There was no option that you could fall asleep like this. That any of you could.

 But someone had to take the first step.

"You seem... tense" - V's silent voice broke the silence. At the same time his hands touched your shoulders. You shut your eyes, putting yourself under this soft caress, feeling a pleasant shiver that went along your spine. V's hands dropped to the edge of your shirt, his fingers gently slid beneath it and with a decisive move he pulled upwards.

"You do not need this, do you?" - he said and you obediently rose your arms to let him take it off completely.

Now you heard Nero draw a loud breath. Averting his gaze from you was beyond him, he kept looking at your bare breasts it seemed you made quite an impression as he stopped stroking your thigh. But V, he did not waste his time. As soon as he let the shirt drop his hands gently dropped back on your shoulders and slid down to your breasts. His fingers crushed your nipples, causing you to moan. You tilted your head back, leaning it on his chest. V kissed your temple.

Nero suddenly sat up and leaned towards you. Two men tensed, though V did not stop what he was doing with your nipples. They looked each other straight in the eyes, and in that look you saw - or at least imagined you saw - challenge, irritation and perhaps a question. For a moment they looked like two dogs ready to jump at each other. No, you corrected yourself immediately, like a young wolf and a black panther. And then Nero made a decision. He rose as if he wanted to go away, averting his eyes from both you and V. You grabbed his hand before he managed to pull it away.

"And where do you think you are going?" - you asked, your voice strangely hoarse, as V's hands were doing some pretty amazing things with your breasts. - "Don't you dare walk away".

The boy sat down, clearly confused about what to do next, consternation all over his face. The quiet V's chuckle, that came right above your ear, did not encourage Nero at all.

"Oh, I see, our shaman really took to her heart all our teamwork advice. You wish to embody them all, here and now, don't you?" - he said, biting your ear. - "You want to be fair on the battlefield where the fight is always the most passionate and harsh?"

"I simply want you both" - you answered. V said nothing to that, but you could bet he smirked, as he used to. You pulled Nero closer, so that the heads of the three of you touched for a moment. You kissed him hard on his lips. They felt warm, but dry. As you licked them he finally decided to cooperate and tried to kiss back. Now you moved away, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Take me now, you hear me? And you, V, hold me. Tight".

V now seemed very amused and listened right away. He shifted his arms and pulled you slightly upwards so that your head leveled with his. You leaned your head over his shoulder and pushed your hips upwards encouragingly.

Nero pulled the panties off your body so fast he almost ripped them. He grabbed you by your tights and pulled them apart and upwards. You were now almost hanging between them, your toes barely touching the bed sheets, but somehow stable. Oh god, it felt great.

Nero entered fast and hard, just as you hoped he would. His cock was thick and the first push made you hiss. As usual the anticipation and the arousal made you tight down below, but you did not mind the pain.

"I am sorry" - he muttered between thrusts. You stroked his head with one hand, the other was leaning on V's thigh. You tried to relax your muscles and after a moment you felt your pussy adjust to Nero. Your moist walls embraced his dick. Every push was feeling more pleasurable and one of the poet's hands was still petting your breasts.  

Through the sound of blood pulsing in your veins and your erratic breathes you heard a silent hum, somewhere by your ear. On your tongue, you somehow felt the taste of wine and rose fruits, synesthetic experiences leading you straight to the land of happiness...

"Do not stop!" - you growled.

 "I am sorry" - Nero said again, as his breath became erratic and heavy. "But i... will come... in a second...".

At first you wanted to reassure him or to scold him, but in your current state you just could not decide, you could not think clearly at all. All was irrelevant, as long as it lasted.

It looked like Nero was that kind of guy that discharged fast and full. His face turned red. He closed his eyes, his motions became even stronger, faster and more intense. The last few thrusts were so strong that V had problems supporting you two on his side. His back was pressed against the wall behind him and he was taking all the impact of your bodies. Nero came inside you with a cry – you found it cute, you have never heard man respond like that to orgasm. A few second he was staying still, gasping, and then he pulled himself out of you, left down your legs. He took a step or two back and lay dropped on the bed.

"O my god" he purred.

V was still silently humming, you felt the vibrations in his chest. You turned around to face him. Your look was dark, concentrated, your body throbbing and wet. You took his face in your hands and kissed him, not even trying to be gentle, pushing your tongue inside his mouth, tasting him, growling and twining from eagerness.

"Take me now, fast" - you hissed to his lips. V only smiled and shook his head. For that, you felt like killing him there and now. You grabbed him by his pants and started pulling down, but he grabbed your wrists and twisted them.

"Teamwork, remember, witch?" - he said. He lifted you a little, flipped you over and pushed you towards  the bed. Now you were kneeling over Nero.

"Now is your turn to help me. Wake up!" - new sparkles light up in Nero's sleepy eyes. The boy drew you closer in and hugged around your nape, causing you to lay down on him, breasts on chest. V, on his side, pulled your hips, lifting them higher. You felt his body almost adhere to your back. He was much taller than you and could easily cover you all. He kissed your neck.

"You need to accommodate to my dynamics. But right now you are like broken instrument. I have to tune you in. To work on you a little..."

"Just... I am begging you, be careful there, ok?" - whispered Nero, his voice a little whimsical and a little serious. V laughed loudly.

"I think both of you could ask me the same, am I right?" - he said. "Truth to be told, I am not sure whose hand or leg is where."

"I do not care about legs or hands, just aim correctly, dammit!"

Yes, great, and now they began joking. You were trapped between them, withering from desire, barely breathing. And they – they decided to start some sort of comedy. V's cock was nudging your buttocks. one of his hands pushed between your bodies and you felt his fingers parting your labia. He found clit and with his cold fingers he started to tease it, every move causing trembles within you. And yet, he did not stop talking.

"Kallipygos in Greek means 'with beautiful buttocks'. And this caramel skin. You are like Amazon, emerging though the wild forest..." - an another spasm of pleasure jolted through your body. - "With this windswept auburn hairs of yours you look like wild, untamed..."

"This is only a bit better than his poetry" - whispered Nero straight to your ear. There was no option for V not to overhear. He snorted with laughter, and you almost sobbed from disappointment when he stopped the caress. You jerked, full of anger, but Nero held you in place.  

"V, I am losing my mind here" - you coughed up with your face pressed to Nero's neck. "I will garrote you both, I swear to god!"

"Look what you are doing, boy" - said poet mockingly. - "You are upsetting our shaman. She indeed loves to hear my voice, doesn't she?" - He growled the last words straight into your ears. To your relief, his fingers came back between your tights, slid into your folds and parted them. The tip of his cock touched your vagina, pulled back and returned, this time pushing hard inside, but only a little. You were certain now – he was a fucking sadist.

And he was still talking, with his voice full of content. It may be he even quoted. You recognized some of Blake's verses.

"The naked woman's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man."

A lunatic and sadist, yes.

 "Pleeeease..."

"I cannot hear you, my dear"

Just do it! Now!" - you screamed so loud, that Nero surely heard ringing in his ears. - "Do not torment me anymore, please, I.... ohh!" - V pushed inside you, unbearingly slow. He was different from Nero, longer, but not so massive. He was playing with you, searching for a proper position, his hips making subtle motions. And when finally he started riding you, he was doing it in a monotonous rhythm.

Now suddenly he was quieter than Nero, no longer quoting, he did not even gasp. You could not see his face, but you were sure there was an expression close to contemplation on it. This was all V – man with studied, slow gestures, not throwing his word on wind. Tasting every moment of life.

It was silent. Only the rustling of linen and your breathes.

Nero's hug lightened. He started to soothe your hair and shoulders. The entire scene became intimate and sweet, everything was soft like a fluff. Just beautiful. You realized that you somehow love these two men. The flow of emotions pushed the tears from your eyes and even the forthcoming orgasm did not interrupt the lyrical mood.

V's breath clipped, became erratic. He leaned tighter on you, snuggling into your back. You tasted the flavor of distant despair, a scream full of pain resonated and echoed somewhere. But the vision faded out before it even pealed out fully, swept of with the wave of orgasm – yours and his. You bit your lips in fear that not the expected moan would come out, but sobbing.

Only the silent sigh escaped his mouth with the last spasm.

You were completely drained. After V released you, you slid off of Nero and lay beside him. V followed, he snuggled to your back and embraced your waist. His face touched your neck. It felt wet.

[angewrites]

Dogs Make Everything Better

Title: Dogs Make Everything Better

Anime: Cardfight!! Vanguard

Words: 3,469

Summary: Aichi and Kai, much to the surprise of the Card Capital Squad, decide to get a dog.

Notes: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, AICHI!!!!

yeah uh, so this is late lmao. I didn’t get a good idea for an Aichi b-day fic until three days before, so it’s taken me all this time to actually write it. *sob* I’m sorry, my blueberry boi. Maybe I’ll do better next year lmao. 

But also, if anyone’s curious, I actually based this fic on this comic I saw a few days ago because WHY THE HECK NOT. It looked like a cute idea, so I decided to just base the fic (loosely) off of it. Unfortunately, this fic isn’t entirely fluffy like the comic is, so I’m sorry ‘bout that. Hopefully the fluff (literal and figurative) makes up for it. 😭😭😭

Anyway, if you read this, I hope you enjoy it!! Just one last thing: I was gonna put in a scene showing Kai and Aichi adopting the dog, but I decided to scrap it. Do you think the story would have benefitted from a scene like that tho or did I make the right call in not putting one in? Let me know in your comments! 

Thank you!! \ .D. /

[FFN]

[AO3]

                                             Sendou – Kai Residence

Warm and gentle early summer sunlight peeked through the royal purple curtains, illuminating the face of a young man with short blue hair who grimaced at the contact. Realizing that it was indeed morning and it was the long-awaited day, Aichi forced his eyes open, sat up, and looked over at his sleeping partner, mouth hanging open, brown hair completely disheveled.

“Kai-kun. Kai-kun, get up! The day’s here!” Aichi whispered excitedly, gently shaking him back and forth. Kai, however, much to the young man’s non-surprise, turned over to the other side, his back facing him, pulling a pillow over his head. Aichi exhaled a sigh of frustration.

“Kai-kun!”

“You can call me Toshiki, you know,” mumbled the other, who was secretly smiling at Aichi’s exasperation, trying to keep from laughing. Realizing he wasn’t going to get him at out of bed, Aichi huffed, intentionally grabbing one of Kai’s purple blankets, and went to the bathroom without another word. Sensing that his favorite blanket was missing moments later, the brown-haired man – about 28 years of age – threw the pillow from off his head and sat straight up, his hair even more disheveled than before.

That Aichi was more mischievous than he let on.

“Can I have my blanket back?” Kai called out as the other gargled and spat out his mouthwash. The blue-haired man – about 27 – wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and walked back to the bedroom. Instead of responding right away, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed Kai’s hair strands in their proper place – at least, in a way that made his partner look like he didn’t just get up, even though he did.

Kai’s face turned two shades of red at the gesture, but he made no attempt to stop him. Instead, having regained his composure, he closed his eyes, the repeated sensation of Aichi’s fingers gently sweeping across his forehead lulling him in a trance of sorts, with only the sound of chirping birds to be heard and Aichi’s soft humming.

“That should do it,” his partner announced, placing the purple plush blanket around Kai’s shoulders. “It wouldn’t make sense for our new family member to look better than you.”

Kai huffed jokingly. “Whatever,” he said, his playful pout turning into a soft smile as he wrapped the blanket around the other and pulled him closer to him, close enough that their foreheads were touching.

“Someone’s sure in a mood this morning,” said Aichi in a low tone, his smile evident in his voice. Kai only gripped him closer, resting his chin on his shoulder. He knew he and Aichi had to head out to the adoption center soon, but moments like this were as rare enough as it was. Between Kai’s veterinarian job and Aichi’s Cray research fellowship, it was a miracle in itself they didn’t have to rush out the door first thing in the morning, much less get the entire day off.

“Just let me have this,” was the reply. Aichi relaxed even further in Kai-kun’s embrace, also taking in and absorbing this rare, slowed-down moment between the two of them. What’s even rarer was the fact that Kai-kun was the one who initiated it, but there’s a first time for everything.

Aichi, being the first to let go after a few minutes, had last minute preparations to make before the two of them headed out for the day. Kai took the opportunity to finally get dressed, tossing on a faded red t-shirt from his Vanguard European tournament days and black jeans. No sooner had he done so, his phone began to wildly buzz. Looking at the caller ID, he laughed.

“Okay, Miwa, what do you want?”  Kai answered, his voice sounding inconvenienced, almost borderline rude, he realized, but only because he knew Miwa, his childhood friend, would understand it as a joke. The other side chortled.

“I would’ve thought getting an actual job and getting married would’ve made you a tad bit nicer,” replied Miwa, “but so much for that.”

“Don’t worry, I’m only mean to you.”

“Oh, thank you, that makes me feel so much better,” returned Miwa, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “Anyway, before you ask, I’m just double-checking if you and Aichi are gonna swing by Card Capital later. Card Capital 1, anyway, not 2 where I work. You do know there’s this huge party today.”

“Yeah, we will,” replied Kai, “but, we’re gonna be a little late, so feel free to start without us.”

“Heeeh? What, are you guys going on a married couple date or something?” Miwa teased. Kai usually wasn’t prone to migraines, but he could definitely feel one coming.

“No. For your information, we’re adopting a –“ he started to say, but Aichi’s voice rang out from the front door, “Kai-kun, hurry up!” Kai pulled the phone from away from his ear and yelled out, “Just a second!”

“Adopting a what now?” Miwa inquired like he didn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. But, Kai couldn’t afford to waste another second, so he just said, “Sorry, Miwa, we have to go now. We’ll see you soon.”

“Kai, wait –“

Kai tapped the red button, shoving the phone in his back jeans pocket and met up with Aichi at the front door. He opened the door to let his husband go through first, leaving him to lock the door.

“We’ll be back,” Aichi said, and Kai short-laughed. It was adorable how he did that.

---------------------------------------------------------

                                                   Card Capital 1

“Miwa, come on, are you sure that’s what Kai said?” Naoki, a red-haired man the same age as Aichi interrogated as he, with Morikawa and Izaki’s help, put up a light blue, sparkle-covered “Happy Birthday, Aichi!!” banner on the back wall, some of the sparkles flying their way onto his plain dark green t-shirt.

“I swear I’m not making this up,” the blond-haired man – about the same age as Kai – defended himself, setting down a cake box on the check-out counter. “Kai definitely mentioned something about adoption when I called him.”

“But . . . adopting a child? Miwa, really?” the manager of Card Capital, Misaki, chimed in, fixing her lavender hair back up in a bun and picking up a box of additional decorations. “Those two have enough on their plates, and I don’t see them adding ‘dealing with the expenses of a child’ to them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Miwa shrugged his shoulders.

“But, what if Miwa’s right though? What if it is a child? Would that make us all adopted godparents?” a dark-blue haired young man, not too much younger than Naoki, spoke up, scratching his head. “Like, would be crazy or what?”

“Kamui . . .” replied Misaki icily, repeatedly beating the palm of her hand with a rolled-up magazine. The younger of the two gulped loudly and hastily went back to setting up additional decorations around the medium-sized shop.

“Well,” another young man, also the same age as Aichi, spoke up, pushing up his glasses, “we’ll find out when they get here, I guess.” Everyone in the shop nodded and went back to their decorating business. Misaki had just finished placing the last of the decorations on the fight-turned-food tables behind a blue curtain when the familiar jingle of bells sounded and Sub-Manager, the resident cat employee, emitted a low-pitch meow welcoming the visitors.

“You’ll have to leave. We’re closed no-“ Misaki almost announced out of pure habit, as many customers had tried to come through despite the signs out front saying Card Capital was closed for the afternoon. But, when she looked up, she saw Aichi and Kai standing at the door . . . with a gold and white dog who was as tall as Aichi’s leg when it stood upright. A Shikoku, if Misaki recalled her dog breed names correctly.

“That’s no way to talk to customers, Tokura,” Kai replied without missing a beat.

“Never mind that,” said Misaki. “What’s with the dog? Did you decide to take up dog-sitting?”

Aichi gently rubbed the top of their furry companion’s head, to which the furry companion panted delightfully, catching the attention of Sub-Manager, who looked at the new furry visitor with annoyance. “Don’t misunderstand, Misaki-san,” Aichi spoke up. “This one’s ours.” Kai, of course, nodded in agreement, crossing his arms and smiling with his eyes closed, like a proud father.

Miwa, Naoki, Kamui, and Shingo all looked at each other, not quite sure how to process the latest development in the what did Kai and Aichi adopt saga.

“Yeah, Miwa, that doesn’t look like a human child,” Kamui broke the silence first, maintaining eye contact with the furry customer.

“Nope,” Morikawa nodded.

“Definitely not,” Naoki agreed.

“Not in the slightest,” Shingo chimed in.

“Doesn’t even look anything like a human child,” Izaki commented.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. I was wrong. I admit it,” Miwa shouted, waving his hand and rubbing his head in frustration.

Aichi and Kai looked at each other, raising one eyebrow each, frowning. Then Kai directed his gaze towards Miwa and asked, “Mind explaining yourself?”

Miwa pointed a finger at Kai. “You’re the one to talk. You never said you were adopting a dog. You only told me you and Aichi were adopting.”

“Really now?” Kai brought his crossed arms closer to him. “I could’ve sworn I mentioned that it was a dog when you called –“

“You didn’t!”

Aichi giggled at the commotion as he massaged the top of his furry companion’s head. The dog wagged his tail happily, soaking up all the attention he was getting, much to Aichi’s relief, since the dog had been hiding in the back of his cage at the adoption agency.  

From what it sounded like, Miwa had thought they were adopting a child rather than a dog, so it’d only make sense that he and the others would be surprised. The two of them could barely take care of themselves, though, so bringing another human into their already small as it is house was out of the question. Plus, it’s easier to deal with dogs and animals in general than with small humans.

“Can I pet him, Big Brother Aichi?” Kamui inquired, having made his way over to the trio.

“Sure, Kamui-kun!” Aichi granted. The dog released a high-pitch squeal as Kamui petted him.

“He’s so soft,” Kamui commented, ruffling the dog’s fur.

“Right?” agreed Aichi, who joined Kamui in showering the canine with affection.

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact you two got a dog and not a cat,” Naoki chimed in, scratching his head. “Especially since Kai is obviously more a cat person.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Misaki agreed.

“I figured you’d say that,” Aichi laughed. “Our house felt a little lonely, so we figured adopting a dog was the best way to fix that. But, Kai-kun still got to name him, so it’s a fair deal, I think.”

“Really? What’s his name?” Shingo inquired. Aichi opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Sub-Manager hissing and the dog growling at each other.

“That’s enough, Ryuu,” Kai reprimanded, like a parent would scold a misbehaving child. The dog, having sensed his name was called, immediately stopped growling and whined, shrinking back against Aichi’s leg. The rest of Card Capital exhaled a collective “Ohhhh.”

“Ryuu . . . huh?” Naoki spoke up after a long pause.

“You named the dog Dragon?” Miwa asked, doing his best to contain his laughter, but, in the end, it was futile, and his laugh echoed throughout Card Capital. “Dragon, oh my god.”

“Shut up,” Kai said, turning away from him, inciting laughter from everyone else present.

“That aside,” Aichi interrupted. “Kai-kun told me we absolutely had to stop by Card Capital today, and we had to hurry as soon as we adopted Ryuu, but he wouldn’t tell me why . . . Also, that blue curtain wasn’t there before, was it? If I remember right, Misaki-san did tell me the shop was being remodeled, but I thought the renovations were done already . . .”

Kai jumped, noting that Aichi was catching onto the surprise, and the rest of the Card Capital inhabitants’ shoulders stiffened. Glancing at Miwa’s direction, he saw Miwa mouth “Tell him to close his eyes.” The brunet sighed and grabbed Aichi by the shoulders.

“Ka-Kai-kun?” Aichi quickly looked up.

“Close your eyes.”

“Eh? Why?”

Kai smiled. It’s a good thing he hadn’t caught on. “Trust me. You’ll know.” The other raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. After he looked over and saw Aichi’s eyes were closed, Kai gave a thumbs-up sign to Miwa, who swung an arm downwards. Naoki, who was standing on a ladder, pulled down the curtain cord, revealing the hard work of the gang’s work of the past couple of hours: the slightly off-center, glitter-covered light blue “Happy Birthday, Aichi!!” banner on the back wall, enough blue and white balloons to turn Card Capital into a temporary balloon store, and the fight tables all covered with streamers, glitter of all colors, and other party decorations that Kai was sure Miwa got from the party store right down the street.

It’s a good thing the adoption process, including the never-ending paperwork, took a little longer than anticipated. All this must have taken a long while to set up, Kai thought. Rubbing Aichi’s arms, he whispered, “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

“I thought it was taking a while for you all to–“ Aichi started to say, but when he fully opened his eyes, he found the birthday decorations waiting for him and his friends smiling, waiting, no doubt, for his reaction. The blue-haired man unknowingly let go of Ryuu’s leash to cover his mouth with both hands, but Kai swooped down and grabbed the leash before it could hit the floor.  

“This is . . .” was all Aichi could mutter, tears gripping the corner of his eyes.

Miwa laughed. “Just so you know, we put all the decorations together, but,” he pointed a nicer finger at Kai this time, “your husband over there suggested this in the first place.”

“I . . .” the blue-haired man glanced at Kai, who only laughed and gently rubbed the small of his back.

“It’s your first birthday in Japan in a while, Big Brother, so we needed to go all out,” Kamui chimed in, flashing a thumbs up.

“I don’t . . . I really don’t know what to say . . .” Aichi said, letting the tears roll down his face. He hadn’t expected his birthday to be acknowledged, much less a party of this caliber conveniently in the place he forged so many strong bonds with everyone there. “Thank you. Thank you, everyone.”

Ryuu cocked his head upwards. Seeing Aichi cry, he let out a small whine and nuzzled against Aichi’s leg, concerned for his owner, but the man knelt down and petted him.

“It’s alright, Ryuu. These are happy tears,” he said, flashing a smile. Ryuu seemed to understand his human was alright, not in any sort of peril, and barked happily in response, eliciting a small mew from Sub-Manager.

“Well, let’s get this party started, shall we?” Miwa announced.

---------------------------------------------------

                                       Sendou – Kai Residence

After spending several hours at Aichi’s Card Capital surprise birthday party, Kai and Aichi, with a mountain of presents and large card in hand as well as Ryuu, made their way back to their house. Aichi had enjoyed the party at Card Capital, but it felt good to be back home after a long day.

“Welcome to your new home, Ryuu-chan,” Aichi told the Shikoku who wagged his tail happily at the sound of his human’s voice.

“Where do you want your birthday stuff, Aichi?” Kai asked from behind the mountain of presents. Instead of answering the question, the other insisted on helping, but Kai furiously shook his head. “It’s your day. You’re not doing anything of the sort.”

The blue-haired man stared at his husband, then laughed. “I’ve heard that a lot in the last couple of hours.”

“People aren’t allowed to do menial stuff like this on their birthday. That’s just Doing Birthdays 101,” Kai huffed, forcing his way to the dining area. “At least, they shouldn’t.”

Laughing and without another word, Aichi removed Ryuu’s leash and let him scope out his new home so he could adjust. Even if Ryuu didn’t entirely understand, Aichi, nonetheless, explained to the dog about the various rooms of the small house, from the dining room to the living room, which stored Kai’s various European Circuit Vanguard trophies (for now, anyway).

Kai, in the meantime, organized Aichi’s presents in order – by size, by if they were boxes or bags, by cards – since seeing them in a disorganized pile would drive him crazy. Once he finished doing that, he sat down at the kitchen table, watching his husband and their newly adopted furry child roam about the house, with Aichi talking away, and Kai couldn’t help but stare, his gaze softening, lips gently turning into a smile.

He had told Aichi that they should adopt a dog, an older dog, because as snug as their small house seemed, it did feel empty, and the emptiness was best filled by an animal. But, there was another reason Kai insisted on adopting Ryuu, one he’s kept to himself. Aichi hadn’t told him, but Kai knew, from his tossing and turning, his groaning at night, and his tired smile the next day after undergoing such a traumatic ordeal, that he was experiencing vivid nightmares. After the Link Joker incident, Kai too experienced the pain, the immense guilt, and the frustration brought about by lucid dreams of his crimes, and it was only after he confronted that pain head-on with Aichi and the others, when they said that he was forgiven, that he was truly able to recover, enough to the point where the nightmares finally stopped.

But, Aichi . . . His recovery journey was far from over, Kai realized. And it pained him to see the one he loved in such agony, a destructive agony he’s willing to keep inside and mask, not wanting anyone to see.

Kai understood that adopting a dog wouldn’t solve all of Aichi’s problems, but, since Aichi petted practically any stray or leashed dog he saw – which has made the two of them late to very important social functions on occasion (not that Kai minded though) – it’s a start. He wasn’t the biggest fan of dogs, but, for Aichi, he’s willing to change that. He’d do anything, absolutely anything, for him.

Noticing Aichi and Ryuu sitting on the floor in the living room, Kai rose from his chair and wandered over to the duo. Aichi was gently patting the sleeping dog, who was lightly snoring. The brunet looked at Aichi’s eyes and, although he seemed exhausted, they were glistening and at peace. It was the calmest Kai had seen him in a while. He reached out and lightly touched the other’s shoulder. Aichi grabbed the other’s hand with his free one while still petting their newest roommate, their fur child.

“It’s late, so if you want to turn in, it’s fine. I’ll join you later,” whispered the blue-haired man. Aichi expected Kai to accept the offer – after all, Kai was a stickler when it came to bedtime – but, instead, he was gently pulled backwards. Sensing Kai behind him, Aichi leaned back further, positioning himself so that he could listen to and be lulled by Kai’s steady heartbeat.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” Kai whispered, gently tightening his hold on him. “Especially not tonight.”

Aichi laughed softly. “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you,” he whispered back. Tears forming at the corner of his eyes, he added, “I already tried that once, and look how that turned out.”

Kai inhaled sharply. He knew it. “Aichi . . .”

Aichi wrapped his arms around Kai’s waist, pressing further against his body. “Thank you for Ryuu, for the party, everything. Thank you for being here with me . . .” a pause. A deep breath. “ . . . Toshiki.”

A gasp involuntarily escaped from Kai’s mouth, but he quickly regained his senses, burying his face in Aich’s hair. He had joked about it that morning, but, actually hearing Aichi finally say his name, his first name, was nothing short of a magical, relieving moment. Only his parents had called him by his first name, and he refused to let anyone call him by that name ever since. No one had been close enough, had beaten down the doors of his heart, faced the darkness and terrors of his mind enough, had borne his anguish, his hurt, his agony and pain, for him to let them say his first name.

No one . . . except the one lovingly locked in his embrace, the one who never gave up on him, and never stopped giving him chances.

His eternal mate and, now, his husband. And he couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Of course, Aichi. Happy birthday.”

[turnupswritessometimes]

The One With the Zombies - AshEIji - Ch4

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 4

Word Count: 5031

Description:  Another what it says on the tin from me - it's a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren't surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang's leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn't last forever and soon it's only Ash and Eiji. And they're up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

4

"I-zu-mo," Eiji said, pointing to his mouth as if Ash would be able to read his lips if he did.

"Gizmo," Ash said, like it was the same. He blinked at Eiji.

He expected Eiji would be annoyed – that he’d get angry that this stupid, white boy was murdering his native language. But he was laughing instead. By some miracle, he was laughing.

Ash was laughing too. "What? What's the difference?"

"One is a Gremlin, one is my hometown."

"Actually, Gizmo is a Mogwai," Ash grinned at Eiji and he laughed. They were the only ones sat in the attic, either side of the wide window. Despite everything, it was still Summer, and the sun warmed them.

Eiji shook his head. "That's still not Izumo, though, is it?"

"Let's just agree to disagree," Ash said, because he could feel himself growing warm. Not to brag, but he was a genius - on paper at least. A genius but he couldn't even say one word of Japanese.

"Where do you come from?" Eiji asked. It was an innocent enough question. The question normal people asked all the time.

And yet it made the hairs on Ash's arms stand on end. He looked away from the tan skin and the dark eyes and stared at the grey sky instead.

"Originally, I came from a place called Cape Cod," he said. "It's in the state across from New York. Massachusetts."

"Ma-za-chu-setsu?" Eiji repeated - Ash thought it was only so that his butchering of Izumo didn't sound so awful.

"Massachusetts." He said again, but he was smiling.

Eiji shook ahead. “The American States are stupid.”

“They’re not.”

“Kansas,” Eiji said. “But not ark-Kansas.”

“No, it’s Arkansas.”

“Why?” Eiji threw his hands in the air and Ash found himself laughing – really laughing. Unable to catch a breath laughing. That laugh made Eiji laugh and suddenly they were both leaning on the window for support.

You really did laugh about the silliest things in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. In fact, in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, Ash was having the most fun of his life. He had never genuinely laughed this much for as long as he could remember.

That was, until Skip came running up with an urgent question for Eiji. A very urgent question.

“(!!)

Eiji blinked at him, clearly completely stunned. It was a mistake to ever hesitate around Skip – he began tugging Eiji away, babbling on about this and the other.

The Japanese boy looked back at Ash with a scared expression. Ash just laughed and gave him a thumbs up. He was the others to deal with now.

He sighed as he turned to look back out of the window. The sun was gold and the day was almost over. He could see movement in the woods. Birds flying away in a path. Something was out there this afternoon. They would have to be ready.

There were footsteps in the attic again. He knew they weren’t Eiji’s. Eiji moved soundlessly on the balls of his feet like a cat. These were heavier footsteps – unfamiliar footsteps. Which left two options. He didn’t care for either. He stayed staring out at the line where the trees met the sky. What would happen if they kept moving in that direction? They would never reach that line. They would never be truly safe.

“Can I have a word?” That was Max Lobo’s voice.

Ash turned his head, still pressed against the windowsill, looking at Max with half-lidded eyes. A cat on a lazy afternoon, he used to get told. “You can have two. Fuck off.”

It had been two days and he had spent the majority of his time hiding from the man. Avoiding him like the plague and using the others to make sure he wasn’t using up the food or cigarettes or bullets too much. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion he had asked Eiji up here in the first place so that he could keep his distance.

“I deserved that.” Max was scratching his cheek with a clumsy thumb. He was mostly silhouette in the light. But then he sighed and stepped forward and sat on the windowsill, facing out towards the rest of the loft. His hair caught the sun and it looked almost auburn. “I’ve seen that kid on the videos before.”

Ash paused for a half a second. It was always hard to decipher meaning in conversations like this – it always took him a moment to analyse the words in front of him and find meaning. Then he said, “if this is meant to be some metaphor about seeing yourself in me, then spare me the sob story.”

“Would it kill you to stop the verbal onslaught for five seconds?”

“Yes.”

“Your brother showed me pictures of a boy who looked like you,” Max said – slightly fast, as though he was nervous. He paused, wetting his lips before his eyes flicked to Ash. “Griffin Callenreese.”

There was that half-second pause where his brain wasn’t working. He heard every word but he couldn’t connect them. Couldn’t believe them.

“Griffin’s in the army,” he said, eventually. Griffin. There was a name he’d all but forgotten. All but given up hope on.

“He came back to New York with me,” Max said. He crossed his hands. Fidgeting. He was fidgeting a lot. Maybe he really was nervous. “He - he's injured, Ash.  Very badly. But he was trying to find out what happened to you.”

“I don't think he would have liked to find me where I was.”

“You were everything to him.”

Max’s voice was soft. Unbearably soft and it made Ash’s lips snarl upwards of their own accord.

“Shut up,” he said. “What would you know? What the hell would you know?”

"He was searching for you."

"So you think because you know my brother - what? What does that even matter now?" He demanded, leaping to his feet.

Max was calm. He was still so ridiculously calm and Ash hated that. He hated him.

"He's in a wheelchair."

Max said it so matter-of-factly that it was like he had punched Ash in the stomach. He stood there, trying to remember how to breathe and just staring at Max.

"He got shot. He's paralyzed from the waist down. It made finding you harder, that's why I was doing the leg work - so to speak."

Ash swallowed but it didn't ease his burning throat.

"How? How did he-"

"How the fuck did you think it happened, kid?" Max leant forward, his elbows on his knees and his palms pressing into his eyes. "We were in combat. It was an ambush. We were taken off-guard. I dropped everything and just dived into the bushes. I ran. When I looped back, Griffin was still there. He'd been shot in the hip. I carried him back to camp."

"You left him," Ash said. "In the middle of an ambush, you left him."

"We all did."

“So – what – you think just because you knew my brother means you have to look after me?” he demanded. He stood, then turned on his heel before even taking two steps. “You don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” Max wasn’t looking at him. He still had his head in his hands.

“Then why did you tell me about him?” Ash wondered why it was hard to say his name.

Max finally brought his head up, dark eyes burning into Ash’s.

“Because I figured you would want to know.”

Ash waked away without a word, his footsteps echoing on the metal floor. He had, he realised. He had wanted to know. It felt as though he had completely given up on Griffin – he had come to accept the fact that he would never see him again. Griffin had been a lost cause.

But now he wasn’t.

And Ash wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Relieved, he guessed. Griffin was alive. He was alive and breathing and looking for Ash. Ash hadn’t been forgotten – he still had a member of his family who wanted to see him. Who wanted to see him – but didn’t know about Ash. Didn’t know what Ash had been through. Would he still look for Ash if he knew? Would he look at him the same way if he knew? No one did.

That would be the final straw. If Griffin looked at him the way other men did – the way his dad did – he didn’t think he would be able to take that. It would break him to see the disgust and the revulsion that would ultimately take over Griffin’s features when he found out. His little brother was a whore.

And that brought back all of the familiar feelings of self-loathing and hatred. His brother was alive and would probably hate him if he knew the truth.

He was angry, too. He was angry that Griffin had been looking for him and it had taken him this long.

No, he was angry at himself. He should have been able to find him. He should have been more aware of everything happening in New York. He knew everything else – gang movements and business figures. But he didn’t know that his brother had been in the city.

He sat down in his usual spot on the lumpy sofa – it had been saved for him. It was the usual pandemonium down here – Bones climbing over people who were yelling at him and boys drop-boxing random pictures to each other on their phones. A movie was playing away to itself. There was always a movie playing away to itself down here.

It was all white noise to Ash. He couldn’t focus on any of it. He stared there, feeling his jaw clench and unclench of its own accord.

“Are you okay?”

Eiji’s voice came to his side. He had squeezed himself into the gap on the sofa – between the outstretched legs of Kong as he leant backwards, proving that he could down a can of root beer upside down.

It seemed to take Ash’s eyes an age to focus on Eiji. When he did, he realised that he looked concerned. Eiji looked very concerned about him. Dark eyes searched his face like he could wipe away the dazed expression. How quickly would that concerned expression to disgust if he knew?

“Yeah,” he said. He couldn’t explain it. None of it was explainable without explaining about himself. “I’m fine.”

“Ash.” Eiji leant forward, still wide-eyed, but still concerned.

“I’m-” Ash took a breath. He didn’t want to lie to Eiji. He wasn’t sure why – there was something about that puppy-dog face that made him want to tell the truth. Maybe not all of it, he figured. If he kept it vague – “Max just told me that my brother is alive.”

“Oh – wow. Ash, are you – wow.”

“Yeah. I think he’s still in New York.”

“In the city?”

Ash nodded. His mouth was still completely dry.

“Didn’t,” Eiji frowned, like he was trying to find the word. “Everyone leave?”

Ash shrugged.

“Any way to find out?”

Ash started shaking his head, his hair falling into his face, but then he paused. People in the city. He knew people in the city. Still on that train of thought, he pulled out his phone and began typing.

It was with inhuman speed that he got a reply.

And when he got one he didn’t know what to do with that. Yes – yes Shorter was still in the city. The Chinese gang had been hiding out, taking whatever they want from wherever they want. He continued on, to say that he was completely and utterly exhausted. None of them were sleeping for more than two hours at a time. They were so many zombies in the city that it was rare to find a safe spot for longer than that. He didn’t want to leave the younger ones to fight by themselves, either. He wanted to keep them all safe.

Well, Ash related to that.

So, the living still were in New York. But it didn’t sound like they were having a good time. It didn’t sound like it would be easy. It also sounded like an unfair favour to ask of a guy in an apocalypse.

‘Ive got someone I need to find,’ he wrote into his phone. ‘Could you find out if hes in the city??’

Again, the response came through incredibly quickly for someone apparently so exhausted.

‘Cant you stalk him???’

‘Not on social media.’

‘Fucks sake.’

That was a yes in Shorter speak. He was incredibly aware that Eiji was watching him. That Eiji was waiting for him to explain what was happening. So, he glanced up and forced a smile on his face.

“Just asking a friend to find him.”

Eiji titled his head to the side, looking more puppy like than ever with all that fluffy hair on his flopping onto his forehead. “You have friends?”

For a moment Ash was shocked. That level of sass didn’t usually come from Eiji’s mouth. But then he laughed – and he was hooking an arm around Eiji’s neck, tugging him over to him.

“Where’s that polite Japanese boy gone?” he demanded.

Eiji was laughing, a hand on Ash’s arm to steady himself. He wasn’t trying to push him away. He would, Ash thought, if he knew. “You’ve been a bad influence on me, James Dean.”

Ash’s heart leapt at the nickname and he pulled Eiji even closer. His mouth was buried in dark hair. Hair that smelt like everyone else’s – of sweat and dirt and blood. But something was different, because this was Eiji’s hair.  He was kissing Eiji’s hair, technically, with his arm around Eiji’s shoulders and Eiji’s head against his chest.

He paused, sucking in a breath through his teeth, then pulled away. He couldn’t tell if it was slower than it should have been or too fast. Eiji didn’t seem to react. He barely even pulled away – he still had one hand on Ash’s leg. It was colder and heavier than it should have been.

“I hope you find your brother, Ash.”

What broke his heart was that Eiji had really meant it.

*

Eiji saw the message before Ash did.

He woke up every few hours now, like clockwork. It was in sync with the changing of the look out.  The moment he happened to open his eyes, he saw the screen light up in the darkness. It was a shining rectangle, a doorway to the world he’d left behind.

It wasn’t his intention to pry. His eyes were sliding over to the phone without meaning to. He’d received a text from a contact who was just emojis. EIji guessed Ash could read it.

‘Found him,” it said. ‘You want the good or bad news???’

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to wake Ash – he needed to know as fast as possible. But a part of him suspected that Ash didn’t really want to see his brother. There had been something odd about him when he had mentioned it. His face had been pale and his hands had been shaking. Eiji didn’t think that Ash knew that he’d noticed.

So he wasn’t sure if Ash really wanted to know about the message.

But he pulled himself off of the sofa anyway and padded over to where Ash was sleeping. He lay with an arm across his face, his mouth in a frown underneath it. His hair looked silver in the sliver of moonlight coming from the door.

Eiji knelt down.

“Ash,” he whispered. He reached out a hand and touched Ash’s elbow. He took a moment, before he gave it a little shake. “Ash!”

Ash woke with a start. He always woke with a start when someone else woke him – it was why the boys were so scared to do it. Sometimes his arm would swing out and he would be up and snarling, ready for a fight.

As long as Eiji kept saying his name, his eyes would focus and he would relax. Literally, every muscle in his body relaxed, like a spring uncoiling. His eye was just a spark in the darkness, watching Eiji in silence and looking more like a lion than ever.

“You have a message. I think it’s about-“

Ash moved fast – faster than Eiji could see – his pale hand grabbing the phone and holding it in front of his face so that Eiji couldn’t read it. Like Eiji hadn’t seen already – that made him feel even worse. As he was typing, Ash fell into silence. It was just like he had been a few days ago, when he had first sent the messages. He was staring at the screen intently, like a predator watching prey and he didn’t keep Eiji in the loop as he replied to this mysterious person. This ‘friend.’

There was a whisper at the door. A sharp whisper came from the doorway. Eiji glanced across – Bones’ silhouette was against the empty doorway of the warehouse, looking in. But he couldn’t make out the words.

“How would you feel about going back to the city?” Ash whispered.

Eiji glanced back – he could see the reflection of the phone in his pupils – Ash was still typing, his face even paler than usual.

“Boss!” Bones hissed from the door.

“He found him?”

“At dawn we’ll go.”

“Boss, please!”

It was the please that made Ash look up. Ash looking up made Eiji turn back to the door.

“What, Bones?”

“We have – just come look. Please.” Bones’ voice was barely a whisper. Panic was etched in every one of the syllables.

Eiji went to get up, and was immediately pushed down by Ash’s hand on his shoulder. He watched him pass, feeling his heart begin to beat faster and faster. It was rising up his chest and sat in his mouth as Ash got to the doorway and looked out.

There was something about the way he froze. It made every hair on Eiji’s body stand on its tiptoes.

He rose – slowly – because he had to be there for Ash. He had to.

But Ash was already away from the door. He was slamming it shut and pulling the dead bolts across it.

“Flip the lights,” Ash was saying. Demanding. “You might as fucking well now.”

Bones did – Eiji knew because he was blinded by white lights for a moment. When he had recovered from the shock, he saw Bones, white as bone, his hand on the flip switch for the light. Everything else looked incredibly ordinary. The sofas and blankets all sat in their usual spots. It was just like it was daytime. As if this had all been a bad dream.

But Ash’s jaw was still clenched and he had a gleam in his eye that Eiji had never seen before. He looked at him as he walked past and paused in his step.

“Stay. Right. Here,” he said.

Eiji did. Ash might as well have glued him to the spot. He was practically flying up the ladder and into the attic, barking orders like an army officer.

They had known each other for two weeks. It was a bizarre thing for him to realise in that moment. But they had only known each other for two weeks. And he trusted Ash with his life. That wasn’t normal. But then, nothing was normal anymore.

Ash slid down the ladder instead of using the footholds. There were guns strapped across his  back. He tugged a small pistol from his waistband and pressed it into Eiji’s hand. He was moving so quickly that he had stopped centimetres away from Eiji. Their chests were almost pressed together and he could feel Ash’s breath on his cheeks.

“Point and shoot. It won’t kick.”

He nodded, wishing he could do more. Wishing he wasn’t just doing everything Ash said, like he was a liability who needed to be looked after. He wished he could deal with this situation better.

There were people around them now. Everyone else was swarming down the ladder with guns in their arms and determined looks on their faces.

Ibe was hugging Eiji before he had even spotted him coming towards him.

“Thank God you’re safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Eiji replied. He turned and pressed himself against Ibe. His heart was hammering and he wanted it to stop – it felt like the only way that it would stop would be to hug Ibe. Ibe was an actual adult and he would be able to make it all go away. “Ibe-san, what’s happening?”

Ibe pulled away, held him by the shoulders so hard that he swayed on the spot. His eyes bore into Eiji’s, dark and heavy. “They’re outside.”

“What?”

Max was pushing through the crowd of teenagers with a gun over his shoulder. He pressed a hand against Ibe’s arm as he passed, looking over the heads as he called out, “where do you want us, kiddo?”

Ash turned, his hair glowing in the light. “Hang back. Don’t leave any of my men behind.”

He said it pointedly, his eyes narrowed. Something passed between them that Eiji didn’t understand.

“We can just wait until morning,” Max said. “This might be a fluke.”

“They’re not vampires – they’re not going to burst into flames in the sunlight.”

“It’s ridiculous to try an attack like this at three in the morning.”

“I can’t wait!” Ash snapped.

Everyone stopped moving like a school of fish to watch the exchange. Eiji could understand their hesitation. Ash was their leader, and he was incredible and intelligent and brave, but he was still a teenager. Max was an adult. Max was a veteran.

Ash was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “They found Griffin.”

Max paused, then, as if Ash had punched him in the stomach.

“Where?”

“The city. We don’t have time!” Ash had the same strain to his voice that Bones had earlier. He wasn’t asking or demanding – this was a plead.

Max’s face hardened into an unreadable mask. He nodded.

“Let’s go.”

“What’s happening?” Eiji asked Ibe again as the crowd began moving. He caught Ibe’s sleeve and suddenly felt much younger.

“Stay with Ash,” was all Ibe said.

He was pushing back through the crowd – back to where Max was and suddenly there was a lump in Eiji’s throat.

“Ibe-san!”

Ibe turned back, but only for a second. He gave Eiji a nod, before Kong stepped forward, flicking the safety off of his gun.

So he turned too, looking at the pistol in his hands. When he looked up, Ash was right in front of him. He didn’t say a word, just held Eiji’s gaze and cocked his gun without looking at it.

People were moving again, people heading back upstairs to the wide window and others spreading to the sides of the warehouse. They were preparing for a battle, he knew that. They were outside, Ibe had said. He had an idea of who they were, and he hoped he was wrong.

Ash pressed himself to the wall next to door. Eiji found himself pressed against him and Bones, who had a hand on the lever to open it.

“Ready?” Bones asked.

“Ready?” Ash called.

He received nods and grunts of approval. Eiji wasn’t included. Just what was he supposed to be ready for? The door rattled and clanked as it came up. That’s when Eiji began to hear it. The moans and the yelling.

Ash moved like a wildcat, turning and shooting as if he was in an arcade game. The others were too and Eiji knew they would be shooting from upstairs. He took a rattling breath, feeling it fill his lungs, before he turned, holding the gun out in front of him with shaking hands.

They were in a semi-circle. Figures lit only from the front and above so that they were yellow highlights and black shadows. Yellow eyes and black mouths. They were falling, every second another one of them fell and was stumbled over by the ones behind it.

But there were so many of them.

Like every one of them in the area had gathered together. The thought made Eiji shiver – and as he did, a being with dark hair lurched towards him. He raised the gun without thinking, pulling the trigger desperately.

It was hit in the stomach and stumbled backwards.

Not dead and wouldn’t die. He tried again, lifting his arms higher, but by the time the shot fired, someone above him had already reached the zombie’s head.

“We can’t stay like this.” Ash stepped in front of Eiji, his gun raised to his shoulder. Bullets rain down his back like scales on a dragon and as they hit the light it was absurdly beautiful. “We’re going to be trapped.”

“Nowhere to go,” Eiji called back, his pistol still raised, his finger still ready on the trigger, as though just waving it around would make them back down. No, that only worked with people.

“Push through!” Ash raised his voice and it boomed through the warehouse. “Scatter!”

They did. They pushed out of the warehouse, guns in arms, stars flying from the ends of them as they rushed at the hoarde of nightmares awaiting them.

Skip was at Eiji’s side suddenly, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.

“Just run straight through!” he yelled over the noise. “Keeping running, they won’t be able to keep their grip on you.”

Eiji nodded and took Skip’s hand without thinking. He lowered the gun, he wasn’t going to be able to use it anyway.

Ash was running, his hair a golden halo around him – so Eiji followed. He put his head down and closed his eyes as he ran at the crowd of zombies. Hands reached over him, fingers running through his hair limply and snagging on his clothes. His mouth and nose were filled with the stink of rotting flesh – of chicken past its use by date and burnt bacon and raw beef. It was nauseating and made him lightheaded. He couldn’t keep this up – he couldn’t –

Skip’s grip on his hand slipped for a moment.

He held on even tighter – he was yelling – they were surrounded, on all sides and someone had grabbed his arm. He kept running, his legs pumping. He imagined himself on the field – running the track up to the high jump stand. Running. That was something he could do. The grip went slack on his arm as he pushed past. He was approaching the stand now, he could feel it.

There was an all too familiar ball of nerves settling in his chest at the thought. He was approaching the stand –

But he couldn’t land the jump.

He was out in fresh air.

It took him a while to slow down. He only managed it because he realised he’d been all but dragging Skip along the ground. His feet had barely been hitting the floor. As soon as he stopped, he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily. Breathing air that did not smell of the dead – it was the hot summer night air. He was alive.

He looked up through sweaty hair to see Ash holding Skip tightly, his head buried in Skip’s mass of curls.

“Were you bitten?” he hissed, his eyes like a cat’s in the night.

Skip shook his head, holding out his bare arms for Ash to see. Eiji did the same, clad in one of Ash’s huge baseball jackets. His heart stopped as he looked down at his own elbow.

A hand was gripping onto him.

A hand an a wrist that drooped like a stem on a picked flower, a string of muscle trailing off like a ribbon on a bike handle from the end of it.

Ash leant forward and picked it off without a word. He looked up at Eiji and there was the ghost of a smile on his face.

He stood, offered Eiji a hand up that he accepted, taking Skip in his other. Eiji wasn’t sure what had happened to the zombie hand. He hoped that it had been dropped on the floor.

They started backwards, their eyes still on the crowd. They could still see figures darting through the dark shapes like fish avoiding a net.

“Don’t shoot,” Ash whispered, to them and the people passing. “Just back away slowly and quickly. Only shoot if they start chasing.”

They made quick work, their feet sliding over dry grass in an effort not to make a sound. Eiji was sure that he could hear all three of their hearts beating. Bones and Kong caught up with them, sliding to a stop and then keeping an eye on their backs, their guns raised. Everything was dark around them, lit only the slither of silver that the moon had been reduced to.

Even the moon was being eaten, Eiji thought.

He could only see the dark shapes of the trees around him and his feet stumbled on knots and branches as he made his way blindly from the raging pack of zombies they had left behind.

“Boss, how will we know if everyone’s got out?” Bones whispered. It wasn’t even a whisper, he was mouthing the words, but somehow they could all hear it.

“I’ll send a text in the morning.”

“What if they – if the guys don’t-”

“There’s nothing I can do about that, Bones.”

Eiji felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. It was hard to breathe. All this time, it had all been so peaceful. They had been living with relative ease – it had been like camping. And now people were dying. People had always been dying, and Eiji had been oblivious to it.

Ash stopped moving suddenly. Eiji glanced at him, only able to make out the shape of his profile in the blackness. He was staring ahead with determination.

Through the trees, Eiji could make out two figures moving slowly towards them.

His knees trembled. His arms trembled.

But he still raised the gun.

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

[DRABBLE] Hogwarts AU - Aurors!Meanie

Pairing: Meanie (Wonwoo x Mingyu) Genre: Fantasy, crack, comedy, some crack, some bloodshed, mostly crack Word Count: 2,288 Warnings: Lots of cursing because I’m a potty mouth, description of injuries

A/N: And that about wraps up all I have for my birthday week! Thank you guys for all the wishes and love! It was so fun blending my vast HP knowledge with my love for the Meanie relationship dynamic, I hope you guys will enjoy this too!

wooed<3

Also, this entire hunka junk is inspired by the gif below vvv

“I… really hate you so fucking much right now.”

It is a venom-laced spit from the shorter boy as he struggles with the rope around him. “How in the actual hell did you manage to become an Auror again?”

“Give me a break, Wonwoo. I panicked,” the younger male gripes through gritted teeth. “They’ll send in reinforcements and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Getting out is not what I’m worrying about, damn it. I’m going to be a damn laughing stock when this gets out to the rest of the Ministry… Captured by freaking muggles. This wouldn’t have happened if I was with Joshua. Go together with Mingyu, they said. It’ll be fine, they said.”

Even with his back against Wonwoo’s, Mingyu can very well picture the roll of his companion’s eyes, and tries hard to suppress one of his own. It’s not his fault Wonwoo’s previous partner came down with a bad bout of Mumblemumps, and it’s not his fault that the head-of-office decided to pair him and Mr. Grumps-oh-I’m-always-so-mopey-and-miserable together for their mission. And it’s most definitely not his fault that the muggles they confronted pulled guns on them!

He may be a pureblood, but even he knows that guns are basically the muggles’ equivalent of an Avara Kedavra to the face.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, is faring just as poorly as his partner.

Trust Mingyu to ruin the mission like how he’s made Wonwoo’s life a living hell in Hogwarts. Two Korean immigrants in an almost all-British institution… It should come as obvious that they would stick to each other like glue. But to everyone’s surprise, they despised each other.

Wonwoo first met the living breathing definition of a “walking accident” when the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shared the same Potions class in their first year. That pureblood brat knocked Wonwoo’s cauldron off the burner when he was reaching for a bezoar. He had the gall to laugh it off, offering to share his cauldron with him, but Wonwoo vehemently refused. What was supposed to be a mild, teal-coloured liquid somehow ended up as a frothy, sickly-green abomination in Mingyu’s cauldron.

Wonwoo had wondered if Mingyu was concocting an antidote to common poisons, or the poison itself.

Year 2 saw the Hufflepuff in the same Herbology class, and Wonwoo is immensely grateful that the one incident involving Mingyu hadn’t ruined his favourite subject for him. It’s a miracle that he hadn’t rendered half the class deaf when he curiously pulled the baby mandrake out of the pot without warning. It was thanks to Wonwoo’s quick thinking and his timely yelled-out, “Quietus!” which muted the ugly plant enough for the damage to not be too severe. Mingyu’d learnt his lesson after a harsh dressing down from their Professor, and Wonwoo was satisfied enough.

Care of Magical Creatures quickly became Wonwoo’s least favourite subject in their third year when he realised how terrible he was working with animals. He was never favoured by the Hippogriffs, lost count of how many Flobberworms died in his care, and don’t even get him started on the damn salamanders. He thought he’d be okay with Kneazles, since he raised cats in his muggle household, but trust Kim Mingyu to accidentally step on the tail of one Wonwoo managed to get close to, sending the furry feline into a mad frenzy.

Wonwoo completed the curriculum with three scratches down his side and a mind to never take the subject again. But he had to admit it was funny seeing the Kneazle frantically clawing its way up Mingyu’s robes like he was a tree. The claw marks remained on Mingyu’s yellow-and-black scarf till this very day.

Year 4 passes by rather (thankfully) uneventfully, with the both of them only sharing classes for History of Magic. As much as Mingyu is a klutz in any way imaginable, it’s hard even for him to mess up in a boring class like this.

Maybe that’s why he got picked to be a Prefect the year after, that announcement causing a raised eyebrow of disbelief from Wonwoo at the welcome feast. Maybe the Head of Hufflepuff was so amazed at Mingyu’s relative lack of mishaps that they gave him that position. Wonwoo had been approached by his own Head, but he had declined the role for he’d much rather be studying for his upcoming OWLs.

Besides, if being a prefect meant that Wonwoo would be subjected to seeing Mingyu more often than necessary, he’d gladly pass the offer, thanks.

When Mingyu was proclaimed Head Boy of Hogwarts, Wonwoo had choked on his pumpkin juice.

Back then, Wonwoo could never fathom the thought of having to spend life after Hogwarts with Mingyu. Seven years was definitely more than enough. So imagine the dismay he felt when Wonwoo was met with his worst nightmare on the first day of Auror training, said nightmare greeting him with a nonchalant “sup”.

Sure, Mingyu had miraculously excelled in his NEWTs, scoring all five Exceeding Expectations as Head Boy and earned his position as an Auror. But what good would booksmarts do if all he does is collapse on-field?

Thank Merlin, Wonwoo had been assigned to have Joshua as a partner while Mingyu… Honestly, Wonwoo doesn’t care that much to find out who that poor unfortunate soul is. It’s a miracle that said partner survived two whole years of enduring Mingyu’s accident-attracting tendencies, considering how it’s barely into Wonwoo’s first mission with the boy and here they are, tied to a damn lamppost because Mingyu caved at the sight of a gun.

It had been such a simple mission too. The muggles they had been tasked to deal with aren’t dangerous at all, going by Joshua’s research, just a bunch of wayward youngsters. The thought of it all just rubs more salt into Wonwoo’s wound.

“We have fucking wands!” Wonwoo had hissed in incredulous disbelief when Mingyu threw his hands in the air in surrender.  

But before Wonwoo could take his wand out to do some damage, Mingyu’s mistake had cost them the fraction of time Wonwoo desperately needed. Before they both knew it, they were knocked out cold by blows from a baseball bat. Wonwoo had woken up with a splitting headache, tied up like cattle prepared for slaughter.

To make matters worse, his wand has been knocked clean off his grip. It lays amongst the foliage, hidden within the patch of grass next to the lamppost  they were tied on. Thankfully, his trusty wand of chestnut appeared nondescript enough to not attract any attention from the muggles.

“Rotten luck,” grumbles Wonwoo again. He can already hear the mocking laughters from the colleagues at the Ministry by now.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Wonwoo feels the rope around his body tighten and slacken ever so slightly as his companion heaves a heavy sigh. “I know I shouldn’t have let my fear get the better of me. But it was a gun we were facing head on, Wonwoo. I don’t know too much about the muggle world, but I know how dangerous that shit can be. And with your life at stake, there’s no way I can risk anything.”

“We’re wizards, Mingyu,” Wonwoo sighs exasperatedly. “Worse comes to worst, we could always pull off a Stupefy, get our job done and Obliviate them later. The Ministry would be lenient knowing that our lives are being threatened by a muggle gun.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Mingyu dips his head, his voice hushing until Wonwoo has to strain his ears to pick up his following words. “I have never been on the field.”

“Wait, what?” Wonwoo barely contains the incredulity in his voice.

“Yeah,” his companion scoffs with a hint of bitterness. “They’ve never sent me out on the field. Suspected they had a Legiliment in on my job interview, knew I’d collapse on missions, knew that I was too stupid to handle things on my own…”

“You’re not stupid!” The words fly out of Wonwoo’s mouth before he can stop himself. Really, Wonwoo? Right after insulting him to his face? He’s just befuddled by the unfairness the Ministry is displaying. He hasn’t even been given the chance to prove his skills in the first place! “I mean come on, you’re Head Boy of Hogwarts and obviously - Merlin knows how - you had to have done well on your NEWTs to have landed a job here.”

Mingyu grunts. Wonwoo has never heard him sound this down in his life. “Don’t lie to me, Wonwoo. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you think I am a waste of space.”

“No, I don’t!” Wonwoo is quick to defend himself, but at Mingyu’s skeptic turn of his head towards him, he relents with a guilty cough. “I mean, sometimes, you do… you know, do certain things that can be…” He struggles to find a mild way to put it. “... inconveniencing for others and hence it can be pretty frustrating. But that’s still no reason for the Ministry to bench you without giving you a chance to prove yourself!”

“Apparently, it’s enough.” Mingyu slackens his body in defeat. “It was a mistake coming here, to apply to be an Auror when I was never cut out for the job in the first place. I mean, they didn’t even give me a proper place to work. I had to occupy the boiler room for crying out loud. After this passes…” he swallows as though the uttering following words are like choking out thistles. “I’ll hand in my resignation letter and leave. My dad has always wanted me to work in our parchment production company anyway.”

“Now just wait a minute.” Wonwoo can’t believe that he’s actually feeling sorry for Kim Mingyu. But as a halfblood, Wonwoo himself had his fair share prejudice and rude assumptions. He had been scorned for not having pure magical blood, which only prompted him to work even harder in his studies to prove the naysayers wrong. If he could do it, why couldn’t Mingyu?

“Alright, alright, listen. You and I are probably a lot more similar than you think. I know I may have been a little… mean to you back in school-”

“A little?”

“A lot,” Wonwoo grits his teeth admittingly. “But despite that, you’ve never failed to bounce back from your mistakes. And truth to be told, that’s something I begrudgingly respect about you. You’re just so goddamned… positive about everything. Hell, you’ve burnt a hole in my cloak the first time we met and nearly set fire to the potions room, but here you are: a Prefect, Head Boy and now an Auror. You’ve made it this far while driving me absolutely nuts, so who’s to say how much further you can go with me finally by your side?”

“Yeesh, I feel all the love,” Mingyu shudders, but his words have an amused edge to it. He bows his head with a chuckle. “Thanks, Wonwoo. And, I’m sorry again for getting us stuck in this mess.”

“Fuck apologies,” the older scoffs. “Let’s put our five-NEWTs-scoring-brains to the test and figure a way out here before the rest of the Ministry arrives to turn our predicament into the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

“Alright, just gimme a sec,” Mingyu groans in discomfort, writhing about in his constraints. “There’s this annoying itch on my back that I just can’t reach. If only my wand was long enough for me to reach it.”

The gears in Wonwoo’s analytical mind grind into a screeching halt. “Your… what?” he starts off tentatively, praying with all his might that he’d just misheard his companion’s words.

Mingyu stops squirming. “My wand. I’ve had it the entire time, why-- ohh…”

His voice turns sheepish and he lets out a nervous giggle as Wonwoo’s glare turns fiery enough to rival an Incendio charm. “Mingyu, I’m giving you ten seconds to get us out of this place before I rip your throat out.” His sweet voice offers a stark contrast to the dark pit of anger Mingyu can feel boiling behind him. He swallows, barely managing to poke his wand out between two binds of rope.

“I… uh… what’s the spe-”

“DID YOU REALLY PROGRESS BEYOND THE SECOND YEAR?! DIFFINDO!” Wonwoo all but rages, and Mingyu repeats the spell with an alarmed yelp to boot. There is a coarse “rriiiipppp” noise as the ropes give way, causing the two boys to fall onto the floor with gasps of relief.

Wonwoo sings all the praises to Merlin as he scrambles to retrieve his precious wand.

“Alright, I’ve got my wand. Let’s quickly Apparate out of here before those bastards come back. Mingyu. Mingyu?”

He turns around when the male doesn’t respond to him, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the pool of blood dripping from a cut in Mingyu’s arm.

“Hyung,” the young wizard whines, calling Wonwoo with the appropriate honorifics for the first time since the first grade. He clutches at the spot above the wound. “I cut myself while cutting the rope.”

Of course you did...

“You stupid, stupid boy,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes in exasperation, but he doesn’t admit to the way his heart jumps at Mingyu’s title for him. He approaches him, looping his stronger arm under both of Mingyu’s armpits to hoist him up, careful to avoid the affected area. “Let’s get you back and cleaned up. Who knows, maybe they would believe that it’s an honourable battle scar you’ve earned.”

Mingyu laughs. “Am I allowed to perform my own Apparition charm at least?”

Wonwoo shudders at that thought. He’s not too eager to have any of his body parts splinched off anytime soon.

“Nope, now shut up and let me help you.”

[cohenjulia1992]

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