#CATS MAKE ME HAPPY HUMANS MAKE MY HEAD HURT MUG AND CAT SHIRT

[iamfruitie]

In Too Deep Chapter 37

Found

Mad woke up to the house empty, save for Al, who was sleeping at the foot of his bed. He stretched with a grunt and chuckled when Al woke up from that and went up to his face, purring as he rubbed his head against him. 

“Morning, Al.” Mad greeted, running a hand down the cat’s body before sitting up. “Oh?” He saw a piece of paper on his bedside table, a note by Mare

‘Had to run out with Phantom, will be back later today. Don’t forget to eat and drink some water, starlight, or I’ll make you~’

Mad rolled his eyes and set the note aside, crawling out of bed and getting dressed. 

“Off we go, Al,” Mad said, leaving the bedroom and heading for the kitchen, his cat at his side. He found everything strangely…quiet in the home. He had lived alone for so long, with the occasional visit from Jackie, and thought he was used to the silence. But after having Mare around, it felt off now. “Hawk, play some music, please.” 

“Playing house music,” Hawk’s voice said before it turned into a random song. The playlist was a sporadic collection of music Mad had enjoyed over the years. It was far from being the same as having Mare in the room, but it was enough to fill in some of that emptiness. He hoped Mare wasn’t going to be gone for long. Maybe he was getting himself some more clothing for here. Mad would be more than happy if Mare brought more of his belongings over. It would make the 'being a couple' feel more official.

Eventually, Mad ate a quick breakfast and prepared himself a mugful of coffee before heading off for his lab, being sure to take a bottle of water with him. He sat the mug and bottle down, drinking from both of them, before getting to work. 

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in his project, the music playing in the background and his hands and mind busy. Oblivious to the world around him and unable to hear Al meowing behind the lab door. 

The cat could smell that someone else was in the room with Mad. Someone new. Someone who was pissed. 

“You’re the one prying into my family’s affairs?” A voice spoke over everything and pulled Mad out of his trance. He turned and was greeted with the sight of a large man in a suit. “You’re Madrick? You’re the nosy human who has been trying to contact those he shouldn’t?” The man was nearly growling as he made his way over to Mad. 

“I-I don’t know-I don’t know what you're talking about?” Mad did a quick scan of the room; his mallet was on the other end of it. He’d have to get past the stranger to get to it. 

“You’re the same little scientist that we stole from. If I had known you would be causing trouble, I would have had Mare kill you when I sent him here.” 

“You sent…” Mad thickly swallowed. “You’re Dark.” 

“How do you know my name?” The man, Dark, stiffened, and his glare hardened. Mad quickly used that very brief moment of distraction to take off, managing to get past Dark but didn’t get much further before Dark grabbed his leg and caused him to fall. 

“Do you really think you’re going to run away that easily? The only reason I haven’t snapped your neck is because I want to know how you got the information that you do have. You have to have a connection of some sort.” Dark’s grip on his leg was tight and it triggered Mad’s fight or flight. Mad kicked his other leg out, slamming it into Dark’s arm. Dark let go of him, not from pain, but from the shock that the small human was actually trying to fight back against him. 

Mad crawled over to the other table and grabbed his collapsed mallet. He had a moment to breathe and then was grabbed by the back of his shirt and thrown to one of the walls. His body slammed into one of the cabinets and shattered the glass. Mad cried out in pain, feeling some of the pieces slicing parts of his skin and blood dripping down. 

That hurt. 

“You little brat! Do you really think that stick of yours is going to do anything to me? You know damn well what I am and what I am capable of. Just give-” Dark stopped and caught the head of the fully formed mallet with his palm. Mad had swung while he was talking, it showing its true form mid-swing. “A mallet? Really?” The scoff soon turned into a harsh curse, a blade popping out of the mallet and stabbing into his hand. Dark pulled away and held his bleeding hand by the wrist. Mad scrambled back up to his feet the best he could, holding his mallet up and ready to fight. Dark hissed with pain, the wound slowly closing as he panted, angrier than before from Mad showing he had the potential to be more dangerous than first assumed. His intelligence wasn’t just for show by the looks of it. “Forget getting information. I can’t let you live.” 

“Stay back!” Mad gritted his teeth, still feeling the cuts from the glass but knowing he needed to fight. “Just stay back!” 

Dark was to Mad in a blink, prying his hands from the mallet easily and throwing it away from both of them. He cocked an arm back and, before Mad could process anything, punched him across the face hard enough to make him dizzy. Mad fell over and didn’t hit the ground, but his back was soon against the wall, hand on his throat and holding him up in the air. “Couldn’t just be happy with what you had, could you?” Dark snarled. 

“W-Wait.” Mad wheezed out, hands clawing at Dark’s arm to no prevail, feet kicking as it was becoming impossible to breathe. 

“I’ll make this quick and-” Dark paused when he was finally hit with the scent of Mad’s blood, of his body. He was coated in Mare’s scent. Inside and out, it was Mare. That shouldn’t be possible. Mare wasn’t here long enough to leave a scent on this man, even if he did ‘have fun’ that night, that scent would have been gone long ago, his blood would have circulated by now and he’d have washed the rest of it off. The only way for this scent to be as thick as it was and even so fresh was if Mare had been here for a good period of time. 

“Stop!” Mare’s cry was almost an echo in Dark’s head, it becoming a tackle to the side moments later. Mad took in a harsh gasp of air and started coughing, down on the ground but held by Mare. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I’m so sorry, Mad.” 

“Mare?” Dark blinked at the sight of Mare almost crying as he looked over Mad, trying to see what he could do to help him. 

“I knew it wasn’t just a one-nighter.” Wilford arrived mere moments after Mare did, having been told by Anti that he had run off after Dark, and was now next to Dark, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “We’ll have to take him to the house. Have Edward patch him up. Mare would never forgive you if you kill that human.” Dark made a sound of agreement and understanding.

“He’ll need to come with us, and we’ll need to sort out what to do next. We can’t just let him go. He’s in too deep.” 

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Tag List: (Feel free to ask to be added!)

@dungeon-dragons-dragons @justyoursicanon @angst-anonn @damnthedead

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #11)

Hey everyone! I wasn’t really happy with how this chapter came out so I reworked it a bit! Feel free to give it a fresh read!

Chapter #11. Alexander finally meets the human who's home he's trapped in.

Previous: Chapter #10

Next: Chapter #12

CW: Angst, injury, first meeting, adult language

________________________________________

A FRACTION OF JUSTICE

Chapter #11: Knock, Knock... Who's There?

Word Count: 3,967 Read Time: Approx. 31 mins

[Natalie’s POV]

Hunching over my laptop, my bloodshot eyes stinging from the artificial blue light of my display, I buried my head in my hands. Besides that annoying incident with my neighbor’s shitty fucking cat, I’d been at this for more hours than I was willing to count. I hadn’t slept in two days. Reflexively, I opened and closed my right hand, feeling the sting of long, snaking cat scratches beneath my lopsided bandaging job. Fuck, that’d hurt.

“Next time, I promise, I’ll just let you go, if you want out so bad…” There I went talking to no one, out loud, again. I groaned, slamming my hands down on the keyboard. This was what I got for cramming. I knew that. But I was still going to pout, all the same. Without looking up from the ocean of tiny PDF text on my screen, I reached absentmindedly for my coffee. What poured out onto my tongue was not the silky, chock full of sweetener and creamer, delicious roast I’d poured for myself at 4am… Instead, I tasted cold, gritty grinds at the bottom of my mug. I practically spit it all out all over my screen. Ugh, anything else you wanna throw at me, universe?

Rubbing my temples, I realized the inevitable: I wouldn’t make it if I didn’t caffeinate, like, right now. Pushing away from my desk, I snatched up the empty mug and shuffled off to the kitchen. Rocking sweatpants, a dirty, tomato sauce stained Millennium Falcon t-shirt, my hair up in a wild mop on my head and fuzzy socks on my feet, this wasn’t exactly my sexiest look. But I really didn’t give a shit, and it was my apartment, dammit, and I was alone, so what did it matter? Catching my reflection in the hallway mirror, however, I still managed to jump scare myself. Who was that monster looking back at me with her purple, rimmed eyes, chaotic hair and lopsided clothes she hadn’t changed in days? I looked like Rocky at the end of the first movie. Nat, you have got to stop cramming like this, you’re going to keel over at this rate.

Miserably, I shuffled into the kitchen, the bright light stung my eyes and made my head spin. As a rule, I hated bright light, I would dwell in a cave as long as it got a solid wifi signal. With that, I batted the light switch into submission and cast the room into darkness. Well, almost darkness…. For some reason the motion activated light from the pantry was on.

My brow furrowed. I hadn’t been in here for hours. Maybe a bag of chips or something had fallen from the shelf and triggered it. Shrugging, I made my way to the cracked door. It was easy for me to get distracted and just leave things half open like that… well, whatever, my house, my half-assed rules!

But as I rubbed my pained eyes and reached instinctually down for the bag of coffee grinds on the second lowest shelf, my bleary vision focused on one thing that I was certain didn’t belong.

Clinging like the world’s tiniest rock climber to the artificial cliff of white, wooden shelf, was a pet, legs all akimbo. He was holding on with his nails practically raking the cheap paint from the shelf. His grip wouldn’t last forever, and while the height was a meager few feet for me, barely coming up past my shin, it was quite the ominous drop for such a little thing. He must’ve shimmied up the case of water I’d just brought home yesterday. Where the hell did you come from? This is not where little guys like you are supposed to go.

“Well, hello there, little fella… what’re you doing in here? Trying to steal my granola bars?” I spoke softly, trying not to freak him out. I wasn’t exactly delighted that I had some rogue little animal running loose in my house, but I had no intention of hurting him. If I could keep him calm enough to scoop him up, I could at least keep him from wreaking havoc in my apartment. I tried not to make any sudden movements, the last thing I wanted was for him to dart off and hole himself up in some impossible to reach corner where I’d never be able to capture him. Bemused, I bent down with my hands on my knees to get a closer look. He was dangling there from the center of the bottom shelf, swinging wildly, trying to get his legs up enough to pull himself to the next level. Poor little thing, he was trying so hard with no luck at all. As I peered closer, I noticed first just how worse for wear he was, “Woah, you look like shit… what happened to you? You a little runaway?” He ignored me completely, focused solely on getting himself up. Rude. Couldn’t he tell I was just trying to help? Besides, what was the point in putting so much effort into climbing when I could just snatch him right up if I wanted to? And, once he did reach the shelf, what then? He had nowhere to go. His effort seemed adorably silly to me. 

He was covered head to toe in mud. His shirt was tearing at the seams and one of his blue pants legs was just gone, completely, at the knee. He had tiny little brown dress shoes, no bigger than the pad of my index finger. How strange. For someone who’d clearly been left outside for a while, his tattered clothes looked like they’d once been quite nice. What on earth was he doing tromping around in the mud in dress shoes? Was he lost? Separated from his family? He looked bruised and bloodied. He really had been through it, it seemed. I couldn’t tell what color his hair was, since it was so dirtied with grime. In fact, his whole face was difficult to make out. Plus, his back was to me.

I massaged my left temple. I didn’t really have time to nurse anything back to health right now or remember to feed and water a little life that relied on me. Knowing myself, I could see forgetting to feed him altogether and starving the poor thing! I didn’t want a pet. I didn’t have time for one. Not now. Not today. Besides they always kinda freaked me out… uncanny valley and what not. The whole concept had never set right with me. Weren’t they, basically, kinda like people? Rude little people who didn’t answer pointed questions, but people all the same.

I had an exam in less than twenty four hours, that at this rate, with all these distractions, I was practically guaranteed to fail. But… it would be incredibly cruel of me just to toss him out on the doorstep. Wouldn’t it? Little thief or no, he could clearly use my help. The least I could do was get him cleaned up before sending him on his way.

“Here, you’re gonna lose your grip swinging around like that… don’t be scared…lemme help.” I reached out with a finger and thumb to grab hold of his leg and lift him up, onto the shelf.

The second my hand came towards him, he snarled.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!!” Oh, feisty, are we? What’s got you all worked up?

Chuckling at this sudden outburst of aggression from something so small, I rested my weight back on my heels, and crouched down, watching him struggle. To his credit, he kept at it with valiant effort. I could hear his tiny huffs and grunts as he tuckered himself out. He seemed to notice I was still there, his little brow furrowed.

“What’re you doing? I told you to leave me alone.” You told me? Sassy little thing.

“No, you told me not to touch you. Now, I’m just waiting… you didn’t say there was anything wrong with waiting…”

Between puffs of air, “For… what… exactly?”

“For you to fall.”

“I… won’t…” 

For all his hard work, he finally reaped his reward. His heel dug into the top of the shelf, now he just needed something to grab on to, to pull himself over the edge. “S-see? I’m almost there…”

“Agree to disagree…” what he couldn’t see from his low vantage point, was that the box directly in front of him, the only one within his tiny reach, was empty. The second he tried to use the flimsy cardboard to anchor himself, he was guaranteed to slip and fall.

“Well, this is the part where I prove you wr-w-woah!!!” Check and mate, little man. My hands darted out beneath his falling form. He landed in a heap in my outstretched hand. He might’ve been rude as hell, but he was pretty fucking cute all curled up there in my cupped palm, eyes wide from the whiplash of being caught out of the air. His chest heaved as he laid back, squirming, eyes darting from side to side. No doubt, looking for a means of escape.

“Shhhh…. You’re alright, little one. Nothing to be afraid of, here…. Awww, your little hair is such a mess! It’s practically sticking straight up!” I reached out a finger to poke his gravity defying mop, when his whole body noticeably stiffened.

“I-I’m warning you! Don’t touch me!” His eyes darted briefly down to his hip, his hand following his gaze as if he were planning to reach for something. He stopped, this wasn’t going according to plan for him. He wriggled in my hand and looked down at the floor before huffing, as if disappointed. Had he lost something?

“You’re okay, just calm down… I’ll be gentle, I won’t hurt you…” the second my fingertip brushed against the tips of his mud-caked hair, he coiled back and without a moment’s hesitation, sunk his surprisingly sharp little teeth into the pad of my finger.

Ouch! I was so shocked I cried out and accidentally dropped him! From here, he had a much less dangerous distance to fall, at least. He landed with a little yelp of surprise, wincing in pain. “Son of a bitch!!! That hurt!” I looked at my finger, crimson blood beading at the surface. I stuck it in my mouth and sucked the iron rich liquid from the tiny wound. Okay, that was enough. I’d caught this little bastard breaking into my pantry with his grubby, greedy little hands and instead of beating him with a rolled up newspaper, I took pity on him and tried to help… and this was the thanks I got?? What was in the water today? Why did everyone’s pets want to disfigure me??

How dare he. Well, if he wanted to be treated like the disgusting little vermin he was, then fine, that’s what I’d do. He was recovering from his fall and trying to scramble to his feet. You’re not going anywhere, mister. “Alright, nope. That’s where I draw the line. I tried to help you, you little asshole. No more biting. Bad pet!” I shook my bloodied finger at him, while pressing my other index into his chest making him fall back, flat on the floor. Oh, if looks could kill. He was an angry little man, now. He fought fiercely against my hold, snarling and making all kinds of ugly little faces as he kicked and squirmed.

“Take your fingers off of me! And don’t speak to me like I’m five!”

“You fucking bit me! You don’t see that as a childish reaction?”

“I told you not to touch me! You didn’t listen! Now… Let. Me. Go!!”

He snarled wildly, spitting on the finger that held him captive, when I didn’t budge, “Did you just—?? Okay that’s it. You act like a rat, you go to rat jail… come here you little nightmare.” I plucked him up off the floor with a finger and thumb wrapped firmly around the circumference of his chest, pinning his arms, uselessly, to his sides. His face flushed bright red as he flexed and strained against my grip.

“Release me right now you insufferable, idiotic, madwoman!”

As he screamed his pathetic little demands at me, I rose to my feet and crossed the kitchen to the cabinet above my sink, fishing around for the item I knew was there. I gripped it with my free hand. As he locked eyes with it, he immediately understood.

Shouting at the top of his lungs, he wrenched and writhed, “You wouldn’t dare!”

With both hands full, I walked back to my office.

“Oh, I consider myself to be a pretty daring person…” I sat back in my swivel chair. He continued to squirm inside my fist. “Besides,” I continued, “What are you gonna do about it?” With one fell motion, I dropped him onto the surface of the desk (he only fell about a quarter of an inch to the wooden surface), before swiftly placing the heavy duty, clear glass mixing bowl over top, trapping him inside a crystal clear igloo of sorts.

He was irate. Screaming at me until his face turned blue. I’ll admit I was pretty amused by all his tiny fury. I gestured to my ears and shrugged, letting him know, “Sorry, little buddy, I can’t hear a damn thing coming out of your mouth right now…” he slammed his fists on the glass, leaving little smudges.

Sorry I had to put you in time out, but you’re making it impossible to get back to work. At least it was quiet now, well, besides the thunk, thunk, thunk of his little palms smacking the glass. I tried to ignore it as I scrolled to the next chapter. But, like the infuriating sound of a dripping faucet in the middle of the night, I finally reached my limit of listening to his muffled cries and pounding. Without looking over, I flicked the glass with my nail. Instead of the blessed silence I was expecting, I heard a distinct wailing and the tiny thud of his little body crashing to the floor.

I looked back down to see him crumpled on the ground, doubled over in pain, his hands hovering over the knee with the ripped slacks. Oh my god. My heart stuck in my throat. He was hurt! Badly hurt, based on his reaction. I must’ve unknowingly flicked his injured leg. I felt a pang of guilt wash through me. “No wonder you’re being such a little handful. You’re hurt and scared, aren’t you?” He looked up at me when the sound of my voice reverberated through the glass, not comprehending my words but searching for my face to tell how I was reacting. Poor little thing, he’d puffed himself up before to hide his weakness. Quickly, I lifted the dome up and away. He cowered. He was free from his makeshift prison, yes, but now there was no wall between us… I could easily grab him, if I wanted. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t shake… oh, poor little fella! Don’t tremble… Hey, I didn’t realize you were injured so badly. No wonder you were such a standoffish little prick. I’m sorry I reacted so strongly about you biting me. You were just trying to defend yourself, weren’t you? I see that now. I’m sorry I hurt you. I really didn’t mean to. Are you okay?” He nodded half heartedly. I didn’t think he really believed me. “Mind if I take a look? I won’t do anything to you unless you ask for my help, okay? I just wanna see what you’ve got going on, and it’s too little to tell from here.” With a terse nod and clenched jaw, he relented. I could see under his mask of neutrality, he was scared. He was forced to rely on me to be gentle and kind. Luckily, I had every intention of being just that. Brave little thing.

He was now splayed on the desk, both legs straight out in front of him, leaning his body weight back on the heels of his palms. I dragged my desk lamp with its bendable goose neck closer to where the little pet lay. He flinched at first, as if trying to get out of the way, “No, no. You stay put, I just wanted a better look, that’s all.” Fishing out a magnifying glass, which I kept for fine print and sifting though old documents, from my desk drawer, I gazed at his destroyed knee joint. It looked excruciating from this close. My mirror neurons kicked in as I winced in empathetic pain. “Jesus… that looks awful. What…. What happened to you?“ It’s like the joint had been crushed and torn with incredible force, his flesh was basically shredded.

Without looking up, he mumbled to the floor, “Dog…” Shit. Just about everything is poised to kill you at your stature, isn’t it? Oh! Was that why—???

“Elvis was chasing you! That’s why he went after the roses… you were in there, weren’t you? And I must’ve, unknowingly, carried you inside….” He was massaging his forehead methodically with his fingers as I spoke, when I finished, he looked up at me bleary-eyed. At first, I thought he’d finally softened. He’d been exposed, made vulnerable. We both knew how much he needed help, wether he liked it or not. But as he craned his neck straight up above him to look at me, his eyes hardened.

“Wow, we’ve got a real Sherlock Holmes here. Incredible deduction!” He even had the audacity to slow clap. Who did this little piece of work think he was?

“You’re awfully rude for someone who’s completely at my mercy right now. You want me to break the other leg so I guarantee you won’t run away?” I didn’t really mean it, of course. But I watched as his face grew a little paler and his mouth hung open, searching for words as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He stammered, coming up with nothing. I smirked, finally ran out of snarky remarks, huh? “That’s what I thought!”

Returning to the task at hand, I winced at how swollen and irritated his leg looked. “Hey, I know you hate me right now, but we need to get you all cleaned up before that wound gets infected. You willing to suffer in my company a little longer to get that taken care of?” His tensely crossed arms relaxed for a fraction of a second as I saw behind his veneer of stoic, sarcastic bravery and noticed a sparkle ignite behind his eye at the idea of being clean. It was the closest thing I’d seen to him expressing anything remotely positive. I’d take it as a baby step towards progress. “Is it okay if I pick you up?” He immediately stiffened again, making a face. He clenched his jaw, tendons, however tiny, rising to the surface of his cheek. What’s your deal little man? I’m not gonna torture you, or anything. You’ve got to get to the bathroom, somehow, and it’ll take you hours all by yourself. Avoiding my eyes, he calculated the impossibility of the situation and accepted that he’d have to be touched, before giving a curt nod. “Thank you, I’ll be very careful…” Gently this time, I gathered his limp, pathetic little body into my waiting palms. Pinching him just under his arms with a thumb and forefinger, I guided him to a sitting position in my cupped hand. I stared intently at his eyes, looking for any sign of pain I may be causing him before carting him off to the bathroom. He refused to look at me.

Setting him down on the counter, and plugging the sink, I filled the basin with enough hot water for him to soak in, but not too much to keep him from having to swim. He zeroed in on the drain for some reason, seeming distracted, distant. “Hey! Were you even listening to me?” He blinked rapidly as his eyes floated up to meet mine, if only for a moment. When he wasn’t all red in the face from screaming at me, he was positively adorable. I caught a flash of bright, almost icy blue irises before he cast his gaze down again. Cute little thorn in my side. “Like I said, I don’t have time to sit here and babysit you, so if you need something you can text my computer from my phone. See?” I pulled the device from my pocket and waved it in front of him. It was a big as he was! He hardly looked up. I couldn’t tell if he was paying attention or even understanding what I was saying, “Look, here, you just press these keys. Like this…You can keyboard mash anything you like, I’ll know it’s from you. Then, hit this little button and it’ll send. See! It’s like magic! Ooh! Pretty cool huh? You can even send little pictures with faces and hearts and stuff, that’s pretty aweso—“

His head suddenly snapped up, he looked disgusted, “Oh, do shut up, will you? I know how to use a phone. And I’m perfectly literate. I’m not nearly as stupid and incompetent as you seem to think I am.” Did… did this tiny man just tell me to shut up? My heart beat quickened. I didn’t know wether to be angry or impressed. For someone so tiny, the guy had balls. He was lucky he’d stumbled into the apartment of someone with a conscience. We’d only just met and he was already getting on my last nerve. I blinked rapidly for a moment, recovering.

“Well, Professor Pipsqueak, in case you forgot, you’re not innately born with the ability to read, either. Someone had to teach you those big SAT vocabulary words… most owners don’t bother to do that… After all, what’s the point?” He scoffed, something hit a nerve there, but it only made me more defensive, “Forgive me if I didn’t just immediately jump to the conclusion that some human had taken the time to familiarize you with the written word and modern tech. How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Why did I decide to rescue you, again? Oh yeah, because I have a heart, or whatever. I didn’t think this little ball of rage had ever possessed such a thing. Why couldn’t I have gotten lucky and found a sweet, docile pet that would just sit by quietly and look cute while I studied? How did I end up with this little shit instead?

“Well?” I was broken from my train of thought, he stood there, hands on hips, “Are you going to leave, now?” I just stared at him. What was this little guy’s problem? He sighed tersely, crossing his arms, “Any day now, before all the water gets cold…” He literally shooed me with his hands! I was going to have to have a come to Jesus meeting with this pet and his attitude! Steam started to erupt from my ears for just a moment, before I tamped it down, breathing slowly. He was clearly in a bad way, maybe being a little asshat was how he needed to cope. I let it slide.

“Just text me if you’re drowning or dead or something… cool?”

He gave me a hard sarcastic stare, before eyeing the water greedily. I’m sure it would feel amazing to get clean after what it seemed like he’d been through. With that, I closed the door and gave my pocket-sized burglar a chance to relax on his own.

I wondered, maybe not too absentmindedly, how long it would take for a wound like that to heal. Surely not anytime soon. Maybe I’d just unknowingly adopted this tiny creature? Certainly, for the time being, at least. I wondered how long I’d be able to stand his attitude before wanting to throttle the life out of the little guy. What a strange pet. I wondered if he’d be less cranky after getting clean… only time would tell.

[crashdevlin]

Opposites Don’t Attract (A Witcher Fic)

Author’s Note: This was written while I was fighting Covid19...so I’m pretty proud of that. I'm aware that not everyone likes the Witcher but this was the only thing that would could out of my head that week so...

I took bits of lore from the show, the books, and the games and mixed them all up into a cohesive awesomeness...also, the smut is pretty good, but the banter is where it's at with this one. If you guys like this, I might make it a series...so, let me know how you're feeling on it.

Summary:  Y/n is a witcher from the Cat School (a nomadic school that is one of the few that actually makes female witchers) who keeps running into Geralt of Rivia...to her great pleasure.

Pairing: Geralt x Female Witcher!Reader, mentions of Geralt x Yennefer and Geralt x Triss Merigold

Word count: 3869

Story Warnings: 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of infertility, little bit of angst (it's a Cassie story...what do you expect?)

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It wasn’t often you crossed paths with the White Wolf. The Continent was vast and you both had work to do. But it was always a treat when you walked into a tavern and smelled the man.

"Geralt. What brings you to Kagen?" you asked, taking the stool next to him at the bar.

"A contract."

"Always so succinct, Wolf...and just a bit disrespectful. Isn't my school the one that's supposed to birth disreputable thugs?"

Amber eyes turned on you as you fiddled with your medallion, a silver coin with a cat's head on a silver chain. It hung right between your breasts and never came off.

"Here to kill a monster...or be a monster?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.

A zing of indignant fury went through you but you stifled it instinctively. "I haven't taken a contract against a human in nearly twenty years. I've learned the error of my ways. I told you as such when we met last. Remember? The bard's impromptu celebration in Lyria." He grunted softly at you and looked away. "You do remember, don't you, Geralt?"

"My memory is fine, Feline."

"Then you remember folding me in on myself and making my body quake?" You set your hand on his thigh and watched his face for a reaction.

He gave no indication he even noticed your fingers over the conditioned leather. "Since when do you call them 'humans'? When last we met, you were still calling them by the slur."

You rolled your eyes. "That was a single slip. Another thing I've seen the error on. I've developed, I've grown. You have to admit that some things are hard to shake, like a word you shouldn't say or a prejudice you were taught as a small child. I wasn't really given a choice on who to sympathize with in the conflict. Cats and Elves, we go together. Call it a commiseration of outcasts."

He let out a long sigh before dropping his hand to yours. "You talk too much, Cat."

"Well, someone has to fill the silence around you. Jaskier doesn't seem to be around right now, so I'll take that mantle." You licked your lips and hummed as his fingertips slowly caressed the back of your hand. "I could help you fulfill your contract. Two witchers are better than one. What are you after?"

He turned his head just enough to catch your eyes. "You want to help me?"

"I want to fuck you, but I feel you're going to be distracted until you've got your coin so I might as well hasten that instance."

"Can I trust you to have my back in battle?"

You pulled your hand away and shook your head. "If I can alter my preconceived notions of humans, you can alter your notions of Felines. Or, in the very least, of me." You caught his eyes and held them without blinking. "I have known you for decades, Geralt. Can you trust me to have your back?"

He held your eyes for a few moments before he picked up his ale. "It's a graveir. Strength is more important than speed."

"Well, then I'll just have to pull its attention and hope it is hungry for witcher." You smiled. "And you can kill it before it eats me."

He smiled just a bit as he set his mug down. "Perhaps I'll let it eat you, kill it while it is sated and happy."

"Aww, but then the great White Wolf would never get to eat his fill of this Feline ever again."

He smirked as you set a coin on the bar and requested an ale of your own. "And what brought you to Kagen, Y/n?"

You smiled at the use of your name. "Tracking a man." His eyebrow went up so you clarified. "Just tracking. He's a historian. There's some question of the authenticity of some of the Aen Seidhe artifacts he's 'found'. He's at the whore house two down so I thought I'd have a drink while he was busy. A lucky stroke to find you."

"If you help me with the graveir, you might lose him."

You took a drink of your ale and turned on the stool. "You think we can't take down a graveir and have a fun night before a middle-aged human historian wakes from his well-deserved nap after a night of lust away from his wife?" You leaned next to his ear and whispered, "Are you underestimating me or yourself?"

"I could never underestimate you." He tipped his head back and finished off his ale and you chugged down your own. It was time to work.

As you moved to follow Geralt out of the tavern, a tall man with a sunburned face stepped in front of you.

"I didn't know they made witchers with tits," the foul-smelling farmer said with a guffaw at the end for good measure.

"Well, you've never seen the Butcher of Blaviken with his shirt off, have you?" you snapped, stepping away from him.

"You're a real one, then? You got the eyes, I see. They do all those mutations on you? Hear witchers are like a bitch in heat but cain't procreate. Now there's a perfect woman, right? Always ready to be filled, but never able to give me any more little brats."

Geralt sneered at the man's words but you just shook your head. "I guarantee no woman wants to be filled by you or your brats. Especially not this woman."

The drunk looked offended for a moment before he scoffed. "You're not a woman. You're a fuckin' mutant. Wouldn't want your-"

A blade was in your hand and held against his throat in a flash. "I'm a fucking mutant and a fucking woman and I want nothing to do with you."

"Apologize," Geralt demanded, quiet and intent.

The drunk looked down at the knife and blinked a few times, then nodded. "Sorry."

Your blade was back in its sheath on your hip before he could take another breath. "Let's go, Geralt."

"Hmm." He pulled open the large wooden door and walked out, you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"When's the last time you saw the Caravan?" Geralt asked as you headed for the woods.

"You really don't think I've changed, do you?" He gave a noncommittal grunt so you rolled your eyes. "Even after that slime back at the tavern? I didn’t kill him. I didn't even hurt him. I didn't even spout off and call him a...well, if anyone deserves to be slurred, it's a man like that and I held my tongue." You reached out and slapped your hand across his chain mail. "Haven’t seen hide nor hair of Dyn Marv in…"

You rubbed your fingers across your eyes and shook your head. "I abandoned the Caravan the day I met you. The ideals were harder to shirk but I left my school the moment I realized that Gezras wasn't quite the savior they claimed. You had it right. You and the others up at Kaer Morhen, you know how...how a witcher's supposed to act. You were trained in the codes and morals, I wasn't."

"No, you were trained blindfolded on a tightrope across the rooftops of Oxenfurt."

"Let it never be said that Cat School is without our flair." You smiled over at him. "And it was Oxenfurt, the Cintran Capital, and Vengerberg. Nomads and all that."

Geralt looked over at you and smiled. "I can imagine the Cintran guard were very happy to have a bunch of witchers crawling across their roofline."

"Oh none of them ever cared for having a bunch of witchers in their city let alone running training exercises across their roofs. But not a one tried to stop us. You'll recall, there was a time when most feared and respected us more than they hated us."

"I don't recall people ever fearing Cat School," he teased.

"Ah-ha, you're so hilarious, Geralt. My sides are in stitches from all this laughter," you responded dryly.

You walked in relative silence for a few moments, your boots making no sound on the tall grass. "I didn't know meeting Vesemir affected you so much," he said eventually.

"Oh, yes. It was wise old Vesemir that showed me the error of my ways, not the dashing white-haired man who rode into Novigrad after him."

"Dashing. That's a new one."

"I'm absolutely certain it is not a new one, Geralt. Not for any woman who's had the pleasure to make your acquaintance." Your cheeks heated up in a way you imagined his never did. Wolves dulled emotion. So did Bears, and Vipers, and most schools. Most pushed down emotions to make a witcher less susceptible to fear and anger and sadness. Cat School was different. You were reminded of that every time you were around Geralt. "I bet 'dashing' would be one of the first words they'd use to describe you: the Triss Merigolds and Yennefer of Vengerbergs of the world."

He looked over at you as you approached a cemetery filled with recent dead from a bandit attack on the outskirts of Kagen. "Hmm. Is that jealousy I hear?"

"No!" you responded just a little too loud. "What do I have to be jealous of? They're two supernaturally beautiful sorceresses who've been part of your life much longer than I have. Besides, none of us really gets you for more than a night or two, right?"

He grunted softly in agreement, then offered a potion from his belt. You took it and swallowed it down, feeling your already-fast reflexes get a boost. "You're supernaturally beautiful too. It will make you better graveir bait."

You couldn’t focus on the compliment he'd given you as he pointed to a bloated ghoul digging into a fresh grave with short, strong claws. He was gone by the time you looked back but you could sense him moving around the outside of the cemetery.

Normally, this was the point when you'd draw your silver; approaching a ghoul as it ripped a limb from a corpse to make its meal for the night. The sword stayed on your back with your steel, however. You were to take its attention so Geralt could kill it from behind.

It was fairly easy, actually. You and Geralt, working in tandem, had the graveir as dead as his dinner before there was a chance for real trouble. It noticed you, it rushed you, you dodged and dodged and threw a punch or three to its ugly face and then Geralt appeared in your vision and the graveir met the sharp blade of a witcher's silver sword. No muss, very little fuss, and very little blood.

"You did good as bait," Geralt commented as you walked back toward the city. "Maybe I should have you play the snack on hunts more often."

"Oh? A snack for the monsters or a snack for yourself?"

"I'm serious. We work well together."

"It's not the first time we've worked together."

There had been, in fact, two other monsters that you helped Geralt with. A wraith terrorizing a man in Novigrad that you helped him with when you first met each other and a wyvern you encountered on the road. Geralt happened to have the contract on the wyvern and showed up to take it down as you were in the midst of killing it.

He graciously shared a portion of the coin garnered from his contract.

He hummed in acknowledgement. “You should come with me.”

You stopped and turned to look at him. “What?”

“Once you’ve fulfilled your contract on the historian, you should saddle up and travel with me. You said it yourself, ‘two witchers are better than one’.”

You looked up into his eyes and blinked a few times. “You miss Vesemir so much that you would travel with me just to have another witcher at your side?”

“Why don’t we leave it at ‘I enjoy your company’?” he suggested.

You started walking again, heading toward your mare, a Konik named Daisy, and Geralt’s mare, Roach. “Will you be staying in Kagen for a while?”

“I have a room at the inn. I can stay in Kagen until you return.”

“You’re serious about me coming with you? I thought sweet nothings were whispered in the throes of passion, not in the aftermath of battle.”

“You don’t have to come with me, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “I’ll have to think about it, Geralt.” You didn’t want to anger any sorceresses. You climbed up into Daisy’s saddle and grabbed her reins. “For now, let’s go to the inn. A bath and a bed sound amazing,” you said, before riding toward the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tub was small but you weren’t large. “How do you fit in this thing?” you asked, dunking yourself under the warm water.

“I’m very good at fitting into tight spaces.” Geralt stepped up behind you and kneeled down, setting his chin on your bare shoulder. “Do you need help getting clean?”

“No. But I’d love a bit of help getting dirty again after I’m done.” He hummed and nodded, turning his head to press his lips to your neck. You hummed happily and turned your head to give a bit more access and he took the invitation, running his hand down your body and under the water. You gasped as his fingers brushed your curls. “I’m not clean yet, Geralt.”

“Clean enough.”

You pressed closer to him, arching your hips and reaching back to grab the back of his head, pulling him further down. “More,” you whispered. He chuckled, slipping a finger down to tease your entrance. “Fuck, don’t tease.”

“Why not?” He nipped at your jawline and gave a low hum. “You know...the first time I heard your voice, I knew I’d have to hear you moan.” You gasped as his finger slipped into you down to the knuckle, your fingers digging into his scalp as the heel of his palm pressed into your clit. “I knew I’d have to feel you cum on my cock when I smelled you in the heat of battle.”

You moaned at the thought of Geralt, barely knowing your name, deciding that he’d have to have you just based on scent. It was something so animalistic, so inhuman...so uniquely witcher.

You twisted in the water and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. You didn’t wait for an invitation into the cavern of his mouth, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as he gathered your body in his arms and carried you to the lumpy bed across the room. You pushed at his clothes without breaking the kiss, desperate to taste and feel him. Your fingers skimmed across the lines of his back muscles as you pulled his shirt off. His fingertips dug into your hips and moved to put bruising pressure on your ass as you started untying his trousers.

The man was a specimen. The mages at Kaer Morhen made the best of him. You didn’t have time to examine the body and the cock that were so prominent in your wettest dreams because he was obviously just as desperate for you. He got his trousers down and reached between your bodies, taking his length in hand and smearing the head of it in the wetness seeping out of you. You were just about to start begging when he slipped his cock into your cunt.

You lifted your hips to get more of him inside of you. You needed him stretching you and stuffing you. You needed him pushing you to the absolute limits. He fit you better than any ever had.

He rocked his hips against yours, his pelvis putting pressure against your clit as his cock barely moved against your walls. You wrapped your legs around him, ankles crossed at the small of his back, urging him deeper. He growled and grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands from his shoulders to pin them to the bed above your head.

No other man could put you in such a position. No other man controlled you like Geralt. You would never think to let it happen. No man, not even another witcher, could play you like such a fine instrument. A beautiful lute.

Part of you wished you didn't heal so efficiently, so quickly. Part of you wanted to wear his marks upon you for days, but his marks, just like the scent of your coupling, faded far too quickly for your liking. It left you with nothing but the memory and that just wasn't enough. Not when the man you were remembering was so...amazing.

You whimpered out a faint request and he heeded it, slamming his hips into yours harder. You struggled against his grip, desperate to get your hands in his hair, wanting to tug on the white locks, but he refused to relinquish control of your wrists. He gave you everything you needed, but not necessarily what you wanted.

Like you wanted to hear his voice, but the only time you really needed to hear it was when he leaned down next to your ear and demanded, “Cum, Cat.” Your toes curled and your head pressed back into the pillow, your hips arching closer to his as that finally cracking pleasure fell over you. Geralt lasted a while longer before he filled you, his cock pulsing against your walls as his breath caught in his chest, fingers tightening around your wrists as he came.

He pressed sweet kisses along your jawline as he pulled his half-hard member from your dripping pussy and his hands released your wrists to slide his fingers up to entwine with yours. You ended up with your legs tangled with his, neither of you seeming to care about the wetness of sweat and cum sticky between both of your thighs. You kept one of your hands clutched in his, but pulled the other away so that you could run your fingers through his hair as you stared at the ceiling.

“Do you give it much thought?” you asked, quietly. He made a questioning noise and popped open one eyelid to look up at you from where his head was on your breast. Your cheeks heated up and you licked your lips. “What they did to us. What the mages made of us. What they took from us.”

“Took?”

“Options. The options they took from us. We were children, Geralt. We were babies. They stole…” You cut your words off with a shake of your head. “I guess I’m the only one who thinks about it...and I can’t really imagine being some normal peasant wife with a litter of children and a world of misery, but I...I guess there’s some sweetness in the simplicity of their lives, you know? And I hate that I was never given that option. I was deprived of simplicity before I was even aware there was a difference between the folk in the Caravan and the rest of the world.”

Geralt was silent, but the way his fingers tightened their grip upon your hand filled you with a sense of calm. “People hate us, Geralt. They think us heartless, emotionless, cold. I learned to fake it, because that’s what people expect from someone with two blades on their back and these lovely eyes, but-”

“Cat School doesn’t dull emotions.”

“No. Not even with training. That’s a learned reaction to the outside world. I miss Dyn Marv fiercely sometimes because it’s...lonely away from people who understand. It’s hard to walk the Continent alone.”

He closed his eye and shifted a bit against you. “Why aren’t you with them, then?”

“Differences of morality.”

He was silent for a few minutes, just the sound of your breathing filling the room. “Opposites attract.”

“What?”

“It’s something the bard says. The idiot heard it from an alchemist once and he likes to believe it applies to relationships too. It’s why he goes after beautiful, cultured, married women. ‘Opposites attract’.” He sat up and looked down into your eyes. “But it’s horseshit. We look for companions that remind us of us. It’s why all of his women are as enamored with him as he is. Opposites don’t attract, Y/n...and that’s why you are someone I can’t say ‘no’ to.”

“Because we’re so alike?” you guessed.

“Yes.”

“Just because I’ve changed though, right?”

“No. You changed because you weren’t truly that woman. You were what the mages made you. What your teachers made you. You changed when you decided to.”

You licked your lips again and sat up a bit on your elbows. “What about your sorceresses?”

He smirked a little. “I don’t have sorceresses, Y/n.”

“Lovers. Ex or current?” you simplified the question.

“Current. Obviously,” he said, sarcastic humor in his voice as he ran his hand down your body.

You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore the way his touch lit your skin aflame with sparks of desire. “Geralt, I’m serious. If Yennefer were to ride into Kagen right now...if she knocked on that door…”

“Yen would just walk in. She’s never been one for other peoples’ privacy.” He leaned his head down when you didn’t express amusement at his jest, pressing his forehead to yours. “I could lie.”

“Not really. You’ve not proven yourself a good liar, Wolf.”

“True. I prefer honesty.” He sighed and looked away, sitting up to lean his back against the wall.

“Would you turn her away? Would you turn away Triss?” You sighed heavily. “I’m not trying to sound...like such a sodding woman, but...Geralt, you asked me to come with you. That seems like-” His pensive face made you question what you were even trying to get at. “You know what? I think it’d be better if I just head back to my job following Professor Lery and-”

“Don’t.” He grabbed your arm as you moved to get off the bed. “I care for Triss and I think I...loved Yennefer. But I...don’t think we’ll be an option again. She’s been upset at me since Triss.”

“Won’t this-”

“Stop questioning everything.” You closed your eyes as he leaned over and kissed you again. “Stay.”

“I have to finish the contract, Geralt. I’ve already been paid a hundred-fifty gold for it.”

“Then come back,” he demanded softly.

You smiled at him and nodded, but your heart was far less resolute than you were pretending. “Of course. Don’t go anywhere.” You rolled off the bed and grabbed your trousers and shirt, dressing hastily before grabbing your swords and potion belt. You kissed him one more time before leaving the room, swiping a loaf of bread off of a table in the tavern on your way out.

You weren’t sure if you were coming back to him. You wanted nothing more, but you weren’t looking forward to the moment one of his sorceresses came to call. “I’ll decide while I finish this job,” you told your horse, patting her lovingly. “Maybe it should just stay you and me, huh, Daisy. Maybe two witchers aren’t better than one.”

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 6

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 3,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: cuteness and maybe sorta suggestive content (idk man I tried), misunderstandings, hurt feelings, big sad

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

Another Author’s Note: This is a small chapter because the second half is from Yoongi’s POV and being posted separately. There is a lot of potentially triggering content in that section. You can totally skip it and just pick up on the next chapter if you want to!

When most of your boys were sick, everyone involved was miserable. They required near constant attention from either you or one of the other guys, and whined like they might actually be dying. The only exception to this rule was Jimin, who just got extra sweet and cuddly when he was ill; and now, Yoongi.

Just when you thought the cat could not get any cuter, he managed to do it. With his sleepy, puffy eyes, extra pink button nose, and need to be near you all the time since he couldn’t seem to get warm, he was just about melting you into the ground at every interaction. It had taken a lot of willpower to drag yourself away from him that morning. After several long minutes of coaxing you’d managed to untangle yourself from him and the mountain of blankets on your bed (which he had at some point started sharing with you almost every night.)

When you went back to check on him in the afternoon you found him shivering with a chill. You made him take some cold medicine in hopes he could sleep off the worst of it. Then you tucked his blankets tighter around him and he leaned into your warm touch.

“Noona, m’cold,” he mumbled, face half obscured by his covers.

“I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.” 

He whined pathetically as you pulled away from him, catching your sleeve and holding on like a lifeline. “Don’t go,” he said. He nuzzled into the bed further, attempting to drag you with him. 

You sighed, willpower quickly failing you. It was the middle of the week, and business had been slow all day. What’s the harm in quitting early? “Okay, let me go tell Jungkook I’m done for the day.” You thought you heard a happy chirp, as he released you. Yoongi was less conscious of hiding his more cat-like traits when he was sleepy, drunk, or evidently, ill.

You returned to Jungkook out front, taking off and hanging up your apron.

“How is he?” Jungkook asked.

“Not so good. I think I need to go back and keep an eye on him. You okay to finish up on your own?”

“No problem, we’ve only got an hour til closing anyway. Go take care of him.” Jungkook shooed you towards your apartment with a smirk. 

You frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s with your face?” you asked, spinning to face him.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he answered innocently as he pushed you through the door.

You rolled your eyes, but ignored him. As quickly as you could you warmed up Yoongi’s tea, helping him sit up so he could drink it. The medication seemed to be taking affect, his eyelids getting heavy and his speech a little slurred. Yoongi was cooking you alive these last couple nights in his attempts to stay warm so you changed into a tank top and some sleep shorts. He handed you his now empty mug and you set it aside before crawling under the covers next to him. He immediately curled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, tangling your legs together, and tucking his face into your neck just below your jaw. 

He hummed contentedly when you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his hair and ears. You laid like that for a moment, his breathing slow and hot against your neck. You actively tried to not think about how his body was pressed up against yours, or how soft his lips felt brushing up against your throat with every intake of breath. 

It was going okay until his lips pressed against your skin with a little more force. You stiffened a bit. He was asleep though, didn’t even know what he was doing. You brushed his hair away from his face and scratched his back. 

“Yoon?” you said softly, hoping he’d wake up a little. Instead, he pressed his lips to your neck again, and this time you felt the slight brush of his teeth as he placed an open mouthed kiss over your pulse. A gasp escaped your lips as the kisses became stinging. What the hell? Was he just biting you?

“Yoongi!” you yelped, pulling away from him a little. He whined and moved after you. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips and pulled you back to him, continuing to kiss your collarbone in a way that was sure to leave bruises. This was a cat thing, right? Jimin bit you once when he got a little too chilled out while you played with his hair. Yoongi wasn’t even conscious right now; didn’t even know what he was doing. The boy in question hummed happily, a purr rumbling through his chest as he settled in, warm and safe in his medicated haze. Your fingers gripped the back of his sweater tighter as you felt his tongue peek out to soothe the marks he’d made.

It seemed that every time you tried to escape his grasp you only made your situation worse. If you could really call it that. Part of you, a pretty big part in fact, was enjoying this. After a couple more attempts to detach yourself from the groggy cat, you gave up, holding him close and trying to ignore the heat that rushed through you as his hands kneaded at your hips.

After what felt like hours he finally fell still, purrs fading to the silent, steady breaths of sleep. Once you were sure he was out you managed to escape him and quickly fled to the living room. You glanced at the mirror by the door and ran your fingers through your hair, pulling it aside to evaluate the state of your neck. Yep, he definitely left some marks. You were going to have to pull out a turtleneck or a scarf to wear for work tomorrow. Grabbing a hair tie off the end table, you tied your hair into a messy bun. It was way too hot in your apartment all of a sudden, so you went to the kitchen and opened the window. As you got started on dinner you found your thoughts drifting back to the man in the next room. Shaking the image from your head, you grabbed your laptop and put on a show on Netflix.

You took some soup into Yoongi and got him to finish a whole bowl before he passed out again. After putting away the leftovers you grabbed a hoodie, then crawled back under the covers with him. Again, he clung to you like he was magnetized. You were cooking in the sweatshirt, but at least you weren’t at risk of a heart attack with Yoongi’s drugged-up mischief. His grabby hands kneading at your body and the brush of his thumbs over the bare flesh where your top rode up were still very distracting though. Needless to say, you didn’t sleep much.

The next morning you woke up from an hour or so of dozing and got up to get ready for the day. You were soaked in sweat from too many layers and the anxiety of a needy cat glued to you the whole night. You took a shower and tied your wet hair into a bun, not wanting to wake Yoongi with a hair dryer. You tried to be quiet as you rummaged through your closet and pulled out a black turtleneck top with tank sleeves. Not exactly spring fashion, but it covered the marks on your neck. You paired it with a black pencil skirt and your comfortable flats, did your makeup and slipped out of the apartment into the cafe.

Jimin was already waiting at the door. As usual, he slipped through the door and immediately wrapped you in a hug, nuzzling into you. He pulled away and looked you over, a brow raised.

“What?” you asked, returning the questioning look.

“You smell like Yoongi-hyung. Like, even more than usual.”

“Of course I smell like him. He’s sick, so he’s been glued to me trying to stay warm.”

Jimin smirked, but didn’t press the issue.

You went about your normal routine for the morning. It was a Friday, so most of your customers were commuters hurrying to work, leaving the shop relatively empty once the rush faded. At around noon Taehyung and Jungkook stopped by. They had the afternoon off so they agreed to come and stay with Yoongi for you. Movie night was still on, provided Yoongi was feeling up to it. Both boys hurried behind the counter to greet you, and they reacted similarly to how Jimin had. Tae sniffed at the collar of your turtleneck suspiciously.

“Oh my god!” he cried as he pulled away. He looked at the other two for agreement. Jimin chuckled, while Jungkook blushed and looked away. Tae reached for your shirt collar and tugged it down a little. “Oh my god!” he shouted again. Jimin burst out laughing and Jungkook blushed even redder, if that was even possible, when they saw the marks on your neck. 

“I told you,” Jimin said. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“For what?” you asked, already not liking where this was going. “What were you betting on?”

“When you and Yoongi-hyung would get together,” Taehyung said. “I thought you’d take at least another month to figure it out.”

“I didn’t bet, noona,” Jungkook said, but even he was smiling mischievously. “But I am happy for you.”

“What are you talking about? Me and Yoongi aren’t together.”

“Noona,” Tae whined. “Come on. You can’t hide it from hybrids. We know he’s the one who marked you.” He nodded at your neck.

You scoffed. “These? He was barely conscious from the cold medicine I gave him last night. He didn’t even know what he was doing.”

The boys looked at you, incredulous. “You can’t be serious,” Jimin said.

“Of course I’m serious. There’s nothing going on between Yoongi and me! And never will be. I don’t look at him that way. Don’t make things weird,” you scolded. The boys glanced over your shoulder and you turned as you heard the kitchen door bang shut. You just caught the back of a blond head disappearing back to the apartment. You looked back to the boys with a deer-in-headlights expression.

“Well, s***,” Jungkook said, accurately expressing your feelings at that moment. “You should go talk to him.”

Mind racing, you followed Yoongi.

“Yoon?” you said as you entered the apartment. He had his shoes and jacket on, standing by the door. “Hey, where are you going? You’re still sick, you shouldn’t be going out.”

“I’m fine, noona. Just need some air.”

You approached him slowly. “What’s going on? Is something wrong? Was it something I said? I really don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us.”

“No, it’s nothing you said. It’s me. I’m such an idiot. I’ve been so stupid.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it anxiously.

“What? No. No, sweetheart. You haven’t done anything-”

“I thought- I actually believed-” Cut himself off with a quiet, bitter laugh. It wasn’t malicious; it was empty, as if all the soul had drained out of him. “Stupid.” 

And with that, he turned the handle and stepped outside, the door clicking shut behind him. You stood for a moment, dazed, then ran to the door. You slipped on your shoes and hurried after him, but by the time you stepped onto the street he was already out of sight. You ran to the street corner, scanning for his blonde hair and black ears, then ran to the other when you didn’t see him. He was gone. You ran a hand through your hair and returned to the apartment. 

A quick once over of the place revealed that he took his phone and his wallet. That, at least, was a relief. Jungkook poked his head through the door.

“Everything okay?” he asked uncertainly.

“He’s gone. Said he needed some air and then he just ran off,” you said.

Jungkook cursed again. “Why’d you have to say that, noona?”

“What are you talking about? Do you know what’s wrong? If you do you’d better tell me right now!” Your voice was rising as you started to panic. What had you said. What if Yoongi didn’t come back. “He kept saying he was stupid, that it was his fault. What did I say? Why is he so upset?”

“Noona, I love you,” Tae chimed in, emerging from the door behind Jungkook. “But you are an idiot sometimes.”

“Tae, this isn’t funny-” you cried

“He’s in love with you,” Tae said. His face showed that he was entirely serious.

“What? No, he isn’t,” you said.

“Why are you arguing this? You love him too,” Jungkook said.

“Of course I love him! But he can’t know that. You didn’t tell him, did you?” The boys looked at you, clearly confused. “I never want him to feel like he owes me anything. He doesn’t have romantic feelings for me, and that’s okay.”

Jungkook groaned, clearly getting frustrated. “For someone with so many hybrids in their family, you really have no clue. The way he treats you, touches you, looks at you; that’s how we treat our mate. He clearly chose you months ago.”

You blinked, not comprehending. “I-”

“Marks like that,” Taehyung added, pointing at your neck. “It’s instinct. He wanted other guys to know that you guys belong to each other. The medication might’ve made him brave enough to do it, but he definitely meant it.”

“Oh god. I’ve gotta call him.” You pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang and rang before finally going to voicemail. The second time, you only got one ring before it went straight to voicemail. “He rejected the call,” you said. Tears were gathering in your eyes. “What do I do?”

The boys looked at each other, obviously worried. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Tae tried to reassure you, but his tone only made you worry more.

You sent at least a dozen texts begging Yoongi to pick up, but he didn’t even read them. You called Namjoon, and he hurried over immediately after he got off work. All the guys arrived for your movie night, but Yoongi still wasn’t home. It was getting dark and you truly started to panic. What if someone hurt him? You thought back to that night you found him, beaten and terrified, in the alley behind the cafe. You all sat around the table trying to think of a way to reach him. The guys all tried calling him, but he rejected all of their calls too.

“Wait a second!” You all jumped as Jungkook suddenly spoke. “What kind of phone does he have, noona?” 

“The same as mine,” you said, holding up your phone.

“You’re on the same family plan, right?” he continued. You nodded. “We can use find my phone on your device to track his.”

You unlocked the phone and shoved it into his hands. He worked quickly, pulling up the app and pinging Yoongi’s phone. A minute later, you had a dot on the map where his phone supposedly was. 

“Someone should wait here, in case he comes back,” you said. Jin, Hoseok, and Tae volunteered to stay. You, Jimin, and Jungkook followed Namjoon and piled into his car. He drove as you used the little dot on your map to direct him. It led you a couple blocks away, near the park Yoongi liked to take walks in. You opened the door and jumped out before the car was even totally stopped. Ignoring Namjoon’s scolding, you looked around frantically calling Yoongi’s name. 

“He isn’t here!” you cried. “Is this thing wrong?”

“Maybe, or maybe he dropped his phone. Let’s look around a bit,” Jungkook suggested. You spread out, scanning the sidewalk and looking under benches for Yoongi’s phone.

“Over here!” Jimin called a moment later. You ran to where he stood, holding a phone. You looked the device over.

“It’s his,” you confirmed. The screen was cracked, but when you checked the lock screen it was a picture from your movie night several weeks ago. “But this isn’t right. He takes such good care of his stuff. And you should’ve seen his face when I got him this. Even if he dropped it, he’d never just lose it.” You looked around the surrounding shadows of the park, calling out for Yoongi again. Namjoon looked around as well, eyes settling on the convenience store across the street.

“This spot should be on that security camera.” He pointed. “Maybe we can see which way he went from here.”

You nodded, already stepping to cross the street. Jungkook caught your arm, stopping you from stepping out before you checked for traffic.

“Noona, careful!” he said as a car passed a moment later. You pulled your arm free and glanced both ways before darting across the road. You burst into the convenience store and made a b-line for the register. The cashier looked confused and a little terrified as you blurted out your request.

“Do you have the recordings from that camera?”

“What…? I mean, yeah. Why?” the young man asked.

“We’re looking for a hybrid.” Namjoon stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. “We found his phone across the way.” He pointed to the spot. “Your camera should’ve caught him, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to just show you…” he hesitated.

“Please,” you begged simply. The boy must’ve seen the desperation in your eyes. Either that, or he thought you were hot. Regardless, he relented and waved you toward the back room.

“Alright, but if my manager hears about this I’ll deny it.” You frowned, wondering how he’d deny it since this whole exchange was on the indoor cctv, but you opted not to point out this flaw in his plan. You and Namjoon crowded into the small back room as the cashier opened the video file and stepped aside for you to watch.

Starting from a few hours prior you watched the tape in fast forward, people zooming by in either direction on the sidewalk.

“Wait!” you cried. Namjoon stopped the video, jumping back a few frames and playing it at regular speed. You watched as Yoongi slouched into frame, head down, hands in his pockets. His blond hair stuck up at odd angles. He hadn’t fixed it after he woke up that afternoon. He sat heavily on the bench where you found his phone, dropping his head in his hands. His shoulders shook and your heart broke because you knew he was crying. After a moment he sat up and just stared into space, head leaned back to look up at the sky. 

A black car pulled into the frame, stopping just in front of Yoongi’s spot on the sidewalk. Your blood ran cold as you recognized the man who emerged from the rear passenger-side door.

“Oh god, no,” you breathed.

“What is it? You recognize this guy?” Namjoon asked. The man on screen walked over and Yoongi visibly tensed as he spoke. He glanced at the guy, then immediately trained his eyes on the pavement. They seemed to have a conversation, Yoongi’s side of things mostly consisting of nods and head shakes. The man gripped Yoongi’s shoulder, and he winced away from the touch. After another moment of conversation Yoongi stood and the man guided him toward the car. Yoongi hunched in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible, as if he could disappear from the situation altogether. But he didn’t, instead he let the man guide him into the car, and drive away.

“That was Kwon Hyunjoong. Yoongi’s old owner.” A sob tore from your throat before you could stop it and you were left gasping for air in the tiny security room.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Benzaiten Steel and the Case of Mistaken Identity

Ben has a very awkward morning on the Carte Blanche...

Just a fun little scene from a happier, better universe where Ben is alive and happy and committing intergalactic crimes with his brother and their new family.

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment over on Ao3!

---

Contrary to popular belief, there were a lot of differences between the Steel Twins.

Sure, there was the obvious stuff like the hairstyle and the general disposition, how you could tell which one you’d bumped into on any given day by whether they were smiling or scowling. There was the dress sense and the scars and the tattoos that didn’t match, except for the one. And, of course, the different number of eyes.

But Benten had always thought it was the smaller differences, the ones nobody noticed, that mattered. That made them Juno and Benzaiten, not just the Steel Twins. Not that he resented being seen as one of a matched set, of course not. It was wonderful to work with Juno on the Carte Blanche, to live in the same space as him again and see him every day, tired in the mornings and working furiously into the evenings, to sit with him and have meals as a family with the rest of their crew. To always have him in arms reach, to show him a funny video on his comms or hang off his shoulders as they stood together. To use their nearly but not identical faces in their work, making people believe there was only one of them and seeing their faces when it all fell into place.

Benten knew how it felt to lose his brother and he never wanted to go back to that.

Still, it was nice to have their own individual quirks even if they went unnoticed. Like this, like how Benten was always the early riser while Juno would stay in bed as long as decent society allowed him. He’d gotten used to it as a kid; the three buses he had to take to his dance class had meant getting up just before sunrise six days out of seven. Juno’s hobbies, which were what Ben charitably called his obsessions, his research or his work meant he stayed up late buried in files and data, seeing patterns in it that no one else would, with one eye or two. Often when they were teenagers, he’d be up and about to head out just as Juno was dragging his carcass to bed.

That had led to an intimate familiarity with another difference, how each twin took his coffee.

Benten had the kitchen of the Carte Blanche to himself, the SimSun lights just kicking into gear. Soon the ship would come to life, the noises of some mechanical fix going on from the cargo bay as Jet began his first task of the day, Buddy humming to herself as she sat in her cabin and made the impossible possible, the clatter of Vespa sharpening tools in the med bay either to hurt or to heal, the hammering of fingers on keys as Rita worked at her comms, over the too loud chatter of her stream. And Ransom...well, Ransom doing whatever he did on a morning with his usual eerie silence. All that would come but for now it was quiet, just the sound of his bare feet sticking to the tiles as he moved around and the song he was whistling.

Today was going to be a good day, Benten told himself triumphantly. They were back in charted space which meant he could video call Mick, hearing his boyfriend’s voice and seeing his beautiful, ridiculous grin for the first time in weeks. The thousands of miles between them would shrink to the width of a comms screen and everything would feel better.

And it would start with coffee. He did feel a little pang of guilt at only making two cups, one for him and one for Juno, but it was hard to break traditions that were decades old. He’d always left one waiting for his brother in their crappy little Oldtown kitchen, for when he’d reluctantly follow him into consciousness. He’d always wanted the first thing Juno knew when he woke up was that someone was looking out for him. And to drink some coffee because he probably looked like shit.

Juno liked to pretend he was the toughest, meanest lady around, making Benten wonder if anyone else knew he took his coffee with three sugars and enough cream to make it barely a few shades above white. He mixed in each spoonful of freeze dried coffee and powdered, stasis milk carefully, though it would never taste like the real stuff you got planetside. There was a lot about long haul space travel that sucked. The food was ninety percent of it.

Still, it was hot and sweet and prickling with caffeine, in the mug Rita had painted herself with ‘world’s best boss’ printed on the side, and Benten knew his brother would really appreciate it. It would make him smile in that rough, crooked way he did, the smile that didn’t come out very often but Ben wished it would. People deserved to see it.

He stopped whistling as he balanced the mugs in his hands, trying really hard not to slop any over the sides. Sure the cleaning bots would take care of any spills but Benten had always felt mean about giving them any work to do. The kitchen door slid shut behind him, the mechanism not quite what it had been when the ship was new and making more noise than it should. Juno’s room wasn’t far, none of them had spread out much from the others even with all the rooms to choose from. He should only be a few doors down.  

But as Ben moved past the bathroom door, he heard the sound of running water and his brother’s unmistakable rough voice, singing as he showered. Ben grinned to himself, pausing a moment to listen while Juno butchered a peppy, upbeat dance number that had come on the radio the other day. He had a good voice, though he’d never admit it, this just wasn’t his vibe. Still, he sang it cheerily and Ben could imagine him bouncing on the balls of his feet and swaying his hips in time to the beat as he soaped his hair.

Why was he up so early? What had him in such a good mood? Ben wondered briefly before realising he didn’t care all that much. What mattered was Juno smiling, singing, dancing, it didn’t matter why. Clearly, life on the Carte Blanche was doing him good, shaking him out of the dark place he’d been in ever since he’d lost the eye, regained it and lost it again. Just as Ben had hoped when he’d agreed to come with his brother and live as an interplanetary thief.

He had to take a few deep breaths so he didn’t cry then and there, just hearing his brother doing something as simply alive as singing in the shower.

Benten kept walking, thinking he would just leave Juno’s coffee in his room for him to come back to. And then maybe he’d ask him to play video games or watch a stream or ask if he could work on the stuff for their next job in his room. Anything just to be near him and see the light back on in his eye, to know for sure that he’d really got his brother back.

Benzaiten was still lost in his own thoughts as he approached the bunk Juno had claimed as his own, the one with the glitter covered sign that read ‘Mister Steel’s Room’ in Rita’s handwriting, the same as the ones she’d made for all of them on their first day aboard. He was so distracted, he couldn’t even be startled when the door opened before he was anywhere near it.

Or when Ransom stepped through, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of boxer shorts that covered very little and suggested very heavily what they did cover. That and a shirt of Juno’s that Ben recognised immediately, oversized so the neck draped to leave one shoulder bare. A shoulder covered in dark, mouth shaped shadows.

Ben stopped dead, eyes snapping wide. Every time he’d seen Ransom before now, he’d been perfectly made up and poised to the point of near absurdity, in his sleek, expensive outfits and coiffed hair and sharp smile. He’d been practically scared of the guy, not least because of how Juno reacted to him and wouldn’t say why, no matter how many times Benten tried to steer the conversation that way to find out more.

Now he wished he knew less.

Ben opened his mouth but couldn’t get any sound out, he was too stunned at the realisation that Ransom was actually human and not a perfectly styled doll of some kind. So Ransom just yawned, exactly like a cat would right down to the way he smacked his tongue after, and blinked, eyes useless with sleep and without his glasses.

“I thought you were showering, dear heart,” he mumbled, his slick accent muddied and rougher than it ever seemed.

And then, before Ben could make any kind of protest, Ransom closed the distance between them and kissed him languidly, hand slipping around his waist to grab a handful of...something that erased any doubt Ben had been clinging to as to what this man was doing in his brother’s bedroom.

Instantly, Ben froze solid, eyes wide with the kind of panic only rabbits facing down the headlights of oncoming cars and people in this exact situation could experience. A heartbeat later, Ransom did the exact same, unfortunately leaving him in that position for a handful of agonsing, painful seconds. When he finally jumped back, he looked very, very awake. In fact, he looked like he might never sleep again.

“So…” Ben cleared his throat, grimacing, “You’re sleeping with my brother, huh?”

Ransom’s blush was fearsome, more than a master thief’s really should be, “I...my sincerest apologies, Benzaiten, I was only...um, your brother...I…of you have any concerns about his...um, his virtue-”

Ben could have screamed cutting across him quickly, “I really do not want to hear the slightest thing about my brother’s virtue. Just...give him this,” he thrust the coffee at Ransom, “And never speak of this again. To him but especially to me. Agreed?”

Ransom took a deep breath, taking the coffee and hiking the shirt up to his neck, like that would erase the hickeys from existence, “Agreed.”

Eventually Benzaiten would realise he was happy about this. He would recontextualise a hundred glances between him and Ransom, he would learn to read the emotion in Juno’s voice whenever he talked about him, what was masked in the intensity of it. He would realise that finally someone loved Juno exactly how he deserved to be loved.

But for now, he was going to lock his door, call his boyfriend and scream into a pillow and wish with all his heart that more people would learn to see the differences between him and Juno.

[98prilla]

Hidden Shapes

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He runs.

 He runs past Patton, he shoves open his door, locks it behind him, then lunges through the portal hidden under his bed that Remus had installed years ago, when he’d first moved to the light side, a shortcut to his imagination, to the dark side. He pulls the trapdoor shut behind him, landing on the forest floor with barely a sound.

 Colors are brighter, stranger, he’s pretty sure in this form he can actually see colors others can’t, see at a spectrum impossible for humans, since he isn’t, not really. That thought chokes a sob out of him, though it comes out as more of a growling hiss, and he throws himself back into movement, speeding across the ground, jumping up, into the trees, when they become too dense, seeing the cliff approaching, but not slowing, he braces himself, springs, his stomach flip flopping as he drops-

 Then he shoots his web and latches onto the trees on the other side, swinging across the canyon. If he were in a better mood, he’d be laughing right now, at the feel of the wind, at moving so fast, at letting himself go, more than he has in years, letting himself go feral, but he isn’t, his heart is pounding and his breath is speeding and he’s moving, faster and faster, and faster-

 Then, suddenly, there’s no more trees.

 He doesn’t have time to stop his momentum. He manages to web the ground, before he crashes onto it, letting his shoulder impact first, easily slipping into a barrel roll, before losing control and tumbling across the earth, head spinning as he finally comes to a stop, hissing through clenched teeth as he sits up, taking in the damage.

His shoulder is bruised to hell, and scraped raw and bloody, and so are his legs, his hands, though his appendages are intact. There’s a gash on his forehead, and he curses, pulling his sleeve over his hand, pressing it against the wound to try and staunch the bleeding, letting out another hissing breath at the ache in his chest, a bruised or cracked rib.

 He’s crying. He doesn’t know when it started, he feels too numb to cry, but he is, a steady, endless flow of tears that wash down his face, and he squeezes his eyes closed, doubling over, legs closing in around him, hiding him from view.

 “Hello, little one.” He nearly jumps, at the sudden low and sonorous voice, but he doesn’t care, he simply curls tighter, trying to suppress the pathetic whimper trying to escape his lips. “You aren’t one of the usual resident monstrosities of Remus’s design. Are you new?” He flinches hard, this time, realizing what he’s being mistaken for, because he must truly look horrendous, and Patton, god, Patton, not to mention Roman, once he hears, and Logan will just want to study him, dissect him, like some specimen, he doesn’t want to be the monster, he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’theisn’theisn’t- “Let me take a look at you, darling. I can help make it better.” He pulls his legs in tighter, shaking, forcing words to his lips.

 “N-no. G-g-go away.” He hisses, and he hears a sharp inhale.

 “Anxiety. You… aren’t supposed to be here.” He laughs, at that, a cold, hard, bitter laugh.

 “look at me. Where else could I go?” He bares his fangs, eyes flashing and shadows growing as he feels hands pushing aside his legs, gently tipping his chin up, meeting the orange cat’s eyes of the dragon witch.

 “I remember a time when you wore this form more often than not. You and Remus were feral little things, more beast than man, some days, all shadowy blobs of too many teeth and limbs and claws, with your venomous bites and poison laced scratches, I remember when you’d spend hours, weaving the most wonderous tapestries, that sparkled so brilliantly, in the morning dew. Or ones near invisible, that would trip up Remus, as he tried to invade your lair. Once you wouldn’t have consolidated monstrous, with evil, they are different. Plenty of monstrous things are still beautiful, after all. Plenty of monstrous things are still smart, and kind, and sweet, little one. I would have hoped that to be a lesson you remembered, still.” Her words are soft and gentle as she caresses his cheek, a tender smile on her lips. “I haven’t forgotten, my tiny terror.” He folds, falling into her open arms and sobbing, letting it all go, as her near black wings enfold them both, her tail gently coiling around his feet. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds him, rocks him as he cries, promising safety with her steady presence, her slightly hotter than normal warmth. “I gather from your state you don’t want to go back to the world?” He shakes his head frantically, not moving from his place in her arms. “alright, darling. Hold on tight, for a moment.” He feels a slight vertigo, the world running like a watercolor painting, before resettling to a homey looking cottage, a fire lit and providing gentle warmth, the floors covered in soft rugs, the smell of cinnamon and something else, something warm and fizzing and popping in the air. Magic.

 “If you want tea, you’ll have to let go.” He does with a slightly rueful smile, one she adores, and she brushes back his hair, before moving to put the kettle on, getting her favorite teacup from the cupboard, along with a black and white chipped jack Skellington mug.

 “you still have that?” He says, voice coming out hoarse, as he pulls himself into one of the surprisingly comfy wooden chairs surrounding the small table in the kitchen, watching as she bustles about.

 “Of course. I hoped I’d have occasion to use it again. Though I admit I hoped it would be under better circumstances.” He winces, looking away.

 “sorry. For not visiting. I… I should have. Me and Ree hadn’t been on the best terms, for… well, for a while. I didn’t want to chance being caught here by myself.”

 “Yes. I heard all about it, believe me. He fluctuated between grief, despair, and unmitigated rage, before settling on a scarily distant disdain. Any mention of you and he just… shut down.”

 “sorry.” He whispers again, to her soft huff.

 “Stop apologizing, darling. I’m not placing blame or accusing. I know you had your reasons. Now, let me have a look at you, we can’t have those getting infected, and you know they will.” He groans, wincing as he pulls his sleeve away from his forehead.

 “But it stings!” He whines, making her laugh, as she gathers the warm water and soft hand towel.

 “You’ve had worse, Anxiety. And unless you want me to summon Remus to instant heal you, we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.” Her voice is slightly stern now, the same tone Patton always takes, when scolding them or breaking up a fight, and he smiles slightly, glancing up at her.

 “alright. It’s, um, Virgil, now, by the way.” She smiles, coming around the table and gently dabbing away the dried blood from the gash, wincing in sympathy as he grits his teeth, before patting it dry and securing gauze. “Ah. It suits you, I think." He pulls up his pants to reveal his skinned knees, his shins peppered with scrapes, though nothing there is hurt too badly, though it still stings like a son of a gun. They’re just finishing looking at his shoulder, her turning away to get an icepack for it, when he hears the tell tale swing of the doggy door, small scratching against the mat in the entryway.

 “Oh, god-“ He manages to just barely brace himself, as a ball of icy silvery blue barrels into his chest, knocking his chair over backwards, sending his arms pinwheeling before he collides with the floor, his fall slowed slightly by a quick spell, that lowers him gently the last inch to avoid concussing him. He doesn’t have time to thank her, however, as his face is getting destroyed by licks, and he can’t get a word out edgewise, between his pleas to stop, and his gasping laughter.

 “Nilas, stop, down girl, NiNi!” He laughs, finally managing to get the large cat sized dragon under control, though her tail still whipped wildly, and when he rolled out of the chair to sit up on the floor, she instantly climbed his shirt, draping herself around his shoulders, tail hanging off one, curling around his upper bicep to keep herself steady, her head resting on her paws on his other. He laughs again at her low, contented chuffing, the equivalent of a dragon purr, as he scratches her head. “Happy to see me, huh?” She buts her head against his cheek in response, before giving it one more lick, before laying back down on her paws, though her head stays tucked up against his face.

 “Yeah. I missed you too, Nilas.” He mumbles, pain forgotten in the face of a happy dragon snuggling against him, a soothing, perfect weight that grounds him, helps him breathe a little easier against the stress slowly fading away. He rights the chair and slips back into it, taking the mug that she sets in front of him.

 “Roman still giving you trouble?” He asks, after a few moments in comfortable silence, taking a sip of the tea, which is deep and herbal, just a hint of sweetness from the honey. She scowls, and he can hear her tail sweeping across the floor.

 “Don’t get me started. I enjoy playing his games, but that boy has not given me a moments peace. Do you know how hard it is, to swap into evil enchantress mode, when your nemesis has showed up in the middle of you baking? I had a pie in the oven and I couldn’t stop worrying it was going to burn.”

 “did it?” he asks, grinning.

 “No. I told him he’d better stop wasting his time with me, and worry about my agents infiltrating the castle, and he took off. There weren’t any, of course, from what I understand he had a lovely game of whodunnit about the royal crown, though it turned out he’d simply misplaced it.” Virgil laughed, imagining Roman frantically running around, accusing random townspeople, making one of those red string conspiracy cork boards, only to find it under his bed.

 “Oh, that’s amazing.” He finally wheezes through his giggling, taking another long sip of his tea, before yawning hugely.

 “alright, enough catching up. To bed with you.”

 “but-"

 “uh, uh, uh, you know the drill. You’ll be falling out of the chair soon, anyway.” She teases gently, helping support him as he stands, a bit wobbly on his feet, another yawn impossible to stifle sneaking through.

 “Curse my traitorous body.” He mutters, making her laugh, as he lays down on the cot in the dark corner of the living room, pulling all the fluffy blankets up so high they nearly cover his head, Nilas circling a few times, before curling up snuggled against his chest, kneading her paws contentedly.

 “sweet dreams, tiny terror.” She murmurs, kissing his forehead fondly, as his eyes flutter shut. “sleep well. You could use it.”

 “mhm. Thanks, Tabitha. Love you.” He mumbles, drifting off, a small smile on his lips as he rests his head against Nilas.

 She smiles, stroking his hair a few more times before pulling away, a low sigh slipping from her lips.

 Well. No doubt Remus would appear soon, and he could explain what had sent Virgil into such a tizzy, though no doubt it was something to do with the others. He wouldn’t have been so scared of himself, otherwise. He was never scared of himself, until he started hanging around them. He used to revel in causing mayhem, tearing through the imagination, scrapping with Remus, winning, more often than not, on his own merit. He was such a small little shadow, but so fierce, with those eyes of his, peeking guardedly through his mop of hair, an almost perpetual frown on his face, always braced for the worst.

 But he was kind, too. The first day she'd come across him alone, he’d glared at her, hissed, baring his fangs and scuttling backwards, ready to bite.

 She’d knelt down, almost as surprised to see him as he clearly was to see her.

 “hello, little one. What are you doing, out here alone?” He hadn’t answered, merely continued to glare, tensed to spring or run. She’d hummed, looking around, the field was full of knee high grass, his head barely poking above the stalks, wildflowers filling the space, butterflies (both literal and figurative) drifting through the air. A distant shout rang through the imagination, an echo of whatever turmoil was occurring up in the rest of the mind, and he flinched, curling in on himself, breath catching.

 “ah. Trying to find some quiet, until the storm blows over.” The little shadow nodded, watching a bee struggle to stay atop a flower blowing in the breeze, before reaching out and holding it steady, a small smile crossing his face as he leaned in, watching the bee burry its head in the pollen. “Well, don’t mind me, then. Is it alright, if I stay here to read? I won’t bother you.” A moment passed, but he nodded solemnly, watching the bee flit away, before fixing his gaze on her, which she studiously ignored, studying her book while watching out of the corner of her eye.

 Another echoing shout, almost like a thunder crash, and he let out a little shriek. Before she could ask if he was okay, the little shadow had scuttled closer, throwing himself onto her lap and curled in a shivering ball, hiding himself under her cloak.

 “Oh, darling, it’s alright. They won’t hurt you here, I promise.” He hadn’t uncurled, and she’d hesitantly wrapped an arm around him, brushing through his hair with her other hand, humming softly, until she felt him slowly start to uncurl, realizing finally he’d fallen asleep, tiny hands clutching at her shirt, impossible to pry off even if she’d wanted to.

 When Creativity and Deceit panicked later, realizing Anxiety had been missing all day, they were surprised to find him happily coloring on the floor of the witch’s cottage, dark aura dispersed enough they could actually see his body, a dragon curled around him protectively.

 The next day he’d shown back up on her doorstep, a bit shyer, but no less brave, holding out a flower crown, painstakingly woven with colorful flowers, and it may have been the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. From then on, Anxiety, or Virgil, now, was as good as hers, under her protection, always welcome, always at home in her home. Her baby, her shadow, her tiny terror.

[destiel-love-forever]

15.3 CODA

Dean stares at the bunker door, refusing to blink. Cas will come back. He just has to wait. Any second now. Cas will get a new wave of energy and come storming in. They’ll yell at each other. Hurt each other some more. Then Cas will go to his room, in the bunker, where he belongs, and Dean will get wasted and crash on the couch. 

Dean just has to wait. Once Cas comes back, they’ll finish it. They’ll go through the rest of their routine. 

Except, Cas doesn’t come back. 

Not after Dean blinks. Not after Dean realizes he’s crying. Not after Dean chugs the whiskey in his glass. Not after Dean fills that glass twice more. 

Certainly not after Dean throws the glass at the wall, the chaos of the crash sounding painfully similar to what’s happening in his chest. 

He pulls out his phone and calls Cas with shaking hands. His phone rings from across the room. When Dean slowly approaches the thing, as if it’s a bomb about to go off, as if things aren’t already beyond fucked up, as if Dean isn’t already destroyed, Dean finds a neat little pile of things that Castiel left behind. 

The cell phone Dean bought him, with the two of them in their cowboy hats as the lock screen photo. 

The mixtape Dean made him. 

The spare key to the bunker. 

The faded old Led Zeppelin t-shirt of Dean’s that they both pretended he didn’t steal. 

The copy of Slaughterhouse-Five Dean gave him. 

The cowboy hat from their trip to Dodge City. 

Dean collapses down at the table with the near-empty bottle of whiskey. As he sips on it, staring off at nothing, Dean replays the conversation. Well, maybe conversation isn’t the right word, considering he barely said anything. It’s more of what Dean didn’t say that matters. 

Dean doesn’t trust him. Castiel was right about that. 

But… they’ve lost trust in each other before. Multiple times. The two of them can be fucking idiots. They’re great at ignoring things, or keeping secrets. Great at hurting each other. 

So, yeah. Dean doesn’t trust him. But Castiel is supposed to wait. He’s supposed to just sulk and take it. Keep apologizing until Dean forgives him. That’s what he did before. That’s all he did in purgatory. Constantly apologizing. It’s what Dean did after the whole mark of cain/demon shit show. He always made sure Castiel knew he didn’t mean the things that had happened, and that he was so sorry. 

They get pissed at each other. They fight. They give the silent treatment. But they love each other, and that’s supposed to be enough. It’s always been enough. 

Why wasn’t it enough?

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey and slowly swallows it, allowing the liquid to burn him something fierce as it trickles down his throat. 

His powers are draining… but when aren’t they? Castiel’s powers have been draining since he rebelled against heaven for Dean. It’s not like he’s falling.

He’s not falling, right?

He can’t be falling. 

Dean closes his eyes, his body starting to tremble. Castiel is right, Dean hasn’t even been able to look at him. He hasn’t been paying attention. Dean has no fucking idea if Castiel is falling. When Dean asked him if he was okay outside the impala the other day, Castiel had said, “Yes, but-” and Dean had walked away. 

He had walked away! 

What if Castiel was going to tell him he could feel himself falling. For real this time, like when he did after the angels fell. Not just low grace, weak powers, and a body that needs to rest more than it should, but falling completely. Becoming human. 

And Dean rolled his eyes at him. 

Dean let him walk away. 

Dean let Castiel believe he was truly dead to him. 

Dean let him leave with the intention of moving on. 

Moving on? Fucking moving on? 

What did Dean do?

What did he do?

What the fuck did he just do?

---- 

Castiel lifts a shaking hand to the center of the door and tentatively knocks, feeling terrible that it’s so late at night. He only had fourteen dollars in his wallet, which was enough to buy gas for this short trip, but not enough for food or a hotel. This is the only other family - well, not his family, but the Winchester’s family - that Castiel has left. It’s only right he says goodbye to them before leaving for good. He knows it’s awful he didn’t talk to Sam before disappearing, but Sam had enough pain today. Castiel will call him from the road. 

The porch light coming on pulls Castiel out of his thoughts. He steps back just as the front door is opened, giving Jody a wobbly smile. She tilts her head and gives him a smile of her own. It’s genuine, and warm, and makes Castiel want to curl up and cry. 

“Castiel. Hey. Are the boys,” she stops herself, looking over his shoulder before back at him. He can feel her eyes as they rake over him. The sheriff in her must figure the situation out real quick, because her eyes turn sad and she reaches out for Castiel’s hand, pulling him inside. “You look like you could use something to drink. Do you want a beer? Maybe some whiskey? I think Donna has a bottle of vodka in the freezer.”

Slowly settling on the stool Jody gestures to, Castiel shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“Maybe some tea?” Jody presses. 

“Yes. Tea sounds lovely,” Castiel says quietly, not wanting to be rude. “Thank you, Jody.”

“Peppermint? Chamomile?”

Having no idea in the slightest, considering all Dean drinks is coffee, Castiel says on a whim, “Peppermint, please. Thank you, Jody.”

“Of course, Castiel.” She sets a teapot on the stove, then pulls out a mug and a box of peppermint tea. As the water heats over a gas flame, she turns back to Castiel. He slumps down and clenches his hands together where they rest on the breakfast bar’s countertop. It unfortunately does not make him feel any less vulnerable or inspected. “Are you feeling alright, Castiel?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel replies, hearing Dean’s voice like he’s saying the words for him. It makes him suddenly angry. “Actually, I’m quite exhausted. And hungry. And it’s just been a very long few days. I miss Jack, so much. And I miss Mary. But I don’t think I’m allowed to miss Mary because, well, you know. It’s my fault and all. But I still miss-”

“Castiel, I’m sorry for interrupting, but Mary was not your fault.”

“I’m pretty sure she was.”

“That’s not the story I got from Sam. I know Dean has been taking it out on you, Sam’s been worried. He wasn’t sure if he should step in. But he made it very clear to me that he does not believe his mother’s death is on you. And after he explained everything, I agree with him. Castiel, you wanted to assume the best of your son. That’s what you are supposed to do as a parent. It backfired, yes, but that’s life, Castiel. That’s just how life goes.”

Castiel swallows around a lump in his throat and closes his eyes to stop them from burning. He drops his head, trying to breathe. 

The room stays quiet until the silence is interrupted by the whistling tea pot. A minute later, a steaming cup of peppermint tea is placed in front of his clasped hands. Castiel stares at it like he doesn’t recognize it. 

“Did Dean kick you out, Castiel?” Jody asks softly. 

“He-” Castiel stops when his voice cracks. He clears his throat twice before trying again. “No, he didn’t. But I didn’t belong there. Or I wasn’t wanted there. Or both. It was time I leave. I’m going to - well, I’m hoping to move on.” 

When Jody says nothing, Castiel peeks up at her. She looks devastated. “He’s an idiot. You know that, right?”

“No. No, Dean Winchester isn’t an idiot.” Castiel shakes his head, a corner of his mouth perking up. He releases a shaky, self-deprecating laugh under his breath. “Dean Winchester is the best thing to ever happen to me, and I ruined it.” 

“Castiel-”

Castiel stares down at his tea, waiting for Jody to continue. She doesn’t. He can’t blame her. What’s there to say? It’s true. His world is crumbling as they speak, and it’s all of Castiel’s fault.

The worst part, though? He can’t even regret it. Any of it. He’d rebel again. Fall in love again. He’d take all of the pain and sadness. All of the pleasure. Every kiss. Every hug. Every hand held beneath the diner table. Every laugh. Every fight. He’d do it all again, happily, because for a while there, Dean Winchester showed him what true heaven was like. 

“I’m going to go make up the spare bedroom. You just drink your tea, okay?” Jody asks in the mom voice he’s heard her use with the boys, and Claire and Alex, before. 

“I can find somewhere else if-”

“Nonsense. You’re family, Castiel. You will sleep here. Claire will be happy to see you in the morning.”

Castiel takes a sip of his tea, wondering if that’s true. Can he still be family if he’s not with Dean? He always thought he was just included because Dean said so. Is Castiel really loved and cared for by these people, even if Dean doesn’t want them to? Would Claire really be happy to see him? The angel that killed her father? 

She did keep the grumpy cat stuffed animal after all…

Jody returns just as Castiel is finishing his tea. She guides him down the hall, showing him the bathroom where he’s welcome to shower if he’d like, then the bedroom. After a final look laced with concern, Jody gives him a quick hug and wishes him goodnight, closing Castiel’s door as she leaves. 

Castiel stares at the bed for a minute, the weight of the last few days sinking in. He drags his feet across the room, stripping as he goes. The last thing he does is kick off his shoes right before collapsing onto the mattress in nothing but his boxers and undershirt. He barely has the energy to move around and get under the covers, but it’s so worth it. His entire body relaxes as the warmth encases him. 

As the mounting exhaustion begins to pull the falling angel into dreamland, the last thing he thinks about is Dean. 

Castiel hopes the man sleeps well tonight. He deserves to get some rest. 

---- 

Dean answers his phone with slow, uncooperative fingers. “Hey, Jody.”

“Dean Winchester, sometimes you are such an idiot that I want to smack you upside the head!”

“Wow,” Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand against his eyes. “You’re welcome for savin’ the world ‘n all.”

“And you’re drunk, too. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

“Jody, you need somethin’, or jus’ callin’ to make me feel’ike shit?”

He hears a deep sigh and rolls his eyes. Dean’s not in the mood for her to play mom right now. 

Dean has a mom. 

Had a mom. 

Just like he had Cas. 

Now he’s lost them both. 

He’s lost Jack. 

Rowena. 

Ketch.

“I just called to let you know that Castiel is safe. He’s here.”

Dean sits up straight, knocking over the empty bottle of whiskey. He ignores it as it crashes to the floor. “He’s there? At your house?”

“Yes. I gave him some tea to help calm him a bit and put him in the spare bedroom. I know angels don’t sleep, but… well, he’s sleeping.  Dead to the world already.”

You’re dead to me. 

Dead to me. 

I’m dead to you. 

You don’t care. I’m dead to you. 

My powers are failing.

You don’t care. 

My powers are failing. 

I’m dead to you. 

I know angels don’t sleep.

Dean feels sick to his stomach, whiskey flavored acid crawling up his throat. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let him leave.”

“No, Dean. Go sleep the booze off.”

“I need to be with him.”

“I’m not sure he needs to be with you, though.” Dean flinches like he’s just been slapped. Honestly, it feels like he has been.

But is she wrong? 

Probably not… 

“Will you just - just don’t let him go disappearing, okay? Take care of him, please.”

There’s a long pause. Then, “Get some rest, Dean. He’ll be fine without you.”

Jody hangs up without saying anything else, leaving Dean alone on the other end. He tosses the phone onto the table and buries his face in his hands. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Castiel will be fine without him. Hell, maybe Castiel will be better off without him. Dean should really just leave him alone. 

Dean eventually drags himself to his room, collapsing on the bed. The whiskey and exhaustion do their job, pulling him under in no time. Just before slipping into dreamland, the last thing he thinks about is Castiel. 

Dean hopes the angel sleeps well tonight. He deserves to get some rest.

There is now a PART 2! You can read it [HERE] <3

If you enjoy my work & would like to support me, please consider buying me a quick coffee [HERE] or becoming a Patron [HERE]! 

[yeetingmyfeeling]

Dreaming Of You

Pretty Black Ears (Evan and Nogla)

Smut, smut, smut and Evan is neko.

Nogla was sitting in his local Starbucks, patiently waiting for his friend to arrive. It was spring, so the weather was starting to warm up. He wore cargo shorts and a loose green shirt. He had an iced latte in front of him, half gone. He sighed in impatience, where was he?

Nogla was waiting for his friend Evan, or more commonly known as VanossGaming. Evan had a bit of a.. Problem. He was a Neko. They aren’t rare, but also not common. They are slowly showing up more. Though, they tend to not be seen as real people. Usually they are seen as pets, sex toys, or an animal to put into a zoo. There are petting zoos for Neko’s! Regardless, as they are slowly becoming more world wide, they are starting to be seen as more human. Which they are. 

Evan was very shy about the whole Neko thing. He had only told a few of his friends, Nogla being one of the lucky ones because they live close by. No one ever revealed his secret, because no one saw a problem with it. Nogla had been talking to Evan as of late, and had convinced him to start being more comfortable with it. Evan was unsure, but he trusted his friend. This is why Nogla sat in the Starbucks waiting. 

Potato; Evan, I swear if you chickened out… I am going to skin your tail and sell the fur.

Nogla didn’t have to wait too long for a response, which he was grateful for. 

NotAPussy; I didn’t! I’m just running late, sheesh. I just got here, so calm down.

True to Evan’s word, he soon walked in a few minutes after he texted. Nogla frowned at his appearance. He was wearing jeans and a long sweater, as well as a beanie. Nogla sighed and shook his head. He was still hiding. 

Evan quickly walked in, ducking his head. He looked up only for a second to find Nogla. Once he did he quickly went and sat down opposite of him. He slowly looked up and offered a shy smile. Nogla just shook his head. Evan sighed and tugged his beanie further down. 

“Evan, buddy, come on,” Nogla frowned. “We talked about this. You said you’d let your ears and tail show today. I don’t see that happening.”

Evan just looked down at the table. His ears were pressed down against his head, and his tail curled up in his jeans. It was anything but comfortable. But, he was scared. “Nogla! You know why..” 

Nogla just shook his head. “Do you want anything to drink and eat?” Evan nodded. “Hot chocolate and blueberry muffin?” Another nod. Nogla stood up and went to the counter. He ordered the food, chatting with the waitress for a bit. She gave him a smile as he went back to the table.

At the table, Evan had not moved. Except for leaning over to steal a sip from Nogla’s iced latte, making the taller slap the Neko’s hand. “Ev, can I ask a favour?” Evan slowly looked back up as he rubbed his hand. “I just bought you your drink and muffin, the least you could do to pay me back is let them free?”

“You’re a bitch,” Evan glared with a huff. Though, it was reasonable, even if it made him uncomfortable. He slid the beanie off first, and his ears stuck up. They twitched, shaking strands of hair off of them. He sat up slightly and let his tail uncurl, sticking out from the top of his jeans waistband. He sat back down, holding the beanie in his lap.

The waitress came over, putting the drink and muffin in front of Evan. She gave the Neko a sweet smile then left. Evan grabbed his mug of hot chocolate and raised it to his lips, taking a sip. He quickly put it down and fanned his mouth.

People in the Starbucks were looking at the Neko. Their eyes tailing over the large, fluffy black ears, and the thick, fluffy black tail that just hovered over the ground. Evan knew people were staring, and his face burned bright red as he slowly lowered his hands from his mouth.

Looking up at Nogla, Evan blushed more from the smile the Irish male had. Nogla laughed lightly. “Can I touch them?” He asked, gesturing to the cute ears. Evan just nodded slowly. So, Nogla leaned over and gently started to scratch at the soft fur. He heard a light hum, and grinned when he realized Evan was starting to purr. He swiped his pinkie over the soft pink area of the ear, making it flicker.

“What’s it like being a neko?”

Evan slowly frowned. He pulled the hot chocolate closer to him and put in one of the marshmallows. He grabbed the other one, putting it in his mouth. After he swallowed, he started talking. 

“Horrible, Nogla. I have to deal with people staring at me all the time. They always want to pet me and touch my ears and tail. Always asking questions. They want my body. Some to keep, some for their children, some to sell, some for sex. Especially creepy old men, they are the worst. Not to mention I still hardly get treated like I’m a human being. I get treated like a feral cat!

“That’s just dealing with people, I have my own issues. You know how.. Fuck. So, you know how with animals, biological females will go into a heat of sorts? For female cats, it happens every few months. Well uh, due to being a Neko, sometimes that messes with stuff a bit. So, I go into heat every few months. It is the worst..”

Nogla blinked slowly, just looking at Evan. He slowly nodded his head as he listened. “So, for a few days every few months you need a good fucking?” Evan whacked his arm. “Ow! Sorry!” Nogla laughed. 

Evan huffed and went back to his hot chocolate. It had cooled down by now, so he started to drink it. Nogla kept asking questions, which Evan didn’t too much mind because, well, it was Nogla. Evan’s always had a soft spot for the guy.

They heard footsteps coming over, and looked to see a mother with her young daughter. Evan immediately panicked and looked at Nogla with wide eyes. The Irishman just offered a comforting smile. The mother smiled at them and the daughter just stared at Evan with wide eyes. 

“Could my daughter please pet your cat?” The mother asked Nogla. “Please, she’ll be gentle.”

“He-He’s not my cat..” Nogla frowned. “He’s my friend-”

The mother chuckled. “Yes dear, animals are our friends. But could she please pet your cat?”

“He’s a human being!” Nogla exclaimed, his eyes wide. “Come on Ev, let’s go.” Nogla stood up. Evan stood up quickly as well. He tugged the beanie back over his head then grabbed his muffin. Nogla stormed out of Starbucks, Evan following after.

“I didn’t get to finish my hot chocolate..” Evan mumbled as he took a bite out of his muffin. Nogla pet his head.

“Want to come over? I’ll make you a hot chocolate and we can watch a movie.”

~~~~~

The two now sat on Nogla’s couch. Nogla sat on one end, Evan snuggled up with a blanket on the other. The Avengers was playing on the TV, both boys not paying much attention. Nogla had finished his hot chocolate, but Evan was still slowly sipping at his. 

They didn’t talk about the incident in the cafe, nor talk about Evan being a Neko. He did let his ears and tail free once in the house, which made Nogla happy.

It was halfway through the movie, and Nogla noticed Evan put his empty mug down then yawn loudly. He raised an eyebrow at the Asian male who just rubbed his eye tiredly.

“Kitty want a nap?” Nogla teased with a smirk, making Evan put. Nogla just laughed. “It’s fine dude, I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

Evan just nodded. He slowly lay down, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. The top of his head pressed against Nogla’s thigh, making the Irishman chuckle. Within minutes, Nogla heard gentle breathing from the Neko, telling him the boy was asleep. He couldn't help it when his own eyes closed, and his head slipped to rest on the back of the couch. 

Evan had no idea how long he slept for, all he knew was when he woke up he was warm. His skin was on fire, his heavy clothes clinging to his sweaty body. He whined, wiggling around. That’s when he felt it. There were cramps in his stomach, and he was painfully hard, as well as slick dripping down the inside of his thigh. He huffed, only to breathe in the scent of the man next to him.

Evan’s mind left him in those few seconds, completely consumed by lust. He let out a gasp as he scrambled to get up. He looked over at Nogla, the tall Irish male fast asleep. Evan paid no mind as he crawled onto the pale man's lap. He gripped his shoulder and positioned his body over one of his thighs. 

He slowly rolled his hips down, gasping loudly. He did it again, and again, until he was grinding against Nogla’s thigh like a bitch in heat. Which is exactly what he was. 

Nogla slowly woke up, his eyes fluttering open. “Ev-an?” He croaked in confusion. His eyes widened seeing the horny Neko on his lap, and he was much more awake. “Evan! What are you doing?”

“Nogla..” Evan whined, burying his face in Nogla’s neck. “It hurts so much!” He tightened his grip on the man's shoulders as his hips quickened. 

The Irishmen didn’t know what to do, so just pushed his thigh up against Evan’s crotch. This earned him a squeak, making him smirk. So he slowly started rubbing his thigh against the Neko, while Evan’s pace was much quicker. 

Heavy moans fell from the tops mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head. His thighs started to shake, and his movements somehow got even faster. “Yes… yes.. Oh go- YES!” Evan screamed out. His hips stuttered and he came in his pants. He whimpered, clinging to Nogla.

Nogla just held the boys hips, his eyes wide in confusion. He slowly slid his hands under Evan’s shirt, feeling the sweaty and shaking body. Evan seemed to be calmer now, just breathing in the youngers scent.

“So, Ev,” Nogla spoke softly, hoping not to scare the boy. “Can you tell me what just happened?”

“I’m in heat,” Evan mumbled lazily. “I’m sorry.. You should go while I have the last grips on my sanity.”

Nogla shook his head. “I’m going to stay, and help you. Okay?” Evan opened his mouth to object, but Nogla shushed him. “I’m staying.”

“Then fuck me.”

Nogla did not waste a second to pull Evan’s shirt over his head, then taking off his own. He picked up the Neko, and felt the tail wrap around his wrist. He gave it a tug, hearing a loud moan. He smirked, the knowledge will be very useful later.

He carried Evan all the way to his bedroom, placing him down on the bed. Evan spread his legs out, gazing up at Nogla, his eyes wide with lust. Nogla was quick to shove off his pants and boxers, then the same to Evan.

He started to kiss and nip up the neko’s legs, grazing his teeth along Evan’s inner thighs. The boy whined, his thighs shaking. Nogla eventually got to EVan’s crotch, starting to kiss around the area.

Evan let out a kiss. “Piss off with the foreplay!” He whined. “Just fuck me!”

Nogla barked out a laugh. He sat up and Evan wrapped his legs around the Irishman’s hips, pulling him closer. Nogla pumped himself and lined up. He raised an eyebrow at the neko, who just glared at him, so he pushed all the way in. 

Evan let out a gasp, his head tilting back. “Nog-Nogla!” He whined out. “Please.. Please..”

Slowly, Nogla started to thrust in and out, making his large cock drag along Evan’s tight walls. The neko gripped the sheets below him, his mouth hanging open. Nogla pulled out once, and then slammed back in. Evan squealed. Nogla slowly picked up his pace, now slamming into Evan. 

With every slam, Evan lets out screams and squeals, moaning in pleasure. He arched his back and moved his hand down, starting to pump himself in time with Nogla’s thrusts. Nogla was letting out his own grunts, his head hanging. 

Evan was already so wet, and there was slick splattering with every thrust. Nogla gripped Evan’s hips, moving his own merciscley. Evan moved his hand quickly, swiping his thumb over his tip. 

“Nogla! Nogla!” Evan moaned out, throwing his head back. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Nogla slammed his hips in, not being able to keep up with his own harsh pace. Soon, with a few more pumps, Evan was cumming all over his chest. He let out a scream of Nogla’s name. He panted, his tongue sticking out. This didn’t deter Nogla, as he kept thrusting.

Evan started to get hard again and Nogla kept thrusting. He grabbed the bottom of his knees, pulling his legs up higher. Nogla took this to his advantage so slam into Evan’s prostate, feeling his tip squish.

“Holy shit Evan..” Nogla breathed out. He was getting closer to his orgasm, causing his thrusts to start to become sloppy. He kept pushing. Evan was starting to bounce himself on Nogla’s cock.

Nogla leaned down, connecting their lips in a sloppy kiss. Evan gasped into the elders mouth, moaning loudly. They tangled their lips together, spit going everywhere. After a few more harsh thrusts, Nogla shot inside Evan with a loud moan of his name. Evan arched and let out a loud moan of his own, cumming once again.

Nogla slowly pulled out, but Evan gripped his back, pulling him back. Nogla grunted and looked at the needy neko. “Cockwarm me..” Evan whimpered.

“Let’s get comfortable first,” Nogla pulled out. The two got under the covers and got comfortable. Nogla spooned Evan and slowly slipped back in, making the neko hum in pleasure. Soon they fell asleep.

~~~~~

When Evan woke up again, he pouted as he noticed Nogla had slipped out, but whined he felt so painfully hard. He sighed and wiggled on to his stomach, starting to thrust his hips into the mattress. He would have kept going, but he suddenly felt a slap to his ass, making him gasp.

He rolled over and looked up at Nogla with a frown. “Nogla..?” He didn’t get to say much more, as two fingers were suddenly thrust inside him. He gasped and moaned. “Nogla!”

Nogla tiredly thrust his fingers in and out, rubbing along his walls, making the neko whine and whimper. He soon pulled his fingers out, making Evan meow. Nogla chuckled. “That’s adorable.”

“Come on, I’ve got a plan,” Nogla gets up and goes to his closet, starting to pull on some clothes. Evan whined from the bed.

“Nogla! I’m.. I’m still horny..” Nogla chuckled and nodded. Evan sat up slowly, wincing slightly.

“Get up, neko,” Nogla smirked. “I’m taking us out, okay? Come pick some clothes.”

Evan reluctantly got up and went to the closet. He grabbed some of Nogla’s clothes, pulling them on despite being large for his frame. He went to hide his tail and ears, only for his hand to be slapped. He pouted and rubbed the assaulted skin. 

“No hiding,” Nogla said determinedly. Evan opened his mouth to say something but the Irishmen held out a finger. “No.” Evan pouted.

They finished getting ready and walked out of the house. They got in Nogla’s car, and the tall male started driving them. He drove them through town. Evan sat there, needy and wiggling in his seat. Soon Nogla parked, making Evan lookup. His eyes widened when he saw they were at a pet store. 

Nogla turned off the car and got out. Evan got out as well and quietly followed after Nogla. Nogla moved back, grabbing Evan’s hand. The neko blushed darkly. They walked into the shop, the cashier smiling at them. 

Nogla led them through the isles. He grabbed a few things, those being some bowls and cat nip. He went to the leash and collars, grabbing a simple black leash, then a pink collar with ‘PRINCESS’ on it. Evan followed, now holding Nogla’s arm with two hands.

Nogla continued to lead them through the store. Evan suddenly stopped when in the toy section and started pointing at something. Nogla followed his finger and saw a cute little mouse, around the size of his palm. He took it off the shelf and held it up for Evan. Evan nodded quickly.

He let go of Nogla’s arm for a moment to run to the aisle over. He grabbed a pretty pink blanket that would just barely cover his body. Nogla agreed to buy it.

They went to the counter with their items, putting them down and the cashier started to scan. She looked up at the two with a smile. “Are you guys getting your first cat?” She asked sweetly. “Oh, I bet she’s going to be spoiled rotten!”

Evan blushed while Nogla smirked. “Oh no, these aren’t for that kind of cat,” He moved his hand up to flick one of Evan’s ears, making it flicker in annoyance. “They are for him,” The cashier's face turned red, and Evan hid his face in Nogla’s arm. She continued to scan the items, then put them in a bag and handed it to Nogla. Nogla smiled in thanks and walked them out. 

As they got to the car, Nogla grabbed the collar. He leaned over to latch it on to Evan. Evan blushed heavily, but allowed Nogla to do what he wanted. Nogla made sure the collar wasn’t too tight then nodded in approval. 

Nogla drove off again, and drove them to a pet friendly restaurant, it was also hybrid friendly. Once there, Nogla grabbed the bowls and got out. He went around to Evan's side and grabbed the leash, clipping it on to Evan’s collar. Evan slowly got out of the car, and they walked into the restaurant. 

A waitress there led them to a small booth, where they sat opposite of each other. She placed menus down, poured them some water, then left with promises to come back. After she left, Nogla shook his head and yanked on the leash. “Animal’s eat on the floor.”

Evan’s mouth slowly opened, and his ears dropped. “Wh-What…? You can’t be serious..”

“Oh, I am,” Nogla smirked. “Now get of the fucking floor, pussy.”

Evan whimpered but slowly lowered himself to the floor. Nogla nodded approvingly and placed the two bowls down. He poured the water from the glass into one of the bowls. “Drink,” Evan obediently lent forward, starting to lap up the water. 

The waitress walked back over, and she blushed slightly when she saw Evan. She hummed, turning to face Nogla with a smile. “WHat will you be getting today sir?”

“Could I please have the pasta carbonara,” Nogla spoke as his eyes glazed over the menu. He smiled at the waitress. “And a salmon for him, but could you make the cook put it in his bowl please?”

The waitress nodded and leaned down, picking up the empty bowl. She left with the order and the bowl, going to the kitchen. Evan sat back on his knees, putting his hands on the floor in front of him. He looked up at Nogla. 

Nogla smiled and leaned over, starting to pet the top of Evan’s head. He scratched his ears, making him purr. “Such a good kitty,” Nogla praised.

Ten minutes later, the waitress walked back. She placed the bowl of carbonara down in front of Nogla, and the salmon in front of Evan. She smiled and walked away, leaving them to eat. 

Evan glared at the bowl, only to suddenly have a foot on his head. Nogla pushed Evan’s head down, pushing him to the bowl. Evan frowned but began eating. This made Nogla click his tongue in content and start eating his own food. 

They ate in relative silence, Nogla occasionally looking down at Evan. Sometimes teasing the needy neko. Pulling on his tail, or pushing on certain spots that made him squeak. He could see the slick leaking through his pants, making him chuckle. Nogla even started fingering the youngers ear at one point. 

After awhile, Nogla stood up, needing to use the restroom. He gave Evan a pointed look. “You stay here and be good, or you’ll be in trouble.”

“Yes master!” Evan nodded his head, wanting to be a good pet for his friend. He couldn't even say that anymore, it didn’t sound right. So Nogla went to the bathroom, leaving Evan to sit and eat his food.

It didn’t take long until a creepy older man approached the vulnerable neko. Neko was too distracted by his meal to notice, assuming it was a worker for the non recognizable scent. Only, he let out a squeal when his tail was pulled, which soon turned into a moan. He looked behind his shoulder, eyes widening when he noticed the strange man. 

He went to say something, but the man had grabbed a handful of his ear, making him whimper. “Don’t..” He whined, not being able to struggle. The man pressed his crotch against Evan’s ass, making the needy boy fight the need to submit.

It didn’t last for long, as suddenly there was a bottle of water being poured over the two. Evan gasped again and managed to scramble away from the man. He looked up, seeing Nogla with a very cross expression. Nogla gripped the bottle and hit the man over the head, making Evan’s eyes widen. 

Nogla growled. The waitress from earlier rushed over and grabbed their food left. “Bags?” Nogla nodded so she rushed away.

Nogla grabbed the leash and yanked Evan up. The man had run off. Nogla pulled their faces close together, glaring at him. He snarled. “Were you getting turned on by that man?” Evan shook his head quickly, panicked. “Don’t fucking lie, feral.”

“Yes…” Evan whimpered. Nogla wrapped the leash around his wrist. He threw more than enough money on their table. The lady walked out with two containers and the bowls. Nogla grabbed them then stormed out.

He unlocked the car and Evan jumped in quickly. Nogla threw the things in the bag then got in his seat, starting to drive back to his home. 

In his anxiousness, Evan pulled out the mouse from earlier. He slowly raised it, and pressed it to Nogla’s cheek. “Mousy is kissing you..”

Nogla’s angry demeanor dropped instantly, a smile replacing his cross features. “Mousy?”

Evan nodded happily. “Mousy!”

The ride continued in relative calmness. Nogla was focusing on the roa, occasionally checking on Evan. Said neko boy was just playing around with the mouse. He kept watching Nogle check on him, and once he had done the next checkup and looked back to the road, Evan pressed the toy against his crotch. 

He swallowed away a gasp as he started to roll his hips against the toy, while also pressing it down. He started to speed up, getting more and more needy. He got closer and closer, starting to gasp and whine. Nogla glanced over, looking back to the road, but his eyes snapped back. “Evan!”

Evan jumped and pressed the toy down, snapping his legs shut. Nogla shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Poor mousy!”

“I couldn’t help it!” Evan whimpered. “I need to cum so bad, I need to be filled.”

Nogla sighed. “Wait, pet.”

“Yes master..” Evan whimpered. He took mousy away, now holding him on one of his knees. He did feel bad for the poor toy, but he was so needy.

It wasn’t long till they were back home, and Nogla was dragging Evan inside his house via the leash, the bag of items in his other hand. Once inside, he dragged the neko up to his bedroom. He unclipped the leash and threw that as well as the bag into the corner of the room. “Strip. On your knees.”

Evan was quick to respond. He kicked off his pants and boxers in one, after he had taken his shoes and socks off. He dropped to his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling up his hair. He sat there in patience. 

Nogla watched the neko strip in a rush. As he did, he pushed his own pants and boxers off. He didn’t bother much with his shirt, just pulling it over his head. He stood to Evan’s right and started fingering one of his ears, making it twitch violently. 

“Eyes closed,” Evan closed his eyes, making a noise of confusion. “Now, take a deep breath..” Evan did as told, wanting to listen to his master. So he took a deep breath in. As he did, Nogla started to press himself into Evan’s ear. 

Evan made a noise, and his eyes opened. “I said close!” Nogla shouted, making Evan close them again with a whimper. Nogla continued to push all the way in until he was flush. He glanced down at Evan and smirked. The boy had opened his eyes again, only to make them roll back in his head. His tongue was poking out, drool pooling down it.

Nogla slowly started to thrust, making Evan whine. Nogla didn’t care about this as he kept up his slow pace of thrusting. He eventually started to speed up, making Evan start to pant. Nogla kept going, his hands gripped the back and other side of the nekos head. 

Nogla started to groan, moaning out Evan’s name. The tightness of the ear made his eyes flutter shut and he started to move his hips faster. “Oh this is so good..” Nogla moaned out. 

Evan panted, letting out little whimpers. “Master it feels weird!”

Nogla just laughed. He moved faster, pounding into Evan’s ear. He grunted as he felt the heat build up in the pit of his stomach. Soon enough, he shot into Evan’s ear. Due to the tight canal, most of it shot back out at him, or started dripping down. 

Evan made a noise and fell forward numbly. Nogle crouched, catching the boy. He rubbed his back with a smirk. Evan just babbled, his brain too full of cum. So Nogla picked up the neko and placed him on the bed. He got behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Together, they fell asleep, with no heat to wake up to.  

[creativeskullcreations]

Outside chapter 13: Moving in

And here's chapter 13 everyone! The climax for the arc is coming soon, so hold onto your Puppets everyone!

Although I may or may not put up Happy Times episode 3 first, depends on what I feel like writing these next two weeks. So, y'know, keep an eye out. :D

The next day started easily enough. Will and Stacy ate breakfast, and the set up the bedroom for Scout to stay in. Stacy saw no point in forcing the Puppet to hide in a bag all day again, when they could simply let her stay in the bedroom instead. She set up the laptop with Netflix, and made sure the Switch was all charged up for her to play on when she got bored of movies. She even asked what kind of snacks she'd want, though that didn't get a reply.

Still, they managed to get her settled in and locked the door just in time for Lisa and Mason to show up. Though Lisa was more than a little curious about it.

"So." The blonde started, quirking an eyebrow. "Why'd you lock the bedroom door?" Her tone was teasing, but Stacy felt a cold rush of fear from what she might think if she found Scout. Would Lisa run? Or would she be violent to Scout? Or worse, would she want to play dress up with her?

No. Under no circumstances should Lisa find out about the Puppet. Not yet, and not now.

"It's just a mess from last night, so we figured we'd be polite about it." Stacy told her, the lie she'd practiced coming easily. Will knew the story too, and had even checked it for holes.

"Oh, please, you two are as vanilla as fresh milk." Lisa countered, and Stacy panicked. The one thing they hadn't considered! "What are you hiding in there? A puppy? Or maybe a kitten?" She looked excited, and Stacy could feel a headache coming on.

"Nothing you need to see, Lisa." Will told her as he walked past. "Now, are you gonna help us out or not? I want to get this done today, so I don't have to pay extra for the truck."

"Fine, fine. But I am so gonna find out what you guys are hiding in there!" She promised. Stacy just scoffed as they followed Will outside.

"Good luck." Was all she said, even knowing Lisa would only take it as a challenge. She had faith, though, that her friend wouldn't be able to beat it.

Not that it stopped her from trying, of course. Lisa was nothing if not determined.

And so, in between carrying boxes into Will's house, the attempted to see what was in the bedroom. It started simple, with just trying to see through the keyhole or under the door. And then Mason caught her outside, trying to look in the window.

"Okay Lees, seriously?! Are you high? Because this seems like the kind of thing only High Lisa would do." He scolded as he dragged her back inside by the arm. Luckily Will and Stacy weren't nearby, or she'd be getting a double helping of Disappointed Glaring. No, they were getting ready to go buy everyone Subway, which was real nice of them if you asked Mason.

"Lil bit." She admitted. "But don't you wanna know what Mr. and Mrs. Vanilla think is kinky?" Mason just sighed, rubbing his eyes as she continued. "I'll bet they aren't, really. I think they adopted a pet! Which would be really weird for Stacy, since she doesn't like animals."

"You're such a fucking motormouth when you get high." He groaned before practically flinging her into the armchair in the living room. He grabbed his phone and put on a random YouTube video. "Watch that and try to sober up a bit, okay? And no more trying to look in their bedroom, you fucking weirdo."

"Yeah okay..." She mumbled, already entranced by the cat video. Mason smirked as he went back outside to see their friends off and double check the U haul for any forgotten boxes. He caught them just as they were getting into Will's car.

"We'll be back soon." Will said as Stacy climbed in the passenger seat. He himself was already in the driver's seat, food list clutched in one hand. "Stay out of our bedroom. And my basement."

"Will do boss!" Mason agreed, then watched them go. He checked the truck, finding no boxes. He closed the door, then went back inside to wait for Will and Stacy to return.

He went to the living room, only to find Lisa not where he left her. the only thing on the arm chair was his cell phone, neatly placed in the very center. He swore and picked it, shoving it in his pocket as he rushed to the bedroom door. She was there, of course, kneeling in front of it as she picked the lock. She looked up as he approached, looking quite cheery.

"Now's our chance!" She hissed excitedly as she worked the door. Mason grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away even as she kept working.

"Lees, no! You don't know what could be in there!" He insisted, but she pulled back. He didn't fight her too hard, not wanting to hurt her, but she was quite obviously out of her mind.

"C'mon Mason! Don't tell me you're not curious!" She grinned as she broke free, and finished unlocking the door. "Ooooh, what if it's that weird occult stuff they're into? That could be fun."

"No, it wouldn't!" Mason had seen things, back when Will had first started his hunting hobby. Things that still gave him nightmares sometimes. "We shouldn't open that door."

"Too late!" Lisa exclaimed gleefully, shoving it open and peering inside. Despite his protests, Mason did too, curious as to what exactly Will would allow to be kept in his bedroom.

'Maybe it is just a puppy or something. God I hope that's all it is.' He thought desperately, tensed to run at the first sign of trouble.

For a long moment, nothing happened. There was no movement, and the bedroom looked just like it always did, though with an open laptop and a Switch on the bed. Mason sighed in relief, and went to close the door.

"See? Nothing there except a computer and Nintendo. Now, let's close the door and lock up again before they get back and we get in trouble." He closed the door, completely missing the small figure that sneaked out as he did so.

"Pfft, lame." Lisa knelt down and began to try and re-lock the door. "I thought for sure there'd be a dildo or something on the floor, at the very least!"

"Yeah, well, there's not. So let's never mention this to anyone ever, okay?" Mason asked, turning and going into the kitchen, only to freeze at what he saw there.

"Ugh, fiiiine!" The blonde groaned as she finished up. She stood up, only to find her friend standing stock still in front of the kitchen counter. "Uh, Mason?" She joined him, only to stop and stare too.

"Nobody fucking move!" It was a small blue hand puppet with purple hair. It was pointing  a large kitchen cleaver straight at them, and glaring with angry yellow eyes. It looked mad, madder than Mason could remember any other doll looking.

And it was the cutest thing Lisa had ever seen.

"You're so adorable!" She squealed, making both puppet and Mason jump. The puppet readjusted it's grip, now pointing the knife at her while Mason stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He yelled. "We're being mugged by a possessed puppet, and you think it's cute?! Lisa!"

"But look at it! It's got little mitten hands, and some of the most realistic hair I've ever seen! It's so cute!" She reached for it, only drawing back when it swung the knife wildly at her hands. "Aw, I can't believe Stacy never told me about you!"

"How fucking high are you?!" Mason asked at the same the Puppet yelled "Get the hell out of my house!"

A dull thump sounded behind them, and the two humans turned to see Will staring at the Puppet in shock, Subway bags on the floor around him. "She has a knife." He muttered, sounding just a little bit broken. "Why does she have a knife? I  hid all the knives."

Stacy came charging around him, more bags hanging from her arm. She went right pass Mason and Lisa, and grabbed the knife away from the Puppet. She set it down on the counter then grabbed the Puppet up and hugged her close, though she resisted.

"They broke into the bedroom!" She insisted, jabbing a mitten hand at the two. "They broke in! I didn't break out, I swear!" Her voice held a desperate edge to it, one that made Lisa feel bad for being curious at all. For one white hot second, she worried Stacy might be the type to punish the poor thing for this.

"Scout- Scout it's fine! I'm not mad." Stacy turned to glare at Lisa. "At you, anyways." She finished, a stern tone to her voice. Lisa knew immediately she had to try and defuse the situation.

"Aw, c'mon Stace! You can't fault me for thinking you guys were hiding something in there. And, I was right! You were hiding this adorable little thing! How could you do that to me Stacy?" She gave puppy dog eyes, but her friend just sighed.

"You're lucky I only have one hand, or I'd smack you." She deadpanned.

"Fair enough." The blonde grinned. "Let me make it up to you. I can make this little cutie some new shirts, so she's not wearing that filthy one all the time."

Stacy paused. She... didn't actually know if Scout could take off her shirt. She supposed she could always wear any new ones over it, but wasn't sure.

"I don't know..." Stacy said out loud. She looked over to where Mason was helping Will pick up their food, a quiet conversation passing between them. She wasn't too sure what they were talking about, but figured it had to be Scout.

"Aw, c'mon! It shouldn't be too hard. What is she, about American Girl doll size? I make clothes in that size all the time for my sisters."

"...I'll think about it." Stacy finally said, as Scout climbed up onto her shoulder, and to the top of her head. The Puppet pulled on her hair, but Stacy was able to keep herself from reacting to the pain. It wasn't that bad, compared to what she'd been through already. And she didn't want to remove the Puppet anyways, in case she went back to being a recluse.

Lisa helped get some plates set up and distribute the food, chattering all the while about all the clothes she was going to make for Scout. Shirts, hats, even tiny mittens for when it got cold out. Scout found it all very absurd, although Stacy seemed interested in it.

'I'm not going to need those things anyways. Why is Stacy even humoring her?' Scout watched as the Hosts all sat and started to eat, still perched on her Host's head. She desperately wanted to try what they were eating, but turned away when Stacy offered her some. 'You don't even want to stay. No point in trying it anyway. Besides, it's just dumb Host feed.'

After lunch Mason and Lisa left for home, with Mason promising not to let Lisa have anymore weed. Meanwhile Will went to return the big truck they'd used, leaving Stacy and Scout alone. The Puppet took the time to look around, noting how many boxes there were stacked against the walls. Some of them had writing on them, but many were blank. Stacy sighed as she took in all the blank ones, hand on her hip.

"Would it really kill him to label things for once." She muttered, then gave Scout a grim look. "He did this when he moved up here. Didn't write down what was in a single box, and then ended up buying a lot of stuff he didn't need to simply because he couldn't find it." She grabbed a small knife out of her pocket, opening it with some difficulty, then jabbed it into one of the unmarked boxes. "Let's see which one of these has my comics in it..."

Scout watched her open the box from the couch, listening to the noises of frustration when what the Host wanted wasn't there. She wasn't deterred, though, and quickly moved to the next unlabeled box after scrawling on the newly opened one with a smelly black marker. Each new box held either a groan of frustration, or a shout of excitement as Stacy searched through each one for what she needed.

"Y'know, this is almost like Christmas. Except, more annoying cause I'm trying to find my stuff, rather than getting new stuff." She said after a while of of box opening. She finished writing and turned to the Puppet, who was absorbed in one of the comics she'd found. Speaking of, we'll probably be going to my grandpa's cabin with my family for Christmas this year. I should probably figure out how to tell them about you."

"Why?" Scout asked. She didn't see a point to

"Well, you'd be coming with us, obviously." Stacy told her, and the Puppet felt herself freeze up at the implication. The Host didn't notice. "My brother, Danny, he's gonna love you!"

'No I'm not.' She thought sadly as the human rambled on about her brother. 'I'm not going anywhere else if I can help it.'

Her plan had been working, quite well actually. She'd felt tired, lethargic even. And each movement had felt more and more difficult as time passed, to the point where she'd been sure it was about to end any day.

And then Stacy's fucking friends had opened the fucking door, and Stacy had grabbed her. Now she felt stronger than ever, and her plan was ruined.

No, she realized suddenly, while Stacy continued talking about her parents, not entirely ruined. She remembered something Riley had told her, before she'd been stitched to her very first Host. The bond relied on physical contact, but also proximity. Her energy would drain faster if she was further away.

"Hey, Host." She piped up, interrupting the human, who turned to look at her with a confused(and slightly hurt, but Scout ignored that) expression.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, still bent over a half opened box. When Scout didn't answer immediately she started to get worried and straightened up. "What? Is something wrong?"

For a moment, Scout didn't speak, staring down at the colorful pages spread out in front of her. She didn't want to do this, but wasn't any other choice. Not for her, anyways. Never for her.

'No turning back now. This Puppet's going down! Before anyone else gets hurt...'

"Do you think we could have a window open tonight?"

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

A Modern Horseman

Characters: Male Dullahan, gender-neutral reader

Content Warnings: house fire, car accident, reference to depression/suicidal thoughts

Rating: Orange/PG-13

Word Count: 2467

You stared in horror at the black smoke rising from your home, trying to figure out how this had happened. You lived alone with a particularly grumpy tabby cat named Morwen, and never left candles or the like lit if you weren’t right there. And yet, you came home to the building on fire.

“Oh no! Morwen!” you suddenly cried, rushing forward with the realization that your cat was still probably trapped inside.

A hand reached out, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back and making you stop short in shock, after all until that moment you thought you were alone. You turned to glare at the stranger, annoyed that they were getting in the way of rescuing your cat. He was tall, thin, and incredibly pale (you might even have called it a deathly pallor if you were thinking about such things). He wore all black, pants, button down shirt, and long trench coat, nearly blending into the shadows of the alley around him. His thin lips curled into a frown.

“It’s not safe,” he rasped, shaking his head gently.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. “I’m not leaving my cat in a burning building!”

When he showed no sign of letting go, you yanked out of his grasp. You just made it across the street and to the corner of your lawn when you were thrown to the ground by a blast of heat, as the fire blew out your windows, raining glass shards across the grass and sending fingers of flame up into the sky. You heard a scream, only realizing belatedly that it was your own. Hot tears poured down your face as you continued to stare at the utter destruction before you.

Suddenly, the stranger was in front of you holding out an irate ball of fur toward you.

“She made it out the kitchen window before it exploded,” he said, struggling to keep her in his outstretched arms.

You frowned, puzzled at the statement since your kitchen windows weren’t open, but decided not to question your good fortune as you took Morwen from him and cuddled her against your chest. Immediately, she began purring and nuzzled further into you. When you looked up from her, to thank the stranger, he was gone. You heard the sound of a motorcycle engine fading into the distance before it was drowned out by the sirens of emergency vehicles arriving on the scene.

~

The next time you saw the stranger was about six months later, as you walked out of your office for the last time, a small cardboard box of belongings and a very small check all you had left of the job you had dedicated yourself to for three years. He was across the street, dressed the same as he had been the night of the fire and leaning against his massive, old-fashioned black bike. He raised a hand in a gesture of greeting, your eyes meeting across the lanes of traffic, and then rode off again without a word.

You tried to tell yourself it was coincidence as you walked to your car, dumped the box in the back seat, and pulled out of the parking lot.

~

The third time was when you were headed home for a while to visit your sister and her newborn daughter. A driver who had been weaving through the lanes of traffic clipped the corner of your own car, sending you spinning off the road and careening through the guardrail into a ditch. The first person who stopped to offer you aid was a tall motorcyclist in all black. You had hit your head on the steering wheel and was fading in and out of consciousness as he gently lifted you from your wrecked vehicle, laying you on the grass and taking off his helmet and then his entire head to bring it closer and listen for your breathing and heart rate.

“My cat,” you murmured, trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t seen what you thought. “My cat was in the back seat…”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent tingles down your spine. “Always you and this cat.”

When you woke up in the hospital, thoughts swirling with images of handsome headless motorcyclists, you were told that you were lucky to be alive. By some bad luck of manufacturing error, the car had thrown you on impact, but that throw might have saved your life, since shortly after, the engine had caught fire.

“Morwen?” you asked, heart in your throat.

You mother patted your hand, careful to avoid the bandaged lacerations from your broken windshield. “She’s fine dear, the EMTs arrived on the scene just after the fire and heard her yowling. They got her out before she got hurt. She’s waiting at the house.”

You nodded, flooded with relief. But still your mind swirled. You were certain that you hadn’t been thrown from the car, and your injuries were fairly minor for that having happened. When you tried to ask about the motorcyclist who had stopped to help you, no one had any idea what you were talking about.

~

After you had recovered from your accident and returned to your regular routine, you couldn’t get the stranger out of your mind. Late one night a month or so later, as you laid awake staring at your ceiling, you thought you heard the sound of a motorcycle coming to a stop outside your new apartment. Heart in your throat, you threw a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts you slept in, shoved your feet into a pair of tennis shoes by the door, and ran outside.

Sitting on his motorcycle in the shadow between two streetlights, was a rider in all black, his head detached from his shoulders and sitting on the handlebars. His body seemed to be twisting to look behind him while his head seemed intent on your building.

You gasped, and his body snapped toward your direction, lifting his head and tucking it under his arm, shielding it from view as if trying to protect it from getting stolen.

“Either I’m dreaming, or you’re a…” you paused, searching your mind for an appropriate word before awkwardly settling on, “…not human.” Your voice was soft, more curious than frightened or accusatory as you approached him.

He swallowed, an odd sight since his head and body both moved, but not quite in sync with each other.

“You are…” he shifted uncomfortably, “not dreaming.”

“Oh. I don’t think I understand what’s going on.”

“I can explain if you wish.”

“I’d like that,” you said, then shivered, pulling your sweatshirt closer, “but it’s pretty cold out here. Do you want to maybe come upstairs to talk?”

His eyes widened. It belatedly occurred to you that you were inviting a total stranger, who had multiple times been around when you had some sort of misfortune and had admitted to not being human, up to your apartment in the middle of the night, but shrugged. Something about him made you feel safe; you trusted him despite how little you knew.

“That would be…nice.” He said hesitantly, slowly rising off the bike and walking toward you, moving as if he was afraid you would panic and run. Quickly, you led him inside, just in case one of your neighbors decided on a late night walk, and gestured to your couch.

“Do you want any tea or coffee?” you asked.

He shook his head and you nodded and filled the kettle to make yourself a cup. He settled himself on one end of your couch, lanky legs folding surprisingly gracefully under him, and placed his head between his knees. Clutching your steaming mug, you sat on the opposite end and mirrored his criss-crossed pose.

“So…” you started, full of questions.

“I am happy to explain as much or as little as you would like,” he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his pinkie visible above the line of sever.

“I guess, let’s start with who you are.”

“My name is William DeLoe. As for what I am, since I’m sure that will be your next inquiry. I’ve never quite figured that out for certain. Some sort of ghost, I think. A bit like the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, I suppose, except I can find my head and have no horse.” He laughed.

“Okay…” you frowned, puzzling through the information. “You have a motorcycle instead though right? How did you end up like this? Or, I guess you don’t have to answer that if it’s too uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I guess you’re right about my bike, I’ve never thought of that. I died in a crash back in the 60s. I’m pretty sure the guy that ran me off the road meant to do it, but I never proved it. Anyway, after I died, I woke up and just…kept going. Figured out eventually that if I’m careful, I can wear my head for short periods of time, which helps, but for the most part I carry it around.”

You were fascinated by his story and wanted to ask more questions but one thing was nagging at your mind first. “You keep showing up in my life, especially when I’m having…bad luck…”

He nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise, your house fire and car crash were not my fault. Sometimes I get this, sense about a person or a place, and I know I need to keep an eye on them. Usually, it’s someone who’s about to die; the dead spirits who struggle to cross over sometimes it helps that I’m around to talk them through dying and all.”

“So I’m marked to die and just haven’t yet?”

“No. I mean I don’t think. You felt different. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you and protect you.”

“Oh. Well thank you, then I guess.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure it’s my job so…” he rubbed the back of his neck again. “But you don’t make it easy, constantly trying to go back into terrible situations for your...stupid…cat…” as he spoke, you noticed that Morwen had snuck up on the pair of you and was rubbing against his head, butting into it and shifting it around his lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed him aside and perched herself where it had been, delicately washing a paw and purring.

“I’m sorry,” you said through barely suppressed giggles as he stared up at the ceiling from his new angle. “On the plus side, that means she likes you…”

He huffed and righted himself, moving his head to the arm of the sofa, since Morwen refused to budge. “It’s fine. I’m glad she approves. She obviously means the world to you.”

You blushed lightly. “Yeah, it’s cliché, but we rescued each other. I was in a pretty bad place when I found her, sleeping in my engine when she was a kitten and…well I couldn’t go anywhere if I had to take care of her, you know.”

He bowed his shoulders in what you thought was a nod. “I’m sorry to hear that you went through that. Are you still…?”

“No, I eventually got out of that low spot and got things under control. It’s been about two years since I had any…thoughts.”

“Well then,” he lifted his head and brought it to level with Morwen. “Thank you for guarding them until I came along,” he said seriously. “The world would be darker and less beautiful without them. And my unlife much emptier, lesser.”

You blushed, ducking your head. “I can’t remember the last time someone said something nice like that about me,” you muttered. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came into my life. And not just because you saved me, twice. I don’t know you well, yet, but I’d really like to.”

“Especially since, for a headless dude, you’re really cute,” you added under your breath.

Faster than you would have thought possible, and much to Morwen’s distress, he leaned forward, practically folding in half and holding his head so you were nearly nose to nose and staring intently into your eyes. Absently, you noted that his eyes were a beautiful, almost amber shade of brown.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, softly, almost breathlessly. “All of it? Even the part you hoped I didn’t hear?”

You blushed even brighter, and stuttered. “Yeah, I guess I did. I dunno.” You tried to shrug it off, but even still he smiled wildly, eyes sparkling.

He leaned back and Morwen squawked in indignation before jumping down to the floor to wash herself, pointedly.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “But as your semi-official guardian ghost, I’m sending you bed tonight. It wouldn’t do any good for us to get to know each other if you’re too tired and fall down the stairs to your death in the morning.”

You laughed. “I highly doubt that would happen, but I’ll take your point anyway. Let me walk you out first?”

He nodded. You rose, setting your half-empty mug on the kitchen counter as you slipped your shoes back on. When you turned around, he was standing surprisingly close to you, head tucked under one arm.

“Before we go, since we won’t be able to talk outside, in case someone spots me, may I try something?” he asked, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You felt your heart beat faster, and nodded quickly, not trusting your suddenly dry mouth to form words.

He grinned and lifted his head to be level with your own. Holding it slightly forward, he gently pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a gentleness that seemed almost hesitant. Smiling into the kiss, you returned the pressure of his lips with your own. As quickly as it began, the moment was over, and he pulled back, staring at you with adoration.

“That was…wonderful. I think there will need to be more, practice, to work out how kissing should be done best when one person’s head is not attached to their body, but we have an excellent starting point.”

You laughed. “I look forward to our experiments. And hey, at least you won’t have to bend down to meet my height.”

He chuckled in response. Reluctantly, holding hands with one another, you walked down your buildings staircase and all the way back to his motorcycle. He released you and casually, gracefully swung one leg over it.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, longingly. “Until the next time we see each other.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t wait so long next time,” you said, teasingly. “I like seeing you better when I’m having a good day than a bad one.”  

[sweetlangdon]

Delirious (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Notes: Part of the Roommate series. Michael has an emergency and his roommate worries. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, and a dash of the Fake Engagement trope. 

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of vomiting. Please forgive any inaccuracies, I’m not a medical expert. 

Word Count: 2.7k

You get the sense that something is wrong when Michael shuffles off the couch around noon on a Saturday looking like death warmed over. There’s a soft thud and then the patter of the cat’s paws on the floor as he follows quickly behind, meowing in that way that tells you his astute cat senses are tingling. Since Michael has become a part of life in your apartment, the cat has learned all of Michael’s moods and quirks just as well as he’s remembered your own. You trust his instincts despite his evil tendencies.

Something’s definitely up.

Michael slides onto one of the chairs on the opposite side of the counter like it physically pains him, and while you can tell he’s trying hard to keep the grimace off his face, you’re not fooled in the slightest. Maybe he’s doing it for your benefit, or maybe it’s just some weird male bravado thing, heightened to eleven because of his Antichrist status. He looks a little like he did the night you nearly ran him over with your car, and it doesn’t inspire any good feelings to see him slumped there across from you all pathetic and miserable.

Your phone clatters to the countertop. You watch Michael with a suspicious eye and finish off the last of your coffee. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge your presence in his usual fashion, which is odd. You know when he’s having an episode—he retreats and distances himself or lashes out with angry words and power he doesn’t mean. Like those early weeks in your cohabitation, his moods are unpredictable and sometimes volatile. You’ve learned to recognize the signs, when to back off and when to offer help if Michael needs it.

This…isn’t like that.

You approach this with caution. Your first thought is that he’s sick, but then you’re not really sure if the Antichrist is capable of being afflicted with something like the flu. But really, what the fuck do you know about apocalyptic figures inhabiting human bodies? Nothing, that’s what. Michael is half-human, anyway, so you think that maybe there’s a chance he could be susceptible to illness. Which is shitty of Satan, though you’re not surprised—the ruler of Hell isn’t exactly the picture of fatherhood. But the least he could do was give his half-human son a free pass from mortal bullshit like the common cold.

“You’re a hot mess this afternoon—no offense or anything.” Michael drags a hand across his face and looks blearily at you from across the small surface of the counter. The bruised shadows under his eyes tells you that sleep has been nothing but a vague concept to him in the past 24 hours. “Can I make you something? Eggs? French toast?”

“Mmm.”

Michael rakes his long fingers through his sleep-tousled hair and hunches over the counter. He looks feverish, you decide. There’s a rosy shade across his cheeks, and it’s the kind that accompanies chills and sweats and the feeling that the world’s spinning around your head while you’ve got wads of cotton shoved in your ears.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you remark, depositing your emptied coffee mug into the sink. “Refusing French toast on a weekend…you’re definitely not feeling well.” You sigh and scoop your phone off the counter again. “I’ve got some errands to run, but you can just chill here on the couch and rest. I’ll bring you back some—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Michael visibly pales—you’ve heard about this being a thing but you’ve never actually seen it, and it’s kind of awful, the way he goes still and the color drains from his face. He bolts up from the chair with enough force to send it crashing onto the floor and takes several long strides to reach the bathroom, slightly bent over with one hand clutched against his side. Once the door slams shut, the cat is there pawing at it anxiously. It sets your nerves on edge. He lets out a few high-pitched meows before settling in front of the door, tail fluttering softly behind him.

“Michael?” You cringe at the sound of him throwing up as you make your way over to the closed bathroom door with the cat staring up at you expectantly. As if you should have all of the answers.

“I’m fine.” Michael’s voice is weak and hoarse, muffled from the other side of the door and what you imagine is his head shoved into the toilet. Your stomach does one of those uncomfortable somersaults when you notice how unlike himself he sounds.

“That’s not really convincing.”

“All right—I feel like I’m dying,” he answers after another violent fit. “Is that better?”

You can’t help but smirk at the sarcasm that creeps into his tone, the dramatics you’ve become so accustomed to.

“It’s a start,” you tell him. “How long have you felt like shit? I need you to tell me your symptoms so I can help you out.”

There’s nothing but silence on his end. You huff out a sigh. “Michael?”

The door finally opens the moment before you’re about to break protocol. Michael leans heavily against the doorframe, taking ragged, shallow breaths, and you don’t know how it’s possible, but he looks worse than he did five minutes ago. There’s a sheen of sweat across his brow, strands of hair plastered to his temples. His normal body temperature, you’ve learned, is much different than the average human’s and therefore you’re not really sure how to tell if he has a fever, but your suspicions are confirmed by the way his shirt is clinging to his skin.

“It’s nothing,” he answers through gritted teeth. “Food poisoning or the stomach flu or whatever.” He’s annoyed, either with you or the whole business of being sick, you’re not sure which. Maybe both.

Michael only gets a few steps out of the bathroom before you see his knees start to give out underneath him. You hook one arm around his back as he fails to stifle a cry of pain and doubles over, grasping at his right side.

“You sure about that, Langdon?”

“Fuck.” His eyes are shut tight, and you feel his other hand close around a fistful of your shirt against the pain.

“Okay, you need to start being honest with me.” You guide him over to the couch as gingerly as you can manage, but all of the jostling makes him groan in what you assume is agony. He slumps into the couch cushions and the cat wanders over to join him, but you gently shove him away before he can pounce on Michael.

“Where are you feeling pain?” You have a theory, but you need to be sure. “Is it near your belly button maybe? On your right side?”

Michael nods, scrubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm. Your suspicions are confirmed, then. “That sounds like appendicitis.”

You take a deep breath because you know he’s not going to like this. “We have to get you to the hospital, Michael.”

He shifts a little and immediately regrets it, his face screwing up in a grimace. “No,” he answers firmly. “No hospitals. I can’t—there’s gotta be some other way.”

“Well, you’re shit out of luck because I’m not a surgeon.” You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s either the hospital or your appendix bursts, which will probably still kill you even if you’re not all human.”  

Michael looks offended at the very thought, his eyebrows pulling together as he frowns with one of those what the fuck faces and tries, unsuccessfully, to find a more comfortable position to sit in. You feel sorry for him—really, you do. You’ve been there before, years ago, but thus far in his life Michael has pretty much avoided the hassle of navigating the American healthcare system. You’re not even sure how you’re going to make this work, you just know that you have to, somehow. Neither of you have any other choice.

“I’m not going.” His resolute stubbornness is going to be the death of the both of you. Michael’s body goes rigid, his jaw set against another flare of pain, but he shakes his head. “I’m not having some fucking stranger cut me up.”

“I can imagine how that would freak you out, trust me,” you say, gently. “But I’d rather not watch you die a slow and agonizing death on my couch. That’s just not how I want to spend my Saturday.”

“You’d rather spend it at a hospital?” One of Michael’s eyebrows lifts. His voice is strained, wavering a little, yet you hear the anger intended behind it.

“If it means you’re not going to fucking die, then yeah, I’d prefer it.”

He accepts defeat, eventually, but he’s not happy about it. You forgive the sarcasm and petty jabs because he’s hurting, and you’d be fucking indignant and feeling inconvenienced and miserable if you were in his situation, too. Michael wants to change clothes before you leave and when you tell him it’s not worth the effort, the glare he gives you is downright lethal—and makes the lights in the apartment flicker ominously. You compromise by tossing a set of his clothes into a bag so he’ll look presentable when he’s discharged from the hospital.

It’s a tense ride there; you try your hardest to avoid pot holes and sharp turns. The silence that fills the car is deafening, Michael’s fingers tapping anxiously against his knee, his eyes closed tightly every time the uneven road makes the pain spike through him. You try to remain calm, more for his benefit than your own.

“Whatever I say, just go along with it,” you tell him once you’ve found a parking spot after circling the lot seven times. “And if anyone asks—and they will—we’re engaged.”

Michael lifts his head, eyes wider and his expression more coherent than you’ve seen for about fifteen minutes. And for the first time that day, he gives you one of those crooked smirks. You think it’s just because he’s in unbearable amounts of pain and it’s making him delirious.

“What the hell are you smirking at, Langdon?” You slip the ring that’s usually on your right hand to your left before you push open the driver’s side door. “It’ll make things a whole lot easier.”

“If you say so.”

The whole process is just as nightmarish as you thought it would be. The screaming kids in the waiting room, the scent of industrial cleaner that makes you nauseous and hangs like a fog in the air, the paperwork that you have to lie your way around. You tell them it’s urgent, that your fiancé might be on the verge of a burst appendix because you know they treat that shit seriously. You make up some bullshit about missing documents and a cross-country move and not having all of Michael’s paperwork finalized in the system. You try to sound like you know what you’re talking about.

It works, somehow.

Michael is admitted, and after the necessary exams and tests, they prep him for surgery. They let you in to see him before they wheel him off to the operating room—apparently you’re convincing enough as an engaged couple, which you don’t know how to process at the moment because there’s more pressing worries on your mind.

It’s strange to you, to see him like this in that bed, and you decide you don’t like it. He’s pale and sweaty, his wild golden curls hanging over his forehead. As you approach the bed you notice the hint of fear in his eyes and it’s then that you understand that all of the sarcasm and anger had been masking something more vulnerable. Michael’s terrified.

You settle on the edge of the hospital bed on top of crisp white sheets, careful not to jostle him. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

“I don’t trust these people.”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “But, they know what they’re doing. It’s a routine procedure—I got my appendix out in high school and everything turned out just fine.”

He looks up at you from behind strands of messy hair. “Yeah?”

You nod. “You’ll be out of here—and that hideous hospital gown—in no time.”

Michael laughs for the first time that day, then regrets it a little, clutching his side. He rubs at the space between his eyebrows with his thumb. “Don’t make me laugh, it fucking hurts.”

“I missed your laugh.” The admission leaves your mouth before you’re even half-aware of what you’ve said aloud, and by then it’s too late. “I mean, I’ll take it over you being a petty asshole.”

“Sorry,” Michael groans. “I didn’t…mean it. Before. I was just…”

You grin. “I know.”

You settle your hand on top of his and trace across his knuckles with your thumb for just a moment, trying to calm the fear racing through him. His skin is impossibly warm, more so than usual, his hand slick with perspiration. You close your fingers around his, giving his hand a squeeze before you let go.

“I’ll see you when you wake up.”

And, before you can think twice about it, you lean over and press a kiss to Michael’s temple. To keep up appearances, you tell yourself. You’re supposed to be engaged, and the nurses lingering around you would probably wonder otherwise. Michael holds your gaze until you’re out of sight, his expression unreadable, his eyes slightly glassy. It’s only when you’re separated, when you’re alone in another waiting room, that you realize your affection was never really an act at all.

Worry consumes you the whole time Michael is in surgery. You know he’ll be all right, but you can’t help it; it creeps into your thoughts, makes you restless. These places always set off your anxiety. You sit in a stale waiting room with the television droning in the background and the ambient beeps and noises fraying your nerves. You get up and pace around. You drink way too much coffee and scroll mindlessly through the apps on your phone as if it’ll help distract you.

It doesn’t.

Finally, after what feels like ages, you get word that the surgery went fine; routine with no complications like you expected. The tension drains from your muscles almost instantly, and you let out a long, deep exhale and quit clenching your jaw shut. You can breathe again.

Michael isn’t quite awake yet when you’re allowed in. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as you lower into the chair beside his hospital bed, comforted by the sight. What the hell would you ever do without him? It’s there that you realize you don’t want to be without him, that you hope this arrangement won’t have an end. There’s no hesitation this time when you reach over and grab his hand, gently, softly lacing your fingers between his.

Michael’s eyes flutter open slowly. He blinks at you until the room comes back into focus, and you offer a gentle smile. “Hey.” He doesn’t untangle his fingers from your own, so you take that as a good sign. Either that, or you’re just lucky because he’s still working his way out from the pain meds and anesthesia. “Everything’s all good. Routine, just like I told you.”

His eyes close for a second in acknowledgment. “Yeah?” His voice is weak, groggy, and you can’t help but find it a little endearing. Michael’s fingers tighten around your own, and your heart nearly leaps into your throat. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Staying,” Michael whispers, and you kind of want to cry. You nearly give yourself a headache so that you don’t. “For me.” His eyes close again, fighting a losing battle against the exhaustion that’s still dragging him down.

You squeeze his hand, just so he knows you’re still there. “I’m not going anywhere, Langdon,” you tell him. “You’re kind of stuck with me.” You laugh, lowering your voice a bit in case anyone decides to get nosy. “I mean, you put this ring on my finger…”

You see one corner of his lips quirk upward with a hint of a grin.

“And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, you know.”

Michael squeezes your hand.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo  @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @langdonfern @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @satansapostle @monsucre @ritualmichael @fernshorrorstory @queencocoakimmie @bluelancesredswords @theharvestgirloffire @punkysouls @sevenwondr @prettykitten123 @zoebensvn @kylosbabe @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies

[01010010-posts]

— me, me and nothing else.

requests: Could I ask for HC’s on how the RK’s would react to a female s/o who presents them self as masculine (clothes, hair, ext) but still identify as female

I'm so in love with your writing!! How would the android bois react to having a short s/o who is fearless and runs head first into dangerous situations and loves to playfully refer to herself as "the man"? idk it just seems like a funny scenario to me Haha

You can ignore this if you like but can i request the rks with a s/o that gets into a pretty decent amount of brawls? or at least is really really good at hand to hand combat? thanks a lot if so!! no worries if not!!! love your work btw! <3

maybe the rks and a reader whos always covered in bruises and bandages cause theyre always getting into fist fights or what not? i have a love for brawl-y readers

obviously this wouldnt be possible in canon BUT if youre down could i get the rks reacting to their s/o being really really strong? like kratos-flipping-a-temple-strong?

sorry, but can you do hcs for 900? basically, the s/o is very competitive and tries to be better at sports than 900 even though he is an android. i think it'd be cool.

ah yes, the usual self-indulgent shit ™ because im old enough for it

Connor:

• starts to adore social events • partly because of his programs and his nature • but mostly because whenever he sees you with a button-down shirt and a tie his heart skips a beat • how the fuck can you be so charming with masculine clothes HE CAN’T he doesn’t compute!!! • you must know magic to look so wickedly good • will fight anyone who says something negative about you • no one should feel the need to criticize you over stupid customs like a code dress • he really doesn’t get them, not only because he’s an android • but ahh it’s obvious that it’s not necessary for him to be so protective • gosh you’re tiny but totally capable of handling matters on your own • deep down he’s aware BUT still you’re his baby!! he doesn’t want bad things to happen to you • people sometimes wonder why he’s full of medicines, disinfectant, band-aids • is he a robot or a first-aid kit? • and he can’t help sigh and roll his eyes • why do they even need to ask? he needs them for his man • you’re a little rascal and?? he’s unable to be mad at you for long • THIS robot is whipped let me tell ya • yes don’t worry he will cut your hair whenever it grows too much • let him download a couple of softwares and he’s ready • if you want to dye them just say so he’ll have tons of fun!!

RK900:

• patience thin as your hair’s length • NO you can’t NO NO NO PLEASE NO GOD NO PLEASE UGH • this is your last pack of band-aids, use them wisely he won’t buy you any more • who is he kidding, he has a whole pharmacy in his pockets • yes, hello kitty girly plasters as a punishment since you won’t behave • too bad he played himself they’re too cute on you • fuck he’s totally sold for the bruised tomboy look what have you done to him • “wanna bet” • “what” • “i can beat you at wrestling” • “I’m,,,, literally double your size, double your weight and an android” • “yeah that’s why i’ll give myself a handicap, so that i don’t hurt you” • he’s crying sm • should he feel proud? should he feel concerned? surprised? aroused??? WHICH IS IT • ok it’s def a mix of everything above because wow did? you?? just? pin him??? • FINE you’re strong he admits that • but you’re still not allowed to get into fights!! • he will fucking pick you up and get you safely home • he knows you can defend yourself but not gonna risk it • super weirded out by how much force can be in such tiny body but ugh that’s his jam allright • “can you stop stealing my clothes” • never stop doing it he’s annoyed bc he’s too turned on by it • “but they’re comfy” • oversized to the max but nvm! • “but you could put on something more adapt to your shape?” • “my shape is that of the man of this relationship” • and you say it so casually he’s,,,, • “plus, they smell like you” • he might be blushing but you don’t pay attention to that, too focused on kissing his pretty face • he breaks the kiss and dreamily looks at you • “you’re the little man of the relationship in any case” • can you fucking just jdkldjdlkj • “and you’re the big one? fair. we’re a happy gay couple now.” 

RK800-60:

• positively encouraging you!! • from exercising with you and letting you spar with him • to the point of giggling when you call yourself ‘the man’ • he always reply by naming himself ‘the wife’ • which makes people p perplexed but makes you two laugh • of course it’s shopping and hairdresser together • i mean he doesn’t have any business there, he only sits waiting for you • yeah don’t worry you can totally engage in physical fights • humans can be repaired anyway • fuck no that’s androids he got confused for a second • ABORT MISSION PLEASE DON’T GET HURT • thank god you’re short he can still restrain you with a firm embrace • while you’re cursing and he’s holding you his head is able to process a single thought • ‘is this what having a feisty cat feels like’ • don’t,,,, make it difficult ok you gained a good hug out of it • he puts band-aids on himself too so you match • they look cool on you they should have the same effect on him • WRONG • they’re extra cute on him wtf you can’t stop smooching that dorky mug

[fresh-outta-jams]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 3

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 3 Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: When your soulmate tattoo finally shows up, an address, you figure it couldn’t hurt to send a letter, right? Warnings: Some swears, soulmate fluff Word Count: 2.2k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13,  Epilogue

It took Namjoon a long time to finally take a picture he was proud enough of to send all the way to America. The real trick, he discovered, was taking one that was vague enough to conceal his identity for a little longer, but not so vague that (Y/N) would feel like he was catfishing her. It was an awkward balance, but by use of a hat and some casual clothes on a busy Seoul street, he took a picture he was satisfied with.

As soon as he got it printed, he set to work writing his letter. Sitting down at his desk with his favorite travel mug full of coffee, Namjoon opened his now sticker-covered binder and flipped through the dozen or so letters you had sent him. Each one had been slipped into a plastic page protector to guard them from his clumsy ways. He couldn’t imagine the tragedy losing even one of them would be.

“Dear (Y/N),

It’s going to take a little while for this letter to get to you. I think I ran into the same problem you did, finding the courage to finally show myself to you. As you can see, I wasn’t able to gather enough of it, but this is me.

On another note, I’ve been trying to put words together for days to try to attempt to describe to you just how beautiful you are. I can’t even begin to figure out how I can capture in words the wave of warmth I get every time I look at my first and (so far) only picture of you. You look so happy in it, really genuinely happy and candid and I can’t help but wish I had been on the other end of the camera that took it.

Thank you so, so much for the stickers. I have them scattered all over my binder, and they really did help make it more colorful. As for Christmas presents, I would be more than happy with a rock. I’m sure you’d pick a great one. Seriously though, surprise me. I trust your judgement.

Also, how is it that one (1) week into Nanowrimo you already have 17,000 words??? What the fuck? How am I supposed to compete with that? As you’ve probably seen, my graph is not nearly as impressive as yours, but I’m not giving up yet. I was a little busy at work this week, so I fell a bit behind, but I actually kind of like my novel so far. I was afraid I wouldn’t. It’s not perfect, and I know that, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever written.

I have something to confess to you. I went back and watched over some of Friends again and...I surrender. I think, looking back on it with everything you said in mind, Ross really is kind of an asshole. Now I’m upset Rachel didn’t end up with Joey instead. I don’t think I told you this, but I got to go to the Friends set once for a tour sort of thing. It was really neat. I got to sit on the couch in the coffee shop. Sorry, that was random.

(Y/N), I hope you know I would LOVE to watch your film project. I’m sure it’s not trash, but you know what they say, we are our own worst critics. But if it makes you feel better, I will totally watch it and see if I can find anything. I’m glad you think my advice is good. Sometimes I’m not sure, but if it helps you, I must be doing something right.

You said you want to know the little things about me. For starters, I have my ears pierced. I heard that’s not as common for guys in the states, but it’s pretty common here. I’m not really a fan of seafood, but I love crabs, just not eating them. I have a younger sister. I don’t get to see her very often, but I miss her a lot. She’s about your age, actually. I like to think you’d get along.

I want to know the little things about you, too; anything you can think of. Also, riddle me this: what is a real American Thanksgiving like? I’ve always wondered.

-Namjoon”

***

Another long evening spent in the library passed and you still didn’t feel any better about your film project. The one you’d worked on with Ryan and Jacob turned out great, and your grades had been better than any of you had expected. Your solo film project, however...No matter how you edited it together, what transitions you used, or what music you layered underneath it, it still felt wrong in ways you couldn’t explain, and even worse, you couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

It was dark outside, the dead of night, and at this time of year, of course there were little flurries of snow drifting down. It wasn’t quite cold enough for them to stick yet, but it was getting close, and soon, you were sure your campus would look like a marshmallow winter wonderland.

You trudged all the way back to your dorm building, boots crunching in the leaves scattered about the sidewalk. You almost didn’t give your mailbox a second glance on your way through the lobby. Almost. Sighing, you walked over and unlocked your box, which had been empty for a little over a week now. Every day you checked and it was empty, you felt like something in you was wrong, like something had shifted out of place. Fortunately, when you opened it this time, that was not the case.

Mood shifting instantaneously, you grabbed the envelope and raced up the stairs, moving like someone had lit a fire under your ass. You knew, well, hoped, that inside this envelope would be the first look at Namjoon. He’d promised he’d send you a picture, and if he had chickened out, you would just have to fly across the world to kick his ass. It wasn’t like you didn’t know where he lived.

You snuck into your dorm carefully, discovering after you were inside the door that your roommate’s bed was empty, luckily. She must have been out partying. Good for you, you could click on your reading light without feeling guilty about it. So you did, plopping down in front of your desk, flicking on the little light, and tearing the thin layer of envelope that stood between you and your first picture of your soulmate.

You pulled the note out, the paper gently cradling something much more precious. With shaking fingers, you opened it and finally looked at him. Namjoon. He had a red beanie covering up his head, a black jacket layered on top of a white shirt, his beige shorts doing nothing to hide his long, long legs. There was sun shining in his face, making his tan skin glisten, and a hand rose to shield his eyes from the light, fingers long and covered in shining rings. And there, on one of his handsome cheeks, a very prominent dimple was poking in.

Holy shit. Holy. Shit. What had you ever done to make the universe reward you like this? This was your man? This? This man? Your man? Something wasn’t adding up. Your brain was failing you, not quite registering the reality that this beautiful nerd was YOUR beautiful nerd.

You read over Namjoon’s note, brain still fuzzy from the picture sitting on your desk innocently, as though it hadn’t just shattered your entire brain. Your hands were shaking when you set down the note, taping the picture to the wall beside your work station. It might keep you motivated when you needed to write papers. Or maybe it would distract you to the point of no return. You weren’t sure, but that didn’t stop you from sticking it right there anyway before uncapping a pen and trying your best to write back to him.

***

“Dear Namjoon,

What the fuck. What. The. Fuck. Okay, listen here buddy, I don’t understand how a human being can be that radiant. Your smile, your DIMPLES, your face...you literally glow?? Are you even human?? Did the universe send me an angel instead?? I don’t get it. My brain is mush. I can’t even think about anything except your handsome ass. Not fair, sir.

It’s cute you think I’m beautiful, even though we both know you are Olive Garden and I’m the leftover spaghetti that got run over in the parking lot. I still appreciate it, though. It did make me smile.

You know what didn’t make me smile, though? Namjoon. What the fuck. Do you want. For Christmas. I’m not getting you a rock, although the temptation is overwhelming now. Are there any American artists or authors you really like? I know ordering them in overseas can’t be cheap, but I could hit up Barnes & Noble and find you something.

I am so proud of you for your feeble attempt to beat me at Nanowrimo, but I warned you I have a lot of free time and I type really fast. Also, I’ve been planning my novel for three months, so that probably helps. It makes me happy to check your cute little chart every day. It’s adorable. No, but really, you’re doing really well for your first time and I love to watch your progress. I’m sure it’s going to be a bestseller someday.

Also, I TOLD YOU! I told you Ross wasn’t good for her! Ha! Fight me! Okay, but don’t really fight me though because you look like you’re tall and though I’m angry, I am also very small. Touring the set sounds cool! I bet that was really neat! I’ll have to add it to my bucket list.

Against my better judgement, I’m sending you my trash film project. It is very much trash. Please don’t sugar coat it. I need to know how bad it is so I can fix it before the end of the semester. But I really do appreciate you sacrificing your ears and eyeballs for me. How romantic.

The fact that you have your ears pierced doesn’t surprise me too much, but it does make you even hotter, which is not fair at all. Jesus, give me a break! It’s adorable that you love crabs, and I’m sure your sister and I would be best friends. If she’s anything like you, I’m sure we’d get along.

As for the little things about me...I love Back to the Future. I’ve seen those movies like seventy times and I still can’t get over them. I have this locket I wear and I never go anywhere without it. You can probably see it in my Wonder Woman picture. I have a black cat named Binx, but he’s at home, so I miss him a ton when I’m at school. I also have a little sibling, but mine is my brother and he is an idiot. I do miss him, though. He’s going to school in Boston, so I never get to see him.

To answer your question, American Thanksgiving is odd. The day starts out (in my house, at least) with the Macy’s Parade and then the dog show immediately after. Then, Dad enlists my help in the kitchen, even though I have no idea what I’m doing. Family starts arriving around four and then we have dinner and say what we’re thankful for. It’s pretty basic, but I guess you wouldn’t know given that it’s an American holiday. I think they celebrate it in Canada too, actually. Anyway…

Good luck catching up to me in Nanowrimo. You’re going to need it,

-(Y/N)”

***

When the envelope finally arrived for him after a long few days of waiting for it, Namjoon, as had been his habit of doing, leapt and bounded to his room to read it in solitude, away from his six well-meaning but inevitably noisy brothers.

It was chunkier this time that it had been the last time, meaning only one thing: you had sent him your film project. He opened the envelope with his usual care and slid the note, and the treasure hiding inside of it, out carefully. The letter was wrapped around a flash drive, a handful of autumn-themed stickers, and another smaller note.

“WARNING: THE FILM PROJECT CAPTURED ON THIS FLASH DRIVE IS TRASH NOT MEANT FOR HUMAN VIEWING. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.”

He chuckled to himself. There was no way it could be that bad. On the back of the little warning, there was another note.

“P.S. YES, NAMJOON, IT IS THAT BAD.”

Namjoon picked up the innocent little flash drive and plugged it into his computer, letting it think for a second before clicking on its icon on the screen. The player filled his desktop and he took a breath, staring at the play button that was waiting for him, practically calling his name.

Maybe he should read her letter first. Yeah, that would probably be best. Namjoon read over the words she’d written carefully, unable to keep a dopey smile off of his face. This girl thought he was handsome. More than that, she thought he was an angel. God, his heart was racing. What had he done to deserve this girl? How could he ever thank the universe for sending her to him?

Once he’d read the entire thing, still grinning like an idiot, he let his mouse hover over the play button before he finally let himself click on it.

Tagged: @ffantasylandd , @jooniefluff , @chimchimsauce , @mrs-saeyoung-choi , @theprinceoftheundead , @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit , @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98 , @iminlovewjjk , @feed-my-geek-soul

[paperhatcollection]

Secrets

Marvin could name a few disadvantages with turning into a cat. Namely, finding yourself plucked off the floor while you were trying to prowl down the hallway unnoticed. 

He felt himself plucked from the ground by a pair of hands from under his stomach before he even noticed anyone in the hall with him, almost imminently wrapped up in a pair of warm arms while his huger buried his face in the white fur running down his back, cooing at the pretty kitty. Marvin felt himself stiffen before relaxing into the arms, flickering his ear. He could hear the dim drum of static, which he mistook for the familiar hum of the lights that always seemed so loud when he turned into a cat, until his holder spoke. 

“What a pretty kitty~” Anti coo’d, brushing a hand down Marvin’s head to the tip of his tail. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he was continuing to walk, but he seemed aimless, just wondering around as he was careful not to let the all white norwegian forest cat in his arms bounce to much from his movements. 

Marvin jerked his head up, craning to back to look up at Anti. The glitch was grinning, flicking his finger over one of Marvin’s ears, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Come to think of it, Marvin wasn’t sure if he’d ever told Anti about his ability to shift into other forms, but he’d kinda just assumed Anti would recognize him anyhow. Apparently... he was wrong?

Anti’s fingers drifted down, brushing some of Marvin’s fluffy fur aside to look at the collar around his neck. A little transmutation of his clothing, so he didn’t lose it when he transformed. Anti tsked. “No tag, huh? Well how is anyone supposed to find out where you’re from if you get lost? You must be in indoor baby, aren't you? Bet you scratch up all the furniture with those sharp claws of yours~” 

Oh, his claws were out in his surprise. Also because he was low-key afraid of being dropped. Marvin considered retracting them... but that might give him away, and he kinda wanted to see if he could mess with the glitch like this. Instead he dug his paws into Anti’s shirt, using it to hoist himself up onto Anti’s shoulders and wrap around them, wacking his tail into Anti’s face while doing so. Anti laughed. 

“Aw, someone likes to be tall.” Anti said, shooing Marvin’s tail away. It thumped back into his face with a foosh sound. “Silly kitty. Guess you wanna play, huh?” his hands found Marvin again, and before the magician could do so much as meow, Anti glitched them away. It was a lot... gentler than Marvin had thought Anti’s glitching would feel like. It was like the world around them flickered and suddenly they were standing somewhere new, as if they’d already been standing here. 

Here being... where was this? Marvin turned his head slowly, blinking once as he took in the room. It was a single room, with wooden walls and a ceiling, part of the room sectioned off by a short latter and ledge forming a shelf where boxes had been stacked. A bed and desk where shoved under the latter, with what looked like a closet to the side. Against one wall was a dresser, a nightstand, an oven, and a small table with a microwave and some plates. And there were random electronics... everywhere. There was even a whole server rack shoved into one corner, and despite not being plugged into anything, was blinking with slow, green lights. 

He didn’t have long to think of it before Anti dropped him onto the bed, which was covered in a surprisingly large amount of plushies of various types. Where these... Anti’s??? Marvin didn’t think he was the type. But Anti laid down on the next to Marvin, digging around in the pile before finally pulling out a little plush of Sam, dangling it by its tail in front of Marvin. He blinked, before reaching out a paw with his claws retracted, swatting at the toy. 

Anti giggled, bouncing the plushy around and making Marvin chase it around the pile of stuffed animals. “Ah, look at that. The ferocious predator, stalking it’s prey. It sneaks up on the poor unsuspecting Sam, unwavering, waiting for the moment to strike~” Anti narrated, drifting the Sam across the sheets slowly. Marvin narrowed his eyes and considered ignoring the toy just to spite him, than decided to leap at Anti’s hand instead. Anti yelped and pulled his hand back just in time, leaving the Sam defenseless for Marvin to swat around, laying on his side to play with the plush. 

“Victory!” Anti cheered, scratching behind Marvin’s ear. “Do you like it, kitty? That was a gift from a friend of mine, so just be careful, okay?” Anti laid his head down by Marvin, watching him play, but he sounded distant. Like he was talking more to himself than the cat he didn’t think could understand him. “It was my first plush actually. You know, I used to think these things were so silly, cause what do you even stuffed animals for? But I don’t know... there was something nice about having it, and I started to collect more and now...” Anti paused, laughing and knocking a stuffed pumpkin with a happy face on it over. Wasn’t that from Steven Uni- “I think I might be developing an addiction to these things.” Anti laughed. 

Rolling over, Anti sighed contently, one hand absentmindedly petting the kitty. “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you kitty?” Anti chuckled. “Course not. what would you even understand about dumb old human problems? I could tell you anything. Like- that time I broke Chase’s mario pipe mug, and threw away the pieces before he noticed. He’s got like, fifty of those things, and he never even uses them! Just puts them up on his shelf and looks at them!”

Marvin flicked an ear in Anti’s direction, trying not to give away that he was listening as he began to purr. Yes, he would have said if he were human. Tell me more gossip. Even without being prompted, Anti seemed eager to just let himself talk. “Or... what about that time Henrik was getting addicted to his... I wouldn’t even call that stuff coffee, there was what? Five hour energy drinks, triple espresso, some vodka, a little pinch of sugar, and some other stuff mixed into that stuff? He stopped sleeping after drinking it, it was crazy.” a sigh. “So I stole one of Marv’s sleep potions and swapped it out for the coffee when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t even taste the difference! That he ended up crashing, and after he woke up, Jackie got everyone together for an intervention.” 

He remembered that. They’d all been alarmed to find out what the doctor of their friend circle had been putting into his body, but he hadn’t realized Anti had stolen any of his potion. Huh. He’d need to keep a better lock on those things in the future. 

“He’s gotten so good at that sort of thing, too.” Anti continued. “You should have seen him when he was first starting- he could barely cast a simple light spell, but now he could bath the room in all sorts of light shows and illusions, or brew up a bunch of potions, or enchant objects, or even read minds, it’s incredible to watch him work. It’s like he’s on stage, all the time, and you just can’t help from watch him preform his magic tricks.” If Marvin was human, he’d be blushing right about now. That was nice of Anti to say-

“In fact,” Anti clicked his tongue, looking up at the ceiling with a glanced, half focused look in his eyes. “He’s pretty dang magnificent, all right. I’ve been to all his shows, and I’ve seen him practice some of his tricks with the others. He’s so at ease with his powers, it’s almost as pretty as he is. When ever he gets a spell right for the first time, he gets this pleased little smile on his face, and he has this really fluttery laugh- like butterfly, kinda.” Uh. Wait a minute. “And his eyes light up- not literally, but he can do that to. He’s just so... alive when he has a chance to preform magic, he gets so happy, it’s almost contagious, and sometimes I think my hearts gonna burst just thinking about him.” 

A sigh, soft. Content. “I love him so much, it almost hurts.”

Oh. Oh no. Um. Uuuuuuh... “Meow?”

Anti rolled over, scratching behind Marvin’s ear and smiling at him, but his gaze seemed a million miles away. Distant and cloudy. “Sometimes, after a show, I’ve sent him flowers. Calla lilies, usually. They mean purity and faith, and ‘magnificent beauty’.” Marvin hadn’t known that. He just thought that they were pretty flowers from a fan. “I’ve always watched him from afar, under his spotlight. He’s like... like a star, or a beacon or... or...” a soft sigh. “He’s perfect and talented and nice and everything I’m not.” 

A shrug. Anti’s voice was... a little more hallow, the look in eyes as distant as before. “I could never tell him. He’d reject me and... well, I can get by just watching from afar. Admiring him. But... what if he was disgusted? Or hated me? I don’t think I could take it, but I’d understand. I mean, who’d like a monster like me, am I right?” he asked, a weak sounding laugh falling from his throat as he reached a hand up to brush fingers across the underside of his scar. 

Marvin stood up and smacked Anti’s face with a paw, mewing loudly. He didn’t even know what he was doing, he’d jumped to his feet without thinking about it. Anti blinked and snapped out of his daze, sitting up and pulling Marvin into his lap, petting him. “Geez, you sure are a loud cat when you wanna be, aren't you?” He asked, booping Marvin on his little nose. “Ah man, I should get you back to the house, your owners probably freaking out about you by-”

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted Anti. He dropped Marvin onto the bed, digging his phone out of his pocket and slipping off the bed as he took the call, wondering towards the middle of the room. “Hey, Jackie. What’s up?” he paused, rocking back on his feet as his eyes drifted across the room. “Naw. I’m not even home at the moment. Well, I’m sure he’s somewhere, but he’s a magician, so he probably literally just disappeared.” 

Anti hmmed into the phone, idly tracing the wooden beams in his ceiling with his eyes. Than he froze. Paled slightly, gulping. “... what?” Anti asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Another few seconds passed. Anti slowly pulled the phone away from his head. He was shaking slightly. He looked back at the bed, back at the kitty. 

“... M-Marvin?”

Marvin tipped and hit the floor when he tried to shift back and get off the bed at the same time. He pushed himself back up- his gloved, human hands under him, his cape settling around his shoulders and the weight of his mask settled on his face in place of fur. Marvin lifted his eyes to Anti, standing slowly. “... Anti?”

A blink. Anti lowered the hand holding his phone to his side, but he hadn’t ended the call yet. He could hear Jackie’s voice from the other end, trying to figure out where Anti went. Anti’s breathing picked up a pitch, than another pitch, and suddenly his glitching took over, overwhelming him, and then he was gone. His phone hit the floor with a dull thunk. The servers all shut off at once. 

Marvin sucked in a breath through his teeth, smacking a hand against the for head of his mask. Shit. He should have said something before- he stepped forward and picked up Anti’s phone, slipping his mask on top of his head as he held it up to his ear. “Jackie? Hello?” 

“Marvin? It that you?” Jackie asked from the other end of the call. “What are you doing with Anti’s phone? And where are you?” 

“Anti found me as a cat and uh- didn’t recognize me, as it turned out. I might have... um, scared him off.” Marvin said. He glanced around. “Do you... know where Anti goes when he, uh, he freaks out?” 

A paused. Jackie could probably tell Marvin was keeping something from him. “Yeah, actually. I do.”

-----

“Anti.” 

There was no way Anti hadn’t seen him warp in. Not when his magic came with big flashes of cyan light, almost designed to pull the eye towards him. Besides, it was night, and in the dark under the trees, Marvin might as well have brought a siren with him. Anti didn’t bother turning around, however, sitting on the edge of the tree line with his knees pulled to his chin, arms wrapped around his legs as he watched the water ripple over the lake. 

“Anti.” Marvin repeated, slightly louder this time. He stepped towards the other, leaves crunching under his foot, and he could see Anti flinch and curl further into himself. “Anti, look at me.” Marvin said, sighing and reaching out to place his hand on Anti’s shoulder. 

Anti glitched, reappearing past the trees and closer to the water, standing with his arms wrapped around his chest. Marvin hovered by the trees, not wanting to spook him away again. “Anti, you can’t keep running away. We’ve gotta talk about this.” 

“... Why?” Anti asked, his voice was muffled a little, from the distance and the fact Anti was faced away, but the night was quiet enough for Marvin to just barely make out what he had to say. It occurred to Marvin that he couldn’t even hear Anti’s normal static in the air. “Just... Just yell at me and go away. Go head. Call me a creep, a monster, a... a glitch bitch,” Anti’s voice broke too badly for him to keep talking, forcing him to stop and take in a deep, stuttering breath to keep going. “I’m the bad guy here, I know that. I just... I just wanted...” He rocked on his feet slightly, a sob escaping his throat. 

“No, no you’re not.” Marvin crossed the tree line without a second thought. “I’m not mad at you Anti, I swear. You’re not a monster.” 

He reached out, snagging Anti’s arm before he had a chance to glitch away again. Anti still jerked from his touch, turning and looking at Marvin with wide, panicked green eyes, opening his mouth to say something- and then he saw the flower Marvin was holding out to him. A white flower, with the petals gathered together in a swirl in it’s center, and a crown of petals encircling the others. Four green leaves peaked out of the sides of the flower, framing it like a compass. 

“A gardenia.” Marvin said, voice soft, nearly a whisper. “Normally, when you give them to someone it means you think they’re lovely, but it also symbolizes secret love.”

Anti’s hands were shaking as he took the flower, holding it up in the dim light of the moon. He shuddered, shaking his head, still holding the flower outwards. “Th-this is mean. What, are you gonna make it burst into flame? Turn it into thorns? Just... just tell me you hate me and leave.” Anti’s voice was breaking again, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Just... please, don’t do this to me. Please.” 

“I’m not going to do any of that to you, Anti.” Marvin placed his hands on Anti’s, closing them over the flower, stepping closer so that their hands were pressed between their chests. “Because I’m not lying to you, I promise. I don’t hate you. I never have.” he lifted one of his hands, brushing away tears that had spilled down the side of Anti’s face. “I love you.” 

For a second, he was worried Anti was about to teleport away again, his eyes widened, his lip trembling. And then Anti was pressing into him, his arm wrapping around the magician, burying his face in the crook of the others neck as he let out a low wail. Marvin wrapped his arms around Anti, rubbing his back in soothing motions, holding Anti as he broke down. 

It felt like they stood there, just the two of them, for a moment that lasted an eternity. Anti’s shaking slowly began to disappear, his breathing took on a more normal rhythm.Eventually he finally pulled back, scrubbing at his face with the back of one hand, the other clutching the flower closer to his chest. “Y-You really mean that, don’t you Marv?” he asked, his voice a whisper. 

Marvin nodded, thinking, than slowly took Anti’s hand. “You said you liked to watch me perform.” Marvin began, watching Anti’s face carefully. “Would you like to see me do something now?” 

Hesitating, Anti nodded. Marvin took the flower and slipped it over one of Anti’s ears, than took his hand and led him out to the water. He muttered a spell under his breath, and a flash a green raced across the pond. A moment later Marvin stepped out onto it, walking on the still water as easily as land, before turning around and holding his hand out for Anti to join him. 

Anti glanced down at the water, slowly placing his foot down on it as if he expected it to give out under his weight, before returning his gaze up to Marvin’s and taking his hand. Trusting him. Marvin lead him out to the center of the lake, never letting go of Anti’s hand, than lifted his free hand and snapped. His magic buzzed around them and the moonlight grew brighter, becoming akin to blue tinted sunlight as it fell around them. A private spotlight, for just the two of them. 

He pulled Anti close, his free hand settling on his hip. Recognition flashed in Anti’s eyes. Marvin began to hum under his breath, leading Anti in the dance. Under their feet, the water lit up with ever step they took, a rainbow of soft, glowing steps. Anti’s voice followed his a moment later, picking up on Marvin’s melody, in tune with him as they danced. A little nudge from Marvin, and some of the water began to swirl around them as they danced, forming lines and jumping to the rhythm of their movement.

It was beautiful. One of the best shows Marvin had ever put on, the lights spectacular and eye-catching. As they danced the world seemed to dance with them, eager and passionate, yet never once did their eyes leave each other. 

[dama-de-la-muerta]

The Queen of Mayhem: Part 7

(Author’s note: In this time line mother Reyes was killed by a dirty cop NOT Happy. *glares at Kurt Sutter* )

Happy Lowman X Ko (oc)

#################################

Ko’s POV

I see flashes of light. Blood, everywhere. It’s the same everytime. They turned on each other, brought themselves down with their love of money. They never should have made a deal with the cartel. I hear a bang. It’s new. It feels like I’m surfacing from the bottom of a lake. My chest is tight, head is pounding. I can’t breathe! I can feel hands on me, my eyes fly open. I reach for my gun that should be on my nightstand. A hand pins my wrist. “Ko! It’s me, it’s Happy! Look at me.” I turn my head. I remember the last few days. I nod and stop struggling. It’s still hard to breathe. “Alvarez is here. He’s outside.” Happy releases my hand. “I need you to calm down, okay? Just breathe, little girl.”

I try to slow my breathing. My chest hurts still but I can handle it. “Can you get me some water?” My voice is shaky, I hate feeling weak. Happy nods and gets up. I can hear his bare feet on the wood floors. I swallow. Better get dressed before my brothers show up. The last thing I need is to be in bed with a man when they see me for the first time in 8 years. I grab a pair of yoga pants and a black shirt. I smile at my vest.

“Ko? “ Happy is at the door with my glass of water.

“I’m going to take a shower, want to join me? No sex, I just need to be a little clingy right now.” Happy nods. I’m glad he understands. He hand me the water and I down it. He takes it back and sets it on my vanity. I move into hug him and realize that at some point he put on his boxers. “Is there someone else in my house?”

“No, I didn’t want to answer the door naked. Alvarez and our guys are in the driveway.” Okay now my neighbors are definitely going to call the police.

“Shower first, coffee second, humans later.” Happy hums a laugh at me. I let him go and head to the bathroom, set down my clothes and realize I still don’t have underwear. I turn and Happy is holding a black set. I can’t help but smile. I think he’s catching up to the fact that I am not a morning person. I pull a towel out of the closet and step over to the shower. Happy has already turned the water on. As hot as it goes. I bury my face in his chest. How is he so perfect?

I feel a splash of water on my arm. I look up at him. “Really?”

“No need to waste hot water.” I shake my head and step in to the glass walls. I turn my back to the shower head and let it soak my hair. I let out a little moan. Then I hear a growl. Oops. I open my eyes to see Happy standing in front of me. I smile and let my eyes wonder down his chest. Now that’s scary. Our tattoos match, our oath matches. Hmm. Maybe God still has plans for this wayward child.

He grabs my bottle of shampoo and puts some in his hand. I turn to let him wash my hair. His hands feel amazing as he massages my scalp. I lean into him. He uses the shower wand to rinse my hair. I grab my conditioner. “What, did I not do it right?”

“You’re perfect but if I don’t have enough conditioner my hair will not cooperate.” I explain as I cover my hair in the product and then tie it up in a bun. Happy places the wand back and picks up my body wash. He smells it. “The bar is Irish Spring if you don’t want to smell like roses.”

Happy nods “Only thing that gets rid of the oil smell.” He lathers the gel in his hands, then he begins to work his hands down my body. I let myself indulge in the feeling of his calluses. As they trace my body lower and lower. Suddenly he shifts to bite the side of my neck. I can’t help my gasp or that rock back into him. He’s trying to be playful. “Rinse off and go get dressed little girl. I’ll make you coffee when I’m done.”

########### Time Jump#############

I’m dressed in full black. I’ve done my makeup my hair is in a new conditioner free bun. I pad into the kitchen where Happy has my coffee waiting. It’s in my favorite mug, with ice and the right amount of creamer. I might have to marry him. If my brothers don’t run him off. I pick up the cat covered mug and take a sip.

Happy in his usual clothes, puts a hand on my hip. “You want me to go let them in?”

“Yep. That or he might break it down.” Happy kisses my forehead and then moves to the front door. I hope my brothers aren’t here yet, I’m not ready.

Happy opens the door. Chibs and Tig are first two in. Tig comes to my side, he gives me a hug and kisses the top of my head. “Morning doll. Mind if I make myself a cup of coffee?” I smile and nod.

“Coffee bar is over there.” He thanks me and moves in that direction.

Chibs smiles at me. “Good morning, little one. Your bike should be here in a few days.” He moves to the kitchen table and takes a seat.

After him is Alvarez. He gives me a hug. “You have no idea how crazy those boys went looking for you!”

“I don’t think EZ did much looking, being in prison and all.”

Marcus sighed. “I meant Angel and CoCo. You left in the middle of the night, no note, nothing.” The look in his eyes tells me he knows that I left from Coco’s bed. That he knew that a week after my twin’s sentencing I freaked in the middle of a club party, packed my shit and ran. I didn’t leave a note for anyone. Not for my twin, not for my big brother, not for the man I let fall for me. “A lot happens in 8 years, Ko. They have always kept people on the lookout for you.”

“I guess they didn’t look too hard. I didn’t hide. I just left. I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t what they wanted. Not really. “ the kitchen was silent. I can see Happy in the background. He’s torn between respecting the other club president and protecting me. He steps to my side and puts a hand on my waist.

“Come sit down little girl. Be calm. There’s no need for anyone to be upset. It’s done. It’s over. No one can change anything now.” I sit at the table between Happy and Tig. Alvarez is on the other side.

“The last I heard your brothers are about 2 hours away. They aren’t mad, they’re just happy to know you are alright.” Marcus seems to understand my unease. Although I doubt that they aren’t angry. EZ isn’t I can feel it, but Angel is probably not going to be good with letting me stay. My mind turns to CoCo, Johnny probably blames himself for my disappearance. He picked a fight that started my panic.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” All my thoughts are running together my chest feels tight. My vision blurred. I feel Happy’s hand on my back. Then my face stings. I gasp, and look around. No they do it. It’s EZ he’s close enough our bond is working stronger. “They’re almost here.”

I can hear Tig and Chibs shift. I look at them. “Twin sense.” Tig nods but Chibs seems a bit confused.

###############Time Jump###########

Alvarez received another phone call, the boys are at the Sons club house. Tig and Chibs lead while Happy and Marcus fallow. I squeeze Happy a little, to let him know I’m alright. We pull into the lot, and Happy backs the bike into his spot. I have my face buried in his neck. After he turns the bike off he pats my leg. “Come on little girl. I’ll be here every step of the way, if you want.” I nod. I dismount the bike and wait for Happy. I know the boys are sitting on the picnic table. I’m still hiding behind my sunglasses. Happy takes my hand, trying to keep me calm. I sigh, turn around and walk to my brothers. EZ slams into me. His arms are stronger than I remember.

“Don’t ever do that to us again, Ko! I can’t take it.”

“ I’m sorry. I should have at least let you know I was alright.”

“Oh no, I was mostly mad at those two pendajos for not telling me you left. It was a on our birthday when they finally admitted it.”

Angel aproches us. “I was hoping you would come back and I wouldn’t have to tell him. But when you don’t see your twin on your own birthday it kind of sets in.” He paused and then joined the hug. “Please don’t do that again. I don’t know that the club can handle all three of us freaked out at once.”

I look over EZ’s shoulder and see Johnny. His body language is relaxed but his eyes are screaming. He’s not sure what to do. Angel nods and he comes over. I feel shaky. EZ doesn’t let me go. “lo siento princesa. I should have never pushed at you like that.” He cups my cheek and kisses the top of my head. “So is that your new man? Our little princesa has the Tacoma Killer wrapped around her finger.”

They don’t know. I look EZ in the eyes. He cocks his head to the side and then it clicks. He nods. “You’re kidding right.” I shake my head. “Dios mío, and to think we spent so much time trying to protect you.”

I laughed. The other two share a look. “What?” CoCo asks.

“I don’t know, I don’t speak twin. They’re probably sharing notes.” Angel says.

Happy clears his throat. I smile. “Happy, this is my twin brother Ezekiel, our big brother Angel, and Johnny Cruz.” Happy nods and shakes hands with my brothers.

############Time Jump ###########

Happy’s POV

“How are you doing?” I’m worried they are going to spook her into running again. She’s been sitting with them in the clubhouse most of the morning talking. She smiles at me.

“Can we go get lunch?”

The club door opens and Venus walks in. I really hope her brothers aren’t stupid enough to be disrespectful. “Did I hear something about lunch? Oh my dear girl I know just the place! And of course we can bring our pack of men with us.”

Ko laughs and stands to hug Venus. She introduces her brothers to her. They don’t say anything stupid so I’m as worried. I move in, Ko turns to me and wraps her arms around me. I rub her back and put my chin on her head. EZ seems to trust me with her. Angel is edgy but trusts his brothers judgment. But the other guy. He seems jealous. From what I’ve over heard they were together. Something he did or said set her off.

She lets go. “Who’s working on my car?”

“Alexander is darling.” Venus answers before I can.

“You still have the Impala?” CoCo asks.

She nods “I repainted her and added somethings.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, like enough engine you had to reinforce the frame to keep it from twisting the car in half.” She gives a guilty smile and shrug.

“I’m not surprised. You little adrenaline junky. You’ll get on or in anything fast enough to kill you.” Angel shakes his head. EZ laughs and receives a head slap. “You’re not much better.”

########### Time Jump###########

We all followed Tig and Venus to a restaurant. A little too fancy for me but Ko seems to know how to blend in. She chats with Venus and the others throughout the meal but sits so that she’s closer to me. She leans on me for support in a subtle way. I can feel eyes on me. I look a make eye contact with CoCo. “How’d you get the name CoCo anyway?”

“Because calling him loco seemed rude.” EZ answered. “Although I remember Ko being the first to call him ojos locos (crazy eyes).” Her head snaps in EZ’s direction.

“I thought we agreed not to bring up the things I say when I drink?” She looks like she could throw something.

“How did you get the name Happy?” Coco asks.

“It’s the name on my birth certificate and license.” Most people think it’s some kind of inside joke. It seems like he’s not sure if he wants to be jealous or is just as protective as her brothers.

She sighs. “So are you boys staying in Lodi for the night?”

EZ smiles. “Nah, figured those two can cuddle on your couch and we’ll share a bed like when we were kids.”

Angel slaps his chest. “We’re staying in Lodi’s clubhouse for the week. We want to make sure you are alright.”

“Does that mean you and CoCo are still going to cuddle?” She can’t help the retort. I probably wouldn’t have been able to help myself either. She and EZ giggle over something only they know.

############Time Jump ##########

Ko’s POV

Happy pulls his bike into my driveway. I’m exhausted from socializing. Happy follows me into the house.

“Are you going to stay tonight?”

“Why do you think I grabbed my bag?”

“Oh yeah.” He smiles, he knows I’m tired. He hugs me after dropping his bag on the couch. “Take me to bed?”

“Little girl, I take you anywhere you ask.” He picks me up and kisses me gently.

To be continued...

@hismissharley13 @samcro-saint99 @samcroxkiller @thirstygirlclub

[ain-t-bovvered]

Out of Heaven’s reach

edited by @waywardbaby

Pairings: Castiel X Angel Reader 

Characters : Castiel , Dean , Sam , some nasty ass curse.

Summary: When the boys hit the 4th dead end, Castiel knew they were on the road to give up, maybe it was time to ask heaven for help, there must be some of his brother or sister who didn’t wanted him dead.

Warnings:Fluffy angst. Wings, Angel Mojo, Angels true form , flying.

Part 1    Part 2

3.

He wasn’t kidding when he told you he couldn’t keep up with you.

You had to keep dragging him by his hand, as he let the air brush through his broken wings. You were flying , he was gliding. You could feel his essence being stirred and , judging by how his wings were trembling, you could just see how much he missed this.

Feeling something constricting your throat you coughed, but nothing changed apart from the vessel’s eyes beginning to tear up.

Dabbing the cheeks with the back of your hand, you sprinted up, eliciting a startled,  choked sound from him as the gentle soar turned into a race, you dragging him further up, above the cloud, where human light couldn’t reach anymore.

Once out a thick cloud you resumed the same pace as before, not caring about the confused look he gave you.

“I prefer this view” you simply said.

“I know you grew to love humanity but they have a habit of ruining landscapes and…” you nervously glanced in his direction, “... I thought you missed this”

Turning around another cumulus of clouds the starry sky opened up in front of you, thick with darkness and stars. You could see the orange tinge of the dawn starting to seep through the horizon.

“We often  watched the dawn together” he said coming to stand beside you, his hand on your shoulder, both for support and ….familiarity?.

You peeked at him, the wind that was moving the cloud around you, was making his vessel’s longer strands of hair dance, the long coat he was wearing flapping around the body, his other clothes clinging to the flesh.

His face was content, eyes squinting against the light and wind, and a soft smile on his lips. 

As the sun began to rise, the sky filled with orange hues, reflecting on his face and the pure white clouds all around you.

Sensing your stare he turned his head to you, the lapel of his coat being flipped around against his cheek.

“I always thought your wings were the same colour of dawn”

“Orange?” you asked glancing back at your feathers as they stirred under his praise.

“ Peach…” he said looking at them. He stretched out his hand and your vessel seemed to stop its breathing function “...like the reflection of the rising sun on the purest white of the clouds”.

He touched them, gently raking his fingers through the sturdiest flight feathers , reaching the fluffy, semiplumes beneath. Your vessel shivered. He seemed transfixed as his attention was on your wings.

“Such a pretty colour, so faint but always so warm against the cold white” he spoke like you were telling secrets to each other, like you weren’t the only ones floating in the sky.

Reaching out you gently stretched his right not fully relaxed wing out but sensing his discomfort you froze.

“Do they hurt?”

“...they used to, at the beginning, but not anymore. I rarely use them now, I guess they are just out of shape” he smiled timidly at you “ and there is not much to see, not anymore”.

“I always envied your wings, Castiel “ you resumed your touch, disentangling the stubborn ones and smoothing others out of place. “So pure and blinding. Only the Archangels had purer ones” . He watched your hand caressing his now black sparse feathers and covered it with his, stopping you.

“I wear this colour like a badge of honor. What you describe was me before, when I was just another puppet, a hammer” he smiled fondly.

“...Freedom is a length of rope, and God wants you to hang yourself with it…” you quoted him and he looked at you, eyes wide.

“Oh, I heard that Castiel… I kept my distance, I always avoided the orders to kill you. They could never find me. I hid. I lived in solitude most of the time. They all knew how close we were. Did you think they wouldn’t come after me?” you asked staring back at him. “ The safest place for me to stay, most of the times, was beside you, without you knowing it. Without anyone knowing it”

You turned to look at the rising sun again.

“When things calmed down I would come back to my brothers and sisters, only to fly away again when you came back….and we all know how that went”

You felt his hand falter, his grip loosening on your shoulder. You gripped his hand, stopping him.

“I forgave you Castiel” you said turning to him again, your other hand cupping his cheek as your grace caressed his. “You should forgive yourself, too. Your heart was always in the right place, and too much of it has always been your problem”.

“I killed so many Y/N, even with the fall I -” he whispered broken and shaky.

“...you did”

He lowered his eyes, his lips tight “...but you were also chosen by Father, and he brought you back, you were brought back so many times. Isn’t that a hint of how important you are in the grand scheme of things?”

“Father left us again, and look what’s become of heaven”

Gripping his shoulders, you moved him in front of you, the flaming rays of the sun outlining his figure like he was the source of them.

“Have you ever consider that our brothers and sisters are just very bad at management ?”

What you now saw, you were certain, was a smile tugging at his lips. The image fitting  his true form really well and for a moment you saw your old friend as you always remembered him. Then his wings stretched out, the sun cutting through the sparse feathers , like they were bleeding light.

Another unfamiliar feeling tugged at the vessel’s chest.

“We...should get back. The six hours are almost over” you heard him say.

“Well, well, well, look who the cat finally dragged in” .

Coming down the stairs of the bunker you saw the two hunters casually sitting, one of them in a sloppy way, with his legs on the table where there was food and what seemed the hot brown water humans loved so much.

“My apologies, Dean. We were-”

“-reminiscing?” he smirked bringing the mug to his lips. “..maybe some cloud seeding?” he said before taking a sip.

“I flew him past the clouds but I don’t see how seeding would be involved”

The other hunter looked at Castiel with raised eyebrows, while his brother choked on his drink. Castiel seemed embarrassed by their stares before holding up the plastic bags from the store .

“I have brought Y/N to get something else to wear”

“Aaw, shopping date, that’s ..that’s very cute buddy” he stretched on the chair, leaning toward him “did you bring me pie?”

Castiel’s eyes made a strange movement, a totally unnecessary rotation while he dropped the other bag in Dean’s lap.

While the hunter happily dived into the bag, Castiel handed you the ones with the new clothes you had to choose earlier.

“You should change, we can talk about the case once you’re done”

As he walked back to the table you started to undress, slowly, still not used to having all these appendice that went in holes and fabric .

“Ehm...Cass!...” the tall brother called, covering his eyes.

“Oh come on Sammy, don’t ruin this” the other whined, chuckling with his mouth full, staring at you .

Castiel spooned around and quickly threw his coat over the exposed chest.

“How about I show you to a room Y/N?”

Looking in the mirror you studied your vessel, from the length of the hair, which you recalled annoyed you during the flight, to the groomed toenails clipped clean by nurses. Slipping into the clothes, you grimaced. The vessel per se wasn’t enough, you had to cover the cover with something else too, and all these buttons and strings were confusing. After the last attempt to do all the buttons of the shirt you gave up. Who cared anyway?!

Slipping the long gray coat on you walked to the closed door, behind which Castiel was waiting.

“Are you finish-” he stopped, looking at your open shirt, gulped down and raised his hands, skillfully doing the buttons one by one “Yes...these can be a little tricky in the beginning. There, you alright?”

“Could you help me with this?” you asked lifting a lock of your hair “ I want it gone” you said tugging at it.

“I’m not sure the human will be happy about it, it is her body anyway” he looked pensive for a second, “Give me a minute” he said and he walked away .

“....how can I give you that?” you called after him.

Several seconds later he came back and turned you around. You felt his fingers grazing on the skin leaving behind a cold sensation, and felt the hair being lifted from the shoulders.

After some pulling and tugging, the hair was finally away from the eyes, the vision cleared.

“How did you do that?” you asked turning around quickly, the rest of the hair slapping your vessel’s face. You spat out  as some strands ended up in the mouth.

“I can access memory of what has been my vessel if I want, he...used to do this to his daughter, Claire”.

“Why would you want that?”

“Because...these humans gifted us with a means to walk the earth, and it’s fair to know who they were”.

Dean’s booming voice resounded in the bunker corridors.

“Hey Doves, you done cooing at each other? We’ve got a case to solve”

Once in the main room again you noticed that there where now books and papers covering the table.

“Oh wow you feathers sure like your grays and long coats I see” Dean said looking up from a book, the tall brother, Sam, pacing around with a heavy book in his hands. As you walked past him he threw you a glance only to do a quick double take with a confused look.

“Cass…is that my …?”

“Y/N needed it”

“...yes....but..”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked .

“N-nothing. So get this…”

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