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lin-iva · 1 year ago

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I need this. THIS. I love LOVVE their moments in the last scenes.

Been a bit since we had some angst 👀

"How much more do you need? How much more do you need me to give?"

"All of it. More than you could ever give."

A/N: How dare you throw this angst at me when you know I'm already looking at Slay the Princess AU angst?! How much angst do I need to offer to satiate your thirst?? Anyway, this is not a StP AU, but is loosely based on Moonlighter, an indie game where you play as a merchant moonlighting as a dungeon delver to collect stock for your shop.

I've been eyeing this particular AU for a whlie, so thank you for inadvertently giving me an in for this.

(This, uh, hit 10K, so heads up for a lot under the readmore. I'm gonna post this to AO3 in time, but for now, enjoy this monstrosity here.)

Happy birthday, you menace <3

Baron has been gathering dust in Moonlighter's cellar for longer than he cares to count.

This, however, is less remarkable for him than it might be for another; he is built of magic and wood after all, ageless in a way that makes noting the passage of time meaningless.

There is also precious little to mark such time, down in the cellar. There are no windows, no sunlight, not even the changing breeze that might denote seasons. All he has are the brief sightings of Moonlighter's owners – a man and a woman, and in his early days he had seen them come and go often to the cellar, but now their hair has greyed and their limbs have slowed and their detours to the basement are brief.

Recently, it's been only the woman.

Until one day it's not.

"I'm telling ya, there's nothing to be worth selling down there, Chicky."

The voice isn't young, but it is new. From his vantage point on the shelf, Baron can see the light spilling from the doorway is almost entirely eclipsed by the man on the threshold. Another light – that of candlewick rather than sun – bobs past the man and a significantly smaller form begins the descent.

"Maybe not, but it has to be worth a look."

"Your ma told us everything in here was either impossible to flog or cursed."

"Yeah, my mother also worked herself into an early grave trying to run this place solo," the other voice retorts, "so forgive me if I want to deviate somewhat from her teachings."

The second figure nears Baron, and now he can make out a face notably similar to the woman he has watched grow old. Her hair is darker, and her skin is clear of not only wrinkles, but also the scars that had marked even the younger years of the previous woman. Only her eyes show signs of wear – red rimmed and tired.

"Moonlighter was never meant to be run alone," the man says. He begins a cautious descent after his companion. "It was manageable when your pa was alive; then he could delve the dungeon for artifacts during the night, and your ma could sell them in Moonlighter during the day."

"And people wondered why I was an only child," the woman mutters.

"Moonlighter has been in the Yoshioka family since it started–"

"I know. But a lot of those inheritances were sideways along the family tree for good reason."

"Look, Chicky, if yer need any help, Toto and me can run the shop a few days so you can rest between delving. We used to help yer ma out when Daichi passed–"

"You and Toto have your own shop to run though," the woman says. She opens up a chest and finds only moth-eaten breeches. "And I can't just rely on the kindness of others to make this work, Muta."

"'Course you can."

"There's got to be a way to make ends meet – properly." The woman stops before Baron and looks – really looks. There's a fire in her eyes that Baron hasn't seen in a long time. "You're different," she says, and lifts him off the shelf.

The man joins her, and he eyes Baron with distrust. "Don't bother with that one, Chicky."

"Why not? It looks like fourth tier – and no one's been able to get as far as the fourth tier in decades. Someone's gotta be willing to pay up for it."

"Yeah, yer ma thought the same. Only it kept coming back."

The woman turns Baron over, running calloused hands over the immaculate morning suit and painted fur. The callouses are unfamiliar to Baron, earned from daily chores rather than wielding a sword. "Coming back? Coming back how?"

"Depends. If she sold it to a hero, they'd usually enter the dungeon, do pretty well for themselves, and then one day never be seen again." The man rubs a hand across his chin. "They'd always get... weird towards the end, too. Reclusive. And then yer ma would find it abandoned in the upper levels of the dungeon and no hero in sight."

"And if she sold it to someone who wasn't a hero?" the woman asks.

"Then they'd usually complain about hauntings and return the damn thing. In the end, she gave up on it. Guess she could've kept selling it to wannabe heroes, but she felt bad about it."

"Bet it paid the bills though," she mutters, but without any real rancour. She sets Baron back on the shelf and moves onto the next artifact.

That's okay.

Baron can wait.

He sees the woman half a dozen more times before he makes his approach.

The second time she enters the cellar, she sets to work furiously dividing the room's contents into possible sales versus the lost causes. Some of the latter she removes – presumably to be thrown – whilst others she leaves to gather dust.

She stares at Baron for a good long while before setting him into the final category.

It is some time before she returns. Baron wonders whether she followed in her mother's footsteps and attempted to run Moonlighter solo. Sometimes he wonders if she sold the shop and left for greener pastures. And sometimes he wonders whether she's died, ending Moonlighter's Yoshioka line once and for all.

But return she does, and she looks all the older for it.

Not older in a temporal sense, although Baron would be the first to admit difficulty in recognising that, but life has been unkind in ways other than time. Her skin is sallow, untouched by sun, and a scar clips her jaw. She moves such a way to make him question when she last truly slept. She doesn't stay long, just long enough to gather up some of the less hopeless causes, and haul them into the upper belly of Moonlighter.

He sees her sooner after that, and the following descents into the cellar become more frequent – and each time, she looks the worse for wear. Every time she looks a little bit more like her mother, and every time he wonders if this will be the last time he'll see her.

On the sixth visit, she collects him up and he sees sunlight for the first time in decades.

The light is low outside – either dusk or dawn – and she sets him onto a display stand. There are no sign of the artifacts previously claimed from the cellar; instead the other stands are filled with low-quality offerings, items foraged from the upper levels of the dungeon. Their prices are notably lower than the value she sets before him.

After writing out his price, she leans against his display stand, staring into his gemstone eyes and evidently seeing something else reflected in them. "Oh, don't look at me like that," she says. "If I sell you, I'll make enough to cover this month's rent and be able to skip a few night's delving in favour of sleep." She sighs, and Baron notes a new scar, running along her throat. "And goodness knows I can't keep this up."

"There are other ways, you know."

To her credit, the woman doesn't scream. He's usually found that to be the most common response to his initial greeting – occasionally paired with a clumsy swing of the nearest makeshift weapon – but, then again, she looks too tired to scream. She merely blinks, once, twice, and then says, "Oh goody, the cursed cat doll talks."

He sweeps his hat from his head and gives a once well-practiced bow. It's a little rusty after all these years, but whatever passes for muscle memory in him remains. "Greetings, miss. I think you'll find that I am no cursed cat doll, but a Creation. When someone creates something with all their heart, then that thing is given a soul, you see?"

"I see that the sleep deprivation is already on the hallucination stage."

Personally, Baron thinks the sleep deprivation is probably a few notches further along than that. But, then again, what would he know? He's immortal. "I assure you, I am no hallucination, Miss...?"

"Haru." She yawns, and there's a tremble in her limbs that the yawn exasperates. "And that's just what a hallucination would say, Mr...?"

"Baron. Call me Baron." He sets his hat neatly back between his ears. "And if I am a hallucination, what harm could come of merely listening to my proposition, Miss Haru?"

"Time. In case you weren't aware, I don't have much – or any – of it going spare."

"And if I were your hallucination, I should know such things."

She blinks slowly. He can visibly see her try to comprehend his words. And fail. "I'm too tired for this. I'm going back to..." She falters, brow furrowing. "No, I'm not. I've got a shop to run."

"And then a dungeon to delve," Baron hazards, "and then a shop to run, and then a dungeon to delve, and so on and so forth. Tell me, Miss Haru, when exactly is sleep scheduled in this busy life of yours?"

"Never. Sleep is for the broke."

"It is going to break you, Miss Haru."

"I don't have much choice," she says. "The pittance I make from dungeon artifacts barely cover a day's rent. I don't have the money spare to skip a day." She grimaces. "Or night."

"That's because you're only selling the artifacts from the very highest levels of the dungeon," Baron says. "If you went deeper the artifacts would fetch enough to tide you over for longer." He pauses. "Long enough to sleep."

"Nice theory, save for one fact." Haru gestures to herself. "I'm a librarian. Or I was, until I inherited this place. If I go any deeper than the shallows, I'll get myself killed." She brushes a hand, subconsciously, across her throat. "Quicker than I'm already likely to, anyway."

"As you are, there's no doubt," Baron agrees. "Not without help."

She blinks again – but this time it's laden with suspicion. "Muta said you only stick around with heroes."

"I do."

"I'm not a hero."

Baron cocks his head. "And yet you enter the dungeon."

She snorts. "For artifacts. I'm a merchant. Heroes go into the dungeon for glory, fighting monsters and suchlike, while merchants are just doing a job. Or, at least," she adds off-handedly, "that's the idea. In theory, a job pays."

"I have little interest in glory," he says. "All I'm looking for is someone who wants help in exploring deeper into the dungeon. In the past, that's only ever been heroes."

"Yes, and look what happened to them."

"Yes, indeed."

Her gaze narrows. "What did happen to them?"

"They pushed themselves too far, too fast. My aid can only do so much; they sought monsters too powerful too soon and were killed in the encounter. But, as you said, you're not in it for the glory. Perhaps your survival instincts will be stronger."

Haru snorts. "Given my life choices so far, that's a bit of a leap."

"Maybe," he admits, "but I've been offering my help to heroes for long enough to no avail. Maybe a merchant is exactly what I've been looking for." He offers a hand. "What do you say?"

Haru eyes the tiny gloved hand. "What kind of help did you say you give?"

"I can unlock a human's potential for magic," he says, and it's true enough. "Over time and practice, your power will grow, enough to face even the monsters of the fourth tier. So long as you take it slowly, you will be at no risk."

The first lie he's told but not, he knows from experience, usually the last.

Still, Haru doesn't take his hand. "Why help?" she asks. "What's in it for you?"

"It's what I was made for. All Creations have a purpose. This is mine."

For a moment, he fears he's misjudged, that she's going to refuse. But then she glances to the windows, where the sun is steadily rising and the flicker of shadow denotes people passing by, and a fresh wave of fatigue passes over her. Baron wonders just how close she was to breaking.

"Fine," she says, and drops her hand against his. Her palm dwarfs his. "I only need to go a little deeper anyway."

Baron smiles. He's heard that before, and no one has ever kept to it. "Good," he says instead. "Now, lock up the shop and tidy yourself to bed. We have a big night due."

The entrance to the dungeon is much the same as Baron last remembers it. The dirt track opens out into a dirt courtyard, and a large stone doorway is built into the hillside. Seated on Haru's shoulder as she pushes the door open, Baron can see the interior is also much the same – wooden beams outline the tunnel, deceptively manmade, with lanterns set at regular intervals. It almost looks like a mining shaft, except mining shafts don't usually echo with the sound of tiny skittering feet further within.

Haru falters before entering – as if she's tempted to flee – but enter she does, even if the hand that holds her rusty blade shakes.

"Alright, you promised me magic," Haru says, "so how does this work?"

"Magic works through intent. You must focus your desires and manifest them through intention." He thinks of previous would-be heroes. "Start small; that's all you'll be capable of at this point."

"So don't try running straight to fourth tier, otherwise I'll end up barbecued," she says.

"No, the fire monsters are on third tier. If you go up against fourth tier monsters unprepared, your remains will be less the charred type, and more the type best left to a dustpan and brush."

Haru glances Baron's way, eyebrow raised. "Are you speaking from experience or...?"

"Just take it slowly." He's spent years, possibly decades, sitting on a shelf. If he loses this mortal, there's no telling when he'll next find another willing.

Haru raises a hand, and Baron can feel her focus narrow. He converts the magic as needed, unlocking just enough potential – and a smidgen more – to fulfill her request. It's a modest affair, just a sphere of light that chases away the shadows that the lanterns cannot reach. It surprises Baron – but maybe it shouldn't. He's learnt from experience that too much magic, too soon, can burn out a mortal, but that hasn't stopped previous heroes from attempting more than they ought on day one. He's learnt now to keep a tight rein on a mortal's magic level, but Haru is a merchant, not a hero. Her priorities are based in survival, not glory.

Still, too restrained can be as dangerous as too ambitious.

"You can do more, if you so wish," he prompts. "You'll feel it when you reach your current limit."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." After all, he has no interest in burning through a mortal so soon.

Haru focuses again, and the light dissolves into dust. It hangs, suspended in the air like stars, and then begins to dance.

Baron blinks. He's never seen the magic used for that. "What is the purpose of this?"

"Light," Haru answers, and she starts down the tunnel. The lights bob around her, still not using up her current magic potential. "And they're pretty."

"Beauty is rarely advantageous in survival."

"Are you going to be so judgemental the entire time we're working together, or are you just getting it out of your system early?"

Baron begins to reply, but then hesitates. He's never been called judgemental before – but, then again, his own goals have usually aligned closely enough with his current mortal that such remarks are unnecessary... or, if they are spoken, usually readily agreed with. "I don't mean to be judgemental," he says eventually. "I merely am accustomed to a different nature of dungeon delver."

"Yes, and they all died," Haru reminds him. "If I'm gonna be going out the same way, I intend to have some fun with it." She tilts her head enough so that Baron, still seated on her shoulder, can see her grin. "Come on, Baron. You can't say you don't like them."

The lights cascade around him, and from the eddies twirl forms that might be birds. An unfamiliar emotion skitters through his heart.

He suspects it may be bewilderment. Perhaps he had kept with heroes until now for good reason if merchants are all as impractical as this.

He's saved from the indignity of trying to find an answer by a monster dropping from the ceiling.

Each tier has its own biome and, by proxy, its own breed of monster. The first tier carries its facade of man-made origins in both environment and monster, and the creatures here are oft the animated remains discarded by humanity. The monster that attacks Haru appears to have once been an umbrella.

And not a moment too soon.

Baron braces himself for the inevitable overreaction, for the blast of offensive magic and the smouldering remains. Humans always underestimate their power on the first attack–

Haru smacks the flying umbrella with her rusted sword and sends it slamming into the far wall.

It flaps weakly, and then goes limp.

A beat passes. Haru is breathing hard, her face flushed and her sword arm shaking.

"You have magic now," Baron says, eventually.

"I forgot."

Baron glances to the light show, still dancing above their heads. "You... forgot?"

"I've been doing this job a lot longer with a sword than I have with magic," she reminds him.

Yes, Baron thinks, and the sword is definitely showing its age. It looks like it's seen several generations of Moonlighters.

Haru approaches the fallen monster and kneels down beside it. Baron is prepared to believe she's about to perform last rites – he'll believe anything of this not-hero at the moment – but instead she begins to strip it down for parts.

"Most of this will sell," she says, as if she can sense the raised eyebrow. "Attach a piece of the wings to an arrow and it'll fly farther, or use the rods as arrows and they won't break so easily. But the best part to sell is pretty much impossible to get–"

As she reaches further into the monster, the umbrella-creature twitches, and Haru jolts back. Finally – finally – her magic flares into action, and those dust mote lights fire into the beast, where from its body they erupt into vines, twisting and tightening, contorting the monster until it ceases to struggle.

Baron releases a breath he hadn't, until then, realised he'd been holding. "See?" he says. "It's so much simpler with magic."

Haru rocks forward on her heels, and gingerly drops a hand into the mess of vines and umbrella. The greenery parts ways and both wings and rods are mangled beyond use. "Dang it."

"Oh, what a shame," Baron says. "It's for the best, though; anything worth selling is going to be a good deal deeper–"

"Maybe not." Haru cracks open the centre of the main shaft, and a tiny blue stone falls free. "It's a crystal. I've never been able to break open one of these things to get them, but they're meant to be pure magic. Look."

She passes it up to Baron and he does, indeed, look. It emits a gentle warmth, uncomfortably familiar, and he wonders if his own crystal pulses the same steady beat. "Then all the more reason to keep going–" he starts.

"Keep going? This thing will sell well enough to tide me over for a couple of days. No," she says, and straightens up, "I'm going back home so I can catch some sleep while the sun is actually set."

Baron's never had this kind of problem with previous humans. It's infuriating. It's ridiculous. It's... stumped him, honestly.

Usually the promise of power or fame or treasure is enough to lure even the most reserved of heroes into the dungeon's depths, and a merchant should have been no different. After all, everyone knows the deeper one delves, the more precious the artifacts.

And yet Haru is frustratingly, impossibly content with the meagre findings she retrieves from the first tier. The gold she makes is just enough to give her days off and a little to spare.

But that's okay.

Baron can wait.

The push Haru needs comes from an unexpected source, when the town's herbalist approaches Haru with a peculiar request.

"These roots you sold me," the woman says, setting dried tubers on the counter, "I need more of them."

"They're only to be found in the lowest levels of the first tier, and even then only sparsely." Haru picks up the roots. She hadn't even been sure they would sell, but had taken them on the assumption that curiosity would trump common sense and purse strings. "How many do you need?"

"As many as you can get your hands on. Julian's daughter is sick, and nothing I've tried has helped – but these. She's making a recovery, but I fear she'll worsen if I don't get more."

Baron waits for the gentle refusal – the explanation that such plants are too deep for reliable sourcing, the apology – but instead Haru's mouth curls into a stubborn twist that Baron will come to know well. "I'll see what I can do," she promises.

"It was only chance that brought you upon those roots originally," Baron tells her on their next dungeon delve. Usually Haru skips a night and savours the sleep, but tonight she has gone straight from shop to dungeon. "If you want to be sure of finding them, you'll need to descend into the second tier."

"Then that is what we'll do." She glances his way. "Only for as long as it takes to find them, mind you. No more."

He smiles. "No more," he agrees, knowing the oath will never keep. She's already proven a willingness to break such promises, even if she takes longer than most to alter her priorities.

By this point, Haru's magic is strong enough to make the journey down to the second tier almost an afterthought. The monsters that dwell on the upper levels can sense her power enough to steer clear, and most only attack now if cornered.

The monsters on the second tier are a different kettle of cave fish altogether.

The mine shaft tunnels become more natural, more roughly-hewn on the second tier. Here, light is sourced not from ever-burning lanterns, but from glowing moss that clings to the walls and bioluminescent fungi sprouting at the edges. The monsters also alter in appearance, offering threat in the form of carnivorous plants and thorny poison. They are bolder, stronger, than their first tier brethren, and it doesn't take long for Haru to encounter one.

The vines that snare her are uncannily like the ones that spring from her magic, and they are little defence against her new opponent. Baron is quick to leap free – the plants ignore him, as they always do – and even if he was inclined to help, there is little aid he can offer at his current stature.

What he can do is transmute a little more magic her way, strengthening her power.

"You'll never defeat it like that!" he calls. He watches a new wreath of greenery spiral out from Haru and immediately be throttled by the snaring vines. "You must tailor your fighting styles to your opponent! Try fire!"

She stumbles backwards, trying desperately to kick her feet free. "If I lose control of that kind of magic, I'll set everything aflame!" she shouts back.

"You don't have the power to do that!"

"Once it gets going, I mightn't be able to stop it!"

The plant monster lashes out and strikes lucky. Its vines catch around Haru's waist and she is dragged off her feet.

Dammit.

"If you don't do something, you won't need to worry about losing control!" he shouts. Dammit. No other human has ever needed such coaxing; usually he's the one preaching the virtues of restraint. "Attack it, Haru!"

She swings at it with that ridiculous sword, its blade too dulled to do more than dent the monster, and the vines tear it out of her hands almost disdainfully. The vines curl up along her arms, around her shoulders, towards her throat, and Baron remembers vividly the mangled mess Haru's own plant magic had made of that first umbrella monster.

Lesson learnt: next time he sticks with heroes.

All he can do is watch as her feet kick uselessly against the monster, nails scrabbling in vain, face reddening, hands reddening...

Wait.

Hands?

Her fingers dig into the vines about her neck, and now he can see her palms are molten-red. He catches the smell of smoke and firewood, and suddenly Haru is thrown free from the vines. She rolls to the side as a thorn-lined vine slams where she had been only moments before. It hits the ground with enough force that Baron feels the floor shake.

"Baron! In the bag!" Haru yells. She pulls her satchel open and lingers only long enough for Baron to follow her instructions, before she's off running along the corridor.

Thankfully, what plant monsters have in thorns and vines, they lack in the way of feet. Haru outruns it with ease, even injured as she is. When they reach a secure corner, Haru slumps to the floor. Her breathing is heavy, irregular in a way Baron recognises to be pain.

Baron is out of the bag almost before Haru has sat.

"What happened back there?" he demands.

Haru doesn't answer immediately. She has her right arm close to her, her left hand tight just above the elbow. "Plant monster," she says eventually. She proffers a thin grin. "Or weren't you paying attention?"

"Not that. I meant with your magic." He gestures to her obviously injured state. "At your level, you shouldn't have had any such issue with it. Your magic is strong enough, trust me. So why didn't you use fire back there?"

"You're made of wood."

"And?"

She blinks. "You're made of wood," she repeats, slower this time like he's missing something obvious. Like that comment should mean anything in this context, like it should explain why she nearly got herself killed instead of–

Oh.

There's blood seeping through the sleeve of her shirt, ruby-red staining the hand pressed to it. Thorns, most likely. Poison, possibly. And all because she feared she would burn him.

He steps forward, and as he does so, he shifts into a human height. Haru balks, but isn't really in any state to do much more than stare.

"Since when have you been able to do that?"

"I always have. But my role here isn't to fight; yours is."

Her mouth sets into that stubborn line, and he suspects she's thinking of all the time that having another body beside her would have been useful in traversing the dungeon. There's a reason he rarely shows this ability to humans.

"You shouldn't have worried about me," he says. "I'm hardier than I look. But you, it appears, are not." He collects the healing kit out of the bag and passes an antidote to her. "Drink. Not all monsters on this floor are poisonous, but we can't risk it."

She takes the vial and downs it with a wrinkled nose. "These things always taste foul."

"Would you rather risk dying a slow, painful death?" Baron asks. "Or perhaps being petrified. I believe there is at least one monster on this floor whose poison turns one into a chicken. How does that sound?"

Haru snorts, and Baron is surprised by the relief that blossoms in his sternum at the sound. Surprised and... unnerved. His purpose is to find a human capable of reaching the final level, so their survival is always optimum – up to a point – but this feels... uncomfortably personal.

He turns his attention onto safer matters, such as rolling the torn sleeve away from the injury. The skin is equally torn; not deep, but intricate lines mar the arm. He sets to binding the wound with bandages.

"Why did you stay?"

Haru rolls her head away from the wall. "What?"

He hadn't meant to ask that, but now the words are out and his curiosity is whetted. "At Moonlighter," he specifies. Between his fingers, he can feel how soft, how delicate human skin is. He wonders why any mortal would take to this life when it could be ended so easily. So off-handedly. "Surely you needn't have taken over the business, even if it is a family affair."

"Oh. That." She leans her head back against the wall. "Apparently, Moonlighter must be inherited by one of Yoshioka blood."

Baron recalls what snippets he has learnt of Haru's life before. "Yes, but you were a librarian. Surely there were better candidates?"

"You'd think so. But, no; it turns out that having a family of dungeon delvers/merchants is a pretty good way to not have a family before long. The death toll is high and the lifestyle isn't, shall we say, conductive to having a kid."

"And yet you pursued a life elsewhere before coming back here."

"I wasn't meant to inherit this place. That was to be my cousin – but then she got on the wrong side of an ogre, and..." Haru shakes her head. "The only other Yoshioka left is her daughter, all of five years. I couldn't let her inherit Moonlighter so... well, here I am."

"Here you are," Baron agrees. "Would she have really inherited Moonlighter if you hadn't accepted it?"

"There are two things impossible to get out of: fairy deals and legal matters." Haru rolls her head to one side, but this time her gaze lingers on the wound she has been so carefully avoiding until now. "I came, knowing a librarian was never going to be a good owner for Moonlighter but, I thought that I might at least last long enough here to give her a chance to grow up. So maybe she'll be able to handle the job when she inevitably comes into possession of it."

Baron slows in his tending. The resignation in her words sets his heart cold. "Is that really how you feel?" he asks softly. "That this life would be the death of you, and still you came?"

"It's killed pretty much all its previous owners," Haru answered, far too blase for Baron's liking, "and most have been much more capable than me. Sooner or later, everyone slows or errs, and this job isn't the forgiving sort. So, yes, I was pretty sure this would kill me, probably sooner in my case." She glances his way, with a smile Baron does not deserve. "At least until I met you. With the magic you've given me, I might survive this. Perhaps even thrive."

Baron doesn't recognise the emotion that pools in his gut, cold and heavy.

He thinks it might be guilt.

After that, Haru begins to venture regularly onto the second tier. If he had thought her close encounter with the vine monster would push her further onto the path of cautiousness, he is very much mistaken – instead, it seems to have emboldened her. She still plays carefully with her fire magic, keeping it close to her skin, even after Baron's assurances that she shouldn't fret over him, but it works well enough against the second tier creatures.

She gathers enough of the root to satisfy the herbalist, but news that Moonlighter's owner is venturing deep begins to get about. More come to Haru's shop with requests – fetch these seeds, find these leaves – and Haru is happy to help. If they merely spoke of a rich payout, Baron isn't sure Haru would be so willing, but the offers she accepts are always for a worthy cause.

Once upon a time, Baron would have been relieved she was finally comfortable delving deeper, but now the thought seems to give him vertigo; satisfaction and grief warring inside him.

One of the owners of the neighbouring weapon and armour shop stops by, and he eyes Moonlighter's array of stock with a wary look. He's tall, birdlike somehow in the way he holds himself, and avian in his sharp eyes. "When Muta told me you were managing, it set my heart at ease," the man remarks, "but I'm startled to see you've been delving so deep. What did you say your profession was before?"

"Librarian," Haru replies.

"Librarian," the man echoes. "You've caught on well, then."

"Thank you, Toto."

His gaze roams the shop, until it seems to find what it's searching for in the form of Baron. He starts towards it, but Haru is quicker. She scoots between them, as if guarding Baron from the man.

"He's not for sale."

"Glad to hear it. Muta did tell you what happened to the heroes who bought it, didn't he?"

"He did."

The frown burrowed into the man's brow doesn't lessen. He regards the stock around him, salvaged from levels even experienced heroes were reluctant to venture to. "Haru, if things are difficult, if Moonlighter is proving impossible to run along, you know you can always ask myself and Muta for help, don't you? You don't need to turn to... alternative sources for aid, you understand?"

"I understand. Muta made it quite clear what happens to heroes who bought the cat doll." Haru smiles. "So it's just as well I'm a merchant, isn't it?"

Baron knows it is only a matter of time before Haru braves the third tier.

All it takes, as all it ever takes, is someone asking for something from the fire levels – Baron can't even remember what she needs; all he remembers is that she's one step closer to the final level – and she's venturing yet further than she promised she would.

The third tier is one of fire and smoke, lava flowing in molten-red rivers that home monsters built to scorch would-be heroes to cinders.

Haru almost refuses to bring Baron along.

"And if a stray fireball hits you, what then?" she demands. "Poisonous trees and over-active accessories are one thing, but the monsters on the third tier could really kill you."

"I'm at no greater risk than you have been during our adventures," he reminds her.

"That's different."

"How?"

Haru opens her mouth. Closes it. But Baron has a pretty good idea of the kind of answer she'd like to give – that the standards she set for herself, and the standards she set for other people are two very different things.

She admits defeat, and he accompanies her on her next delve.

This would all be easier if he could convince himself the care she affords him is purely self-serving. And he's met plenty of those sorts over the years. Those who have protected him, as far as they have felt the need, have been doing so because of what he grants them; because if he is destroyed, then maybe their newfound magic will be destroyed also. It has always been a means to an end – and that's worked just fine for him. After all, the exploitation goes both ways.

But Baron has seen the way Haru cares for those around her, sometimes even fetching high-priced items from the dungeon and refusing payment if the need is too great and the cost too dear for the recipient. It is easy to believe that same reckless care has been aligned over him. However ridiculous it may be.

"You needn't worry about me," he assures, all the same. "I've been here before and, as you can see, I'm still here."

"You've been to the third tier before?" Haru asks. Here, the only light to be found is in the glowing lava and ever-burning torches, and it bathes the tunnel and its occupants in an ember hue. Her hair carries a reddish shade that almost looks like her mother's in her younger years.

"And to the fourth and beyond," he answers.

"There's a fifth tier?"

Baron shakes his head. "There's only a single floor below fourth tier."

"I wonder why no one's heard of it."

"It's because all who venture there only meet death."

Haru eyes him. "Except for you."

"Except for me," he admits, "but I, as you have probably discerned, am a special case. The monsters here have a preference for attacking humans over a cursed cat doll," he says, echoing her words from so long ago with a smile.

"So what's down there?"

Nothing, he wants to say. Nothing worth seeking.

"The monster," he says instead.

"Same old, same old."

"No. This monster is the reason this dungeon exists."

Haru stops walking. "What?"

He's told this tale a hundred times, and each time tailored to pique his mortal's curiosity. Promises of riches or glory or power tied to success, and yet none will guarantee Haru's aid here.

Good.

"A long time ago, there was a monster terrorising the world, so great in power that to slay it was impossible. Many tried, many failed, and in the end all that could be done was to trap it away. To create a dungeon for it."

Haru blinks. "I never wondered why this place was called a dungeon."

Baron nods. "Some clues to its history have survived the eons. It's sealed away on the very lowest floor, trapped, but still very much alive and very much dangerous."

"Have previous heroes tried to kill it?"

"Yes."

"And I'm guessing none have succeeded."

"None."

He watches her, wary of the urge to seek out such a danger, but she seems to slot this new knowledge aside and move on.

He shouldn't feel relief.

But he does.

The fourth tier is the lowest part of the dungeon – before the inevitable, anyway – and the one that best betrays the abilities of those who built it.

Of those who built Baron.

Baron may be a more complex Creation than his bellicose brethren which occupy the fourth tier, but he is still a Creation, and his artisans didn't deviate far from previous forms. Although all monsters in the dungeon run on magic, those on the fourth tier most obviously owe their existence to it. Living statues, living suits of armour, living gargoyles... they all call the fourth tier home, and are so clearly built for that intention that it is only a matter of time before Haru looks to him and wonders.

They sit in an offshoot tunnel, lit by lanterns that glow blue, and Haru has been quiet ever since taking down a statue with a feline face. Baron sits beside her. He's been taking on a human height more often than he ought recently – more often than he ever has before – but for some reason he keeps coming back to it.

Haru runs a thumb over one of the gemstone eyes she looted from the statue. It's a glittering red, and sure to fetch a good price in Moonlighter... but Haru doesn't seem to be seeing that in it.

"Who are you, Baron?"

He offers the smile that has reassured many a hero before Haru. "I told you before: I am a Creation. When someone creates something with all of their heart–"

"You misunderstand me. I didn't ask what you were. I asked who." She looks to him, and suddenly he's wondering if she's seeing his own eyes echo so closely that of the statue, save for colour. "When I first saw you, I said you looked like fourth tier, but I didn't really dwell on that. I didn't really think through the implications." She rolls the gemstone eye in her palm. "Who created you, Baron?"

For all the heroes he's encountered, he's only had this conversation with a handful. Few seem to care exactly what or who he is, so long as he can benefit them.

He doesn't have the practice for this.

The truth – or as close as he is allowed – it is then. He inclines his head towards her hand. "I think you have a guess."

"Is it true, then?"

"Yes."

Her thumb rolls past the stone, and instead carresses the scar that runs across her palm. "You're not like the other creatures in this place thought," she says. "You don't harm."

Oh, how wrong she is.

"They're made for a different purpose," is all he's allowed to say. "They are designed to challenge heroes, to slowly increase the difficulty so that only the strongest of fighters reach the final floor and, perhaps, will be strong enough to slay the monster trapped there."

Haru considers this. "The dungeon is a test."

"And the monsters are the questions," Baron says.

"So what does that make you?"

The guillotine, Baron thinks. But that would warn Haru of the final step in his purpose, and he's forbidden from such truths. "I was designed to find such a hero," he says instead. "Or, more exactly, to make one. The final monster is beyond any mortal's ability to slay it, therefore I was tasked with finding a willing hero and giving them that power."

"Why?" she asks. "If the final monster is trapped for good, then surely it can just be left as it is, no need to throw wannabe heroes at it, unless..."

She goes quiet, and Baron suddenly realises with awful, heart-wrenching guilt, he knows exactly how to get Haru to the final floor.

"The monsters have been getting worse, have you noticed?" she asks. "Even on the first tier, they're more dangerous now than they were in my mother's time. Back then, the boldest heroes could make it as far as fourth tier – not often, mind, but still, it did happen – but it's been decades since anyone's delved this far." Except for herself. She doesn't voice the thought, but the words still hang in the air between them. "The town used to be bustling, but now even the firrst tier is a risky business."

Baron nods. "The binding wards are weakening."

It's true, but he wishes it were not. Not because of the threat it poses – but because he fears Haru's reckless selflessness, the care that has thrown her as far as fourth tier, breaking her own imposed limits again and again.

"What wards?" she asks.

"The wards that keep the final monster trapped. It was always going to happen – no magic lasts forever – but my creators had assumed I would have found a hero by then."

"The monster is waking up," Haru translates.

"Its power is rejuvenating," he corrects. "And with it, the power required to slay it is increasing. So the rest of the dungeon is adapting accordingly – in order to create a hero able to slay it, the other levels must increase in threat also."

"So, eventually even first tier is going to be too dangerous for anyone to enter..." Haru says.

"And the monster will one day break free," he finishes. "Yes."

Baron has been searching for a hero to slay the monster for longer than he cares to count.

It has been long enough for him to forget the faces of those who made him – and his memory is sturdier than most – and their voices may be gone, but never their words. Never the purpose for which he was created. For in his chest there lies a crystal, a condensed heart of magic, and in that crystal is his purpose carved. He can no more disobey his purpose than he can tear out his crystalline heart and live.

He's never wanted to.

Until now.

"You can still walk away," he says. "There's time."

"If I do, you'll merely find someone else to take my place," she replies. "Won't you?"

He wishes he could deny it. Not because the truth makes him sound fickle – although it does that also – but because Haru's humanity has crawled under his skin and the idea unsettles him. How could he offer his aid to a human, knowing he was just leading them to their death?

And yet he would, because that is the way he was built.

He doesn't answer, and apparently that is answer enough for Haru.

"Maybe the next person will succeed," Haru says, ignorant that success will kill as surely as failure, "maybe they won't. Maybe," she continues, not looking to Baron, "you'll one day offer the same deal to my cousin's daughter. Assuming, of course, the binding wards last that long."

"It's what I was made for," he says, voice hoarse with apology, but unable to deny it. "All Creations have a purpose. This is mine."

"That's what I thought," she says, and there's no anger in her words. He wishes there were. He wishes she would rage, wishes she would hate him as she should, but there's only sorrow.

"Tell me truly, Baron: do you think I could do it?"

"You are nearly strong enough to defeat it," he answers, "and, when the time comes, I will grant you enough magic to succeed."

Ask me if you'll live, he wants to beg. Ask me so you can see me lie, so you can see the truth.

But, of course, she doesn't. She trusts him too much by now to doubt, to search for hidden truths. She cares too much to ask after her own wellbeing.

He wishes she could be just a little bit more selfish.

Haru looks to her rations. She has, as always, been careful with her magic and supplies, and despite the long journey down, there's still fire in her veins. "Then I guess there's no time like the present, huh?" She grins, and Baron's heart wishes to break. "Let's go slay a monster."

Baron has been to this final floor only a handful of times. More than once, the hero's eagerness has overtaken sense, and Baron has watched them be scorched into oblivion. The first time Baron got a hero this far, it was his own underestimation of the monster's power that killed them.

But, more often than not, it is the hero's own magic that kills them in the end.

Baron's never spent this long with a single mortal, and Haru's magic reflects that. It's no longer the messy instinct that reacts without thought, but is instead more akin to muscle memory, honed through practice. It moves with her, responding to her needs the way a hound follows the subtlest of its master's orders.

He has created many monsterhunters over the years, but Haru is the first he actually believes will succeed in the task.

It doesn't matter. It'll still kill her in the end.

Even after all this time, she still carries that damn rusted sword at her side, despite the fact that it's even more useless now than it was in the beginning. Her hand flies to its hilt in some remnant self-defence when she sees the creature she plans to slay.

"It's a dragon?" she whispers to Baron.

"Yes."

"You couldn't have told me that?"

"Would it have made a difference?" he asks.

"...No. But it would have been nice to know." She drops her hand away from the sword and flexes her fingers. Magic – that iridescent blue – sparks between her fingers. She inhales slowly and the magic retracts, drawing close under her skin, carefully reined in. "Right. I'm guessing this is a fire-breathing dragon–"

"Magic, but it comes to the same sort of fate," Baron amends.

"Either way, you're staying back."

He bridles at that. "I can–"

"You said it yourself – your role isn't to fight," Haru reminds him, "so you're staying out of the way. Or has your purpose changed since we last talked?"

Baron scowls, but there's little he can do against the truth. He's not sure his purpose will even allow him to intervene – but he wishes he could at least try. "There's still time," he tries once more. "You can walk away."

"I can," she admits, "but we both know I won't."

"I know."

She leans in quickly and kisses him – brief enough to be little more than a breeze brushing him – and she grins that that daring grin that he knows so well. "I'll see you on the other side," she whispers, and then she is gone.

She moves quickly with a speed honed from the delving, and is nearly upon the dragon before it even notices her. She flings her arms out and vines spring up from the ground. They wrap around the beast, thick rope-like shoots binding it down, and already she's moving onto her next stage of attack. Fire simmers in her palms, hot enough to burn blue and she slices through the air with razor-thin flames. They slice through the dragon and it–

It doesn't even notice.

Haru rolls to the side as the tail sweeps towards her, lined with spikes that will kill with a single blow. She tries again, this time with balls of ice, thick enough to be fatal for most monsters.

Again, it shakes it off, this time with a wing that smacks into Haru. She catches herself with her magic – air swirling beneath her to form a cushion – but that damn sword spins out of its sheath and skitters to a halt close to Baron.

Baron can't stand this any more. He steps out into the cavern. "Forget elemental attacks!" he cries. "The only thing that will cut through a dragon's skin is pure magic!"

The dragon swings its tail again, and this time it strikes the columns nearest Baron. He leaps out of the way – but not wholly. Chunks of stone slam into him and he feels the fracture that runs through him. And as he gathers his senses back together, he hears Haru scream.

She screams, but it's not one of pain or terror. It's a scream of rage and grief, and magic erupts from her palms. Jet streams of pure, unaltered power slams into the dragon's chest, and Haru stands before it, hair crackling and eyes glowing, and in that moment she looks as monstrous as the creature she was tasked to slay.

And then the magic runs out and she slumps to her knees, terrifyingly mortal.

When the light has dimmed, both can see the beast is down, a death rattle wheezing through its charred body.

"It's nearly dead," Haru rasps. She tries to rise to her feet, but the strength has gone from her limbs and she doesn't understand why. She looks to Baron, and he braces for the betrayal, but there's only reckless determination. "Magic. Baron, give me more magic like you promised."

The dragon is inches from death, but already it's beginning to stir. The blistering skin is bubbling, healing. This is the way Baron's creators made his own spell to work – the dragon can only be killed by using up everything a mortal had to offer. Even as Haru's magic is regenerating, so is the dragon's, perfectly matched to end them both.

"Baron!"

He knows what his purpose is. He knows he was made to create a hero capable of slaying a dragon, and now success is so close, he can almost see it.

But, more importantly, he can see Haru.

His purpose demands he gives her the means to slay the dragon.

And he refuses.

Baron's magic is carefully crafted to his role. It's designed for exactly two things: to keep him alive, and to transform life force into magic. He isn't designed for combat, and that's a feature, not a flaw. He was never meant to do anything more than watch.

But the dragon is so close to death, perhaps that doesn't matter.

He kneels down to the rusted sword by his feet, and its weight is alien to him, balanced in a way his cane is not. Dulled but still, possibly, deadly.

He starts into a run, aiming for the chest where the scales are still soft from healing, and where the muscle is still so thin he can see the heartbeat pulse within. He hears Haru shouting, but he can't make out the words. All he can do is duck as the dragon swings claws and wings at him, running for his life – for both their lives – and stab the rusted blade into the bubbling flesh.

The sword sinks into the marred skin, past warped ribs and melted muscle, and he feels the give as it pierces the heart. The dragon writhes. Baron clings on, suit tearing and gloves bloodied, and when he is finally thrown free, he feels something crack when he hits the wall.

He watches through fractured vision as the dragon contorts, screaming and curling in upon itself and then, finally falling still.

A silence settles. It settles so deep that he can feel it rooting through him, even as footsteps echo across the room. Haru drops down beside him, her face pale and her limbs shaking, but alive.

He waits for his purpose to remind him that shouldn't be – that he has one more duty to perform – but the silence prevails. He follows Haru's horrified gaze and sees the reason why.

A crack runs down his chest, split open from throat to stomach as cleanly and bloodlessly as a log struck by an axe. He presses a ruined glove to the opening and cradles the fissured crystal as it falls from his shattered chest.

"Ah," he says, and he can already feel his magic drying up, the ebbing tide tugging at his lips. "That would explain it."

"You idiot," Haru rasps. "What did you do that for? I had everything under control; you had just given me that little bit more magic like you'd promised, instead of leaping into the fray yourself–"

"Haru–"

"Hold still, I can help."

"Haru–"

She presses her hands over his, over the shattered crystal, pushing it back into his chest, and he can feel the magic begin to pour out of her, trying desperately to do the one thing it was never designed for – to heal.

"Haru, don't–"

"I can do this, if you'll just unlock that last bit of magic–"

"I can't–"

"You can! Why won't you–"

"Because it'll kill you."

Haru's frantic movements falter, and at last there is that doubt he has deserved all this time. "What?"

"I lied." He curls his hand around hers and gently peels her hold free of his chest. She lets him, too numb to press back. "I don't unlock your potential for magic. I convert it from life force. From your life force."

"What?"

The sight flickers in his left eye. He blinks, and Haru's face falls back into focus. Despite everything, for some reason she's still here, still by his side. "My creators never intended for the hero to live," Baron says, and every word is a truth he was never meant to reveal. But now his crystal lies shattered, and the purpose written within it lost. "From the moment you took this deal, it was designed to be the death of you. No one powerful enough to defeat the monster could be allowed to live; you'd be a threat greater than the dragon you slew." He draws a shuddering breath, but Haru should hear this. She deserves to. "And so the spell I was given was to transmute life force into magic, so that anyone powerful enough to defeat the dragon would have to drain their own life in order to succeed."

He waits for the anger, for the betrayal.

"How much more do you need?" she asks instead. "How much more do you need me to give to heal you?"

"All of it," he replies softly, softly enough he is sure he can hear his nonexistant heart breaking. "More than you could ever give."

"Well," she says, with a twist of her lips that is part smile, part stubbornness that he both loves and hates, "that's not quite true. More than I could give and live, sure... but not more than I could give."

"Don't–"

She untangles her hands from his and presses them back to his chest. "I can't," she agrees, "at least, not without your help. You're the only one who can give me the power to heal you, to create me into someone who can – so let me."

He shakes his head. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I can save you."

"At the cost of your own life," he rasps.

Haru's gaze lingers on her own hands, grazed and bruised after the fight, blood caught beneath the nails, and brushes her fingers over the crevice nearly cleaving Baron. Even now, she's emitting a steady stream of magic, just enought to keep him from collapsing altogether. It's only a temporary remedy; once she stops, it'll only be a matter of time before the inevitable.

"Do you love me with all of your heart, Baron?"

"Yes." And in that moment, he realises it to be utterly, indeliably true. "Yes, of course."

She grins, bittersweet. "Don't forget that. Now, please, just trust me. Let me help you."

When she asks of him such, how can he refuse?

"Don't let me regret this," he says, and transmutes the last of her life force to magic.

Haru heaves a shuddering breath and collapses forward. Baron catches her as she falls into him, but her hands are still pressed against his chest. The magic flowing into him sputters. Flickers once, twice, and for a heartbeat its extinguished entirely.

Then it's like a dam has burst, and the power that sinks into him is like the sun compared to the candlelight of before. The surface of his wound springs to life, greening until branches grow across the fissure and knit it closed, while the crystal within reforges, setting into a new shape, untouched by the purpose once carved into it.

And still Haru is folded against him, her skin glowing with the sheer power held within.

"Haru, that's enough–"

He goes to grab her shoulders, but his hands jolt away, burnt.

No, not burnt. He runs his hands over one another, but there's no sign of scorching. He cautiously reaches for her again, and this time recognises it as intense cold instead, like that of ice, or snow, or...

Or metal.

His hands realise the cause before his head does, and by the time he's fully registered just what Haru's plan had been, he's already reaching to her with his own magic. It's crazy. It's reckless. It's trusting him with far too much heart, and yet – and yet it has to work.

With his own magic, he shapes the raw magic that runs rampart through Haru, and begins to herd it together. He condenses it down, smaller and denser, until he can sense that where Haru's heart used to be is now a crystal made of pure, solidified magic, just like his.

When the light dies down, he's holding in his arms a knight in shining armour. Where once there was skin, there's now only silver, soft flesh traded for metal, and a heart traded for magic. But when she stires – and she does – it is still Haru who stares out of those glittering gemstone eyes.

"Well," she says, and the metal face resembles her own, the metal shifting in impossible ways to facilitate speech. She pauses. Twitches her mouth experimentally. "Well," she tries again, "this is different."

Baron pulls her into an embrace, and the body fits all wrong, too many angular shapes and ice-cold surfaces – but it's her. It's Haru, alive in the closest thing they could be granted a happy ending. "Reckless, crazy, foolish," he mutters into her shoulder. He draws back to see the face again – and those eyes, still hers. "How could you possibly have been sure that would work?"

"I didn't," Haru says. "But you said it yourself – when someone creates something with all of their heart, then it is given a soul." She passes a gauntlet along the line of her jaw. "You were told to create a hero and it seems you succeeded."

"It was incredibly risky."

"I know. But some things are worth the risk." She sighs and glances to the dragon's corpse. "So now what happens to this place?"

Baron follow's her gaze. "Now, the dungeon will begin to degrade. It was made to bring about the monster's death, and now it's succeeded, it has no use."

"Moonlighter will close without a dungeon to maintain it," Haru says.

"Does that sadden you?"

"No." Haru rises to her feet, steadied with Baron's aid. "No," she repeats, "Moonlighter claimed enough lives. It's time us Yoshiokas got to choose our own futures."

She smiles his way, and even amid the metal and magic, Baron still knows that smile.

"And I think I know what my future holds."

#Niwjwbidndj #once qlagain cat's fics are my serotonin #thank you cat <3

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lin-iva · 1 year ago

Text

FANKID TIME

Anyhow, meet Jade (fullname later), left at the cafe's doorstep, raised and nurtured by Baron and Haru also by her two always bickering uncles.

The first Gikkingen grandchild, beloved by the family of course, but the public just can't seem to fathom that the first grandchild is not by Gikkingen's blood rather an unknown one.

Since childhood, she has always heard whispers on how she's incompetent and overall an embarassment because she does not inherit the Gikkingen's blood.

Those rumors also affected both her parents, although not upfront but most people perceive them as failures. As she grows with guilt, she's determined to be someone capable, someone who people can look up too, and someone who will not be looked down on.

She has a dark shaded fur with green eyes although not as bright nor shiny resembling her father, her' are more dimmed similiar to a Jade stone like her name. She loves her parents first-meeting story especially the part where her mother refuse the CEO's force marriage proposal, making her determined to be as brave as her mother. Although she is still quite anxious on a lot of things but, she tries to find the bright side on everything and doesn't want to let fear runs through her. She tends to push herself a bit to hard and often be hotheaded towards the people who pesters her about it (mostly her parents, aunt, and uncles but because they care) because she does not want to be underestimated.

Welp thats Jade's story bits in the AU, hope you guys like it.

#myart #the cat returns #neko no ongaeshi #baron humbert von gikkingen #haru yoshioka #studio ghibli #jade #i wanna tag the baronxharu ship as spring tea #but i kinda wanna finf more shipnames that'll be more fitting on these two #pleasee recc me somee

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lin-iva · 1 year ago

Note

Cliche trope but Baron/Haru fake dating that went to full love confession?? 😅. Or Muta and Toto betting on whom among Baron and Haru will admit their feelings first 😅 sorry for the overtly used trope

A/N: With tropes like these, there's a reason they're so popular! One fake dating coming right up!

(And if you want more, I have a fake marriage au, Marry Me Twice on AO3, and a half-finished series of fake dating/marriage snippets on tumblr!)

At this point. Haru decided, she really shouldn't be surprised anymore when Baron got himself into these sorts of situations.

After all, she tried to remind herself, even she hadn't been immune to his charms upon their first meeting, and in the many years since he hadn't toned down his charisma one iota. He simply had a natural pizazz to him, a flair that drew and kept the eye. It was just a nuisance that he was oblivious to his effect until it was too late.

Still, one would think he would learn after the sixth accidental engagement.

"We've got a plan to get him out, right?" Haru deadpanned to the remaining (thankfully unengaged) members of the Bureau. "We're not just gonna sit back and watch him be married off to the faerie queen, right?"

Muta snorted. "I say we leave him there as a distraction while we get on with the case."

"Or Muta and I can do that, while you recover him," Toto said. "The changeling child should be around here somewhere. Just remember - fae can tell if you're lying."

Haru regarded the swirling ballroom before her. It wasn't built of brick and mortar, but of living trees and vines. The canopy knotted so thickly overhead that the only light to be found was in the glow of the mushrooms, bioluminescent fungi clinging to the trunks that served in place of pillars. Its occupants only had the barest resemblance to humanity - all feathers and antlers and fur - that left her the stark outlier. "If they turn me into a frog for my impertinence, you'll save me, right?"

"We'll make yer a pond with only the finest lily pads."

"Fantastic." Taking that as the best reassurance she was going to get, Haru waded into the sea of twirling gowns and gilded waistcoats. She worried that she would have to elbow her way through, but the dancers parted, if only as far as her next step so that she felt like a shark ineffectively swimming through a shoal of fish. Only sharks probably didn't feel like they were next on the menu.

At the far end of the ballroom was a bower. And in the bower was the faerie queen - and Baron.

Haru bowed. "Your Majesty, I thank you for your hospitality in welcoming us here, but I am afraid to say it is time we took our leave." That was probably fine, wasn't it? Not too formal? Not formal enough? Should she have broken out the 'thee's and 'thou's?

"Then I bid you farewell."

Haru waited. When she didn't hear Baron make a move, she cautiously glanced up. She immediately saw the reason for Baron's inaction; the faerie queen's hand is still rested on his. It was gentle, but deliberately possessive.

"I plan to leave with all of my friends, your Majesty."

The faerie queen smiled. "I'm afraid the Baron has decided to stay."

Haru glanced to Baron and raised an eyebrow. "Has he now?" She knew him well enough to read the apology in the quirk of his lips, and the belated realisation that he might have messed up in the flicker of an eye. She raised her other eyebrow in reply.

"Indeed," the faerie queen said. "After all, he has been such a gentleman, so charming and attentive, that his true intentions could scarcely have been mistaken for anything other than an affair of the heart."

"You think he's in love with you?"

"And why wouldn't he be?" the queen asked. "Have you seen any as beautiful as I?"

The fact that the faerie queen was indeed mesmerisingly stunning - despite, or perhaps because of the feline glint of her eyes or the vines that grew in and along her skin - was immaterial. Haru couldn't do anything but agree when the person in question could curse her with less than a thought.

Haru bowed again. "None are your equal, I'm sure, but that was never in doubt. I only ask because Baron is a gentleman at heart, and prone to being charming and attentive to all. Regardless of intent." Or awareness.

"And how, pray tell, are you so sure of his intent?"

"I know because," and a dozen lies paraded through Haru's mind; she grabbed one at random before her hesitation would betray the deception, "he's already in love with someone."

"And whom may that be?"

Without a shadow of a doubt, Haru knew that she would have to supply any mystery suitor she named. She offered what she hoped Baron knew to be an apologetic, I'm-only-doing-this-to-save-your-skin smile. "Me. He's in love with me, your Majesty."

The music never stopped, the ballroom conversations never quietened, but the silence in the bower was deafening. What was it Toto had said earlier? Fae can tell if you're lying? Well, it was too late for that now. Haru waited for the faerie queen to call her out on her deception, but she only tilted her head, like a dog catching an intriguing scent.

"Is this true?" the faerie queen asked Baron.

Baron looked to Haru.

Haru looked back.

Lie, dammit.

"Yes," he said. He started to say something anew, floundered, and tried again. "Although I have attempted to keep such feelings within, my heart belongs wholly to Miss Haru. It has for some time now."

Haru's traitorous heart skipped a few beats, as though this wasn't a ruse she herself had started. She blinked, and managed to refocus on the queen. "So you see, your Majesty, you can hardly marry Baron when he loves another."

"Indeed."

"So with that, we should take our leave-"

Haru's hand caught Baron's and started to lead him from the bower, only for the faerie queen to suddenly stand. Baron and Haru both halted in instinctive self-preservation.

"Wait."

The faerie queen descended from the bower, an uncanny grace to her movements. It was like watching a panther, just before it pounced.

"But how can you talk of leaving after such a heartfelt confession?" she asked. "Surely, on a night like tonight when the music compels you, two lovebirds such as yourselves cannot pass up the opportunity to dance. At least," she added with another glimmer of her feline eyes, "any true couple wouldn't."

Haru felt her smile thin. She bowed, hoping it would hide the waning enthusiasm. "Your Majesty is always correct. If you would be so kind, I have a song request for your musicians, should they know it."

"Our musicians are well acquainted with much of your mortal music. Go ahead."

Haru rose from her bow and, after conferring quickly with the musicians in question, swept with Baron down to the heart of the ballroom.

"Katzen Blut?" Baron asked as the first few notes started up. "It has been a long time since I've heard this."

"It's the only song we've ever danced to. I thought it might give us a fighting chance of actually pulling this off." When Baron still seemed a little too nonplussed by the situation to respond, Haru placed his hand against her waist, ensuring they at least looked the part. "Sorry. I panicked, and that was the first excuse that came to mind."

"It was quick thinking on your part. Just... unexpected."

As the music rolled into a swing, the two of them started into a familiar waltz. Doing her best to ignore certain realities, like the fact that Baron was so close, close enough to kiss, Haru focused on easier topics. "So. What is this, the sixth time you've ended up accidentally winning someone's heart? This is getting to become a habit, Baron."

Baron had the decency to look suitably sheepish. "I thought I was merely offering her Majesty the respect befitting one of her station. If I had known it would be misinterpreted as such, I would have..."

Haru waited, and nearly flattened several of his toes when she misjudged a step. "You would have...? Go on. What would you have done differently?"

"I might have gone easier on the purple prose of her beauty."

"Gee, you think?"

"Perhaps pare down on the extravagant bow."

"Another good option."

"But, in my defence, I was left in charge of distracting her while yourself and the others located the missing changeling child."

"We asked you to distract her, not marry her."

"I haven't married her."

"Not yet. If we'd given it another half hour though..."

"Yes, you've made your point quite clear."

Their dancing neighbours glanced sidelong at them, ears perked at Baron's curt voice, and Baron swung Haru out into a twirl to deter any eavesdroppers. It would have been a far more impressive move had Haru been wearing a dress but, as things stood, the best she got was the sweep of her coat hem.

She swung back into Baron's arms, closer than before. "How exactly did you try to tell her Majesty that you weren't interested, anyway?"

"It's... complicated."

"What, you mean there wasn't a nearby rooftop to jump off after telling her you admire a woman who speaks from the heart?"

"Haru..."

"All I'm saying is, that worked great on me." Well, mostly. The fact that Haru had gone on with her life, then fallen back in with the Bureau, and then fallen for Baron again was neither here nor there. The important thing was that it had successfully snapped her out of her schoolgirl crush - just long enough for her to think things through and then develop one-sided pining later in life.

"It is... surprisingly difficult to refute a fae's attentions without causing insult."

"And anything too subtle goes right over their heads," Haru finished.

"As you discovered. If I had known that all I needed to do was confess love for another..."

Haru snorted. "We both know that was one hell of a risk. I don't even know how we managed to sell that lie, given everything we've been warned about the fae."

Baron was studiously not looking at her. "Indeed."

"I mean, I don't know what even possessed me to say that. Realistically, I should have been cursed into a frog, or something, for trying a lie like that, I don't..."

The penny dropped.

"Wait, Baron-"

"Change partners!" Baron cried, and twirled her into the arms of a fae with antlers and canines.

"Oh no you don't." Haru spun away from her current dance partner and, as best she could in time with the music, whirled from one whistle-stop faerie to the next. Baron might have had Creation grace and years of dance practice, but Haru had five years' worth of stubborn pining pushing her on.

Eventually, she landed back in Baron's arms.

"You don't just get to waltz away like that when I'm having a revelation," she scolded. "Faeries can sense lies, right? And you'd think the queen of faeries would have an extra-sensative bullshit-detector, right?"

"Not quite how I'd put it, but-"

"Not the priority right now. So, with that in mind, how the hell did I manage to convince her that you were in love with me?"

"You are a remarkable young woman, Haru, perhaps-"

"Perhaps, unknown to me, I wasn't lying."

"Haru-"

"Are you in love with me?"

"I... admire you-"

"Do not. I'm not a schoolkid anymore, Baron; I can handle a rejection just fine. Are you in love with me?"

Baron opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried several more times to no effect.

Haru groaned. "One of these days, we'll actually get to finish this dance," she muttered and, dropping her hands away from Baron, stormed back towards the bower.

"Enjoying your dance-"

"When Baron said he was in love with me, was he telling the truth?"

The faerie queen faltered. There had been the briefest flicker of rage at Haru's impertinence at interrupting her, but now it was swept away by a knowing smile. Suddenly, Haru knew why her halfway deceit had been allowed to go on; this was all entertainment to the queen and her kind.

"Yes." the queen replied.

"What the hell?" Haru turned, seeing Baron wading free from the dancing crowd, and repeated for good measure, "What the hell, Baron?!"

"I cannot help how I feel, Haru, but I thought that, if I kept it to myself-"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... didn't want to make things awkward between us," he said. "You are my good friend, Haru, and I never wanted to lose that. If it meant I had to push away such feelings to keep your companionship, then so be it-"

"I've been in love with you for years, you idiot."

Baron's mouth snapped shut. He blinked. "Oh. You are?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Some kind of nervous, almost hysterical laughter bubbled through Haru, and she pushed it back with some herculean restraint. "Because, Baron. Because you're kind and determined and I love spending time with you. Because the heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes what it wants is an emotionally constipated cat figurine who has now been accidentally engaged six times."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. I can't believe I've been pining after you, thinking, 'oh there's no way he feels the same way,' all this time, just to..."

Baron stepped up to her and she let him take her hands in his. "Why wouldn't I fall for you?" he asked softly. "How could I not, when you are the bravest, most compassionate, stubbornest woman I have ever met?"

Haru sniffled, and she only realised then that she was dangerously on the verge of tears. "Not many people would woo someone by calling them stubborn, you know."

"It's one of my favourite things about you. You don't give up, Haru, even when the rest of the world wants you to. You'll stand up against a Cat King, against pirates, against monsters." He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed away the beginning of a tear. "You'll stand up against a faerie queen to save those you love."

Haru grinned, began to offer up a retort, and then remembered the audience they had. One glance confirmed that the faerie queen was sat, quite happily, and looking like all she was missing was a bag of popcorn.

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss," she offered helpfully.

Haru looked back to Baron, blushing. Only her familiarity with him betrayed the mirror blush beneath his fur. She leant in. "Well," she said. "If a queen expects it..."

There came a heartstopping crack, like the snap of a bone or a sharp clap of thunder, and a tree crashed across the ballroom. The music juddered to a halt. All conversation ceased. And in the ringing silence...

"Move, move, move!" Muta and Toto came thundering through the gap the felled tree had left. Muta had a swaddled baby cradled in his arms. "Baron, Chicky, we've got what we came for. Time to go!"

#this trope is just chef kiss 👌

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lin-iva · 2 years ago

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some Bunnydoll new year party clothes :) I was trying to make a comic about christmas stuff with these two but sadly it has been some busy months last year

#myart #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #bunnydoll

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lin-iva · 2 years ago

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If Haru choses to not remember

#this has been in my draft ever since #heck #anw #HAPPY 2024 #last year is A HELL of a busy year #hope that i'll have more time to draw this year #myart #the cat returns #neko no ongaeshi #baron humbert von gikkingen #haru yoshioka #studio ghibli

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lin-iva · 2 years ago

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Jax x Ragatha: Touch

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note: Hey guys! It's bunnydoll time! I hope you have the patience to work your way through this one. I wonder if there are any of you who can remotely relate to the way I wrote Jax to be in terms of his aversion to touch.

Oh well, it's just a story about some fictional characters who aren't even mine. Credit goes to Gooseworx, for creating such fun characters for us to play with.

Hope you enjoy this one! This story was suppose to go into a completely different direction, but that idea can always be explored in the future - when I have the guts to put it on paper.

I'm sure that you don't need the context from my previous work to understand/enjoy this one.

Warnings: None... I think.

SUMMARY:

Jax is suffering from the frustrating effects of touch-starvation, despite his touch-aversion rendering him from doing anything about it. After meeting up with his fellow circus-members, a good laugh and a brief on their new adventure, Jax is given the chance to confide in Ragatha.

TOUCH

It was going to be one of those dreaded days.

Jax was lost in a dream only moments before – one of silky, living fabric with the softest stuffing that rang with a hushed, pleading voice for him and only him. For him to give more and more; and in the dream, he was willing – eager – to provide. He’d rattled the mountains to kneel before a ragdoll only to be brought to his knees himself, all for his little doll to just look at him.

To really just look at him.

Jax closed his eyes again, seeking the warm, fuzzy afterglow of the caresses shared in his lost dream. He desperately tried to sink deeper into his mattress, as he was pressed into the softness of his doll only moments before.

But now he was burning from the inside out.

Red-hot fire nipped and crackled on his skin and yet, Jax wanted to curl into himself and burst into shivers as his heart bashed into his ribcage, threatening to jump out from his throat. The sensations caused him to forget to reign in his breathing, so he was left almost panting, until the sound of his own voice riled him up even more. He sounded so pathetic and desperate in the confines of his own room.

Suddenly Jax’s attention was drawn to his claws, now ripped through his yellow gloves, and digging into his pillow. He pulled back his hands and forced himself to relax his digits enough, to allow the claws to sink back into place; tucked away and safe. The rabbit spied the little holes that his claws left in the plush bedding, feeling the sour taste of guilt invade his being.

That could’ve been Raggs.

Just like that, the sour was drowned in the glowing, shivering heat that trembled through him again. He groaned as he rolled over to sit up on the edge of his bed. He tried to force the thoughts of her eyes out of his head, only to be thrusted into the intrusive impulse of crushing her against him, stealing her breaths.

The bunny laid his face into his hands and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. It’s been a while since he felt like this, and the frustration was getting to him in ways that was almost too embarrassing to acknowledge. Jax knew that he was only going to suffer more once he left the safety of his room and he desperately tried to muster up all the reasons why he shouldn’t leave.

But someone would come knocking at his door if he didn’t – and heaven forbid that it would be Ragatha calling his name from the outside…

Because he might not be able to stop himself from dragging her into his depths only to screaming his name from the inside…

No.

This had to stop.

He was going to be fine, frustration been damned! It was just a bit of an off day, but nothing like he hasn’t lived through before. Yes, Jax was well equipped to handle the tug of war between touch-aversion and touch-starvation for the day. Just one day.

Just like he’d done all the mere handful of times he felt like this since he got here.

Jax lifted his arms to stretch, hearing the ring in his ears as he groaned at the pleasure of relieving his tense muscles. Speaking of stiffness, Jax felt the overall form of his body being a tad bit more defined and firmer than usual. Intrigued by this discovery, he poked at his bicep to confirm that it was as solid as it appeared, before rolling his eyes in annoyance. He must have really been tensed up and… invested… in that dream of his for him to notice it – or maybe his mind was just trying to occupy himself to forget the yearning for his doll’s hands to glide over his skin.

Ugh, it was going to be a rough day…

Whether Jax wanted to or not, he eventually left his room and dragged himself down the empty hallway of many doors. Voices buzzed from the main area, but he was too distracted to single them out, so the bunny was left to the element of surprise. He didn’t mind it too much, as he believed that any conversation would stimulate him beyond the confusing war between the contradicting needs of his body versus his mind.

The itch that only another’s touch could soothe, versus the itch of the unbearable residue that the touch would leave in its wake.

It was pathetic.

Finally met with the familiar figures in the main area, the rabbit’s eyes were pulled and fixed onto a specific scene. He narrowed his eyes, as his mind raced through multiple thoughts, not quite knowing what to make of what he saw.

Pomni and Kinger were off to the side of the main group, seemingly in a conversation that held the keen attention of the jester. She was practically fixated on the oversized chess piece, who by no doubt was talking about something deeper than the ramblings of a madman. Jax spotted mismatched eyes of the king dulled and muddled – and for once, sober. Just then, Jax decided to steer clear of those two, not wanting to rain on the royal’s parade.

It’s been so long since Kinger was as aware as he was now.

Even Jax wouldn’t want to knock down that precious house of cards. When Kinger was oriented, things were just… better in the Circus. It wasn’t something that anyone could explain, but something about Kinger holding out for so long, made life in the Digital Realm seem possible – even when surrounded and inflicted by anything and everything that was impossible. Granted, those sober moments were few, brief and far in-between, but they were there, rooted, and present. Jax recalled many instances where he was met with the elder’s sobriety, only for it to crumble to ash when he attempted to delve into it.

A genuine question asked by Jax in attempt to encourage the continuation of Kinger’s clear mindset, only met with the abrupt cut-off of another startled question by Kinger about whatever was happening at that moment, as if it never happened in the first place.

The snake’s charms were also proven to be ineffective against the royal, barely acknowledging his baiting and deliberate sabotage, but Jax kept hissing and striking regardless. In fact, everyone included Kinger in the happenings of the oasis, regardless of the effectiveness of it all. Anything that anyone could do for another precious moment of clarity from the king, was considered a worthy effort, because if he could make it this far and still have his mind…

Who’s to say they couldn’t make it either – even if only in small, precious increments?

What a shame to see such a precious moment of clarity to be wasted on a stupid waste of space. She had no idea how lucky she was to have that gem in her grimy little grasp.

Jax scoffed; deciding to look to where the rest of the group was situated. His heart clenched at the sight of his girls, watched over by none other than Zooble themself.

Gangle was happily wrapped around Ragatha’s slim frame. He could tell that the ribbon continuously squeezed the doll with a firm, but gentle pressure, just as Ragatha liked it. He heard Zooble mumble teasing comments about Raggs 'stealing their girl' as Gangle nuzzled her face into the top of the doll’s head, burying her face into the red wooly locks with an admittedly cute smile on her face. Sometimes, Jax wished for them to be living another life, where the bunny would be free to just pinch and tug the masked ribbon’s cheeks. He’d make it hurt, that’s for sure!

And then, there was his doll, also smiling and content – at ease in the crushing grasp of Gangle’s magic touch. The doll often sought out the ribbonoid for her infamous squeeze, as they found that Gangle was the best at practicing Ragatha’s occasional need for deep-pressure therapy.

Sure, some time ago, it was a case of desperation on Jax’s part to indulge his doll with his weighted cuddling, but Gangle was the ideal option. He didn’t mind the rare time with his dolly one bit, though. The annoying itch and bother prickling at his skin for the few hours afterwards was all the more worth it to have Ragatha melted and helpless beneath him.

Where she belonged.

Jax felt a warm, but not exactly unpleasant tingling ghost over his lips when his needy thoughts pushed back into his head upon remembering the sensual kiss he left on the inside of her wrist. It was when she wordlessly begged him to have her caress his cheek as her shaking hand hovered in offering for him to accept or reject. He couldn’t ever say no then – he doubted that he’d ever be able to say no to her ever.

Her face… her voice… pleading his name like a prayer...

Stop it.

It’s just worse because of that stupid, unrealistic dream he had before! It didn’t matter how much he dreamt about him sinking and drowning into his doll, because in the waking world, he was just a broken snake that felt the need to shed his skin every time anyone had the mere thought of touching him.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

For the time being, he’d be happy to just live vicariously through Gangle securely holding Ragatha as she sat cross-legged on the floor, while Gangle playfully blew raspberries at Zooble, who could only shake their head in mock-disappointment. It was written all over the ragdoll’s face and evident in the melody of her bright laugh; Ragatha felt safe and content.

That was more than enough for Jax to be happy.

Right?

“Jax! Took you long enough!” Jax was pulled out from his thoughts upon the sound of Zooble’s bored, bossy tone, “You’re lucky Caine’s not here yet. Where were you anyway?”

Jax’s sleazy grin was fixed on his face, trained and trimmed as the snake he was, “Oh, you know… definitely not snooping around you rooms or anything – but hypothetically, if I were, I’m pretty sure I forgot something in one of them, so if you find it, be sure to give me a shout!” He winked.

“Jax, I swear…” Ragatha’s face was pulled into a scowl, but the fire she possessed proved her spirit to shine as bright as ever, “If you rigged my room with firecrackers and smoke bombs again, I am going to lose it.”

“What?” Jax exclaimed in false expiration, “Didn’t you hear me say that it was hypothetical, Dollface? You might wanna get your ears checked, because it seems I left one too many centipedes in your room to crawl into them at night.”

“Oh my lord, Jax stop. Just stop.” Ragatha squirmed to get her arms free from Gangle’s grasp and cover her ears while shutting her eyes, “You are tricking me into thinking that I can actually feel them in my head!”

“I just got her to calm down, Jaaaax!” Gangle whined, switching out her masks to frown properly.

Jax wanted to laugh, but the girl’s whining rang an alarm.

Why would Raggs need to calm down?

He had to be smart about this – the coldblooded snake couldn’t show that he cared, so asking about it was out of the question. He considered using his silence – that always got someone talking.

He raised an eyebrow for good measure.

To his luck, Gangle just knew, as she always did, “She’s feeling a little touch starved today.”

Ragatha opted to cover her face instead of her ears. Her cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment, and she groaned out Gangle’s name to shut the ribboniod up, but the damage was done. Zooble saw Jax perk up more than he probably should have, followed by him sinking into himself like he was dragging dead weight with him. He was struggling to maintain his composure, Zooble thought to themself, surprised that even they were able to read him so easily today.

Meanwhile Jax was suffering from the internal fire that just didn’t seem to leave him be today.

What dumb luck for him and his poor little dolly to be suffering the same fate. He consoled himself that the solution was at least easier for Raggs than it was for him. He had other issues that prevented him from getting the help he wanted. He only wanted his doll’s touch – but even then, he didn’t really want it, either. It felt a bit comforting to know that Ragatha was suffering alongside him, but it killed him that he couldn’t do anything about it!

If he were to indulge in her touch like he did a mere week before, he would probably want to skin himself by the end of it all. The whole situation was bizarre to begin with! It was rare that he craved touch so quickly after such an invasive encounter, but here he was. And there she was.

Even though he knew that they were so different, it hurt a little to think that his touch only satisfied her until now, before she felt near distressed with need again.

And it also hurt that Gangle could replace his touch so well.

It actually hurt a little more than he was willing to admit.

Someone’s eyes were burning into his face and it was enough to have him jump out of his own head, looking over his fellow circus mates to see who’s eyes it was. He was surprised to find his dolly’s eyes peeking through her fingers. When he looked to her, she didn’t avert her gaze, so he had a chance to get a read on her, only for the bunny to find something he didn’t expect.

Ragatha had that yearning look again.

She watched his face very closely, as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, never once glancing away. The doll was calling out to him – he knew she was! His core was invaded with butterflies as she entranced him with that look that she seemed to reserve for him alone. He fell in love with how she silently pleaded for him, only to realize that she was, in fact, silently pleading for him.

He blinked but didn’t stir otherwise, trying to uphold his careless façade.

‘What do you want?’ a single, swift scrunch of his face was all he needed for her to understand.

Ragatha blinked in turn, and after a moment of her tossing her gaze around in search for an answer, her eyes fixed on him… or rather… his legs. His thighs? ...His hips?

Jax wanted to be set ablaze with that thought alone, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubble up from his chest. He knew it was unlikely but the thought of Ragatha being vexed by his hips was a hilarious thought at the time.

When Ragatha’s face became adorned with confusion, he flashed her a cheeky smile and swung his hips playfully, if not a tad suggestive. Her eye widened to resemble a dinnerplate before the dam broke and she burst into explosive laughter. It was so sudden that Jax could only bend over and wheeze as Gangle squeaked in surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Ragatha squeezed out in apology to her, but with one look to Jax’s face, laughter erupted from her with a new vigor. As Jax sunk onto his hands and knees, it seemed that he couldn’t risk looking at the doll without laughing either. The situation left Gangle and Zooble glancing between the 2 in the utmost confusion, but they didn’t get the chance to ask anything.

“My, my! It’s sure is a jolly occasion we have here!” Caine’s voice boomed from above, suddenly floating in the space between Jax and Ragatha, “Care to share the joke, folks? The audience would be dying to know!”

“Oh, Caine, hey buddy!” Jax managed to say as he desperately tried to just breathe again, “Don’t- don’t worry about it-” Jax cut himself off with a something in between a whine and a suppressed giggle.

“Yes, it was all just-” Ragatha caught her laugh and offered a moment of silence, before trying to continue in a shaking voice, “Just a misunderstaNdInG.”

Laughter erupted again, though it was more of a chaotic jumble of wheezes and heavy breathing between the bunny and the doll. It was a challenge for Gangle and Zooble not to feel left out, but they found themselves smiling at their friends who were finally blowing off some steam.

For whatever reason they were unaware of…

The laughter eventually died down as Caine enthusiastically explained the adventure he had cooked up for the crew. When he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the team reluctantly divided themselves into groups of 2, purely based on whomever wanted to team up. The only two who didn’t team up willingly, was Kinger and Pomni, who were the last two left after Gangle clung to Zooble and Jax slide beside Ragatha.

They were chummy before, right? Who better to be paired together than the 2 local nutjobs?

There was a brief commotion of protest and complaining, before the teams departed and split up to perform the silly tasks that were set out to complete the adventure, as Caine described. It wasn’t long before the silence between the bunny and the doll was broken by Jax right after they lost sight of the others.

“So, Dollface, I didn’t take you as the blunt and forward type of gal!” Jax wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Unless it’s just ‘cause it’s me and I’m just too irresistible to be taken out to dinner first.”

“Oh, quiet you! I told you that it was a misunderstanding.” Ragatha blew him off, much to Jax’s dismay.

He pressed on with his signature grin fixed on his face, determined to understand, “You told Caine that. You didn’t tell me squat. So? Out with it! What were you looking at? Whattaya want, Doll?”

Ragatha sighed, much like a tired mother would, “It’s fine, Jax, it’s over now. We can leave it be.”

“Nuh uh, it ain’t over. We’re bringing it back, toots!” Jax dismissed her immediately.

But the doll didn’t seem to budge.

“You’d never be able to handle it! You’ll live with the eternal regret for even considering asking.”

Was that a challenge?

“Oh ho ho, darlin’…” Jax tone shifted to a menacing one, causing Ragatha to audibly gulp when he moved to stop her from walking on, looming over her, “You have no idea what you just started.”

She recovered quickly, thinking that Jax was messing around as he usually was, “Jax, we should forget it ever happened. I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

It turns out he was actually serious for once.

“What do you want, Ragatha?” Jax asked in an ominous tone, not giving the doll the chance to digest just how serious he was to use her full name.

It turns out was actually really, really serious for once.

“What does it matter?” the ragdoll breathed, hardly intimidated, yet greatly stunned.

“What do you mean ‘what does it matter?’” Jax shuffled closer to stand inches away, causing for the doll to crane her neck to look up at him, “When you beg for me with that pretty little eye of yours, what makes you think it wouldn’t matter?”

Ragatha felt the familiar rush of heat bite her cheeks as Jax blown pupils pinned her in place. His words could easily just be the words of the snake, but something within Ragatha’s depths wanted to believe that it was only the words of the man before her.

Her man.

“If I tell you what I want, you have to deal with the regret of knowing by yourself.” Ragatha spoke with a calm, steady voice as she prepared for the moment to wither away with the diminished sound of her future confession, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Jax murmured, not once breaking his gaze from her face.

Ragatha took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes, steeling herself for the disappointment to drag down his spirit. She took only a second longer to appreciate the churring sound of Jax’s teeth grinding within his mouth.

“Your hands.” Ragatha sighed in defeat, “I was looking at your hands.”

Jax didn’t stir or change his demeanor, silently processing the information, “My hands…”

Hands. What could she want with his hands?

Hands grab.

Hands carry.

Hands hold.

Hands touch…

Oh. Oh.

OH!

Realization must have washed over his face, because Ragatha allowed her head to fall forward in regret.

“Do you see now?” she asked with sorrow lacing her voice, “You regret knowing now.”

Jax was silent for a moment, only to softly speak up – almost to himself, “Do you know why I was late this morning?” a beat of silence, “I was dreaming about your hands too.”

Ragatha’s head flung itself up, to look at him in shock, but was met with the saddened expression of the bunny as he continued to speak, “In my dreams, I can’t get enough of them. I can’t get enough of your touch, Raggs.”

The doll’s eye started stinging with tears, but her face remained stuck in shock.

Jax wasn’t finished, “Seeing you enwrapped with Gangle makes me so happy, Raggs. I love seeing my girls take care of each other, but believe me when I tell you that I’m selfish enough to wish that you came to me instead – even if I can’t hold you like she can…”

The silence that followed, stretched a bridge between them.

The ragdoll blinked once before taking the chance to speak, “May I touch you right now? Please?”

More silence deafened them, but a lot was said in the looks they shared.

Jax sighed, bracing himself for the confusing tingles his doll tend to leave on his skin, “...Go on.”

Without knowing what to expect, Jax eyed the movements of her hands, only to see them fold into each other behind her back. The rabbit’s breath hitched as he saw the whole of Ragatha's body move closer to stand against his frame with her forehead resting right under his chin. He violently shivered when he felt the doll’s breath caress his upper chest.

His brain malfunctioned when he felt her soft, warm lips place a long, tender kiss on his sternum.

No itching. No tingles. No burning.

Fireworks.

He huffed out an aspirated breath and allowed his shaky hands to grab at her shoulders to keep her in place when he felt her hastily back away. He proceeded to wrap his arms around Ragatha and crush her against his body, as he did in his dreams, suffering the onslaught of firecrackers and sparks erupting from everywhere their bodies met. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the thundering beats of his heart bashing to break free from its cage.

The sound that left his dolly’s mouth would haunt him for years to come and he couldn’t care less. For the first time since he was trapped in the Digital Circus, Jax was overwhelmed by the white-hot bliss of touch.

...Until it became all too much, all too soon.

And the dreaded itch crawled back into his skin, causing Jax to grab Ragatha’s shoulders again and harshly shove her back and away from him. The poor bunny was panting and trembling as he looked at Ragatha’s face in shock.

She was as frazzled as he was but she recovered quicker to tend to the poor, overstimulated bunny.

“I just want you to understand one thing.” Ragatha spoke between a few harsh breaths as she calmed down, “At times, I may need someone else's touch, but…”

Jax fought to focus his eyes on the woman before him – to indicate that she had his utmost attention, just before she blew all thoughts from his mind as she completed her sentence;

“I will always want you more than anything.”

She didn't need to say more, trusting that he understood her words perfectly.

Unlike a 'need', a 'want' can not be fulfilled.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

#I LOVE THIS SO MUCHH

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