#but figuring out that i really want to lean into the “vaguely cat creature” side of things was a neat discovery

[rooks-gallery]

caved and finally decided to do a mix of digisona and tamersona art lol

pardon the strange artifacting, glaze was very much not meant to deal with a lot of solid colors, but i hope you can still appreciate the work i put into all this!

cringe is dead and i'm not into necromancy so when my brain said "digisona time" i said "this weekend, for sure"

first pic is art from like two years ago though, we just were not using tumblr at the time so we never ended up posting it here

second is also from like last year when i fronted for the first time in a while. played around with some fun brushes and tbh? might have to play with 'em some more because trying to get digital effects beyond glitchy stuff is a Goal of mine.

[rocorambles]

Divine (Dogs) Intervention

Pairing: Megumi x Reader

Prompt: Accidental Kiss

Summary: Megumi forms his own views of love

A/N: This is for the Anilysium SFW Collab. Masterlist can be found here!

Megumi sighs in relief, grateful for the peace and quiet the further he treks into the woods surrounding Jujutsu High. As much as he’s become accustomed to Nobara’s snide but clever remarks and Itadori’s silly cheerful ramblings, he cherishes the time he can truly be by himself, one with nature, one with the darkness and shadows curling inside, calling to him.

He takes a careful look around, eyes narrowing as he tries to find any hint of Gojo’s cursed energy lingering anywhere. But deeming himself well and truly alone, he grins, hands coming together and forming a seal, letting his guard down as his divine dogs wag their tails, growling and jumping around him playfully.

Megumi knows the rest of the Zenin clan would sneer and mock him if they saw how he lets the shikigami play, how he pets and coddles them as if they really were just two oversized dogs. But after all the pain and loneliness they’ve caused him, that he’s suffered through, he thinks he’s allowed some indulgences. And if that small relief comes in the form of two black and white furry packages, so be it.

He blames the fact that it’s a rare day without missions or lessons for his carelessness, for the way he doesn’t sense your presence. But fortunately for him, his dogs aren’t nearly as oblivious and his eyes widen in alarm as they cease their scuffle with each other, ears and heads suddenly alert. And suddenly they’re racing off into the distance, deeper and deeper into the forest, and it’s all he can do to keep them within view as he chases after the two excited creatures.

Megumi’s tempted to call their names, order them to stop, but a sense of curiosity and apprehension keeps him quiet and he continues to trail silently, on guard about what exactly has caught their attention. He hones in on the energy surrounding him, expanding his senses, broader and broader…

There.

The presence is so human, so normal, it’s no surprise it had completely slipped underneath Megumi’s radar. He feels his shoulder loosen, only to tense in mortification when he hears a crash and finds his two gigantic dogs pinning you to the ground, panting, licking, and slobbering all over your face as you squeal and flail.

“Off! Get off her!”

Megumi rolls his eyes in fond exasperation as the dogs whine at the harshness of his tone, bouncing back and forth from licking and nudging his hand for head pats to prove he’s not too angry (which he grants them) to giddily nuzzling their noses against your face, sniffing you curiously but barking happily when you get over your initial shock and begin to coo and pet them as you sit up.

You certainly don’t seem like a threat and Megumi allows himself to relax and observe you when he ascertains that you’re just a civilian who’s accidentally found themselves here. He hasn’t met many humans outside of the small circle of jujutsu sorcerers he’s been raised among and he can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia, a sense of what-ifs as he watches you, so carefree, so innocent, so naive as you pet and play with what you think are just two adorable dogs. He wonders if that’s what his life could have been like too if his parents were still around, if he’d never gotten entangled with Gojo, with the Zenin, with jujutsu sorcerers.

But he knows better than to dream, forced too early on to understand how heavy the weight of reality is and he brings himself back to the present. He offers you a hand to help you stand, apologizing for his dogs, although he snorts about how clearly not sorry they are as they continue circling between and around your legs, practically begging for more attention.

“You really shouldn’t be here. These are the school’s private grounds.”

Even Megumi winces at how harsh he sounds and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head as you flinch, frantically apologizing and looking like you’re about to run to be anywhere else but here.

“But if you want to stick around just for today while I’m here, that’s fine…”

He trails off, ducking his face underneath the high collar of his uniform to hide the red flush gracing his visage as you gratefully beam at him, eyes sparkling, smile radiant.

But the dogs boredly circling the two of you and tired of whining for attention are not nearly as enamored with your demeanor as Megumi and suddenly two heavy weights are leaping on Megumi’s back, forcing him to topple forward, bringing you down with him. And as your bodies crash to the ground, your lips meet.

Physical intimacy is not something Megumi has ever had the chance to become closely acquainted with, platonic or romantic. He freezes at how soft yet solid your lips are against his, your scent that wafts around him from your proximity, the warmth of your body beneath his. He’s been privy to quite possibly the world’s most stunning eyes, but as he gazes into yours, so close that it feels like your eyelashes will accidentally entangle, he vaguely thinks that Gojo’s eyes have nothing on yours.

But time isn’t frozen for all and the two of you yelp when wet tongues and furry heads join the two of you, the dogs whining for attention and to be included in what they think is just two human-sized dogs playing with each other. And embarrassed, the two of you gratefully scramble to take life’s easy way out, separating from each other and each grabbing one dog to coddle and distract yourselves with.

However even as adorable as they are, the dogs only partially take your minds off of what just transpired and your face heats as your fingers absentmindedly brush against your lips, remembering the comforting heat pressed against them. Megumi’s not faring much better as he subtly tries to glance at you between pets, ducking his flushed face beneath his collar once again when he accidentally catches you touching your lips, the action making his own lips tingle in pleasant memory.

But it’s more than just the physical, it’s an awakening of sorts. All his life Megumi has been raised with a sense of duty, of responsibility. Romance, love, those are all foreign concepts to him, concepts none of the adults or kids he grew up with, other than Yuta, cared for. And as much as he respects his senpai, he’s not sure if that’s necessarily the kind of love he wants for himself (no disrespect to the Queen of Curses).

He’s not saying this is love, it definitely isn’t...yet. It’s curiosity, attraction, interest at most. But he’s surprised by how much he craves it. He’s grown up associating love with pain, death, and loss. No one told him it could also be so freeing. No one told him how normal it would feel. No one told him that it would be the sprinkle of water and ray of sunlight he needed to help grow the cold bud that lay dormant in him after the loss of his father and Tsumiki.

For once he feels hope, feels like this might truly be a new beginning and as the little plant in his heart finally blossoms, he takes the initiative he’s avoided for so long, letting himself be greedy, letting himself believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s something more for him than exorcising curse after curse.

He asks you about your life, your family, your friends, your interests and then he does what he’s always done best. He listens, finding peace in the cadence and pitch of your voice, feeling his heart flutter as you grow more and more comfortable, becoming more animated as you tell him about your favorite foods, the school subject you struggle with the most, the plans you have coming up for your friend’s birthday. And in return he tells you about the father figure/older brother in his life who has a sweet tooth, the cheerful idiot who lives next to him, and the loud-mouthed female classmate who recently joined Jujutsu High.

But before he can continue on, trying to figure out what to leave out for now and how to sugar coat the rest, his eyes widen in surprise at how dark it’s gotten, how low the sun is in the sky. Quickly catching on to what’s caught his attention when you see him cut off mid-sentence and check the time on his phone, you sheepishly laugh, a hint of disappointment in the sound as you lament on having to part ways with the boy you’ve just met yet who’s somehow nestled a way into your heart.

“I guess I should be going. It’s getting late.”

“I’ll walk you to the train station.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as his tall lean form stands up with yours, a furry dog on either side of you as the four of you make your way out of the forest and down paved sidewalks. The two of you bask in these last moments together, something distressing twisting at your insides when you see the station up ahead, the feeling of finality settling heavily on your shoulders.

There’s already the bitter taste of farewell on Megumi’s tongue as the two of you stand in front of the station entrance, a taste he’s far too familiar with. But before he can utter a word, he’s startled by a bright screen being shoved in his face, eyes blinking in surprise as he stares at the empty contact form in front of him.

“You know...Umm...In case I want to trespass on private property again or if you want to go to that cat cafe I talked about earlier…”

Before you can make a fool of yourself any longer, long slender fingers are plucking the phone from your hands, and relief flows through you as you watch Megumi type his name and number in. There’s an extra bounce in your step when you gleefully take your phone back and he playfully rolls his eyes at the way you mischievously stick your tongue out at him when he lightly warns you not to just waltz onto Jujutsu High property without him as a guide.

And as you board the train, both of you exchanging farewells and even the dogs wagging their tails in their own silent form of goodbye, Megumi smiles down at the new text that appears on his screen, swiftly saving your contact before making his way back to the school.

Maybe he’d have to reconsider his aversion to exploring Tokyo.

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

--

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

[hyuneytoast]

Hearts of Roses || Scene 1

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂⇢ “Don’t forget about the thorns.” 

In which you stumble upon Wonderland and the Prince of Hearts. How you end up in Wonderland is something explained as complete nonsense, but also quite simple; Just a key and a door. What if it’s not easy to return from Wonderland, though? A locked door and a lost key; now surely that’s not so bad if it weren’t for the Queen of Hearts’ threatening intentions.

⇢𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 》 Prince of Hearts!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader, Fantasy AU, Alice in Wonderland AU, Fluff

⇢𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 》 Explicit language

⇢𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮 》This is pure fiction and is not meant to portray the characters in real life. This also will not be completely accurate to the original themes of Alice in Wonderland. Do not repost, translate, nor steal my work in any way. Please inform me if I missed any warnings or for just any thoughts. (May continue series depending on how this chapter goes). Thank you, I hope you enjoy this!

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽   ||    𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽

I.

Being in a dream, wether it’s in the middle of a slumber or a simple daydream, plays like a brief solace in the midst of a complex reality. Certainly this must be a dream… right? Everything out of the ordinary, nothing familiar to the everyday world; surely it is. Though, it’s all unbelievably lucid that it leaves too many traces of doubt.

“Ridiculous,” You mutter, constantly blinking your eyes for adjustment. “Where the hell am I?”

On top of lush fields, you sit up with a groan, arms propping your body up from behind. Your thoughts desperately try to recall memories of your sudden blackout, but all is hazy. The tall grass softly brushes against your skin making you shudder at the ticklish feeling. Though your vision gradually adjusts to the observed surroundings, your mind struggles to follow. Concentration seems too far out of possibility at the moment.

Color! Color is simply yet extraordinarily everywhere; contrasting against the rich green base of nature. How could this be? And in such bizarre, enlarged figures too! As if trying to be a forest itself, vibrant mushrooms stand tall like several story buildings. Literally. Mushrooms with umbrella-shaped caps are colored like pumpkins, the noon sky, and even like bright pink gowns at ridiculous parties. They’re woven in between actual trees of the forest, trunks thick as the centuries themselves. From the ground to the branches, roots and vines grow twisted and curled, spiraled into its own embrace. The sky, or what’s left through the canopy, is a cloudless pale blue. A cool, somewhat comforting, breeze hugs the dense forest along with you who helplessly sits within it.

“What a… strange place.”

“Why, you’re not so different yourself!”

Startled, you scan your surroundings in search of the one behind the amused voice. Quite difficult, noting all the forest’s dark crevices to possibly hide in.

“Up here, fool.”

With a light scoff, you peer up to immediately notice a figure sitting on a branch up high. Though he appears mostly human, he also has purple hair, cat-like ears crowned on top, and a fluffy striped tail swaying side to side behind him. His legs swing back and forth as his hands grip the branch, his body leaning a bit forward with curious eyes towards you. The stranger smiles mischievously, bright blue eyes squinting as he speaks in a amused tone. “You, girl, are certainly no local. And I’ve seen almost every person and creature pass these properties! Or may I say, the other way around too.”

You aren’t exactly intimidated, though you could say that, but more rather weary; suspicions growing towards not only the location, but the strange man above. Instead of answering, you turn your attention to a cold item in your hand you’ve unknowingly been fumbling with. A small golden key. Shit, that’s right! You jerk your head behind you to see the dark wooden door you previously entered before passing out. It stands by itself between the trees, clearly out of place; including you. Vaguely, you recall unlocking the unfamiliar door in the basement with a key before ending up here. To add more, it was a new house you had moved into, so of course you had to check all the doors in your own home! Jumping to your feet, you shuffle towards the door, but the same voice interrupts before you can make any further move.

“Don’t go!”

You hesitatingly look up, returning the gaze of the gleaming eyes and securely tucking the key in the pocket of dress. “And why should I listen? I clearly don’t belong here nor even am aware of my own whereabouts. Certainly, that is more than an enough reason to return home.”

“You are the strange one who appeared out of nowhere along with that door of yours. Shouldn’t I be the one fleeing home?” He chuckles. “Now, tell me your name. That is… unless you enjoy being called fool.”

“Y/N.”

“Minho.”

As if the situation could get any more perplexing, it seems as if Minho’s body fades within the colors of the forest surroundings, vanishing completely out of sight. You blink your eyes madly to confirm if you were seeing properly.

“The fuck-” You taut as you slightly rotate your body when something taps your shoulder. “OH GOD!!” You shriek, jumping a few feet back and shielding yourself with your arms.

In front is the same boy who was just up in the tree, now cackling at your reaction. “You fool, acting like you’ve never seen such a sight!”

“Exactly, I-I haven’t! You were just up in the tree, how—” You halt your voice to calm yourself down as you’re still shaken from… well basically everything! Letting out a helpless sigh, you speak once again. “May I remind you, I’m not from this place.”

“Which is why you should stay! You must grow familiar and even fond of Wonderland.”

“W-wonderland?”

“Yes, the place we are in of course, or the world I should rather say. Don’t be so stupid. What’s the harm in—”

“Minho? You aren’t telling yourself your own stories again, are you? You really are cra— Oh my.” Another male treads his way through the thick greenery, twigs snapping in his path as he stumbles in front of the two of you. “Oh no, no, no, you certainly are not having a chat with yourself but rather… who are you?”

The newer male stands dressed in a nicely buttoned, dark suit and bow tie. He’s a tad shorter with a face a bit pointy. Along with black hair brushing down to his eyes, a pair of tall, black bunny ears rest on his head. However, his facial expressions are quite intimidating as he scans you with a cold eyes. Now this was getting impossibly more overwhelming.

“I’m Y/N. I’m not exactly sure how I ended up here, but I do know how to return home. So, if you excuse me, I’ll be out of your way—”

“No, you mustn’t go!” Minho places himself between you and the door in a rather panicked manner. “Don’t tell me our previous conversation was nothing but pointless! Changbin, you’re visiting Chan, am I right?”

“Indeed! In fact…” His hand reaches in the pocket of his pants, pulling out a golden pocket watch. “I hate to admit it, but I’m actually running a bit late.”

“Perfect! Chan enjoys guests and, well, socializing in general I suppose. I’m positive he won’t mind an extra guest!” Minho nudges your arm with his with a wink.

“I’m grateful for the offer, but I think I should be heading home—”

“I suppose he won’t mind…? I’d think about it more, but more time is being wasted as we speak!” Changbin scurries towards you and gently grabs your wrist.

“Please, I believe I must retu—”

“And I believe I don’t want to hear another second of you whining, so go on. Just relax, you anxious fool,” Minho interrupts you again, his prideful, yet annoying, smile plasters his face once more.

“I can assure you will be the most minimal amount of fine and safe!” The rabbit-like male gives you a ‘reassuring’ squeeze that you desperately try to shake off. “Talk to you later Min. Can’t have the tea getting any colder now, can we Y/N?” Changbin tugs you forward, having you give in and follow alongside.

“Good luck~” Minho sings. You look back, watching his body creepily fade away along with his ‘usual’ grin.

“No need for such a long face, Y/N! Though I come unfortunate, no answer to your questions because I have no clue myself, good friends’ supper will indubitably bring cheer.”

You can only nod, weakly smiling in response to Changbin.

A large clearing stands in the midst of the forest. Stone ground with moss woven between the cracks hold up a long rectangular table, a white cloth completely draped over. Dainty floral teacups and teapots decorate the surface, white glass platters topped with pastries and berries. Various cushioned throne-like chairs are placed around, presenting different colors like the mushrooms. Majority of the seats are occupied by other ‘people’ who, too, consist of animal features.

However, the man in the center resting on a giant green seat, appears not of ears nor tails like the rest. Instead, his attentive appearance indulges on his eye-catching patterned suit; and a large top hat crowned on top of short red hair. He smiles at the two of you, clearing his throat before speaking in a rather joyous tone. “Welcome! You’re quite late, Bin, but what’s new. And oh? A face I cannot recall. Whose this?”

“A new company not only to us, but Wonderland!” Changbin chimes. He nudges your arm, insisting for you to speak.

“Ah, yes. I’m Y/N, pleasure to meet you,” You softly say, giving a friendly smile.

“And where do you come from?” The red-haired male asks.

“As strange as it sounds, I entered a door and ended waking up here without any intentions of doing so. I will speak in advance, though, that my time here isn’t forever. I do have a home to return to.”

“Strange? Why, this entire world is normally strange itself! Now sit, sit! Worry about returning when the time comes. I do hope you like tea and, of course, the pastries our dear friend, Felix, made. And on an extra note, my name is Chan.”

“Speaking of who, where is Felix?” Changbin asks eagerly while pulling out a deep orange chair, hands gesturing for you to sit. You take a seat between Chan and another bunny-like person who flashes you a smile, but instead of being all black, he was dressed in a chestnut brown from ears to shoes.

“Extra sudden castle duties have held him back in the castle’s kitchen today. A similar situation also plays for our dear Jeongin. Though, our prince was kind enough to bring down those treats on his way here,” Chan explains as he reaches for a teapot and pours it into the cup in front of you.

“Then… where is the prince?”

“Not a clue, Bin! He dropped the treats off and disappeared without a breath. Moving on, I suppose it would be more than polite if we give ours new friend a proper introduction, hm?”

“Not a doubt! Seungmin is my name, quite nice to meet you, Y/N,” The brown bunny-eared guest next to you beams.

“Likewise, Seungmin.”

“And Jisung is none other than me!” Cheers another male who sits at the far end, his dark hair decorated with brown mouse ears; a long thin tail waves behind him as his hands follow the same motion.

“And as you know, I am Changbin.”

“Now that has taken place, let us help ourselves with scrumptious delights, shall we?”

Would it be foolish to intake the food placed in front of you? Or would it be rude to not? Not wanting to bring any displeasure, you take a nibble of a blueberry muffin. The hint of sweetness along with tart sparks in your mouth and coats your tongue. The treats are undoubtedly tasty! What’s more foolish though? The fact that you are gradually enjoying your time here, a place where it is full of everything bizarrely unknown. Yes, something to scold yourself for, but perhaps for later.

The soft rays of sunshine reflect down upon the gathering. Once in a while, a bright blue butterfly would flutter by, making Jisung smile like that’s all he had knowledge of. Surely and not slowly, the food disappears off the platters, leaving only traces of crumbs. Chats and laughter coated any silence, but none you really took part in. How could you anyway? In the end, you were still ‘lost’ in another world, mindlessly having a tea party… with a group of young strange men…

Despite the obliviousness to time, hours did pass by as you intake the newly colored sky. A roof of pastel purple replaces the blue. The sun was no longer above, but now leisurely descending behind the horizon of tree tops. As if it did not matter, the chattering continues, just like how you remain seated in awkward silence. You look around and notice how intriguing a gather of rosy bushes appear in the forest behind the party. It moves, but not from natural forces like wind, but rather as if someone dove to take cover. Certainly, there was a figure too, but just a glimpse.

After excusing yourself from the table, which no one really seemed to comprehend, you wander into the green and approach the rather unique floral. Tall bushes and vines flourish into no less than a hundred roses. Those roses appeal as if they were abstractly painted with red, and quite literally too.The petals were either dipped in red or partially painted, and the deep color glistened as if the paint was fresh. One touch from your finger left a confirmation as it left a wet, red mark at your fingertip.

“Do you like them?” A honeyed voice asks out of the blue, and in a tone somewhat eager for approval.

You look to your left, taking note of the lone forest now occupied by not only you, but a tall, slender young male who, too, looks human. The stranger has a black mullet, hair falling barely above his eyes, and slightly parted in the middle. There lies a single mole under his left eye and plump lips forming a small pout. Quietly, you take note of the dark blazer draped over his white shirt decorated with a few red paint splatters. Hands fumbling with each other, he peers down at your face with a rather innocent look.

“The roses I mean.”

“O-oh, yes! The roses are very beautiful.” You quickly return your attention to the flowers, not wanting to discomfort to the man by staring at his… highly attractive appearance…

His lips are quick to form into a bright grin, satisfyingly nodding at your response. “Glad to hear! I painted them myself. This bush I mean. I-I mean, I have no intention to brag, and they’re clearly not finished as some are still white-” He halts his words, preventing himself from going on an embarrassing ramble. Instead, he clears his throat, dragging his fingertips across an untainted pearl-like petal. “You may take one if you like.”

“Oh no, it’s okay! They’re very pretty and disturbing such a sight is the last thing I want to do. Thank you for the offer…”

“Hyunjin, the Prince of Hearts! You?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, my dear Y/N, where exactly do you wander from?” He chuckles, hands politely folded in front of him as his body faces fully towards you. “I mean no offense, it’s just that it’s clear you’re not from here. And I don’t intend to be rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear a few conversations coming from the tea party.”

“Not at all, you’re fine! I honestly just walked through a door and ended up here without a clue.” No matter how many times you’ve explained the simplest details about you arrival, you still feel crazily stupid as the words leave your mouth. “Where I come from, simple to say, is very drastic. The nature isn’t so colorful nor such an enormous scale, but rather just a simpler scenery. Or bland I should say. A mushroom there would grow only as big as my palm. And no one comes in forms of rabbit ears or mouse tails. We’re all just... basic humans...?”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, furrowing his eyebrows in a somewhat disbelief to your description. “In all kind honesty, ‘undeveloped’ seems to suit your world!”

“Yes, compared to Wonderland, it most certainly does,” You giggle. “You believe me, though? I myself think this whole thing is bizarre…” Yes, that is certainly the question. Imagine some stranger coming up to you saying there’re from a different world. Hopefully, your immediate reaction wouldn’t be to believe every word of theirs.

“You think I’m naive, don’t you?” He smirks.

“No! No, that’s not what I’m inferring. It’s just-”

He starts stirring up a laughing fit, his eyes disappearing into crescents. “Oh, I’m messing with you! I can first tell you that I’m not that naive. Or at least I think so… But! I believe you, yes. Wonderland is full of madness, so it would be unfair if I were to not believe you.”

He starts stirring up a laughing fit, his eyes disappearing into crescents. “Oh, I’m messing with you! I can first tell you that I’m not that naive. Or at least I think so… But! I believe you, yes. Wonderland is full of madness, so it would be unfair if I were to not believe you. In fact, from what I’ve learned in books, this isn’t the first.”

“YAH, Y/N!!” You hear a distant, aggressive shout.

Through the bushes, a panting figure comes tripping before Hyunjin and you. His black rabbit ears perk up as he soon stands to face the two of you with a shocked expression;  hands brushing off the leaves and twigs clinging to his suit.

“Hyunjin? We have not seen you at the tea party! And only now you make an appearance not at the table, but in the bushes?”

“Ah, good evening Changbin! Did a bug perhaps make its way in your cup of tea?”

“Fortunately not today, but I came looking for Y/N since I noticed her absence at the table.”

“Well, look at you, being aware at the most absolute wrong timing,” Hyunjin teases, placing his hand on the other male’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Changbin retorts, brushing the hand off of him. “It’s getting late, especially as we argue. I do suppose, Y/N, you would like to be guided back home? Especially after a long afternoon of dragging you, only to frolic around with tea.”

“Yes, definitely! Thank you very much. I will admit though, I did enjoy my time here.”

Changbin pulls your arm forward, your feet stumbling to keep up with the sudden force. You glance behind your shoulder to view the other boy who has yet to say another word.

“Wait up! I’ll join!”

The entire trip back, the mushrooms and trees remained towered over your heads, sheltering you from practically nothing but a yearning starry sky. Treading back through the forest is something to be also described as walking through a wave of several emotions. Or just for you, to say the least. The silence is, and has been, filled with either the bickering voices of Changbin and Hyunjin, or their hysterical laughing. For you though, your mind couldn’t seem to be kept still. Yes, you are eager to return to your home and properly process everything that just happened. Or, if it is a dream, wake up and develop further scenarios during another dreadful work day. However, a part of you does somewhat feel a sense of disappointment. Returning home meant comfort from this mind twister, but staying a bit longer is also being considered. You just met a group of so far friendly people and a dream-like location you’d like to learn more about. Surely you can’t let it all come to an end after only a few hours! Just like what they say, curiosity kills the cat. Not long later, feet and chattering come to a stop as you’re met with a familiar door.

“It’s sad to say, but I suppose this is where we part,” Changbin huffs out, hands gesturing towards your exit. “It was a pleasure meeting you and I deeply hope this isn’t the end of our encounters.”

“I do too, Changbin. Please send my farewells to everyone else and thank you for the tea and pastries.”

“Absolutely, and safe travels, too! Now if you excuse me, I have an appointment with a friend named Felix that I can’t risk being late to.”

The rabbit friend dashes off with a concerning maniac laugh. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you turn to the door, reaching in your pocket for the key. A hand suddenly places itself on your shoulder, halting your movements and pulling you to face the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you here more in the future, right?” Hyunjin asks, his tone coming out more desperate than intended.

You softly smile at him. “Maybe, if you don’t mind that is. There is a lot I feel like I’m missing out in this world.”

“Please, return and I’ll be glad to show you around!”

Chuckling helplessly, you speak, “Then I shalll see you again, Hyunjin.”

You place the key into the lock of the door knob, turning it until it clicks. Opening the door, you’re greeted by the dusty basement just like how you left it.

“Wait!” The boy takes your hand as you turn around to face him once more. He places a half painted rose in your palm, smiling gently with hopeful eyes. “Please keep it.”

“Thank you,” You reply sweetly. After offering him one last smile, you let your feet return you pass the door and into the emptiness of your home. The cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked sit like you never even left. You close the door, watching a waving Hyunjin and giant mushrooms disappear behind, before hearing it click as it automatically locks after use.

With a shaky exhale, you collapse to your knees; the cold wood coming in contact with your legs. You admire the gifted rose in your hands and let your mind quietly soak in the events you’ve just experienced.

“What the hell…”

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽:

@danyxthirstae01​   @sailorhyunjinz​   @rapilne​   @peachy-maia​   @hyunj1nn133​

[away-from-anthills]

chapter ten-

It was clear the russet-furred tom was hiding something.

Currantstar looked just as frantic as he was the prior night- darting around; breath light and shaky. Antstar and Stoatslink had to duck behind ferns and stones as they followed him to ensure he wouldn’t realize he was caught.

Usually, ShadowClan cats liked to keep their claws long- even Currantstar had had long, white claws the last time Antstar noticed them. But as the three cats went over the bridge, Antstar realized that Currantstar’s claws had all been chipped so they wouldn’t click as he went over the bridge’s pale wooden tiles. This was all planned in advance. Whatever Currantstar was doing here, it wasn’t something sudden.

The ruddy-colored tom took a sharp turn left, and the two WindClan cats scrambled to follow him.

“We’re on RiverClan territory,” sharply whispered Stoatslink.

“I know,” Antstar replied. “We can just tell them we’re following him.”

It became harder and harder to track Currantstar through the wetlands of RiverClan. The uneven, soft ground felt alien before Antstar’s feet. He turned towards camp as he and Stoatslink slipped between stones. Quite a few warriors were standing vigil for their fallen Clanmates, and the lights of their eyes looked like freckled, colorful stars from this distance.

“We have to be quiet,” he urged Stoatslink. “They’re all up.”

“You said they’ll go easy on us if we just tell them about Currantstar.”

“Does it look like I want to do that?”

Stoatslink looked suspicious at best. “You really like keeping secrets, don’t you.”

“I- never mind that, he’s getting away!”

They turned to see Currantstar make a sprint across a small, winding Thunderpath, just around where the little farm by RiverClan was. They followed him, picking up speed as they traveled parallel to the Thunderpath, carefully watching over their shoulders to avoid the fate that bad befallen the former deputy Rainleap a scant few moons prior.

Suddenly, the russet ShadowClan tom took a step right, into a little subdivision of Twoleg houses that lay just beyond the territory. He relaxed visibly as he did so, shoulders easing into his fur and his tail unfurling. Antstar and Stoatslink followed him from the shadows of the other side of the winding Thunderpath as he trod upon a little sidewalk. Currantstar’s head bobbed as he went, like he was counting each house he passed by- one green one, one pink one, one white one with a red door and a little birdbath in the front. Without looking at the ground, he leapt over an uneven crack in the sidewalk that could have easily tripped him.

“Does he get food here?” asked Stoatslink, his ears drawn back and the side of his lip curled in a look of disgust. “I guess that’s typical ShadowClan.”

But Antstar noted the excitement in Currantstar’s eyes was giddy, and boyish; far beyond the simple, gluttonous pleasures of Twoleg food.

Suddenly, Currantstar stopped in front of a small, periwinkle-covered house longer than it was tall. It had a garage next to it, where a small, plump olive-green monster slept. Two windows, each with a yellow glow, perched on either side of a darker blue door. Curiously, there was a little cat-sized flap on the base of the door. The house looked lived-in, but certainly much tamer, much more organized, far neater than the forests that greeted them only a short walk away, much more unsettlingly perfect than all Antstar had known.

The ShadowClan leader’s long, straight ears perked up. A small figure of a cat became visible in one of the windows. As soon as it was there, however, it disappeared. A few moments later, the flap on the bottom of the blue door began to shake.

One white foot emerged, then the other- out slid a beautiful dilute calico. She was small, but her short, cashmere fur was so neatly groomed it rounded out her features. Her face had a youthful quality to it- a small, curved nose, big teal-green eyes, and ears that seemed to just ever so slightly be rounded. Around her neck was a silvery collar with a stripe of white lace, decorated with a small, shiny jingle bell. She moved through the freshly-cut grass like water and thrust herself into Currantstar’s side, where he purred warmly and leaned into her.

“Why all the urgency, Calypso?” he teased in his smooth, crimson voice. “It’s only been a quarter moon.”

“It felt like a lifetime to me.” She had one of those voices that was light, but silky, with just enough of a darkness that she didn’t seem naïve. It had a unique accent to it- kittypet accent.

Kittypet accent was one of the things the Clan thought most terrifying about kittypets. Twolegs had a unique quality about them in that everything they were near seemed to turn into them. Kittypet accent didn’t have the gruff twang of ThunderClan, the smooth chirpiness of RiverClan, the dry snicker of ShadowClan, the harsh sharpness of WindClan, the nasally quality of SkyClan. No, kittypet accent sounded like Twolegs, and the more a kittypet was around them, they said, the more and more Twoleg they would sound until they were indistinguishable from the big, spider-pawed creatures.

But Calypso only had enough kittypet accent to be strange, foreign- and, therefore, desirable in the way only true mystery is.

“Currantstar, I must tell you something. About last night.”

Currantstar nodded, suddenly looking a touch uneasy. She stepped back, lifting up his scruffy chin with her tail to keep him interested, before she sat down, turning around gracefully.

“So, you know how last night I told you that I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not?”

Currantstar looked more and more uneasy. He already had looked to be in a disarray, but now he looked like an unravelling yarn sweater as he twitched and gripped the dewy earth.

“My Twoleg took me to the Cutter. Don’t worry - nothing happened. But I did learn that I am, indeed, pregnant.”

Currantstar looked to be a tad ill, his green eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. Antstar turned to address Stoatslink, but Stoatslink’s eyes were too glued to the drama unfolding before them for him to notice.

“You look nervous, darling.”

Finally, Currantstar managed to speak something beyond a vague stutter. “The Warrior Code- my mate-“ “You told me your Clan wouldn’t mind. Isn’t ShadowClan quite accepting of it?” Clearly, the red tom had lied to her. But he couldn’t reveal the truth now- no, he had placed himself upon a house of cards, although Antstar could not tell which card was which.

“You’re right,” he said breathlessly. He fell into her shoulder and she curled around him. “You’re going to be a wonderful father. We can split the kits up both ways- half with me and half with you…”

“Doesn’t Currantstar already have a mate?” asked Stoatslink, his eyes still glued to the two cuddling cats in the same way one can’t look away from roadkill.

“He… he does,” said Antstar. “Sleekpetal, his deputy’s daughter. And she’s- expecting his kits.”

Suddenly, the booing that Currantstar had received at the previous Gathering made too much sense. And Antstar made a horrid realization- if not even Currantstar, the paragon, the one who he had wanted to be, was perfect, if even Currantstar was hated by his Clan, if even Currantstar could be two-faced and adulterous behind the calm, charming mask… what chances did that give him?

The two WindClan cats turned to leave, but as they did so, they caught sight of a pair of blue eyes, blue like hot fires, in the distance. Antstar and Stoatslink hid behind a big, boxy black monster as they watched the little tom approach.

Stoatslink seemed positively giddy with anticipation as the bile fascination twisted upon itself. “It’s Whitestone- his deputy!”

Whitestone was an old cat, definitely one of the older deputies. His deaf ears had been chipped at like weathered stones; lumps had began to develop on his hind legs. His tail had a kink in it and hung loosely behind him, the tip dragging against the pavement. He had a permanently-furrowed brow, and his blue eyes were so weary they had developed a tinge of reddish-purple.

“Currantstar,” he called. At once Currantstar seemed to shrivel inward, and he nudged Calypso’s shoulder, trying to get her to turn away. But the dilute calico simply looked puzzled as she backed away two steps, her ears turning lopsidedly as she stared at the white tom.

Whitestone marched onto the grass, and walked up until he was only a whisker’s length away from his leader. He leaned up; his face pinched with suspicion.

“Mind explaining who this is?” he signed.

“Friend of mine,” Currantstar signed back- although it was difficult for him to keep his paws from shaking so hard that they interrupted his attempts to sign.

“Friend?” Whitestone didn’t look like he’d believed a word of it. “Friend. When everyone knows you’ve been sneaking out nearly every other night. When everyone knows you always smell of one molly or another.” He stepped back, indignance boiling in every inch of his body. “And we both know she isn’t the only one you’re seeing.”

“I can explain!” Currantstar yelled out on instinct. Remembering that his deputy was deaf, however, he signed back: “I can explain! Listen-“

“Explain what?” asked Calypso, trying to understand the signing between the two. The sign language the Clans had developed was not a universal one; although certain gestures were universally understood by all cats; she had been left out of the conversation entirely. At least one thing had worked in Currantstar’s favor here.

“You’re too focused on yourself- how you look, how you act, what mollies are fawning over you- to even consider your own Clan. Half of us can’t even go to Gatherings. Why? Because to you, we’re too ugly! We’re a shame to the other Clans, in your eyes- and for why? Everything you do is a façade, Currantstar, and you damn well know it- including whatever you’re stringing this kittypet along for!”

Currantstar stood still.

“You have no reply? What about your mate- my daughter? What about your unborn kits?”

Currantstar shot Calypso a nervous look. She didn’t understand.

Whitestone stood very still, his furrowed brows pushing themselves together into one as he continued to think. Something began to dawn on him, and he stepped back.

“When you made me deputy,” he began to sign, “back when you first became leader. You were courting my daughter.”

Currantstar nodded, seemingly realizing Whitestone had dawned upon some horrid truth.

“You… you made me deputy because you thought it would make her like you more, didn’t you? That’s all?”

Currantstar, again, stood still. His eyes stared directly at the little white deputy, but his mind was somewhere else, like it had taken an exit to keep itself safe and leaving the body alone in its place.

“ANSWER ME!” signed Whitestone frantically. “Did you make me your deputy just because of that? Because it would make you look better?”

Currantstar stood still for what felt like an hour, and then- slowly, surely- he nodded.

Whitestone drew back with a hiss, winding himself, every muscle coiling, his teeth starting to bear as an adder’s did… The white tom sprang. Currantstar dodged the blur, but just barely, and the white tom dragged him back. The two became a red-and-white tangle as they traded blows, Currantstar clearly trying to disengage as Whitestone’s anger grew hotter and hotter.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Calypso as she began to drag the white tom away- but as she did so, Whitestone raked his claws across Currantstar’s face, creating a massive, nasty gash that framed the underside of his face and went down across the lip to his chin. In panic, Currantstar tried to hold the wound, to stop it from wrecking his otherwise-perfect face- but a part of him had to already know it was too late.

“You’re telling them, when you get back. You’re telling them why you have that gash. Who you’ve been seeing. And why I’ve chosen to resign as your deputy.” Whitestone grimaced with a sort of parental disgrace. “I’m not going to be your deputy just so you can convince my daughter, when you get back home, that you’re the kind of fellow who cares about her. Fickle bastard, Currantstar, you fickle, fickle bastard…”

Whitestone left, his pelt still red in some places where Currantstar had dealt him blows. Currantstar turned to look at Calypso, the slash in his face beginning to swell as wounds tended to do.

“We have to get you cleaned up!” she said, running up to him and analyzing him to ensure no other big wounds had been cursed to him in the fight. “Who was that, though? You seemed to know him.”

“Just some useless rogue,” Currantstar fibbed. “Trust me, everything’s fine.”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” said Stoatslink. He turned to go home, and Antstar followed, down the winding path out the neighborhood into the distant, whispering forest that lay beyond them and yet was so familiar.

 They were silent on the way home, only breaking their contemplation once they crossed into WindClan.

“I mean, I guess Currantstar being like that makes sense,” Stoatslink admitted.

Antstar turned in his tracks. “Makes sense?”

“Yeah.” Stoatslink’s yellow eyes flickered with the light of the stars above them. They were slightly obscured by his large nose bridge, but Antstar could still see the suspicion that hung behind them. “He was too quiet. Too perfect. Too… well, I think all leaders have their dirty secrets. But I knew upon seeing him he had some particularly complicated sets of skeletons under his nest.”

“What do you mean, all leaders?”

“…Well, look! Tatteredstar has killed members of her own Clan, like she did with Rosefire. Tulipstar became leader without being decided on the prior leader or even her Clan; her medicine cat at the time lied to them all because he just happened to like her the most. Pigeonstar has definitely caused the deaths of several cats through needless, petty battle. Currantstar has… well, that. And you.”

Stoatslink’s eyes narrowed into two slits, like he was trying to put a name to something that never had one before.

“I’m sure you’ll have something. If you don’t already have something, that is.”

Antstar had to stop himself from jumping back. Did Stoatslink know? Had he figured it out? Or- even worse- was Antstar a suspect that he was trying to whittle away, slowly, inch-by-inch until he collapsed, like vultures scavenging the dead until the body falls apart entirely?

“Anyway, seeing that all unfold was pretty funny, I must say.” Stoatslink stopped at the entrance of the gorse-flower tunnel into camp. “Just remember what I told you about Sparkthistle.”

 It was silent again. Antstar looked up at the stars above him. On a clear night, like this, he could see very far- all the clusters, the entangled shapes the stars made, Silverpelt stretching herself across the sky…

He remembered being a kit, staring up into that deep, wide sky. What was out there? What lay beyond the forest, beyond all he’d ever known?

A part of that magic remained, still, so long as he didn’t think about it too hard, so long as he only looked at it for a short while.

Then, a voice. Pawsteps, light and soft- that of a kittypet’s.

He turned to see Nightblossom. Nightblossom had been one of the cats who were once rogues but had become respectable warriors when Antstar had allowed them in. Her velvety black coat had been disrupted by scratches from the fight earlier that day. Her right ear had been nicked; the notch was still getting torn open, indicating that one day the entire top half of her ear would fall off.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

It had been the first time in a while he had heard her voice. She was quite unlike the other rogues that had been let in: Shrike and Audrey were content in the elders’ den. Juniperfang was a coarse creature who had meshed into the battle perfectly. Lilystone was a strong, silent type, and her ThunderClan-like muscle and stature made her a great fit for the tunnelers. Birchshine was not particularly talented, or intelligent for that matter, but what he lacked in natural gift he made up for in effort and kindness.

But Nightblossom had sunk into the background, like the shadow of a wallflower…

Antstar nodded and let her speak.

“I know I was really excited about joining the Clan with my friends. And… I still think the Clan is great. What it stands for, how everyone works together. But…” She faltered. Her tail slunk to the ground and stood still. “I just… I can’t stand the fighting we did today. And it wasn’t even for us. I don’t want to fight. I… I felt so sick, watching the SkyClan leader and his son…”

Antstar opened his mouth to protest, but already he knew it was too late.

“I want to leave the Clan. I love my friends, and the place, but… I just can’t stand the idea of fighting, let alone for something we really don’t have any part in. I’m not Nightblossom anymore. I’m Stella, like I was before.”

She began to walk away into the black night that bore her former name, her fur peppered with light from the stars above. Already, it was like she was slipping away into nothing.

“I wish you all the best. My friends already know I’m leaving- don’t worry about telling them.”

She walked away, towards the barn, slowly picking up speed like a stone was sliding off her shoulders. She disappeared nearly as soon as she was a strong distance from camp because of her black pelt. A few minutes later, something in Antstar’s heart grew heavy, and that was when he knew she had winked out of the world of the Clans and was gone.

 But Antstar’s mind soon turned away from the black and into the white as another matter came to mind.

Stoatslink.

Horror gripped at him with its long, yellow talons. He couldn’t let Stoatslink die. Sparkthistle had nothing to her name, and was not missed- if she was, it was only her shadow and her what-could-have-beens that were mourned. But Stoatslink was a family man. Two daughters, both soon to take their final apprentice assessments, friends both in and outside WindClan…

But something had to be done. Stoatslink was, after all, practically snaking around the truth, around Antstar. And if Antstar was gone, the political implications for WindClan were dark ahead…

Stoatslink was a threat to the Clan. And he would continue to be a threat as long as he was aware, as long as he was on the trail near the gorge where Sparkthistle had been found. As long as he could nose through the lies- or at least as long as he attempted to.

After all, he was telling his Clanmates that he expected a murderer was on the loose. It was a matter of public security- a panicked Clan catches no prey…

Antstar felt his brain coil as it ran ten thousand tail-lengths a minute. Faster and faster it went, faster and faster he felt his paws go beneath him, until he stopped in the open doorway to the medicine den, breath shaky. As soon as he saw Whitetooth’s teal eyes greet him, he managed to gasp out breathlessly:

“We need to do something about Stoatslink!”

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 15

It took almost twenty minutes for Danny’s mom to finish her tirade against the police. Watching her flip out on the officers was almost therapeutic, and by the time she was done, he was more amused then terrified. It made the actual interview much easier.

The police were initially skeptical, especially since his dad took the lead on explaining what happened. His childish excitement at getting to chase something made it sound like some made up fantasy, but that changed when Vlad gave his account. With his reputation, they were forced to take it seriously.

The older of the two officers, O’Brian, took the statements as his partner, Kiziah, reviewed the scene for any clues or evidence of how the creature got in the house. Other police offers were on the way to do a proper investigation.

“You’re the one that reported that murder… That was just, I guess it’s two days ago now,” O’Brian mentioned as he glanced at Danny, who nodded. “We chalked up the weirdness of your original statement due to shock, but if you’re telling me this thing is the same perp, I have no idea what we have on our hands.”

“I… I don’t really know if it was the same thing or not, but it looked like it.”

The officer frowned as his partner returned. “No obvious sign of a break in,” Kiziah stated, “but I don’t want to touch anything without an evidence kit. There’s definitely a weird substance in the living room and near the front door that will need analyzed.”

“You didn’t hear anything?” O’Brian looked back towards Danny and his parents.

“To be honest, our family tends to be heavy sleepers,” his mother explained as she gave him a sheepish grin. “Jack can sleep through almost anything, and I tend to wear earplugs.”

“And I am of the opposite,” Vlad stated as he made himself a cup of tea. “However, it wasn’t until I heard Daniel sprint up the stairs and bang on his parents’ door that I awoke.”

“Sorry about that.” Danny winced at he glanced at the man. Vlad didn’t seem as creepy as he had the previous day, but something still seemed off about him.

The man gave him a dismissive wave. “No worries, my dear boy. I believe your actions were more than understandable given the circumstances.”

“Err… I guess you want me to say if I heard anything?” Danny shook his head as the officers stared at him. “I didn’t. It… it was just a feeling, you know? Like when you get a sudden chill.” That statement was true enough. He figured it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to state the more paranormal aspect of it. “I thought I was just being paranoid until I looked down the stairs and that… that thing stared back at me.”

An awkward silence fell as O’Brian took some more notes. It was only broken when Kiziah received some sort of notification and moved to let the investigation team in. They quickly went to work examining the scene and looking for anything out of the ordinary. While they worked, an older man with a scar down the right side of his face took O’Brian and Kiziah aside and spoke with them. Once they finished, the older officer approached Danny and his family.

“I’m Lieutenant Metzger, and I’ve recently been put in charge of the investigation of the recent murders in the city. You’ve probably heard the rumors this is a serial case. Well, that’s true.” A muscle moved in the man’s cheek as he seemed to debate with himself over how much he could tell them. “Due to some of the details, we were under the impression these were ritualistic in nature and called in the FBI for some help.” He sighed before asking, “Is it okay if I sit?”

“Sure,” Danny’s mother shared a confused look with her husband before she asked the officer if he needed some coffee.

When he agreed, he waited until there was a cup in front of him to continue. “Look, I don’t want this being leaked. We don’t need people thinking the police force is wasting money on chasing fairy tales.” Once the Fenton family agreed, he continued, “You aren’t the first one to report something not quite human around the time of the incidences. Due to shock and figuring it was some sort of disguise, we originally disregarded that. However,” he glanced around before he leaned in, “one of my own officers gave a report earlier this week of glancing something inhuman. It actually attacked his patrol car before it vanished. On top of that, I don’t think whatever that thing spilled on your carpet has any sort of mundane explanation behind it.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I’m going to be frank with you. I would like to contract you for some sort of weapon for this thing. From previous experiences, I’m fully aware your… experiments don’t tend to do harm to people, so if… by the off chance, this isn’t something normal, we’ll have a way to stop it.”

Danny’s father immediately lit up in excitement. After rambling some idea, he ran down to the lab to act upon it before anyone could stop him.

“Don’t mind him,” his mother fondly chuckled. “Jack is very enthusiastic about our work.”

“I… uh… take that you’re willing to help us?”

“Oh, absolutely. If this thing is what we think it might possibly be, we were going to do that anyways. But I do need to ask you something. You mentioned you thought the attacks were ritual in nature. I’m not really sure how to ask this, but for those poor people, was there a part of the body missing?”

Metzger’s shoulders tensed at her question as his eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“Wait… wait, you’re telling me… that thing… what it was holding in its hand…” Danny couldn’t say it. The memory of the blood dripping from that thing’s hand temporarily overwhelmed him. He must have swayed as his mother gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. If you decide to go help your father, I think he’d gladly welcome the help.”

Danny shook his head at the suggestion. He needed to stay put. It just felt safer with her and the officers around. She must have somehow understood as she gave his shoulder a motherly squeeze.

“You didn’t answer my question.” An irritated edge crept into Metzger’s voice.

His mother calmly turned back to him and returned his gaze. “I didn’t until just now. After Danny relayed his story, it struck a chord with me, and I did some digging. There is folklore in different parts of the US which tells of creatures who steal the life of humans and often a part of the body. If… if that’s what’s happening, then we’re in trouble.”

“What do you think this thing is doing?”

“Nothing good. Throughout history, humankind has offered up blood and other bodily sacrifices to gods, spirits, monsters, and everything in between. While usually the Aztecs come to mind, you can find evidence of this around the world. It’s believed those sacrifices would either strengthen or appease whichever entity was the focus.”

“Maddie, are you suggesting this thing is doing something similar?”

She nodded. “I… We aren’t sure if this thing is trying to strengthen itself or if it’s taking its gains to something else.”

A different memory surfaced in Danny’s mind. “That… when we were being rescued… the… the person that helped us get back… he said the A-listers got targeted for their blood,” he stammered before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the room stared at him. He and his friends really hadn’t talked about Frostbite. They mentioned to the police they thought someone helped them, but purposely left it vague. With how disoriented they were when they were found, the police were under the impression the trauma obscured some of their memories. Well, the cat was out of the bag.

Matzger stared at him. “Are you telling me what happened to your classmates may be related to… to this thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Like I told my mom before you came, the person who grabbed me and my friends isn’t the same… whatever that thing is. But, I don’t know what Dash and them encountered after we got separated.”

“Hmm… what about the person who helped you?”

Danny shook his head. “Not the same person. He called himself Frostbite, and…” How could he even explain Frostbite? He was a ghostly yeti with an ice arm for God’s sake! “I didn’t think he was real,” he eventually stated as he glanced down at his hands. “He was so friendly and helpful. He was so much different than that thing.”

“Honey, you never really talked about this Frostbite person before.” His mother tried to reach out for his hand, but he pulled away.

“I… I thought he was a dream or hallucination or something for a while.” He hoped he sounded sincere. It was somewhat true after all. The fantastical nature of what happen still didn’t seem real to him, but he knew better. “I think he had helpers… there were other voices besides his.”

“That would line up with some of the evidence we have from your case,” Matzger stated as he rubbed his chin. “The injuries of you and your two friends were vastly different than the others who went missing which suggested multiple perpetrators. One of the other boys did mention that he thought they were rescued by a small group of people. I will have to take a closer look at the injuries of your classmates to determine whether or not they match up with our current victims. That should give us an idea if it’s the same thing or something different.”

“Sir,” officer Kiziah interrupted, “we’ve finished our initial sweep. We did have some trouble trying to keep Mr. Fenton out of the way in the basement area, but he’s promised to stay at the one table while we work. He’s apparently drafting some blueprints. Forensics is here and are working on collecting evidence. They’re hoping to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Kiziah. Can you explain to them their options during our investigation progress?” After flashing them an apologetic smile which seemed out of place with his features, he told them he would be in touch and excused himself.

After shaking his head at his superior, Kiziah stated while the family could stay in the house during the investigation process, it had the possibility of accidentally contaminating evidence. He recommended for them to stay at a local hotel for a time.

Although his mother seemed hesitant to leave the house, she eventually agreed to head to a hotel after Vlad made a show of being concerned for the family’s safety. It took a bit of time to get his dad to leave the basement, but by the time seven am hit, Danny found himself in the best hotel in Amity Park, per Vlad’s firm recommendations.

After sending his friends a few texts to let them know what happened, that he was fine, and where he was, he told them he’d call them after he got some sleep. Although he wasn’t exactly happy he shared the room with Vlad, the pristine bed ended up being far more important to him than any worries.

…..

Several hours later, Danny woke up to one hundred and three texts, fifty-four missed calls, and eleven voicemails. Sam and Tucker had only one voicemail and call apiece and only a handful of texts. The rest were from his sister. Groaning, he sent Sam and Tucker messages to let them know he’d call them after he contacted his sister.

He really didn’t want to talk to Jazz at the moment. When she was scared, she became spastic, and a spastic Jazz was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Okay, the third to last think he wanted to deal with. The creepy thing and Plasmius took the top two places.

After taking several minutes to do everything other than call his sister, he finally buckled down and called her. As predicted, she spastically demanded to know if he was okay while berating him for not contacting her sooner. He just let her talk while making the occasional ‘uh huh’, ‘sorry,’ and ‘yeah.’ From experience, he knew it was better to let her get it out of her system.

He put Jazz on speaker while he attempted to find the hotel’s TV remote. Vlad didn’t seem to be in the room which really didn’t bother him. The man didn’t need to listen to Jazz flipping out after all. Eventually, he found the remote next to a message from Vlad stating he and his parents went to discuss something with the police and would be back with food.

“Danny, are you even listening to me?” Jazz demanded. He must have been quiet for too long.

“Uh? Yeah, I just happened to find a note Vlad left. You were saying something about how it was irresponsible for Dad to go running after the thing?”

“Wait, are you telling me you were left alone after everything that happened?”

“Jazz, I’m seventeen. I think I’m perfectly fine being alone for a few hours.”

“You were kidnapped by a crazy man and then were attacked in your own home! Do you really think it’s safe for you to be alone right now?” With that, she flew into a different tirade.

Knowing it would be a while, he decided the TV would be a preferable alternative to his upset sister. He turned it on only to have it immediately turn off. Thinking he accidentally doubled clicked the button, he tried again only to have the same result. Thinking the remote was damaged, he moved to try the button on the machine. Only, it turned on by itself. It and the lights began to dim and flicker, and his breath began to mist.

Glancing around, he watched as a girl emerged from the wall. At first, it seemed she didn’t notice him as she moved towards the opposite wall, but she stopped midway and faced him. She looked human but her entire body seemed insubstantial and almost wispy. Her skin, if it could be called that, was an unearthly white while her blue hair flickered like a flame.

She smirked at him while moving a little closer. “You shouldn’t be here, Baby Pop.” Her sultry and musical voice seemed far away, almost as if it was being broadcasted over an old radio. “Don’t know what you’re doing on this side of the veil, but you shouldn’t stay here.”

“What… what are you talking about? Who are you?” he stammered while vaguely registering Jazz asking him what was wrong.

“I like to slip to this side for some fun, but I might stick around a little longer this time. It’s already chaotic here, and a little more might do me some good. Besides, it seems I need to make a few people remember I still exist.” After appraising him, she gave another smile and headed back towards the wall. “You might want to get out while you can, Baby Pop. Things might get a little hot, and you new guys often aren’t strong enough to deal with the heat.”

“Hey, wait!” He tried to get her to stop, but she just vanished back into the wall. Unsure what to do, he stood in the center of the room dumbfounded until he realized his phone was still on speaker and his sister was calling for him.

“Hey, Jazz, I’m going to have to call you back,” he stated as he moved towards the door. “Something really weird just happened.” He hung up on her as he ran into the hallway looking for some evidence of the ghost.

He barely made it to the elevators when the fire alarm sounded. Not wanting to stick around, he quickly found the stairs and made his way to the lobby as the rest of the guests started to follow suit. By the time he reached the third floor, he began to smell smoke. There had to be a fire. Is that what that ghost meant? Did she somehow set it?

He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He really only needed on potentially supernatural thing causing problems in his life at a time.

[geminiwritten]

i like you more ; draco malfoy

fandom: hp

pairing: draco x reader

summary: you’ve been ‘seeing’ blaise (and draco isn’t too happy about it) but you’re a little distracted by someone else and it turns out blaise is gross, so draco swoops (much to your delight)

notes: my first fic! sorry if it sucks, i’m a bit out of practice, but let me know what you think!

word count: 3285 (i’m sorry)

This morning truly wasn’t unfolding in your favour. You’d slept in, you had no clean tights, your dormmate’s overweight cat, Muffin, had shredded your Potions homework, and your shoelace had dared to trip you as you scrambled out of the dungeons with only a sliver of hope that you hadn’t missed breakfast.

Though of course, you had missed it, and your rumbling stomach decided to protest about it for the whole first half of the day. Which was exactly why Hermione couldn’t concentrate on the wriggly vine in front of her that she was supposed to be letting suckle on an unusually small bottle of grey milk that definitely hadn’t come from a cow.

“Are you alright?” she asked, earning a stern glare from Professor Sprout as she tried to seize the spindly vine between her fingertips.

“Yeah,” you replied, “Sorry, I slept in and it’s been a rough morning.”

She handed you the tiny bottle of milk, silently asking you to try feeding the arrogant little plant while she scribbled a quick diagram of it onto a piece of parchment.

“Were you up all night with Blaise, huh?” she teased, smirking up at you from beneath her long lashes.

Your cheeks flushed, “No, why on Earth would you think that?”

Hermione giggled, “Apparently the two of you are a real thing now.”

The little green plant finally began suckling on the tip of the milk bottle, to which Professor Sprout offered you a commending smile.

“We are not a thing,” you said, eyes flickering toward the boy in question sitting at the other side of the greenhouse, “We’ve only been on two dates, and I’m not even sure if like him like that.”

“Well, you better tell him that,” she nudged her head in Blaise’s direction, “Because he’s been telling everyone that you’re going to the Yule Ball together.”

“Excuse me?” this time, you weren’t even the slightest bit subtle about shooting a look his way, “He hasn’t even asked me!”

Hermione did the best to stifle her laughter in the shoulder of her robe as Professor Sprout called the class to an end. A few seventh-year students filtered through the greenhouse to take the plants away and remove the equipment while everyone else scattered off toward their respective next classes.

“Hey gorgeous,” Blaise greeted, falling into step beside you on your way to Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione staggered her steps and waited until she could start walking with Cho.

You kept your eyes glued to the ground, “Blaise.”

“Do you fancy roses by any chance?” he produced a blood red rose from behind his back, “Because I nicked this one from Sprout’s desk, just for you.”

The bud of the flower looked fairly normal, but the stem was abnormally thick and dark with what looked like blisters in the place of thorns. “That’s a Blooming Akhlys; those bubbles contain poisonous gas and if you inhale enough of it, you die.”

Blaise shrieked and dropped the flower, “Gross!”

You stopped short and rolled your eyes, gathering the hem of your robe to carefully retrieve the flower, “You can’t just leave it here.”

Before he could speak, you turned sharply and hurried back toward the greenhouses. Professor Sprout was relieved to see it returned, and more than a little embarrassed about leaving it unattended on her desk. She wrote you a short letter to pardon your tardiness to your next class and sent it fluttering in the form of a small bird toward Hagrid’s hut.

You set off once again across the grassy grounds, watching your scuffed shoes one after the other until a second pair appeared beside them. You startled a little, looking up to find familiar grey eyes above a cheeky smile, “Far out, Draco, don’t sneak up on people like that.”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t sneaking, you just happen to be particularly imperceptive.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why are you late for class, anyway?”

“Flitwick kept me back,” he replied, “Just wanted to congratulate me on being the most incredible student he’s ever had.”

His grin was making you blush, so you turned your attention back to your feet as you scoffed, “You’re so full of it, Draco.”

He definitely didn’t miss the rosy colour that blossomed in your cheeks, and he felt pretty proud that it was his doing, “Maybe so, but you-”

“Y/N!” Blaise’s holler echoed from further down the hill, interrupting Draco and dissolving his once charming smirk into a disgusted sneer. “I guess I’ll see you later then,” He muttered, and before you could respond his long legs picked up their pace and left you behind.

Blaise was oblivious to the look that Draco gave him as he brushed past, but you still noticed it. “Hey,” you said, “What are you doing? You’ll be late for class.”

Blaise shrugged, “Worth it if I get to spend a little extra time with you.”

He offered his hand, at which you stared with confusion before realising that it was for you to hold. You tried to hide your surprise as you met it with your own, shuddering at the feeling of his sweaty palm.

Through the trees and into a small clearing, Hagrid was organising the class into small groups for the first project of the term. He turned to you and grinned, waving Professor Sprout’s note in the air before turning to Blaise, “An’ why might you be late, Mr. Zabini?”

It was odd to hear Hagrid speak with the slightest bit of formality.

“I was with Y/N.”

Hagrid’s brows rose, “Not accordin’ to Professor Sprout’s letter.”

Blaise looked at you with pleading eyes, and though a part of you really didn’t want to save his ass, you spoke up, “Sorry, Hagrid, Blaise had waited outside the greenhouse just to make sure I got to class okay.”

Hagrid looked between you and Blaise, his gaze falling on your interlocked hands before sighing, “Alrigh’ then, you two can join Mr. Malfoy and Miss. Parkinson.”

Your stomach sank so low you worried for a moment if it was going to fall out of your arse.

Draco was half-sitting on a huge boulder, his long arms wrapped around the furry textbook that was nestled against his chest. His green tie was loose and lopsided, allowing for a few extra shirt buttons to be undone and exposing his milky-white skin beneath. How the hell did this boy manage to constantly look like an off-duty model?

The intrusion of ghastly pink nail polish in the perfect picture that was Draco Malfoy brought your reverie to a bitter end. Pansy was huddled beside him, talking no less than a hundred miles an hour while toying flirtatiously with the lapel of his robe. With the other hand, she twirled a piece of mousy brown hair and as soon as you met her gaze, she winked.

“Well, isn’t this lucky?” Blaise spoke first, “Not often that we get grouped with everyone from the same house.”

Draco’s eyes were trained on the ground, remaining there even as Pansy moved close enough to nearly bump him off the boulder, “How exciting!”

“Great,” you said, trying to force a smile through your half-assed tone of enthusiasm.

Just as Hagrid called the class to order, Draco peered up from beneath his lashes. His eyes were soft, and you could have sworn his pink lips were pouting. You wanted to ask what was wrong but before you could, Crabbe and Goyle appeared and Draco morphed back into his usual, cocky persona.

Hagrid started excitedly explaining the aim of the group projects while the class found various rocks and trees to lean against. Around the border of the clearing was a short brick wall, on which you took a seat seconds before Draco, who decided to sit unnecessarily close. Blaise quickly occupied your other side and slung an arm around your waist. It made you stiffen, and you felt a little uncomfortable but as you put your hand down to grip the edge of the brick wall, your pinkie met another’s. Warm tingles wriggled from your little finger up your arm, lighting a warm fire on that side of your body.

You kept your hand there for the rest of the class, and to your surprise, so did Draco.

“So,” Blaise said as you began your walk back to the castle, “The Yule Ball?”

You shrugged, “What about it?”

“We’ll go together, yeah?” he didn’t seem nervous in the slightest, which kind of annoyed you.

“Is that you asking me to go with you, Blaise?”

He chuckled, “Well, obviously.”

A part of your heart ached as you replied, “Then I suppose I’ll say yes.”

“I knew you would,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You wanted to pull away but you couldn’t bring yourself to embarrass him like that. “What do you say we go back to my dorm to celebrate, hm?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise this time, “W-What do you mean?”

“You know,” he smirked, “Practice the kind of dancing we’re going to be doing after the ball.”

Your stomach lurched and you were suddenly glad that you hadn’t had breakfast, “Um, sorry Blaise but I have to get some study done before afternoon classes.”

As you hurried away you couldn’t have cared less about what Blaise might’ve felt from your rejection. You had no idea that he was so disgusting and pushy; he’d always seemed like a good enough gentleman until now.

Once inside the castle you swept through the Great Hall to get some food before setting course for the library. You knew you could find a friend in there to help you study and you figured that it would be the least likely place for Blaise to go.

Sure enough, Hermione was nestled at a table beneath one of the tall windows. “Hey,” you said, setting your books down.

“Hey,” she perked up as soon as she saw you, “I heard Blaise finally asked you to the ball.”

You sat down and sighed, “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh, no,” she shut her book, “What happened?”

You vaguely explained what went down on the walk back from Care of Magical Creatures and watched as her face slowly morphed into an expression of disgust.

“Oh, what a vile little git!” she hissed, dampening her angry voice for the sake of the library, “How dare he even suggest something like that, you’ve hardly been on any real dates let alone decided if you even want to be a couple!”

Tears threatened to fall, but you blinked them back and chalked the emotion up to how exhausting your morning had been. “I don’t know,” you toyed with cap of Hermione’s ink pot, “I want to like him, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

Something being Draco, of course.

“It’ll be okay,” she said as she packed her things back into her bookbag, “Just remember who you are and don’t let anyone tell you what decisions to make.”

Her smile was warm and for the second time that day, you felt comfort overwhelm the uneasiness that Blaise had bled into your body. “Thanks, ‘mione.”

She bid you goodbye to go meet Harry and Ron for lunch, so you opened your Herbology textbook and started idly flipping through pages.

For some reason – though you knew exactly what reason, you just chose to ignore it – you couldn’t get Draco’s soft, grey eyes out of your head. You’d always been good friends with him, not too close but definitely more than acquaintances, and you’d always had a crush on him, but recently it’s felt different.

About a month ago when Blaise first asked you out, you were ecstatic. Your crush on Draco started to dwindle and you found a new hope for love in the form of Blaise’s plentiful compliments and warm brown eyes. Though it all started feeling strange when Draco seemed to vanish from your day-to-day life. It hurt, actually; you never wanted to lose him, and he was still an important person in your life, but week by week he floated further away. You’d hardly seen him until he surprised you today outside of the greenhouses.

“Seat taken?” a familiar voice asked, startling you.

The devil himself stood beside you, grey eyes on full effect with the usual smirk quirking the corner of his pink lips.

“Um, no, y-you can sit,” you wanted to kick yourself as you tripped over your own words, hearing him chuckle softly as he took the seat.

He opened his Herbology textbook and laid out a fresh piece of parchment, “So- uh, I heard that you’re going with Blaise to the Yule Ball.”

Once again, your stomach sank, “Um, yeah, I am.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it?” the little crease between his brows was almost laughably adorable.

“Oh, I am, but you know,” you shrugged, “Blaise doesn’t want to make it a big deal.”

Draco had to suppress his smile, because he knew you weren’t excited about going with Blaise and that gave him an inkling of hope. “Oh, okay, that makes sense.”

A beat of silence swept over the two of you before you spoke again, “Who are you going with?”

“Where?”

“The ball?”

His heart skipped, “Um, I haven’t asked anyone yet.”

“Oh,” you were rather happy with that response, because you knew that the alternative answer would have enraged the green-eyed monster that lived in your belly.

An easy silence settled once again, only interrupted by the intermittent scratching of quill on paper or the turn of a page.

Slowly, Draco let his legs relax and the one closest to you bumped your bare knee. “What happened to your uniform today, hm?” he teased.

You blushed, “I didn’t have any clean tights.”

“And what about your tie?”

You gasped, fearing you’d forgotten it until you felt the silky material beneath your fingertips. You frowned, “I didn’t forget it.”

“No,” he chuckled, “But you clearly don’t know how to tie it properly.”

“You ought to talk,” you scoffed.

He rolled his eyes as he swivelled sideways in his seat, leaning dangerously close and bringing his slender fingers up to the lazy knot at your collarbone. Your breath hitched and got stuck in your throat, making a soft noise that brought a cheeky grin to his lips.

He wasn’t close enough, though. The smell of peppermint and fresh linen numbed your senses; you could feel yourself falling toward him but didn’t have the strength to stop. His fingers worked effortlessly on the tie around your neck despite his eyes staying locked on yours, hope filling them as he let his gaze stray toward your lips.

The unexpected sound of a book falling on the floor scared the both of you, making you jump apart and turn toward the aisle of books on the far side of the window. Then you heard a giggle and a grunt.

“What the hell?” Draco stood and strode over to see the other side of the stack, though he regretted it almost instantly.

You followed him, “What is- Oh.”

Between the bookshelves was a pair of dishevelled Slytherins. Blaise was struggling to pull his trousers back up to his hips while Pansy didn’t seem too concerned about her open blouse that exposed her lacy bra to the whole library.

“Y/N, I-”

“Um, no,” you raised your hand to silence him, “I don’t really care about an explanation.”

“But, Y/N, I swear-”

“Blaise,” you stepped back as he stepped forward, “I really don’t give a fuck.”

Draco snickered and Pansy looked utterly offended, finally deciding to button her shirt up. You turned sharply and grabbed the sleeve of Draco’s robe, tugging him alongside you as you left the stacks and hurriedly collected your belongings from the table. Once you slung your bookbag over your shoulder, the two of you left the library.

You sighed, feeling a strange sense of relief, “I honestly thought that the last place I would run into Blaise would be the library.”

Draco chuckled softly, “He frequents it more than you’d think.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “That was really insensitive.”

“You definitely don’t have to be sorry, Draco,” you stopped at the top of the stairs that led down toward the dungeons, “I didn’t really like him anyway.”

Draco stopped only a step lower than you, making him just about the same height, “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a jerk.”

Draco chuckled, “More than a bit.”

“Do you think Hagrid will let us change groups for our Care of Magical Creatures project?” you wondered aloud.

“I bloody hope so,” Draco mumbled.

A short moment of silence washed over you before you spoke again, “So,” you tugged on your half-knotted tie, “Would you mind fixing this before class, because I’ve already lost my homework and I don’t want to give Snape another reason to give me detention.”

The corridors were just about empty. Most students were still at lunch or studying for the remainder of the midday break; it was just you and Draco.

“Oh, of course,” he dropped his bookbag by his foot and started untangling your tie.

Once again he was close enough to completely overwhelm your senses, and you simply couldn’t stop yourself from speaking, “Hey Draco, since I don’t have a date and you don’t have a date, do you want to go to the Yule Ball alone together?”

Shades of pink flooded his pale cheeks, “Alone together?”

His eyes were focused on your tie while yours watched his tongue dart across his bottom lip. You swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yeah, alone together.”

Finally, he looked up, “Well, why don’t we just go together?”

Your heart skipped and you could feel the heat rushing from your neck to the tips of your ears. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Did Draco Malfoy just ask me out?”

He nodded, revelling in the soft sound of your laughter, “Is that a yes?”

“Definitely.”

Tightening his grip on the knot he’d just created, he pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. Warmth and electricity spread through you, making your legs so numb you were worried you’d collapse, but all too soon, he pulled away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, chuckling quietly to himself.

You rolled your eyes, “Trust me, I do.”

He couldn’t help feeling giddy when you pecked his lips again. You laced your fingers with his and began moving down the stairs, but he tugged on your arm to stop you. “What if we don’t go to Potions?”

“Why?” you frowned.

“I’m just thinking, since you don’t have your homework and I would much rather not have this moment ruined by Snape, maybe we could just… go for a walk?”

“A walk?” you echoed, “Draco, there are many things I would rather be doing instead of Potions class, but a walk is hardly near the top of that list.”

“There’s a list?” he asked, smirking.

You nodded, “And it’s very long, so we’d better get started.”

The two of you began walking away from the dungeons. “Should we start with number one, then?” he offered.

“Hm, maybe not,” you replied, “I think we should save number one for a special night when no one will bother us.”

The red in your cheeks was enough to give your thoughts away, and Draco was almost embarrassed about how fast his heart began to race.

“I like that idea,” he said, pulling you closer and planting a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled, “I like you.”

“I like you more.”

END.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, wildamongwolves!

For @wildamongwolves. Hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Towels Are Cold, So Am I

Chapter 1

It's weird, but Stiles likes hanging out with Derek.

Sure, the circumstances are less than desirable: they're looking for Boyd and Erica, unable to locate the wayward Betas. And since Scott won't help Derek, Stiles decides he needs to be the one to bridge the gap.

They spend the last few weeks of July driving around and eating fast food in parking lots as they ponder over maps of the area.

Sure, Derek snarls and bitches that Stiles is annoying, touching everything in the car and leaving traces of his scent everywhere. He makes fun of Stiles' choice in music and calls him a monster when he sees how many curly fries he can stuff in his mouth.

But Stiles has fun, watching the lines form between Derek’s eyebrows when he’s mulling over something Stiles says. Like he can't believe Stiles is as ridiculous as he is. But he listens, no matter how much Stiles talks.

Like now, for example. He’s running through a list of things that he needs to get from the grocery store before they head back to the loft and Derek gives what Stiles calls his “Encouraging Caveman” sound. It means he’s listening, but he’s mildly distracted by something.

Stiles, vaguely amused that he's gotten so good at Derek's version of communication, notices immediately when Derek’s eyes glaze over.

“Dude.” He snaps his fingers near Derek’s face. "We need to get some more snacks before we keep researching."

Derek glances at him, his eyes dark and haunted. “Okay.”

Stiles studies him, thinking of all the things that must be lurking in Derek’s mind to make him look like that.

He's not one for empty platitudes, so he just leans forward and turns up the radio a little, lightly scuffing at Derek’s shoulder in a way that he hopes comes off as reassuring.

Derek glances at him again before looking back at the road.

The littlest bit of tension leaves his shoulders and Stiles definitely counts that as a win.

-----

It’s October and it's raining. Like, fucking pouring, and Stiles is debating whether or not he should get out of the Jeep. The parking lot of the library is practically flooded. His shoes are gonna be soaked.

He sighs and leans forward against his steering wheel, thinking he might be able to see something other than gray clouds in the sky, but no dice. When he leans back, he jumps.

Derek is standing next to his window.

Stiles rolls the window down an inch and hollers, “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell is wrong with you? Get in the car!”

Derek rolls his eyes and, a moment later, is pulling open the passenger door before slamming it shut. He doesn’t look at Stiles, just stares straight ahead.

“So…” Stiles drawls, “whatcha doing out in the rain, Big Guy?”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a moment and Stiles is about to roll his eyes or huff or say something sarcastic like good talk as always when Derek says, “I’m leaving.”

Stiles blinks at the side of Derek’s face, mouth moving, but nothing comes out.

At his silence, Derek’s eyes flicker to his face for a second before going back to the windshield.

Stiles turns and looks out the windshield too. “Where are you going?” he asks because he can’t ask the question he really wants to, not yet.

“South America, with Cora,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles hums, picking at a piece of leather that’s peeling off his steering wheel. “Pretty warm there.”

“Still pretty rainy.”

Stiles nods. They sit in silence for a long time, the rain pattering against the Jeep the only sound.

Finally, Stiles whispers, “Why?”

“Because there’s nothing left for me here.”

And he gets it, he does. But it hurts, oh yes it does, it hurts quite a bit because Stiles could have sworn that they were starting to get somewhere, the two of them. Maybe Stiles was reading too much into it, but he wasn't sure he was.

Hell, they'd even hugged the last time they parted ways and, as awkward as it had been, it was nice and he thought... he thought...

“I don’t want you to go,” he confesses in a small voice.

Derek closes his eyes, his hands fisted on his thighs, his face twisted in pain.

Stiles waits, hoping that Derek will say something that means he feels even remotely the same.

A long beat of silence passes, the rain pounding the roof of the Jeep.

Stiles isn’t stupid. He gets the picture. He's seventeen and ridiculous and Derek isn't interested in him like that and god he's such an idiot.

He feels like a fucking joke as he nods, staring down at his hands. “Well,” he finally croaks, “I… I hope you find some place good.”

“Me too.” There’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “Goodbye Stiles.”

There’s the slightest ghost of fingertips against the side of his neck then the door opens and Derek is gone.

And Stiles is alone in his car again, the strong rain-wet scent of Derek making his nose and eyes burn.

-----

The first time Derek reappears in Beacon Hills, Stiles is almost sure he’s hallucinating again. After all, isn’t his brain still a little wonky from the Nogtisune? Derek used to be a frequent star in his visions, after all.

And since he’s in the woods alone at night, looking for a witch’s familiar, of course he’s gonna imagine Derek because why the fuck not?

It’s been two years since Stiles has seen him. More than that.

But, apparently, there Derek stands. His hair is a little longer, he's got the beginnings of a beard, and there are a few more lines around his eyes. He looks so good and what the fuck –

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he almost shouts, the orb of light in his hand flickering.

Derek jerks back, looking vaguely confused. “I had to get something from the vault. I thought I’d check on the house. Then I heard someone out here.”

“The vault? I, what?” Stiles sputters. He’s suddenly so angry, it’s almost blinding. “I thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you fucking vanished and no one’s heard from you for over two years and your luck is astronomically bad! What else were we supposed to think?!”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m fine.” Derek looks down at the orb in Stiles' hand then back to his face. “What’s going on? Why are you out here?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and god, it’s almost like Derek never left. Like This is private property and the long days and nights they spent looking for Boyd and Erica and – focus Stiles.

He starts walking the way he was going, sure that Derek will follow him since there’s no way he’s real anyways. “We have a very angry witch on our hands. She’s not happy that Scott tried to tell her she wasn’t allowed to use the Nemeton to fuel a revenge spell.”

Derek snorts, drawing up to Stiles’ left side and scanning the trees. “Yeah, because that’s always worked well for spell casters in the past.”

He gives a conceding gesture. “Which he tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to listen, so she tapped into the damn tree anyways. It’s given her hella power and she’s killed three people.”

Derek’s thoughtful hum is familiar enough to make Stiles glance over at him.

He’s got to be a fucking figment of Stiles’ imagination.

He glances down at his fingers. Only ten. But the situation still feels so surreal. He decides for now that he’ll talk to his Fake Derek to abate some of his anxious nerves like he used to and examine his mental health later.

“So, anyways,” he continues, “not only is there a body count, the negative power is starting to seep into the land, so I’m stuck trying to figure out what her tether is and what do I find? Her fucking familiar! Which is great, but can you guess what it is?” He snorts. “Oh my god, it’s so stupid.”

“What is it?”

“A fucking mountain lion. She's been using a mountain lion to kill people!” He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Like, what the actual fuck, right?”

Derek huffs. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Stiles.”

“Oh I know, dude, I know.”

Derek frowns again. “Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles is about to snap back that he can call his Imaginary Friend Derek whatever he wants when he’s shoved to the side all of a sudden.

He sputters, looking up at Derek, who’s wolfed-out and growling at a mountain lion.

Can hallucinations shove people? If Derek just shoved Stiles, then he has to be real, right?

But there were plenty of times Stiles was convinced he was awake when he wasn’t and fuck he really doesn’t need to have an episode or something right now –

“Stiles! Now would be a good time to do something!” Derek snaps, jolting Stiles from his contemplation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting up. His hands are pouring blood from his unceremonious meeting with the forest floor. He figures, waste not want not, and licks one of his palms, the dirt and blood a disgusting mix on his tongue. He rolls it around his mouth, jumping to his feet.

“Get out of the way!” he shouts and Derek dives to the side right as the mountain lion lunges.

Stiles catches the large cat’s face in his hands, grunts at the feeling of claws digging into his thighs, and severs the creature’s connection to the witch with a push of his Spark.

An ear-splitting shriek shakes the woods.

The mountain lion falls to the ground, writhing and contorting for a moment before it stills, clearly unable to live without its connection to the witch.

Stiles takes a deep breath, the pushback from his spell like a punch in the gut as his legs give out, and shoves his hands against the ground. He pushes the extra energy along the nearest ley line and funnels the brightness toward the Nemeton. He snaps the link and almost pukes at the feeling.

He floats in the ether for a moment. The others are sure to be able to handle the witch now. He should probably go find them, help them…

“Stiles, Stiles!”

He jerks, his eyes finding Derek’s. “Oh shit, you’re still here.”

Derek stares at him. “You’ve got blood all over you. Where are you hurt?”

He laughs. He grew up in Beacon Hills. He’s fucking hurt everywhere. Derek should know that firsthand.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is careful.

He shakes his head, face still cracked in a smile. “I’m fine, man.” He glances at his palms. “Eh, well, I’ll live this time. Yay me!” He tries to stand but his legs buckle.

Derek snatches him before he can hit the ground.

“I’m good, I just, oohh boy. Too much. Too much.” He sighs, the pounding in his head telling him that he definitely used too much of his Spark with not enough preparation. “I just… need to lie down. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m taking you to the clinic.” He scoops Stiles into a bridal carry and starts back through the woods.

Stiles tries to protest, but he can’t walk, so it seems like he’s along for the ride. He tries to reason, “I need to help the others.”

“You’re in no condition to do that right this second.” Derek tilts his head, listening. “Besides, I think they’ll be fine. It sounds like the fight is winding down.”

"You really look like a puppy when you do that."

Derek's voice is as dry as the desert. "Dog jokes, really? Aren't you a little old for that?"

“Fucking hell, I am so good at imagining things,” he states, closing his eyes. “I even got your Stiles-You’re-So-Dumb voice right.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just tightens his hold and quickens his pace.

He presses his face to Derek’s chest. Derek smells exactly the same and Stiles can’t help but mutter, “Missed you.”

It’s easy to slip into darkness.

-----

Stiles wakes up at the vet clinic, his hands and thighs bandaged, and feels like someone beat him with a baseball bat.

The witch is gone, the others are fine, and he’s got a migraine from Hell.

He goes back to Scott’s house and checks in with the rest of the pack, allowing them to scold him for being reckless and praising him for helping with the familiar. He leaves before the pizza arrives, not so much for socializing anymore.

He almost wants to ask if anyone saw Derek the night before, but stops himself. Surely someone would have mentioned if Derek was back in town, right?

If he was seeing things, he doesn’t want to worry his friends. It could very well be that he made his own way to the clinic, envisioning Derek as a way to keep him upright and moving.

And if he wasn’t seeing things, if Derek was there and helped him and disappeared again…

Well, Stiles has learned that it doesn’t do to dwell on the past.

[verai-marcel]

Heart of Starlight (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!OC, 18+)

Summary: Arthur, on a solo hike through the forest, finds a place to camp. In his dreams, he is visited by a woman who doesn’t leave his thoughts during the day, so he draws her, believing that they will never meet in the flesh. Little does he know that the calls of his heart are being heard.

Author’s Notes: This story was written specifically vague, so it could take place at any time in the timeline. There is no reader this time, just a nameless woman, for reasons you’ll see if you choose to continue reading. This is one of the gift fics for the millennium giveaway; thanks @outtricking for your amazing request!

Tags: size kink, sensual, unnamed OC, mythology-inspired, supernatural elements, gentle sex, light angst

Word Count: 4143

AO3 Link is here, darlin’.

--------------------

"Where the hell is Arthur?" 

"Scopin' out some work down up north."

"Oh." A thoughtful pause. Then, "How long did he say he'd be gone?" 

"A week at most."

"Alright. But if he ain't back by then–" 

“Relax Dutch, he'll come back. He always does."

***

Arthur took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the stress leaking from his bones as he did so. He had told Hosea he was going to check up north for any work, and that he'd be back in a week.

But really, all he wanted was some time alone with his thoughts, to do a bit of journaling, to enjoy the wonders of nature. Even though he loved the gang, sometimes even he felt a little stifled and felt the call of the wild, the need to be out in the wilderness, alone.

Well, maybe not fully alone. He longed for a connection, something real, something unspoken. Part of him always felt lonely, even if he was surrounded by everyone at camp. Even with Mary, he had never quite felt together with her. There was always a distance.

Being out in nature was the closest he had been to finding that connection, amongst the trees and creatures. It was almost magical the way his worries were lifted and his stress went away when he was camping on the edge of a forest overlooking a river, nothing but him and the world.

Today, he rode north, finding a new trail that beckoned him. It looked like a trail that had not seen the footsteps of man in a long time. He wondered who had been the last person to walk this path as he followed, making a mental map of where he was going so he could find his way back. Deeper into the forest he rode until he came across a clearing, a meadow filled with lavender flowers and a small creek that flowed through it. Beyond, he could see that the forest grew thicker, hiding any paths to the hills that he could see just over the tops of the trees.

As soon as his horse got to the edge of the clearing, she stopped.

“C”mon girl. What’s the matter?”

She huffed and would not budge. Arthur dismounted and grabbed the lead, walking towards the clearing.

Digging in her hooves, she pulled and pulled until she broke free of Arthur’s grasp and cantered over to the safety of the forest trail they had just come from. She turned, looking at Arthur with what he interpreted as annoyance before she started to graze.

“Fine, stay there. I’ll be back,” he grumbled, taking his bedroll and carrying it with him as he began walking further into the clearing. He looked around, wondering what could have spooked his horse so much. Not finding any snakes or other predators, he kept walking through the clearing, until he reached the edge of the other forest.

A strange tingling sensation went up his back, making the hairs on his arms stand on end, as if he had just been shocked by some electricity. He looked around again, wondering if he had imagined the feeling.

Hiking farther and farther through the forest, he followed the creek for a couple of hours until it led him to a small cave where the creek seemed to be coming from.

“Well now, what’s this?” he mumbled to himself. Ducking down, he entered the cave, peering towards the sliver of light in the distance. He thought that perhaps it was a tunnel rather than a cave, so he pushed forward, watching his footing on the slippery rocks, following the creek as it flowed towards the light.

When he reached the opening, he carefully stepped out into the light and blinked. The vision before him was breathtaking, something out of a fairy tale.

A rippling pond, with some deer grazing and drinking peacefully, filled about half of the clearing. The other half of the clearing was a grassy meadow, with all kinds of wildflowers, bursting with color, and surrounding the area were tall cliffs, as if this little circle of nature was protected by the mountains themselves. He slowly walked towards the opening in the cliffs on the other side of the pond to find that the water became a creek once more and flowed downwards over the hillside and out of sight. He could hear the rush of water, though he could not see, and surmised that the creek became rapids further downstream.

Coming back around, he found a dry, flat patch of grass and lay his bedroll below a large tree. Underneath the shade, he lay down and stared up at the azure sky, framed by the trees and the cliffs, and dozed.

***

Arthur spent two days in his little hidden oasis, leaving the clearing to hunt a rabbit or two and find firewood. He couldn’t bring himself to kill the deer within the clearing, who were so docile that they didn’t run when they saw him; they only looked at him curiously before continuing to drink.

He had filled his sketchbook with the sights around him, drawing a map so he could find this place again. All of the plants grew with such untouched beauty that he felt the strong urge to draw every leaf, every flower, every curved branch, even though part of him knew his flimsy sketches couldn’t give them justice.

It was on the third day that he began to draw a woman. He had dreamed of her for the past two nights since he had come to the clearing. Always the dream would begin with her, kneeling in the grass, petting a nearby deer. He saw her stand, giving him a coy smile before coming to him to partake in carnal pleasures. Small in stature but confident in the way she carried herself, she was like mead wine, sweet with a mature flavor. She was always nude in his dreams, her natural beauty breathtaking, her face without artificial powders, her scent like wildflowers and meadows, and her taste, oh, her taste was heavenly, like honey and mint.

Both mornings, he had woken up, hard as a rock, reaching his hand towards the sky, begging wordlessly for her to return to him, wishing for nothing more than to bury himself inside of her and lose himself in her sweet embrace. He burned the memory of his dreams into his heart, torturing himself by recollecting the feel of her small body cradled in his arms, the softness of her full bosom in his hands, her ample hips riding him over and over until she would scream to the stars.

Most of the third day was spent drawing his mysterious dream woman, closing his eyes to remember her curves, to re-imagine her soft and gentle smile, to gaze in his mind’s eye at her seductive lips and the playful look in her eyes.

As the sun rolled across the sky, the hours fell away as Arthur sketched and sketched and sketched. Something had possessed him and it would not let go until finally, as the sun began to disappear beyond the cliffs, the two-page spread of his dream woman appeared to be completed.

Arthur held his journal away from him with both hands, tilting his head to examine his work. 

“Damn, best drawin’ I ever done, and it’s of someone who don’t even exist,” he mumbled ruefully. Setting his journal down, he foraged for some berries around the clearing and left to hunt for dinner.

***

He came back as twilight spread across the sky, a rabbit slung over his shoulder. Humming happily, he entered the clearing and made his way to his little makeshift camp, holding out his lantern. He’d have to start his campfire and-

He spotted movement on his bedroll. Holding out his lantern, he stared at the figure for a few moments. Then he dropped his rabbit in shock as soon as he recognized what lay there.

Or rather, who.

The woman of his dreams.

Naked.

“I don’t believe it…” he mumbled.

She turned to him then and blinked slowly like a cat. “Hello,” she said, her voice like silk sheets to his ears. “I heard you call for me.”

Arthur slowly picked up his rabbit, his eyes never leaving hers, until he got closer. After a few tense moments, he looked away. She watched him as he placed the rabbit next to the remnants of his campfire, watched him throw a couple extra pieces of firewood onto the small pit and strike some flint to start the fire.

“So, uh, you’re here,” was all he could manage to say while he dropped his gun belt and satchel next to his bedroll and sat down next to her, stoking the fire to life.

She nodded, tittering softly at his awkwardness. “Yes.”

Arthur glanced away, unsure of what to say or do. "You, uh, hungry?" he asked, looking back at her. 

The woman got up to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her bosom against his back. He stiffened, wanting her touch, but afraid that she would disappear the moment he reached for her. 

Taking his hands, the woman tangled her fingers with his. "You called for me. So I am here. Is this not what you want?" 

He immediately turned to look her in the eyes. In the dim glow of the campfire, she looked like a spring goddess, come down to dance with mere mortals like himself. As his gaze roved around her face, still unable to believe that she could be here, her lips curved in an amused yet gentle smile. 

Seeing that ethereal look on her face, Arthur was unable to stop himself. He leaned in slowly, afraid that she would flinch. When she leaned closer, her eyes fluttering shut, he steadied his heart and pressed his lips against hers. 

They were as soft as he imagined, pliable under his rough touch. When her mouth opened slightly, her tongue flicked out to taste him. Suddenly he was gone, lost to her forever as she pressed him down onto the bedroll, their lips never breaking contact. Arthur let out a soft moan of pleasure when she straddled him, his hips jerking upwards, craving her. His arms slid around her back and held her close, his hands stroking her skin as she melted into him.

When she finally broke the kiss and lifted herself upwards, he let his hands wander down her body, along the curve of her waist, hips, her lovely thighs. 

"What's yer name?" he whispered. 

"Whatever you want to call me," she replied. 

Arthur drew a blank. Then, "Well, how 'bout I just call ya Angel fer now. Since you look like you fell from Heaven."

She laughed again, a merry sound that made his heart soar. "That'll do." She caressed his face. “And what should I call you?”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur,” she repeated, rolling the second R around her tongue.

Hearing his name spoken with such a sensual tone, Arthur sat up and kissed her again. She reached for his shirt buttons, removing them one by one, taking a moment between each one to touch the newly revealed skin. Every scar she saw, she would caress with care, as if she loved every part of him, good and bad. As she slid his shirt off, he untied his neckerchief and tossed it to the side, reaching down to his pants.

“Allow me,” she said softly, pressing him down once more. He complied, resting on his elbows and watching in wonder as she undid the buttons of his fly, only to rub her hand over the fabric, teasing him. “So hard, I wonder what it’ll feel like for real…”

Arthur could hardly speak as she tugged open his fly and reached for his manhood. Wrapping her hand around his thick shaft, she slowly stroked him, her eyes trained on his aching hardness, fascinated by the shape.

“Darlin’,” he breathed, reaching down to caress her face. “Yer touch is like magic.”

She smiled at him. “I wonder what you’ll say about what I do next.”

“Whaddya mean-”

Arthur’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when she engulfed the head of his cock with her mouth. The wet heat combined with the gentle lapping of her tongue, along with her hand stroking him up and down, nearly made him lose it there and then. 

“S-sweet lord,” he mumbled.

She did one last, slow suck on his cock, making a pop sound as it left her mouth. “I prefer sweet lady, if you don’t mind,” she replied with a little bit of sass.

“Of course. Sweet lady,” he said, his voice deepening as he sat up. “My turn to taste you.”

“Alright, but first…” she trailed off as she reached for the waistline of his pants. Arthur got the hint, removing the rest of his clothes until he was just as nude as she was. Laying her down on his bedroll, watching her spread her legs eagerly for him, his heart pounded with unadulterated craving. But first, he wanted to please her, to make her scream his name, just as he did in his dreams.

He lay on his stomach and lay a kiss on the inside of her thigh.

She giggled. “That tickles.”

Smiling, he rubbed his cheeks against her sensitive skin some more, eliciting more laughter from her. It was like bells chiming happily, a joyous sound. He kissed his way closer and closer to her core. She was unafraid, letting him take a good long look at her. “Like a flower,” he murmured, opening her petals with two fingers before dipping his head down to lap up her nectar. His tongue delved into her heat, as deep as he could. His pride swelled as he heard her whimpers of pleasure. 

“So good, Arthur,” she moaned. Sitting up, she ran her hands through his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp.

Arthur leaned into her touch for a moment, forgetting everything else as she worked her magic, making him feel such pure pleasure that he ceased his movements. When she gently pressed his head back to her wet center, he wrapped his lips around her bud, making her cry out in surprise.

“Ahh, ahhhhh!” she screamed as he greedily sucked on her clit, using his tongue to stroke it over and over, making her squeeze her thighs around his head. Gently, he pressed one of her legs back and dipped a finger inside of her. He felt her muscles clamp down on his finger as he moved it in and out, slowly stretching her. The thought of her tight channel around his cock made him light headed, but he wanted to make sure she came first before he took her.

“C’mon Angel,” he crooned, fingering her while he sat up, resting the palm of his hand over her mons, his thumb playing with her clit. Slipping another finger inside of her, he watched with rapt attention as she writhed, reaching for his arms and digging her fingers into his flesh.

Arthur would always remember the moment she came apart in his hands, her eyes widening and staring at him, her cries of his name so sweet and desperate sounding, as if he was all she ever needed in the world. He watched as the last waves of pleasure ebbed away, leaving her breathless on his bedroll, a satisfied smile on her face.

She held out her arms to him. “Take me, Arthur.”

“Sweet Angel,” he murmured as he took his place on top of her, taking his cock in one hand and gently pressing against her intimately. She was wet, making it easy for him to slip in, but still tight. He began pushing inside of her, loving the feel of her warmth surrounding him.

“Oh, slowly, please,” she begged.

“Of course, anythin’,” he whispered apologetically, slowing down, letting her body adjust to his intrusion. Watching her writhe under him as he claimed her body, Arthur let himself focus solely on everything about her. He saw her eyes squeezing shut whenever he pushed a little deeper, then springing back open to watch him. Her gaze was so full of trust that it hurt. He watched for her body tensing and relaxing, knowing when he could move inside a little more.

Time slowed as his entire being honed in on her pleasure alone; inch by inch, he pushed deeper and deeper, until his hips finally came flush with her hers.

“You’re all mine,” she sighed happily.

“All yours,” Arthur repeated in an amazed tone. The physical connection with her was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Sure, he’d fucked a few women before, but this, she was a whole new state of existence. He almost didn’t move, not wanting this moment to end.

But then she smiled and wiggled her hips, wrapping her arms around his waist and grabbed his ass. 

“Take me,” she begged.

Arthur felt as if a rope had snapped in his brain, unleashing the primal beast inside of him. He lifted his hips and fell into her, unable to slow down as she praised him for his strength, for his size, for how amazing he was at making her feel good. Her words soon became noises of pure pleasure, her hands grabbing every part of him that she could reach, nails scratching his back and his arms. The sweet sting of her scratches made him take her harder & faster, made him hold off his own release until she threw her head back and screamed out his name over and over, a mantra to the starry sky. 

He was enthralled by her climax; with every breath she took, her bosom gently moved against his chest and her lips trembled while her eyes gazed at him with an emotion too strong for him to name. His darling angel clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world, making him feel like he was truly worth something. 

With her legs locking around him, she ran her hands through his hair and pulled him closer to her as her release faded.

“Come with me,” she murmured.

“My angel,” Arthur whispered reverently as he came, his vision going white for a split second before the peak of his pleasure began to subside, leaving him drained, sedated, and incredibly, ineffably happy for the first time in a long time. He let out a deep moan as he emptied himself inside of her, his hips pressing her into the ground as he thrust as deep as he could.

He rolled over, taking her with him, draping her small body over his as he caught his breath. She lay on his chest, her head resting under his chin as she traced unknown patterns on his arms. They were quiet for a time with just the sounds of their breathing and the soft sounds of the water nearby. 

Finally, Arthur broke the still of the night. 

"That was wonderful."

She raised herself up, resting her forearms on his chest. "You're wonderful, Arthur."

He blushed. "I'm not–"

"Shush. Accept my compliment. Or are you saying I am a liar?" 

"No, no, yer not a liar. I just don't think–*

"So don't think." She kissed him, long and loving, taking his breath straight out of his lungs. "Just be."

Arthur, dazed by her magnificent kiss, could only nod and let her comment stand. He watched her roll off his chest and snuggle into his side. Wrapping an arm protectively around her, his eyes slid shut and he fell into a peaceful sleep. 

***

Arthur woke up with the sun, his stomach rumbling. Blinking awake, he tried to move but realized there was a weight on him. 

She wasn't a dream. 

He stared at her, memorizing her features. Then he slowly slipped his arm out from around her and reached for his journal. Flipping through it to find an open page, he realized that his previous sketch was gone. Bemused, he blinked at the blank pages, wondering if he was going crazy. 

"You're not crazy," she said, her voice rough with sleep as she slowly sat up. 

"I'm not?" Arthur asked, looking back at her. His breath was taken away by her once more, and he set the journal down to pull her into his arms. "Why do ya say that?" 

"I am your drawing."

He blinked. 

"Or rather, I took physical form through your drawing."

"Oh." Arthur shrugged. "Alright then." He felt it was better to just accept the unknown than to think too hard about it. He'd drive himself crazy wondering about the how of it all. All he knew was that right here, right now, he wanted her again. As she wriggled in his lap, he grew hard.

Smiling knowingly at him, she leaned forward to kiss him. 

***

Two days passed in unbridled bliss. Arthur would only leave long enough to hunt for a rabbit or two, then come back and make love to his lady over and over again, stopping to make food, just to fuel them for more lovemaking. Arthur could not believe how energetic he was, how she made him feel like the rest of the world could just fall away and he could forget it all. 

But as dawn began to light up the sky on the third day, he looked at the entry to the tunnel and sighed heavily. 

"What's wrong?" 

He turned back to his angel, still nude as the day as she appeared. He held out his arms and she easily came to him, holding him tight. He hugged her, already feeling lonely at the thought of not having her with him. He let out a pained sigh. "I have to go," he said sadly. 

She looked up at him. "I understand. I won't be able to go with you. Not in this form, anyway." 

He nodded. "Had a feelin' that might be the case." He caressed her cheek oh so gently. "What would happen if you left?" 

She smiled sadly at him. "I'd become just a drawing again."

Arthur shut his eyes against the tide of loss he felt about to overwhelm his heart. 

"I'll be with you, in here," she said, patting his chest. "And as long as you hold onto me in your heart, I'll always exist."

Arthur looked at her, his heart feeling heavy as she just smiled at him. He took her face between his hands and held her, his thumbs tracing the curvature of her cheeks. Leaning in, he kissed her desperately, willing time to stop so he could stay with her forever. 

But time passed, and he finally pulled away. 

"Guess, uh... guess I'd better go pack."

Quietly she helped him put all his things away. 

"I'll go with you as far as I can go," she said. 

Nodding, he took her hand and they walked out of the cave and followed the creek back to the edge of the forest clearing where his horse was still grazing across the way, still unwilling to cross over. Turning to his angel, Arthur pulled her in for a hug. 

"I'll miss you."

"I'll be waiting for you."

With those cryptic words, she smiled. Their hands still entangled as Arthur took one step back, then another, until just their fingertips were touching. 

"I–" 

"Go, Arthur. Your family waits."

Arthur swallowed his words and nodded. Turning around, he slowly walked towards the clearing. As he crossed the line of the forest, he felt that same tingling feeling along his spine and turned back around. 

She was gone. 

Not only that, the forest looked different, the colors muted, the sounds muddled. The sky, which had been a clear azure before, was now a stormy grey, and there seemed to be the smell of rain on the wind. 

Letting out a sigh, Arthur turned and kept walking until he reached his horse.

"There ya are, girl," he murmured to his horse. "Let's go back home."

As he made his way back to camp, he was glad for the rain. Gave him an excuse for his face to be wet. 

***

"Did you find anything?" 

"Nothin' much, just one poor fellow I robbed on the way back."

Dutch shook his head as he walked away. "Well, maybe next time you'll find something better."

Hosea stayed and eyed Arthur, taking a moment to observe his demeanor. "You find something special?" 

Arthur gave him a wry grin. "Could never hide nothin' from you."

Hosea patted his shoulder. "Whoever it was, keep her in your heart," he said as he, too, walked away. 

"Always," Arthur murmured when he was alone. He looked up, saw the river of stars that flowed across the night sky and imagined his angel's sweet face, and smiled.

--------------------

End Notes: Hey @outtricking, hope this covered your request! I pulled from Greek myth, fae legend, and also Stardust, one of my favorite books.

[crossroadsfossil]

King of cats & the possessed forest

Summary: Hawks had foreseen a thousand different ways for this night to go, but not once in any of those scenarios did he picture flying with Dabi through the air being chased by something that set off his prey instincts. He'd expected the night to be bad - why else would Dabi request a meeting two nights before one of the lesser conjunctions? As if the days before a full moon weren't bad enough on their own.

prompt: Cat, warm, fear

Tags: Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, Witch!Fuyumifolklore, adjacent nonhuman Dabi, nekomata!Dabi, angry lighting dogs, Hawks and dabi are in the wrong place at the wrong time, wacky hijinks, Folklore and quirks, what could go together better

-------------------------

The city seemed to thrum with the night, the lights pulsing slightly as the moon crept across the sky. Another a few days and all both of the moons would be aligned with some of the outer planets. It was driving the city mad and kicking up all sorts of figurative and literal storms. If Hawks had to deal with another ‘murder or animal sacrifice’ case with the police he was going to take that vacation time he had been threatening to use. By now he should have about two months of it saved up. Plenty to wait out this upcoming nightmare storm.

The city seemed to thrum with the night, the lights pulsing slightly as the moon crept across the sky. Another few days and all both of the moons would be aligned with some of the outer planets. It was driving the city mad and kicking up all sorts of figurative and literal storms. If Hawks had to deal another ‘murder or animal sacrifice’ case with the police he was going to take that vacation time he had been threatening to use. By now he should have about two months of it saved up. Plenty to wait out this upcoming nightmare storm.

A pack of cats darted across the street, slinking around the edges of the streetlamps. Hawks raised a hand in greeting, seeing several of the animals pause. Their strange heterochromatic eyes flashed in the dim light. Tails flicked in his direction, an almost wave from the clutter of cats, then they began to move on. Only one stayed behind, waiting until their companions were half a block away before it stood on its hind legs. Hawks grinned and waved harder. The cat dropped into an elaborate bow before falling to all fours and almost trotting to catch up to the others.

“It’s not wise to be on such familiar terms with Old Tom.” A voice rasped near Hawks’ elbow. He glanced down. At first glance, it looked like one of the cats from the pack, but he knew better than to assume he piebald at his heels was a member of that courtly clutter. This cat had something the others didn’t: a second tail that twined about the first one, occasionally untangling to lash back and forth.

“Dabi.” Hawks greeted, lifting a wing so the nekomata could curl under it. A moment later there was a sound like the echo of a sneeze and a tall, lanky young man sat under his wing. Hawks rolled his eyes and lifted it higher. He had been expecting a chat with the cat, not the man.

The man shot him a sharp smile and leaned into his space obnoxiously.

“Hawks.” Dabi purred back. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t be so friendly with the king of cats. The Tildrums and the Toldrums aren’t very nice.”

That caused Hawks to laugh, giving Dabi a gentle shove. He hoped it’d keep the cat out of his space a little longer, but all it seemed to do was goad Dabi into getting even closer. He felt claws digging into a shoulder as Dabi threw an arm around him.

“Neither are you, but I don’t mind your company.” Hawks replied. Part of him wanted to ask about the names the cats wore, if there was any significance to using the same four or six over and over again. He knew none of the kings were related to each other, so perhaps it was a title? Although he had known the current king of cats since they were a kitten (not that Dabi needed to know that), and they’d always had that name. Did cats come into this world already knowing their name?

Then again, Dabi was a nekomata, not a proper cat, so he might not know. Dabi let out a contemplative rumble, not quite a purr but also not a growl either, staring up at the moons above like Hawks had been doing before he’d gained company.

“How’s the rest of the colony?” Hawks finally asked. Dabi snorted, lip twitching up in an aborted snarl.

“Quit calling the league that.”

“Well, stop acting like a group of colony cats and I might.”

“I swear to the gods, Hawks- I will-” Dabi’s voice cut off as they were both illuminated in bright, almost yellow light.

Light arced in the near distance, dancing over rooftops and fracturing like lightning through cracked glass. Both Hawks and Dabi tensed, watching as it slowly coalesced into something vaguely dog-shaped. Bright eyes latched onto Dabi. Immediately the nekomata shifted back, skin melting back into fur, his hackles raised high. A low yowl starting up, sounding just as much like a cat as it did like something distinctly other. The creature was too far away to hear the warning, but it cocked its head as if it could.

Shit.

Raiju weren’t common here and if one was stumbling about, it was because something, or someone, summoned it. Hawks really, really hated conjunctions, be it of planets or starts or shot glasses.

Hawks made a split-second decision, scooping the nekomata up and taking flight, wings beating at the air as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the raiju. Dabi squirmed in his arms, claw digging into the leather of his gloves. He had gloves that rivaled a falconer’s glove, and still, he could feel Dabi puncturing them.

“What gave you the bright idea to fly?” Dabi spat, “It’s a creature of lightning, you idiot.”

“Yeah, and we’re squishy. If we stay over thirty feet up, we’re far enough up that lightning won’t hit us. Just, trust me firebug.” Hawks said, not paying attention to the way the nekomata squirmed in his arms. He wanted to give Dabi a snarky lecture on the fact that he had wings and had been flying since he was four - he knew more about the sky and the air and winds than Dabi did.

He didn’t, because those winds he knew so much about were picking up, no doubt the doing of the dog-thing chasing behind them in great leaps and bounds. It wasn’t flying after them, so it was either very young, very old, or injured.

He hissed as Dabi found purchase, climbing along his arms until he pulled himself onto Hawks’ shoulders, tucking himself between the collar of his jacket and Hawks’ neck, looking like a fancy scarf.

“Go left!” Dabi shouted in his ear, whiskers tickling his ears since his headphones were still around his neck. Hawks wasn’t sure what the fuck the stupid cat was talking about, left was-

Dabi bit his ear and he faltered, falling left just in time for something vaguely lightning-like to shoot past. The raiju.

Well, shit.

He flapped harder, deciding that yeah, sure, left was fine. Left was great.

They were only going to swap one problem for a different, potentially bigger problem. They were headed towards the cursed forest that had claimed one of the old school districts. The trees were nasty, snarled things, and only the desperate set foot there. The desperate or the foolish. No, nothing as simple as it being cursed or because that’s where the corrupt lived, no, but because the trees there were assholes. Why Dabi decided taking refuge there was a good idea, he didn’t have time to ask. It went against everything he knew about surviving storms and honestly, nesting in trees during lightning was one of the worst things to do.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” Hawks shouted, tucking his wings close to his body and diving into the clearing beneath them. Branches whipped past, and he could feel several draw blood.

A gash opened up over one eye and he could feel leaves plaster to it, tiny roots already growing into his flesh. He tore at them, trying to keep from becoming a plant while also dodging the trunks and branches in their path.

Eventually, his luck ran out and a branch caught his foot, sending him tumbling through the air, then the branches, then finally the ground. The sudden stop left him wheezing and creaking, and if he came out of this without a broken rib he’d buy Dabi dinner.

The nekomata extricated himself from Hawk’s neck, seemingly unaffected by the trees or the fall as he shifted back. Fingers dug into his brow, pulling the leaves he couldn’t out and setting them on fire before tugging at Hawks’ arm, pulling to his feet. They took off deeper into the forest, the thin light of the city being consumed by the leaves and branches overhead, rendering Hawks entirely dependent on Dabi to guide them through the forest.

He came to a stop at the edge of what had once been a school. There weren’t any trees for about forty feet around the building, but where the branches had extended to their fullest, vines had jumped the distance. It was like walking under a tent entirely made of vines.

The air was thick with moisture and the unsettling stench of ozone. It sent the hair on the back of his neck prickling and the spare fur still on Dabi’s human form bristling.

The clearing lit up as something crashed through the vine canopy and Dabi pushed Hawks behind him. It irked Hawks greatly- between the two of them, Hawks should be the one puffing up and displaying against the dog. He was the hero and he had far more feathers to be intimidating. Dabi had little enough fur even as a cat and he was skin and bones in both forms. Not scary at all to most animals. Hawks spread his wings, two feathers ready as he watched the Raiju, waiting for Dabi to give any type of signal.

The Raiju didn’t look winded at all and its tongue lolled out of its mouth, head cocked to the side as it let out one of the creepiest sounds Hawks had ever heard. It was a croon run through a broken cassette tape. It set off every single prey instinct Hawks had, and judging by the way Dabi’s entire being seemed to puff up, the nekomata was similarly affected.

“Sooner would be better!” Dabi hissed. Hawks wasn’t sure who the fuck he was talking to, but then again, he didn’t really need to ask as a second later a tree came crashing down on top of the raiju, vines and branches and leaves wrapping around it until it was encased in a ball of mud-coated roots that was slowly sinking into the ground.

“Shit.” Hawks breathed out, leaning against Dabi’s back as he caught his breath, his arms and wings falling to his side. Dabi slumped against him, and together they held each other up as they waited for the muddy ball to sink fully under the ground.

A throat cleared to their right, and a disheveled young woman stood, an old-fashioned hurricane lantern in one hand, her other hand clutching a shawl to her shoulders. She had pale hair and red streaks in it and she looked as if she had just woken up.

“Evenin’.” She yawned, “You boys want to come in and get warm?”

“Who?” Hawks asked quietly to Dabi. Dabi shifted, trying to avoid looking at Hawks.

“Yeah, ‘Yumi. I think we will. Sorry for crashing here.” Dabi said, tone soft and as polite as Hawks had ever heard. The young woman waved off his words, then gestured with the same hand. The root of a nearby tree pulled up, showing a tunnel lit with glowing mushrooms beneath it.

“Come on. It’s warmer underground and I’m sure the harpy has questions.” She yawned again and started down the tunnel. Hawks frowned, irked at her words. He wasn’t a damned harpy. Still, she looked oddly familiar and he couldn’t place where he’d seen her face before.

Dabi started after her, pausing to look behind at Hawks. Feline ears flickered into existence and they flattened. If Hawks had to place the expression, he’d say that Dabi was… embarrassed? Nervous?

“You coming, pretty bird? Fuyumi won’t keep the door open all night, and I’d rather not test my sister’s patience before she’s had coffee.”

[aver-no]

Real to Me (A Sanders Sides Princess and the Frog AU)  Prologue

First | Next

Summary: Virgil Bast grew up in a poor neighborhood in New Orleans, learning from his family’s work ethic and never once slowing down from the day he could get a job of his own. He’s always been kept company by his best friend, Patton La Bouff, son of the richest man in New Orleans. 

Prince Roman of Maldonia has always been surrounded by praise, money, and almost anything he could ever want. Prince Remus, on the other hand, has never really been what you might call the pride of Maldonia. 

And the Shadow Man has only ever wanted to punish those who’ve done wrong, helped along by his Friend on the Other Side.

Relationships: Platonic moxiety, eventual prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Patton (eventual Roman, Remus, Janus, Logan, C!Thomas)

Warnings: None for this chapter! (There will be eventual unsympathetic Janus and Remus, but they get redeemed. There will also eventually be racial prejudice, but no slurs or physical violence.)

Word count: 1644

A/N: Hi, I’d like to preface this fic by saying that I’m not black. Although I am non-white, I also don’t have the same experiences as black people do and therefore cannot do their stories justice the way that they can. 

I really debated on how best to write this au, because I want to give the best representation that I possibly can, and I even considered just scrapping it. However, I was really excited about it, and in the end I wanted to provide what representation I can, because as a racial minority myself, I know that some representation (so long as it’s accurate) is better than none at all. 

There are no internal monologues about being black in this story, because I don’t know how that would go. I also realize that not all black people share the same exact thoughts/opinions and since I can’t use my own personal experience with racism for this, I figured it best to leave out the internal aspects of it altogether, so that I don’t misrepresent the black community. There is, however, some racism aimed at some of the characters by others. This is something I felt like I could accurately write about, having witnessed and experienced racism myself. The racism is there, presented, and condemned, but I don’t offer much more than that. Discrimination on the basis of race and/or color is something that too many people have faced, and I felt that it was too important to leave out of the story altogether (especially considering it’s part of why Tiana struggled to get her restaurant in the movie itself).

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!! This is something I’ve worked hard on, and I really hope you enjoy it! This first chapter is going to be mostly characterization and setting up the rest of the story, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! 

Without further ado, I give you Real to Me!

“Just at that moment, the ugly little frog looked up with his sad, round eyes and pleaded, ‘Oh, please, dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell that was inflicted on me by a wicked witch!’”

Virgil felt Patton lean over to him to loudly whisper, “Here comes my favorite part!” Virgil mentally prepared himself for what he knew was coming next.

“And the beautiful princess was so moved by his desperate plea that she stooped down,” Patton was leaning in now, “picked up the slippery creature,” Virgil was leaning away, “and kissed that little frog!”

Pat gave a squeal of delight and grabbed the cat that was walking by, squeezing it so tightly its eyes seemed to pop out. All while Virgil was dramatically sticking his tongue out as far as he could.

That was one thing about his friend that Virgil would never understand. How could Patton possibly think that the story was anything but unrealistic and unsanitary? The princess could’ve contracted some disease! Or maybe the frog was lying and he wasn’t even a prince?! Who came up with those stories?? He needed to have a talk with them.

“...and they lived happily ever after!”

He heard Patton sigh with delight before looking at Virgil’s mama with pleading eyes. “Will you read it again Mrs. Bast?”

“Sorry, honey, we’d better be heading home,” she said with a kind smile. “Say goodbye Virgil.”

“There is no way I’d ever ever EVER kiss a frog. Yuck,” Virgil ranted as he gathered his things from around the room.

“Even if he turned into a prince after?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded hard. “Especially if he turned into a prince. Princes are just rich boys who do nothing all day but ride on their horses and dance with pretty ladies. I’d have to do all his work for him!”

“Nuh-uh!! Princes are brave, and polite, and after you’re married, they only dance with you!” Pat defended.

“You don’t kn-!”

“Evening Eudora!” Patton’s daddy called as he turned into the room.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Pat jumped up and down excitedly. “Look at my new dress!!” He twirled around to show off the fluffy, sky blue gown Eudora had sewn for him.

“Why, I’d expect nothing less from the finest seamstress in New Orleans!”

“Well thanks, Mr. La Bouff,” Eudora Bast replied. “Sorry to leave so soon after seeing ya, but we’d best be heading out now.”

Virgil vaguely heard Mr. La Bouff give his well-wishes to his mama as Pat was walking over to say, “What if the prince wasn’t lazy and boring? Would you marry him then?”

“I’d only marry him if he wasn’t just some prince in a book,” Virgil stated matter-of-factly. “He has to be a real person that I can talk to.”

“Well duh, silly! You can’t marry a book!” the blond boy laughed.

“Virgil! It’s time to go home baby, your daddy should be home by now,” Eudora called to him.

He ran over to where his mama was standing in the wide, elegant doorway and shouted, “Bye Patton!”

“Bye Virge!!”

~

Virgil always liked the ride home. He could watch the other people on the tram, and wonder what they’re like, and stare out the window at the fuzzy streetlights in the distance. Plus he got to lean his head on his mama’s shoulder and feel the tram rock side to side. It made him feel safe. 

When they got near their neighborhood, Eudora whispered, “Go ahead and pull the cord.”

Virgil waved goodbye to the driver as he hopped off the tram and onto the sidewalk. He looked up at his mama as they walked down the street. “Why does Pat wanna marry a prince so bad? He’s already a prince, pretty much.”

“I don’t know sweetheart.” The lights made his mama’s face look so warm. “Maybe he wants to make it official. You could ask him sometime.”

“No,” Virgil said thoughtfully, “I think I’ll just help him find his prince. Oh! That can be his birthday present this year!!”

Eudora laughed lightly and smiled down at him. “I think that’s a great idea, hon.”

Voices rang out from houses along the streets, and Virgil could see families laughing together through some of the glowing windows. The two of them stepped up to the old, brown house and the door that creaks when you open it. As soon as he stepped inside, Virgil smelled the most amazing gumbo in the world, the kind only his daddy could make. He could almost taste it in the air. That, in combination with the yellow light coming from the kitchen and his daddy’s heavy, brown coat draped over the living room chair made Virgil feel like there was a fire in his chest, the kind that you have at Christmas. 

“Daddy! We’re home!!”

Mr. Bast looked over his shoulder at the two coming inside, and smiled big. “Hey, Virge! I’m almost done chopping veggies, you wanna help me finish?”

“Yeah!! Can I taste it?” the boy asked as he dragged a chair over to the old stove.

“I’d be hurt if you didn’t,” James joked, helping him up. “How ‘bout you put these peppers in?”

After they’d let the ingredients stew in the pot for a while, Virgil put the wooden spoon to his mouth and his daddy asked, “How’s it taste?”

“Hmm…” Virgil tapped his chin a bit before quickly sliding to the floor, running over to the cupboard, and grabbing a bottle of tabasco. He dashed back over to the pot and shook in some of the sauce. “There! Try it!” The curly-haired boy handed the spoon over to his dad. He laughed as his daddy made a big show of tasting it.

“Mmm, now that has to be the best gumbo I ever tasted!” James grabbed Virgil under the arms and swung him to the ground. “Why don’t you go with your mama to call the neighborhood over? I’ll grab the pot.”

Virgil slid out of his daddy’s arms and nodded before running to the door. He flung it open and shouted as loud as he could, “Hey, everybody! I made gumbo!!” His mama reached where he was standing on the porch and stood behind him proudly, while the neighbors greeted him with “Woo! That smells good!” and he replied with “I made it almost all by myself! My daddy helped a little though.” Mr. Bast spooned out some gumbo into everyone’s bowls, and one by one they picked up their spoons.

It was quiet for a little, the kind that happens when your family’s sat around the table and it’s been a long day, but now you get to eat something and it barely even matters what it is because you’re all eating it in the same place at the same time. Then, though, people start saying things like “Mm-mm-mmm!!” and “this is fantastic Virgil, you must’ve gotten your daddy’s talent.” He could barely stop smiling long enough to chew. (His mama didn’t say anything about chewing with his mouth closed.) (This time.)

~

That night, when Virgil snuggled under his covers, he was smiling. He felt his mama sitting down on the bed by his feet. James was standing right next to her.

“You know the thing about good food?” Virgil looked up at his daddy. “It brings folks together from all walks of life. It warms them right up and it puts little smiles on their faces.” He tapped Virgil’s cheeks when he said it. James pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and showed it to Virgil, a drawing of a beautiful golden room with fancy tables and soaring ceilings. There were lots of people in the picture, musicians and waiters and diners with nice clothes and big feathers. “When I open up my restaurant, I tell you, people are going to line up for miles around just to get a taste of my food.”

Virgil sat up at that. “Our food.”

“That’s right, baby. Our food,” his daddy laughed and handed him the picture. The boy held it gently in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Suddenly, Virgil got up and said, “Oh, look!” He stared out the window.

“What is it, hon?” Eudora craned her head to see what he was looking at.

“Patton’s fairy tale book said if you wish on a star, it’s sure to come true!”

James smiled at him and said gently, “Well, you wish on that star. You dream with all your heart. But remember, Virge, that star can only take you part of the way.” Virgil looked away from the star and back at his daddy. “You’ve got to help it along with some hard work of your own, and then, yeah, you can do anything you set your mind to. Just promise me one thing.” Virgil held his eyes. “That you’ll never, ever lose sight of what’s really important. Okay?” He nodded hard, twice, just to be sure his daddy knew he was serious. 

His mama reached over to rub the tight black curls on his head. “See you in the morning, baby.”

“Get some sleep,” James told him.

“G’night,” Virgil whispered as he snuggled deeper into bed.

When the door closed, he hopped up again and went to the window. He could still find the star he had been looking at earlier — it was the brightest, and almost in the very middle of the sky. Almost like it was standing on a stage, waiting to be seen. Virgil closed his eyes and held the drawing to his chest. “I wish, I wish, I wish…”

Rrrrrribbit.

Virgil slowly turned to see the frog on the windowsill. 

If he screamed, it was nobody’s business. (His mama and daddy were lucky enough to enjoy his company that night.)

~

A/N: Ok so I realize that it’s a lot of just quoting the movie, but I liked the way they set it up so I figured why fix it if it’s not broken right? But from here on, the characters deviate more from those of the movie, so the dialogue will be a whole lot more of my own :) it’ll be a lot more interesting next chapter, I promise. (And Virgil will be grown next time.)

Taglist: @prinxiety-shipper101 @meowthefluffy

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The city kid and the horse whisperer; Charles (Joe Mazzello Wooly boys) x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay let me first start off by saying I have NEVER WATCHED WOOLY BOYS SO IF YOU HAVE AND I GET ANYTHING WRONG, I AM SORRY!!! There’s just no way for me to watch this film unless I buy it. But I figured I give this a shot, hopefully you all like it and I’m planning on one more Charles fic in mind but until then I hope you all enjoy this one.

Warnings: drowning (just vague scene of it, not really any major details), some flirting, playful banter, teasing (platonically), and a writer who has no idea about this film other than from what she’s seen in the trailer and a clip or two of the movie.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@psychosupernatural​

@simonedk​

@dancingcoolcat​

@queensdivas​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

@geek-and-proud​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

____________________________________________________________

I watched from afar as Charles was struggling to get onto Whiskey and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.  How could someone that is related to the great AJ “Stoney” Stoneman, and not know how to ride a horse? Guess city folks really don’t get it.  I stood there with Stoney’s white stallion ‘White lightning’ as I continued to stroke his mane.

“He really is trying isn’t he boy?” he grunted as he turned his head towards me and nickered softly.  “Oh come on he’s not that bad.”

“I swear every time I hear you talk to them, it’s almost like you do have witch-like powers.” Stoney’s voice soon spoke up.  I turned and smiled at the old man who’s been the only real positive male figure in my life.

“Just call me one with Mother Nature’s creatures.” I joked.

“You know; you are the youngest rider out of Shuck and I. And Charlie there won’t really listen to a bunch of old geezers like us. Why don’t you give him some tips on riding?” I chuckled softly.

“That’s funny.” When I heard Stoney not laughing nor chuckling along, I looked back towards him and said, “You’re being serious?” his brow raised. “Stoney, he won’t listen to me. You know that right?”

“Well he’s pretty pissed off at me and Shuck doesn’t really believe he can be a Wooly boy. Besides no one else is a better rider than you. Remember how you bested them Spratt boys last year at the rodeo?” I grinned smugly, “You lasted longer than either of them arrogant little assholes did on the bull ride, a full 20 seconds.”

“Yah those boys hadn’t let me live it down ever since. Always challenging me to a rematch or claiming I was cheatin.”

“My point is, I think my grandson could do better with some company around his age.”

“You sure this is about letting your grandson learn to ride? Or are you just avoiding him?”

“He’s getting no better teacher. Hell might be good for you too.”

“What are you talking about you ole coot?”

“I maybe old and sick my dear but I know when a mare is interested in a stallion. And sweetheart you’ve been eyein my grandson the second he arrived here.” I punched his arm which made him groan.  “Didn’t I ever teach you about respect for your elders?” he teased.

“Yes but I counteract that when said elder person decides to be a busybody towards young one doing the ‘disrespecting’.” I teased back to him.  I looked back towards Charles who was finally up on Whiskey but was struggling on trying to keep him calm.  “Alright, but only because if I don’t then Whiskey’s gonna piledrive him to the ground.”

I walked right over to the riding ring and I leaned up against the fence as I could hear Charles say to Whiskey.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy. Easy. Just—hold still…..”

“He can sense your uneasiness yah know?” Charles suddenly turned towards me which made Whiskey nicker nervously.

“No offense but I have ridden a horse before, okay?” I raised my brow at his arrogant attitude before he suddenly deflated, “Okay. It was—virtual saddle. And I—don’t remember it being this high.”

“City kids and your fancy tech. You can try to make it as easy as you can or make it seem you’re really doing it but all that crap, doesn’t even come close to what people like us do.” I hopped over the fence and placed my hand on Whiskey’s strong neck and took one of the reins and whispered soothingly. “Easy big guy, steady young buck, steady.”

Whiskey’s nervous pacing soon stopped as his head touched my shoulder and the only thing that moved from him was his tail, whipping every now and then.

“Good boy Whisk. That’s a boy.” I patted his neck before giving it a gentle and soothing stroke.

“So it—it is true.” I heard Charles say.

“What’s true?” he tried to get down with ease but his foot got caught up in the stirrups.  As he tried to wriggle it out, I couldn’t help but softly smile and try to hold in my laughter.

“That you really can talk to the horses.” He said as he finally got himself free.

“Well it’s not really talking. I mean yeah it is but it’s also showing respect. These creatures have been around and helping mankind for literally millennia’s. They gave us speed, power, and companionship in a way. Cowboys in the wild west had no one but their posse, if they had one, and their horses. One thing that mankind seems to forget is how to respect those that have helped us. That’s why I always treat any horse of Stoney’s with respect and dignity.”

“But—aren’t they just animals?”

“Just because they’re animals doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings too.” I sassed at him. The two of us stared at each other as I unhooked Whiskey’s saddle. “Your grandad wants me to help you learn how to ride. So be ready tomorrow at dawn.”

“Can’t we start after breakfast?”

“No can do Yankee-doo. Besides, I needed to go out hunting anyways for Shuck, might as well give him his winnings before he nags me to next month.”

“Winnings for what?”

“Oh last month he and I had a bet on whether or not Stoney would actually have the guts to go see yah in the city. I bet he wouldn’t, so—you can pick the story from there.”

“Am I supposed to be insulted that you lost a bet because of me?”

“Don’t kid yourself city boy.” I laughed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put Whiskey up before you do anymore further trauma to him.” I took the reigns and led him toward the barn.

“I didn’t—”

“Loosen up Yankee I’m kidding again!” I laughed as I turned my head towards him before grinning and turning my head back to continue to the barn.

The rest of the day was just helping Stoney around the farm and by the time the sunset we all sat around and had dinner before I finally decided to retire for the day.  I showered, brushed my teeth and put my hair up in a bun before finally falling asleep.

Early the next morning as soon as the rooster crowed, I woke up and stretched myself out.  I got on the first pair of clothes I could find before heading downstairs to the kitchen to see Charles asleep on the couch.  I grabbed an empty vase and filled it up with cold water.  I walked over to Charles and shook him.

“Oi get up.” He groaned tiredly and turned away from me.  Okay but don’t say I didn’t give him a chance.  I then dumped water on his face which immediately woke him up.

“What the hell!?”

“Oh good you’re awake. Get up and get dressed.”

“For what?”

“Oh don’t tell me you forgot about our riding lesson.” He groaned again as he almost went back to sleep. “You know I can dump the rest of this water right? Or would you rather have me hogtie you till you scream uncle?”

“Didn’t know you were that kinky.” He teased as he peeked out from underneath his pillow.  I blushed and turned aside before dragging his butt out of the couch.

“Just get dressed and meet me in the stable!” I didn’t once look back at him as I raced outside and ran towards the barn.

I had just finished saddling up Whiskey and now I was saddling up my stallion “Tornado”, a pure black mustang.  Few years back Stoney and I came across him after he had a nasty encounter with a mountain lion.  After chasing the demon cat away, Stoney and I took Tornado to the farm and I stayed with him and healed him up.

Now if I told you it was all trust and immediate connection between us, you’re wrong. Tornado definitely proved himself to be a pure, wild stallion.  Hell if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was the leader of his herd.  He wouldn’t even let me anywhere near him for 3 days till finally his injuries got so bad I feared he was gonna die.

So it was then I stepped in and cleaned out the injected wounds, wrapped him up and stitched him.  Every now and then I gave him peace offerings of apples and water which he gladly took. Weeks passed and he showed great improvement, of course his wild nature still stayed (and of course I was dumb enough to think I could try to ride him, got my ass whooped a few times)

Finally I knew that I wouldn’t be able to ride him so I let him go.  He raced off and never did I think I would see him again.

Until one day seven months after Stoney and I had rescued him; I was out alone scouting for the annual hog trails when the Spratt brothers tried yet another of their failed attempts to flirt with me.  After I had denied them, the youngest and most relentless one Billy got so assertive that he had the nerve to cup a feel of me.  Well I’ll have you know I didn’t take that sitting down, so I gave him a right hook so hard, I heard a crack of his nose.

Pissed and beyond angry that I had the nerve to attack his brother, Owen took me to the edge of the cliff we were on that overlooked the river and he pushed me down off the 10ft cliff.  I fell into the river and was dragged down the rapid miles away from the trail.

As the river overtook me and forced me down underneath its rapid current, I thought I was dead for sure.  But the next thing I see running up along the side of the river was a large black creature. I almost couldn’t believe it myself but I recognized that shape and pure black stallion anywhere, it was him.  The wild mustang.

I watched as it jumped into the river and actually swam after me.  He put himself between me and the rest of the current as I reached out and grabbed onto him.  He then swam with all his might against the current to get us to the shoreline before the river could sweep us away further downstream.

I almost doubted it but Tornado proved to be one strong mustang.  He reached the shore line and got me out of harm’s way. Exhausted from traveling down miles of strong rapids, I collapsed on the river’s edge and instead of him abandoning me. Tornado knelt down and stayed with me till I woke up around nightfall freezing cold.

When he noticed that I had woken up after passing out, he adjusted himself so that I could not climb up onto his back and actually ride him.  He stood up and trotted back the 20 miles back to Stoney’s farm.

Now three years later, Tornado has not left my side.  I saved his life and he repaid me back by saving mine.  After that debt was paid, we had this—incredible bond, and that is something that no one can ever take away from us.

Once I hooked him up I said to him.

“I don’t know Tornado, maybe I’m just going crazy.” He nudged shoulder and gently nibbled the ends of my long hair.  I giggled and shoved him away from my hair.  He nickered at me as he moved his head towards mine so that he and I were staring at each other eye to eye.  My forehead touching his muzzle. “You Mister are as much of a busybody as Stoney is.”

“So, are we doing this or not?” Charles’ voice suddenly rang out.  I backed away from Tornado and I said.

“Well you seem eager.”

“Not really. I just didn’t want to get water dumped on my head again.” I scoffed softly as I grinned.

“Normally I’m a bit easier when it comes to wake up calls. But you’re still not getting the hang of being here on the farm are yah? Here we wake up as the sun rises and go to sleep as soon as it sets. If not for us you wouldn’t have any of those vegetables or fruits. Nor your wooly sweaters at Christmas time, or even the milk and eggs you eat every breakfast.”

“Alright, alright I get it. So—is the black one mine?”

“Not unless you wanna get kicked across the barn. Tornado don’t let anyone but me ride him.”

“Is he picky or just clingy to you?” Tornado huffed at Charles and I saw him stomp his front right hoof in a challenging gesture.  

“Steady Tornado, steady. For your information smartass, he’s a pure bred wild stallion. He’s only ever really trusted me.”

“Why’s that?”

“That’s a story for another time. You’ll take Whiskey again, but before we ride; I’m gonna teach you the proper technique on how to mount him cause let’s face it, after yesterday—you’re gonna need it.” I walked up to him and he and I stood beside Whiskey.

I told him the proper way on how to mount a horse on the left side, how to hold the reins and which foot to step onto the stirrup before shifting your weight to fully mount the horse.  I mounted onto Whiskey so that he could properly see how it was done before I got off of him and stood on the right side of him now.

“Okay city kid, your turn. Like I showed you, hold the reins first and foremost before you even think about stepping up.” He took hold of the reins and waited a bit for Whiskey to get used to him before he used his left foot to get on the stirrup.  He counted down softly to himself before finally hauling himself over with ease and as soon as he was on Whiskey, Whisk started acting up again, this time circling around nervously.

“Okay, okay now what—hey, hey what do I do now?”

“Take hold of the reins and even them out. Don’t grip them though. If you hold them too tight, it’ll show Whiskey you’re nervous. Ease and loose.” He did as I told him and Whisky immediately calmed down his nervous circling. “Now with your legs, don’t tuck them inward. Let them come outward. Have you ridden a motorbike or anything?”

“I once went boat racing with some friends of mine one summer.”

“Okay that’s good. You know how you have your legs relaxed and your knees pointed outward?” he nodded. “Do that.” He adjusted his knees and for the first time Whiskey didn’t react at all.

“I did it. I did it!” Charles laughed happily.

“Great kid don’t get cocky yet. You just got on the horse. Now you need to learn to ride.” I grabbed my hunting rifle and wrapped it around my shoulder before I mounted on Tornado and urged him outside with both my right foot and clicking my tongue.

Charles followed awkwardly behind me, I could hear him nervously telling Whisky to slow down.

“Telling him to slow down will only make him speed up. Try not to have your legs kick him every time too, that’s a sign to him that you want to go faster. And keep those reigns even.”

“Maybe we should just give this up. There’s no way I’m ever gonna ride a horse in New York City.” Charles whined.  I stopped Tornado and turned him around and I said to Charles.

“Listen Charles; I know you think this is pointless. But out here, this is life. Best way any of us get around here is through horseback. Not everyone is automatically born a horse rider. We all had to learn, your grandad, Shuck, the Sheriff, even me. Hell I was worse than you were when I first started. But how bout I give you a little piece of advice my teacher gave me.”

“What?”

“He told me ‘(Y/n), life is like a horse itself. Somedays you’ll be riding freely like a bird in the sky. Other days it’ll haul you off and slam you smack down into the ground it’s like all your insides are busted. But it’s up to you to get back on that horse and ride on. Cause if you don’t, then you’re just sitting there in the dirt watching life go by without you. And only the dead need to do that’.” Charles looked at me in awe and he said.

“Damn. That’s—that’s deep.” I nodded. “Who was your teacher?” I smiled softly and said.

“You’re living with him.” We continued onward the trail and didn’t speak another word to each other for a while.

As the day got brighter and the sun moved higher into the sky we finally reached the entrance to the forest trail, the perfect place to get Shuck a deer.

“We’ll tie off the horses here and continue on foot.” I urged Tornado onward closer to the forest.  Charles urged Whiskey behind me, suddenly a bunch of birds suddenly flew out from the bush which startled Whiskey and the next thing I heard was Charles exclaiming as he was knocked off to the ground and Whiskey running into the forest.

I steadied Tornado and got off his back and raced towards Charles and stood over him.

“Can you move?”

“I think so.” I held my hand out to him and he took it.  I helped him up and groaned in pain as he rubbed his head.

“You don’t have a concussion do yah?”

“Yeah, my vision isn’t blurry or anything.”

“Good. Well most likely Whisk ran about several yards into the forest. He usually don’t stay scared for long when something startles him, especially if he finds something to eat.” We walked towards Tornado and I grabbed his reins and we walked into the forest.

Low and behold we soon found Whiskey standing beside a tree eating some grass and wild flowers not even a half mile as soon as we entered the forest.  I walked up to him and grabbed his reins and said to him.

“A bunch of sparrows Whiskey and you go running off like a big fat ninny!” he raised his head and allowed me to tie his reins to the tree.  I whistled for Tornado and he came up to me and allowed me to take the saddle off of him to lighten him up.

“Aren’t you gonna tie him up too?”

“He gets restless is he stays tied up. So I allow him to just roam around a bit whenever I go out hunting or we go for a ride. But he knows to stay close so that he can hear me call out for him when I need him. Like I said, pure blood wild mustang. You can take him out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of him.” I took the reins off of him and he happily spat out the metal bars between his teeth and shook his head.

I smiled and stroked up his muzzle as he nickered in gratitude before turning around and trotting off deeper into the woods.  I hung the reins over a thick branch right beside where Whiskey was tied up and took my hunting rifle off my shoulders.  Standing there for a bit I looked around and said.

“This way.” We walked Northeast for about 10 minutes till we finally reached a good rest stop near a small creek where animals would be coming for a drink. Charles and I perched up against a tree and waited.

“So—how did you become part of my grandfather’s farm?” a slight smile came at the corner of my mouth.

“That is a long story.”

“I think we got time.” I adjusted myself to fully turn towards him.

“Your grandad has been with me since all before I was born. My father used to help him out when he was growing up before he met my mom. Sadly when I was born, my mama died. Complications from the birth or something like that. After that, my dad was ruined. He drank—a lot. Then when I was—six, maybe seven my dad got the final strike when he and I got into a car accident when he was drinking and driving. After that, Sheriff put him away and Stoney actually stepped up and took me in.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry (y/n) I……”

“Didn’t know. It’s fine. I…..really don’t like to talk about it much. Never went to see my dad cause let’s be honest he never really was a father to me. I was just a visitor to him. Sometimes he’d get so drunk he’d get confused and just call me ‘little tenant’. So Sheriff did me a solid and I hold no grudge against him. Until I was told when I was 14 that my dad died in prison. I never really cared to ask how he died. But Stoney’s been good to me, as have Shuck and the Sheriff.”

Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping alerted me.  I cocked my gun and raised it up to my eye as I aimed forward towards the shrub.  Only to see a mother deer step out and a second later, her baby.  I lowered the gun and smiled lovingly as the mother deer and her baby walked towards the creek to get a drink.

“Do you—ever miss your mom?” I heard Charles ask.  I looked up at him and that’s when he said, “Sorry stupid question.”

“No it’s not stupid. And yeah. I wish I got to know her, that way I could decide for myself whether we would get along or just end up hating each other.” The reason why I mostly said that was cause I knew how Charles was towards his mom. His face immediately turned to regret as he said.

“Guess I should really rethink about how my mom’s been treating me lately.”

“Take it from me Charlie boy. Never take life for granted, cause you never know when you got something that someone else doesn’t. Be thankful that your mom is still in your life and is doing what she does because she loves you. Yeah it may seem cold at times but that’s tough love. And coming from your grandfather’s bloodline no doubt she’s a Wooly girl, just in a city environment and adapting as the times and laws change.”

It was then we both heard the chittering of squirrels just nearby.  One squirrel had a surprisingly good sized nut all to himself but there was another squirrel slowly creeping up on him wanting to steal it.

“You know if you wanna hear something really stupid. When I was a kid, sometimes I used to commentate on what an animal might be thinking in a situation.”

“Seriously?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah go on laugh it up.”

“No I’m not laughing. I think it’s—kinda cute. What do you imagine those squirrels are saying right now?” I chuckled and said.

“Well the one with the nut is probably saying ‘hmm I lucked out today. Got me a really big nut. This’ll last me till winter time for sure.’ Now the one coming up behind him is saying, ‘that nut will be mine. Bucky always gets the big nuts, well not this time’.” We then watched as the squirrel behind quickly stole the other squirrel’s nut and took off running.

As the squirrel who had the nut previously chased after the thief squirrel I continued to commentate the chase scene.

“Oi Daryl that’s my nut give it back!”

“No way Buck finders keepers!”

“I found it give it back you thieving rodent!” Charles softly laughed hearing my ‘squirrel’ voices as we watched the two squirrels chase each other up and around the tree they were standing near.

Unaware that the mother deer and her fawn had left and that another deer was coming in for a drink.  This time an adult male one.

Charles and I continued to watch the squirrel’s chase each other and I continued my commentary till I stopped when I heard a twig snap.  I turned my head and that’s when the large buck and I met eye to eye.  Slowly and carefully I raised my gun back up to my eye as the buck soon took off running.

“Cover your ears!” I said to Charles as I fired the shot and the buck immediately dropped to the ground mid run.  After a few minutes of it not moving, we walked towards it and I handed him some leather gloves. “Put these on. Never know with bucks, I heard of one case where someone took a 8 pointer buck without gloves and ended up with lime disease.”

I put my gloves on as well and the two of us worked together to carry the 6 pointer buck back towards Whiskey.

After getting him tied onto the Whiskey’s back, I whistled for Tornado and within minutes he came trotting back towards us.

“Hey big guy, have a good time roaming?” he nodded as he nickered happily. “I’ll bet you did. Unfortunately though, we’re gonna have to saddle you back up boy. But we’ve done what we needed to do. Come on boy let’s get you hooked up.” I walked back to get his saddle up ready for travel.  Once he was good and ready, I mounted onto him and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

It was roughly mid afternoon when we were about 3/4th of the way back to Stoney’s farm when I stopped by the river and I said.

“Hey Charles,”

“Yeah?” I got off of Tornado’s back and I said as I grabbed the pail bucket from one of the tacks I had on him, “I just remembered I promised the Sheriff some of Stoney’s fresh river water. Think you can fill this pail up to that I can take it to him?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Yeah and leave you to watch Tornado? Please he’d snap you like a twig.” Tornado gave a proud huff as Charles submitted.

“Fair enough.” He got off of Whiskey and took the pail from me and jogged towards the river.  As soon as he went down, I smirked and got off of Tornado and whispered into his ear of my devious plan.  I saw Tornado blink one eye at me, like he was winking at me before he silently walked towards Charles.  Oh man was this city kid gonna get a surprise.

Tornado finally stood over Charles and he still had no idea what to expect.  Next thing he would know was something shoving him into the water.  As he fell into the river, I couldn’t help myself from laughing, while Tornado reared up and whinnied what sounded like a laugh.

“Did you tell him to do that?!” I walked towards the river’s edge wiping a tear away.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You’re just too easy. Here, let me help you.” I reached my hand out for him.  He took my hand before he said.

“No, let me help you.” next thing I knew, I was pulled into the river right next to him. I resurfaced and saw him now laughing at me.  I splashed some water in his face to shut him up and soon it escalated into a water fight between the two of us.  

After our water fight ceased, Charles and I stared at each other exhaustedly.  The way his auburn hair shined under the sun reminded me of the reddish tint that the sunset makes especially during the summer time.  And the way his pale skin gleamed off of the water’s reflection, it was like looking into a fresh pail of milk.  The two of us continued to stare at each other till he finally broke the silence.

“(Y/n)?”

“Uhh—yeah?” I whispered softly.

“Do you……uhh….I mean has anyone t-told you—” he stammered nervously.

“Told me what?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty—”

“So there you two are. I was beginning to think you both decided to hit the trail and take off out of the state line.” We looked up and there on their horses were Stoney and Shuck.

“Sorry Stoney, we were just……” I started off before Stoney once again said.

“No need to explain. We can see what’s going on here.”

“It’s not like that you old coot!”

“Seems our horse whisperer has finally gotten on the horse after all.” Shuck teased. I groaned and got out of the water as Charles followed behind me.

“Here Shuck, I got you yah damned deer. My debt has been paid and now I bid you all adios.” I said as I unhooked the deer from Whiskey and dropped it at Shuck’s horses feet before going on Tornado and riding off back to the ranch.

As the day went on I avoided Charles or anyone for that matter.  I kept myself busy around the farm, caring for the sheep and of course taking care of the horses.  Currently I was brushing Tornado’s mane when I heard the voice of the boy I really didn’t want to hear right now.

“Hey (y/n).” I circled around Tornado to hide my face from him as I kept brushing Tornado.  “Are you really not gonna talk to me anymore? You’ve been avoiding me all day.” I bit my bottom lip as Tornado looked right at me with a slight huff.  He lowered his head and nudged me away from his side before finally nudging me outward so that I now stood in front of him, but also in Charles’ line of sight.

“Damn you stallion.” I muttered to my horse as he bopped his head up and down nickering and whinnying.  I turned towards Charles and I said.

“Okay. You’ve got me now. Now what is it?”

“Well when you talk like that it almost makes me not want to say it at all.” He grouched.

“Well sorry I wasted your time then.”

“What is wrong with you?” I scoffed.  “No seriously, ever since the lake you’ve gone back to the cold-hearted girl that I first met when I came here. Did I do something wrong? Cause I swear I didn’t know Stoney or Shuck would come looking for us.”

“No it’s not something you did per-say.”

“Then what is it? Tell me cause right now I’m completely……”

“I LIKE YOU OKAY!?!?”  There was dead silence in the air.  Charles’s eyes turned from anger to shock in the manner of a second.  His mouth slightly dropped as he just gawked at me.

“You….. you like me?”

“Please don’t make me say it again Charles. I—I’ve never really been interested in any of the boys in this town, but then your grandad drags you here and……I don’t know you made me feel things I’ve never felt before. But I didn’t want to be all smoochy-gooey-goo about it. That’s just real sissy stuff but I—” I was interrupted by feeling Charles grab my arms and shutting me up with a kiss.

I froze right there on the spot for a moment not even believing what was happening till finally I succumbed and kissed him back.  I wrapped my arms around his neck as I felt his wrap around my waist bringing me closer.  After awhile we separated for air, our breaths mixing in together in a warm dance.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I….I didn’t mean to do that. I mean not the kiss that I mean kiss you so suddenly, I was just….” This time I interrupted him with a kiss. This time, it was much more softer and meaningful.  I separated from him and he whispered. “Your eyes.”

“My what?”

“Back at the lake. I—was going to say you have really pretty eyes.” I smiled happily and leaned my forehead against his.  

“Thank you. No one’s….ever really said that to me.”

“I’m more than happy to say it to you as many times as you want. Hell I’ll say you have a pretty foot if you want me to.” We both laughed and I said through my giggles.

“Please don’t though. I’ll just take the ‘pretty eyes’ compliment.”

“Hate to break it to you angel, but I’m gonna add more cute body parts to compliment.”

“Such as?” he cupped my face in his hands and just stared into my eyes.

“Well I love this pretty nose,” he kissed my nose. “And these pretty cheeks,” he kissed both my cheeks, “Especially when they get red from either the sun or from you blushing.” He teased.  I poked his side which made him curl inward for a brief moment before he continued, “And those pretty lips.” He gave me a soft and ginger kiss. “I especially love your lips. They’re not all poofed up or overly coated with lipstick like the girls have back home. It’s natural, with a hint of cherry chap stick.”

“Farm work can cause chapped lips. And the cherry was the only flavor available when I first started working here. Guess it just kinda stuck.”

“Well I love it, please keep getting that flavor.” I nodded as he leaned in and captured my lips one more time in a passionate kiss.  This time I was now pinned up against the wall and I felt Charles’ hand slowly slid down my side, to my hips and slowly back around.

But before I could feel his hand go any closer towards my butt, that’s when Tornado let off a warning neigh.  Not just any type of neigh, it’s the type of neigh that almost makes a horse sound just like a demon.  Charles immediately backed up as Tornado huffed through his nose and glared at him. I laughed softly and said.

“Oh you mind your own business Tornado. I’ll bet you were way worse with the mares of your herd.” I playfully swatted him with my cowgirl hat and he walked back towards his stable but kept his eyes on Charles.  After locking him up in his stable, I turned back towards my auburn city boy and took his hand and the two of us walked out of the stable together.

“Is he ever gonna warm up to me?”

“After seeing that, probably not. But no worries, I think the only approval you’ve got to face and already gained was your grandad’s and Shuck’s.”

From that day on, Charles and I continued to grow closer and closer with each other.  He slowly improved on his farming skills and dare I say, he went from city boy to Wooly boy in a matter of a few weeks.  Never have I been more proud to call that city kid my boyfriend.

[mareebird]

a wee fic for sunday night

By request, from @diggerkaren​: “"How about a side trip in the Relic universe - where Nebula and Rocket come to visit Thor.... Has Loki met Nebula before?"

So this takes place in the Relic universe, but Relic isn’t totally Infinity War or Endgame compliant, so I’ve taken a few liberties.  Nebula has never met Thor, but Rocket still has.  It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I don’t think it’s going to hurt anyone’s brain too much.

Rated: Teen and Up, TW: Serious physical injury; Wordcount: 3977

Read on Ao3, or below here on Tumblr...

The Relic is also on Ao3

------------------------------------

I Got Better (by Mareebird)

As usual, they needed to make a side trip.  “Needed” to make one.  Nothing could ever be over and done when traveling with her sister’s friends.  Rocket tried Nebula’s patience sometimes.  There was always some item the small creature needed to buy (or steal) or a person he wanted to see (or rob).  She did not care, not in any moralistic sense, but there was never anything quick about it and she hated wasting time.

They had been in New York for a day, dropping off equipment to Tony Stark.  It was what they had come to do.  It was a regular delivery, one they made every few months, in Rocket’s modified Class-M.  Nebula did not typically come along, because she did not like Earth, but Rocket needed a co-pilot, and all of the capable members of their team were otherwise occupied.  Not even the Flora Colossus had come along.  He was shedding leaves and needed privacy.  Nebula suspected that it was code for something and she did not want to know what.

It was her first time seeing Tony.  Nebula was glad the man had lived.  He seemed happy.  He had a wife and child.  She told the softer, organic parts of her brain not to think about what might have been, had she needed more oxygen and food while the two of them were adrift on the Benatar.  Tony was fortunate to have been trapped with her, of all possible companions, although it would have been easier to survive had he been alone.  Nebula could have lasted for months on her own, if she cared to go on that long.  Tony had kept her alive in his own way.

She enjoyed hugging Tony and his family when they said hello and goodbye.  She did not hug any of the other humans they encountered.  Perhaps they thought it might offend her.  They would not have been entirely wrong.  No one dared to touch Rocket at all.

After one night of sleep, it was time to depart, but not for home.  Unfortunately.  They needed to make their quick side trip first.

“Where is this Norway?” asked Nebula.  “And is this absolutely necessary?”

“I just want to see how an old friend is doing,” said Rocket.

Nebula scowled.  Rocket did not have old friends.  He barely had new ones.  They were similar that way, but she strapped into her seat without comment.  Arguing was merely a waste of time on top of what was already going to be a waste of time.

And she hated wasting time.

--

Norway, as it turned out, was on the same planet as New York, to the east and slightly north.  The flight was short, but the star Sol was straight overhead by the time they touched down.  They landed in a remote field, at coordinates which Tony had given.  It lay several miles from where Rocket’s friend had been conducting...whatever it was he that was doing here.  Apparently, this friend was not native to Earth.  That he happened to be here at the same time was fortuitous, if only for the fact that it saved time.  Nebula made peace with letting it play out.  Interference would only lengthen their stay.

They had arranged to meet Rocket’s friend at a safe distance from the city, so as not to cause alarm.  Earthlings were embarrassingly skittish.  The field in which they landed was pocked with rocks and patches of snow.  It was pretty, in a barren, naturalistic sort of way.  There were mountains in every direction.  It could not have been more different from New York.  Nebula had not been aware that places like this still existed on Earth, unruined.

Rocket unfastened his flight restraints.  “You coming?”

Nebula shrugged.  Her intention was to stay inside and let Rocket take care of whatever this was on his own.  “Is it necessary?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Suit yourself, friendly.”

Through the view-shield, she watched him march steadily through the field, frowning to herself.  Sometimes, Nebula wished she was not the way that she was.  Then again, someone would probably die if she allowed herself to become as easily distracted as the rest of them.

Rocket’s friend was not alone when he appeared on the horizon.  They were so far off that Nebula first mistook the figures for a ripple in the wind.  She honed in on the pair with her artificial eye, curious as to what sort of deplorable miscreants Rocket considered his buddies.  They were two males, Terran in appearance.  Both were tall, nicely-built specimens.  Nebula wondered if she wanted to say hello to them after all.  Her remaining organic parts still appreciated the company of attractive people.  One man had light hair, the other, black.

And he was familiar.

The black-haired one, fox-faced and angular and...

Her bald brow furrowed like a cabbage as she leaned closer to the view-shield and a chill rippled down her spine.  Her organic parts, it seemed, could also still react to shock.

Nebula threw off her flight restraints and ran outside, tearing through the dead grass at full speed.

“You’re alive!” she cried out.

The black-haired man’s eyes sharpened on her while she was still far away.  He leaped backward and, for a flash, appeared as though he might bolt, like he was laying eyes on a predator, which was fair enough.

The other man simply looked confused, as did Rocket, but he raised a hand to hold her off, positioning himself in the center of it all.  He was ruddy and muscular and effortlessly in command.

Nebula halted.  She did not blame the man for attempting to run, nor did she underestimate him.  He was Asgardian.  (Well, really he was Jotun, that was detail.)  He was an Asgardian prince.  But more importantly, he was one of the finest fighters she’d ever sparred against, if you could call her father’s predilections training.  They were more...exercises in survival.

She had to stop calling Thanos that.  Father.  He was not her father.

“Loki?”  She uttered his name cautiously, but she knew it was him.  Those eyes were unforgettable, deep-set and haunted.  She knew that he recognized her, too, the way that the harrowing memories of their time together splintered in his gaze like broken glass.  The face that surrounded them was a little different.  Older.  His youth was utterly gone.  When they met, he had almost looked like a boy.

Nebula wondered if her face would ever change, or would parts of her simply fall off as time passed?  She tried to be pragmatic about such things, because what was the alternative?  But that Loki had aged at all, that he was alive, that he was actually standing before her -- it was almost more than her brain, sharp as it was, could process.

How was this possible?  Thanos had hunted Loki like a cat after the last mouse in the universe.  And by the story he told after leaving the Asgardians behind, he might as well have come home with a tail between his teeth.

“Hey, you know Nebs?”  This came from Rocket, who sounded more concerned than impatient for once.  Slowly, Loki nodded.

“Norns…” breathed the other man -- the taller, thicker, fair-haired one.  “She’s one of Thanos’s daughters, isn’t she?”

Nebula grit her teeth.  The other man was Thor -- Nebula realized it all once.  The other Asgardian prince…the older one...was he the Allfather now?  Loki’s brother.

Thor had been a mark.  He had been part of the reason why Thanos wanted to train Loki in the first place, rather than kill the poor boy straight away, when he first arrived at Sanctuary.  It was surreal to see him on the flesh, standing before her.  He looked so different than the person she had been shown, and nothing at all like Loki, but there was no reason to expect that he would.

What were the two of them doing in Norway?

Except for the fact that Asgard no longer existed.

Loki cleared his throat.  He put on a smile, of all things, and returned to the group.  “Forgive me for reacting as I did.  Old habits.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said coolly.

Rocket snapped his fingers until everyone looked down.  Being the size that he was, it was necessary for him to be rude to get attention -- or at least, that was his excuse.  “Hey, I’m dying to know the story.  Really, I am.  But is there any chance we could catch up, I don’t know, indoors?  And not in the middle of a frozen wasteland.”

Nebula was vaguely offended.  She blinked at the mountains in the distance.  It was beautiful here.  But Thor waved a hand and ushered them forward.  “Right.  The portal is at the bottom of the hill.”

With a glance over his shoulder, Rocket jogged ahead.  Nebula lingered, standing very still, as did Loki, as though he expected her to wait.  “I was told you were dead,” she said.  “Thanos told everyone about what happened on that ship.”

Loki’s eyelids fluttered.  And then, with a wry smile, he patted his chest, proving how solid he was.  “Surely, you think more highly of me than that.”

Nebula did not laugh.  There was nothing funny about this.

He gestured that they ought to catch up.  “I’ll explain once we get into town.”

---

The next few minutes of their journey would remain a blur in Nebula’s mind.  Loki brought them through a portal, one which he may or may not have created himself.  Passages through magical doorways did funny things to her non-organic parts.  It never lasted very long, and she had only traveled using them a handful of times, but It always left her feeling staticky and dull until the effects faded.  It was an annoyance, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

All she could recall was following everyone, like the runt of a litter, as the mountains transmuted to a seaside street, until her fleshy brain and cybernetics synced up with one another.  With a jolt, Nebula realized that she was sitting in a hard chair, indoors.  There was a table in front of her.  There was a cup of something hot in her hand.

She tilted her head.

She was in...a coffee shop?

Two tables had been pushed together, around which, in addition to herself, Loki, Thor, and Rocket were seated.  At the counter, a human man and woman were buying drinks.  They finished, turned around, and offered polite smiles as they passed.

Nebula anxiously flexed her blue hands and vaguely recalled Loki saying something about casting a spell on her and Rocket, so that they would appear Midgardian.  Human.  Apparently, it was not something she could see with her own eyes.  Pity.  She was curious what sort of disguise Loki would choose to paint on her.

But not curious enough to ask.  The longer Nebula thought about it, the less she wanted to come face-to-face with a flesh-and-blood version of herself, free of the metal that held her together.

A bell jingled as the door closed.  The woman behind the counter circled around and locked it.  Apparently, she was an insider to their meeting.  She was a woman of average height and build, for a human.  She sat down next to Loki and Nebula noted the way he leaned ever so slightly into her presence at the table.

So, not only was Loki alive, but he was apparently doing well for himself.  It still boggled her mind.

Though it did make her feel slightly less guilty for what had happened between them.  That horrific moment.  Involuntarily, she shivered.  She hoped no one noticed.

“All right,” said Rocket, “now that we’re alone, time to tell the story.”

“There isn’t much to say, other than the obvious,” said Nebula.  She lifted her coffee to her lips and took a sip and hoped no one had noticed just how dazed she had been seconds ago.  “We trained together.  Briefly.  All of Thanos’s children did.”

It was not the whole truth.  That wasn’t hers to tell his people.

Across from her, Loki lifted his heavy brows, but he did not comment.  Rocket shifted in his chair, trying to get a little more height at the table.  “Right,” he said, “but training with you was top of the class, wasn’t it, Nebs?”

Was that a compliment?  She shrugged.  “Thanos wanted Loki trained quickly.”

“I think I learned more from you than a thousand years on Asgard,” said Loki.  She noted a tightening of his throat, as well as his fist around his drink.  He looked to be drinking tea, not coffee.

Nebula remembered pitying him when he’d first arrived, even though there had been no logical reason to care about a fallen Asgardian prince.  Pity was a dangerous thing.  She knew that far too well.  “But how are you still alive?”

Whatever was left of Loki’s thin smile vanished, like a shadow blotting out a little sliver of sun.  The woman beside Loki turned ashen, as well.  Nebula wondered if she had been given her name.  She did not remember.

With gravity, Loki turned his eyes upon his brother.

Thor shifted his weight against his seat.  “I brought him back using magic, I suppose you could say.”

Nebula lifted her brows, or what sufficed for them on her face.

“And not to forget,” said Loki, “there are times when one benefits from having a sister who guards the gates of Hel.”

“So you were dead?” Nebula asked.

“I got better.”

Everyone chuckled.  Everyone except her.  She did not understand why they laughed.

But she was not one of them.  And they were not her.  And they had not been there the day Thanos shipped her off to Ronan.  Only Loki had been there.  Only Loki knew.

So why did he laugh, too?

Her organic parts felt numb.

----

Nebula never finished her coffee.  She’d never cared for the drink all that much.  Mild stimulants were fairly useless.  What she really wanted was strong alcohol, but it was clear she wasn’t going to be offered any.  Rocket had a supply on the ship.  She would help herself to it later.  He would get pissed off, but he wouldn’t get in her way.

She didn’t divorce herself from the rest of the conversation, not completely; she tried her best to focus.  She was good at that, focusing on two things at once; the others probably couldn’t tell that her mind was elsewhere.  She suspected Loki could tell, though.  His mind was probably stuck on the same thing as hers. 

His eyes were glassy.

It was Rocket who rose first, signalling their exit.  He was satisfied to hear that Thor was doing well.  Nebula did not fully understand his concern, and she assumed she would never hear the full story.  Once they left, Rocket would move on to other things and so would she.  Thor seemed well enough, aside the missing eye.  She knew what that was like.

Rocket tried to make a trade for the eye, but Thor didn’t accept.

Rocket was disgusting sometimes.  Nebula didn’t know why she enjoyed traveling with him so much, except that he was the least idiotic member of their little crew.  Except for her sister, of course, but that was a given.

She pushed her mug aside and stood.  Good-byes were said.  Thor hugged Rocket, which was a sight to behold.  Maybe the little beast was a niche interest.

No one hugged her, not even Loki, though she hadn’t expected he would.  They weren’t old friends; they had briefly been in the same place at the same time.  Nebula dipped her head in a formal farewell.  Chances were slim they would ever run into one another again.  “It was good to see you,” she said.

Loki bowed.  Stiffly.  When he rose, his face was drawn, and he looked somehow older still.  He lifted his eyes over Nebula’s shoulder, to the door, through the tiny window.  “Actually, would you mind if we spoke in private?  Just for a minute.”

Nebula blinked.  She did not want to waste time.  She glanced over her shoulder at Rocket and Thor, still chatting outside.  Laughing loudly.  She wondered what on earth Loki was doing to shield his non-human appearance, because Thor was still looking at the ground when they spoke.  Was Rocket playing the role of a foul-mouthed child?

The blond woman whispered something in Loki’s ear and shuffled outside.  Their eyes met.  The door shifted into its latch with a click and Loki locked his hands behind his back.  She remembered that stance and how his limbs went rigid when he was frightened.  Was he frightened now?  What did he intend to say?

Nebula tilted her weight from hip to hip.  “Your woman seems nice,” she said.

Loki made a funny sound, losing some, but hardly all, of the tension in his jaw.  “I’ll tell her you said so.”

He stared at her, then, taking too much time.  Slowly, he drew a breath in and out of his nostrils.  Nebula’s chest tightened.  

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said.  Nebula felt the floor tilt beneath her feet.  Thank her?  For what?  The corners of Loki’s mouth twitched, as though he had felt the little earthquake himself.  “You’re surprised.”

“I…”  Nebula opened her mouth to discover it had gone dry.  She tried to clear her throat.  “I didn’t do anything.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

The image of Loki suddenly wavered before her, like water over a pane of glass.  “I…”

“You could have finished me off,” he said.

“Your back was broken.”  She sent it bluntly, like she was finding her voice, like it was an excuse.  It was.  But Nebula had never spared anyone else during Thanos’s training sessions.

Loki unclenched his hands long enough to massage his right hip.  The fated moment flashed in her mind, not for the first time today.  His blood curdling scream, his bent body.

“I was the one who broke it,” she said.

Loki shrugged, as though he disagreed, somehow.  “I tripped.”

“Hardly.”  She swallowed, and then she whispered.  “But it was not intentional.”

“I know.  Just as I know you could have finished me then and there, but chose not to.  You could have impressed your father.  I’m sorry.  Thano--”  Loki’s voice wavered before grinding to a halt.  His Adam’s apple lifted high and fell.

“He was not my father,” she said quickly.  “And nothing I ever did impressed him, anyway.”

Loki nodded, his eyes taking on a far-away glint.  He blinked and it vanished, like one of the tricks that he’d shown off before every playful impulse had been beaten out of him at Sanctuary.

What happened that day felt as though it had taken place in another lifetime, but it had not been so long ago.  Still, it seemed like someone else’s life that she’d been living, a person without freedom, without control over her own mind.   She had jobs to do; occasionally training her father’s latest acquisitions was one of those jobs.

She’d been fucking fed up with it.  She’d known all about Thor and about Odin, or as much as Thanos had wanted her to know.  She'd known Loki was the younger brother of the future Allfather, the son of the current Allfather -- and she'd known he was no Asgardian.

She'd had every intention of proving that.

Loki’d spoken of impressing Thanos, but he’d gotten it completely backward.  She was sick of the game, sick of her father, sick to death of herself.  What was Loki to her, but the latest in a long, long line of challengers to her fly-speck of a purpose in this damned galaxy?  Another thorn in what remained of her hide.  He was a threat.  Nothing but a threat.

He’d proven a more worthy opponent than his meager, hungry look suggested, but Nebula underestimated no one.  She remembered it was raining that day.  Thanos preferred they train in real conditions, real settings.  He obsessed on being one with nature, which was why it was such cruel punishment to cut her up after every failure and, piece by piece, slowly turn her into a machine.

If she killed Loki, she would at least be spared that.  For only a day, perhaps, but her life was a day-by-day existence, minute-by-minute.  She numbered her small victories and her even smaller rewards.

Loki tripped that day, but in reality the water-logged ground beneath him had given way.  The earth swallowed him.  The fall alone should have been his end.  Perhaps he would have been luckier to die, but Nebula suspected the man had never possessed a lot of that.  Luck.  Neither had she.  People like them scraped through life without luck.

The sound that erupted from his twisted body was the most agonizing noise she had ever heard, minus her own screams, when Thanos spliced her into pieces.

He never bothered to dull the pain.  He always made sure it hurt, that it was flame and agony.  He made sure everyone heard her scream until she begged for release.  Until he was satisfied that everyone knew that the Mad Titan could make a machine weep real tears.

Nebula remembered tearing down the wet hill, over the rocks, through the mud.  She’d been shocked to see that Loki was still alive, but he was a retching, shivering, gnarled mess.  She remembered her hands shaking just as much as she stupidly reached for him.  Stupid, stupid girl!  She remembered the blood and snot and mud slapped across his youthful face.

Her heart exploded.  And then came the frigid snap of numbness, shock, and disbelief.

Loki was nothing to her, nothing except a threat.  Thanos had plans for him, plans he did not have for her.  She ought to have ended Loki, thwart her father and remain blameless, because it was her job to weed out the weak.

Loki was nothing.  Nothing.

The poor boy was nothing...

Nebula recalled the shouting of her father’s footsoldiers in the distance, racing toward them to assay the damage.  Loki drew a sharp breath and held it, lifting his eyes, not blinking as the rain pelted them.

He knew.  He knew he was nothing to her, to anyone.  He was a prince who would never be a king, a son without a father, without a family, and now he was physically broken.  Nebula had every right and reason to put him out of his misery.  He wanted her to do it.

But it was too late.  Loki had already become something to her.

She could not kill him.

That night, her father tore out what little flesh still remained in her left hand.

Loki went on to do terrible things.  So had she.

There were years behind them, now.  Thanos had bragged about finally catching the younger Asgardian prince.  She’d made peace with his death, because what else could she do, but apparently Loki had more luck that she realized.  If she had not spared him that day, perhaps his brother never would have been able to ultimately revive him.

And now, as she stared at his gently lined face in a Norwegian coffee shop, she was happy to see that he’d had the opportunity to leave his youth behind.

“I wish you safe travels,” said Loki, “wherever you’re off to next.”

“Back… Back to where my sister is.”  Nebula dipped her head, bowing her farewell and blinking quickly, before she teared up.  It wreaked havoc on her cybernetic parts.  “What happened to Asgard was...unfortunate.  I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, I have my brother.  Sometimes that’s all the home you get.”

Nebula almost laughed.  She turned toward the door.  “How is your back, by the way?”

“Honestly, it was never quite the same, but it could have been far worse.”

She nodded.  “Yes.  It could have been much worse.”

[abandoned-ficlets]

Iwaizumi, the Cat Whisperer

Summary: 

Tooru slams the cat carrier down on the checkout counter followed by his cracked volleyball trophy. Ming meows loudly, annoyed, and sticks one paw out of the bars to swipe at him. The cashier, the same spiky-haired guy that helped him pick out cat food on Thursday, eyes Tooru like he’s gone insane.

“How can I help y-“ “I think my cat is defective.”

(In which Oikawa recruits Iwaizumi, a Petsmart worker, to help him with his problems.)

Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team is barely ten minutes into their evening practice when the usual whispers start.

Outside of the gym, a group of girls are huddled around in a circle, sneaking looks and cooing loudly at each other. The thudding of volleyballs hitting the floor serves as a backdrop to their excited voices.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” One girl squeals, her voice happy.

“What I wouldn’t give to have him come home with me,” Another girl says with a wink at her friends.

“Tell me about it! I don’t want to think what my dad would say about him though.”

“Adorable~ So adorable!”

The words are familiar to Tooru. He’s long since gotten used to his fan club’s praises - happy smiles and blushes that adorn their faces when he acknowledges them during practice. The girls have made it their priority to attend Seijoh’s volleyball practices, the most loyal of his fans sitting in the stands during every single one, cheering loudly whenever Tooru scores against a teammate in a practice game.

Tooru is used to their excitement as they watch him play, yes.

But what he’s not used to is their attention being directed at something other than him: namely, a grungy-looking stray cat that has been interrupting his volleyball practices for a straight week now. Currently, the thing is sitting outside the gym's main door, causing a commotion as the girls lavish it with attention.

The ugly little monster is purring loudly, loud enough that Tooru can hear it on the sidelines as he takes a swig from his water bottle. He huffs at the display, knowing he probably looks ridiculous but also aware that he can’t push away his thoughts of jealousy and betrayal.

A girl coos as the cat scratches at her leg, meowing loudly like it wants to be held. She giggles and picks the thing up, much to the other girls’ envy. They all crowd around her, holding out arms so they can hold him next. Over their shoulders, Tooru can see the cat staring straight at him. He narrows his eyes, trying to send a telepathic message of back off. This is my turf. The cat just blinks lazily at him, completely unconcerned with the warning.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Makki asks as he plops down next to Tooru, spreading himself out on the bench.

Tooru doesn’t respond, continuing to narrow his eyes at the rival cat who still hasn’t broken eye contact. If he didn’t know any better (and he doesn’t), he’d say the stray looks smug.

“Earth to Oikawa? Anyone there?” His friend waves a hand in front of Tooru’s face and finally Tooru looks away from the cat, eyes focusing in on Makki’s trademark smirk.

“I hate cats,” Tooru says, taking one last swig of water and making his way back to the court. He can practically feel the eye roll behind him.

But it’s true; Tooru has never really understood the appeal of cats. They’re rude, stink up the house with their litter boxes, and spend most of the day sitting like useless bricks, napping by the window.

Once, when he was about six, he had tried to pet his friend’s siamese cat. He had reached out with a tentative finger, merely wanting to scratch it behind the ear but the demon had lunged toward him, claws and teeth bared. The cat had only been able to reach for Tooru once before being pulled away, but Tooru had been left with a light pink scar on his cheek that didn’t fade until weeks later.

Since then, he’s sworn up and down that he’d never approach a cat again.

But the girls must not share that sentiment, because day-after-day, without fail, they go the the stray, bringing him food and blankets and water bottles to pour into fancy cat bowls. And day-after-day that cat keeps purring and offering love and affection along with those infuriating stares at Tooru.

The girls love that damn cat so much that’s it’s becoming a serious problem for Tooru. His fans have even started ignoring his volleyball practices to go hang out with the abomination, deciding that a cat is more important than him. More important than Oikawa Tooru. It’s impossible for him to wrap his mind around.

At his coach’s shout, Tooru gets back to practice but anyone can tell he isn’t fully present. His mind is busy, occupied by cats.

---

An hour later, as he bumps up a particularly perfect set to Kindaichi, Tooru realizes something. There is only one way to beat this cat, only one way to come out on top.

He has to adopt it. There is no other way.

Because if he doesn’t - if he leaves the stray to its own devices - the girls will begin to forget him. They’ll start skipping out on practices, stop giving him the attention he so rightly deserves for his volleyball skills. He’ll fade into obscurity, unable to land a volleyball scholarship because no one will be interested anymore, no one will care. He’ll end up with a boring office job and a wife he hates in a house that’s too small. Tooru will become inconsequential.

That’s not going to happen, not if Tooru has any say in it.

And thus, Tooru does what must be done - he sprints out of the gym the moment that their coach dismiss the team, waving off Makki and Mattsun’s curious glances. Less than ten minutes later, he’s walking into a brightly-lit Petsmart, grabbing a cart and passing through the automatic doors.

He looks around the store, not quite sure where to begin shopping for cat supplies. The place is completely foreign territory.

Scanning the brightly lit aisles, he sees colorful fish swimming around in crowded tanks and birds squawking at each other, arguing in loud voices. There is a dog section filled with food and toys.

Finally he lands in a section labeled, Cats, written in block letters on a huge sign. Next to the word hangs a picture of a striped yellow cat playing happily with a red ball of yarn.

“Okay,” Tooru hums, scanning the aisles. “Where to start?”

---

Ten minutes later, Tooru’s cart is filled to the brim. He hadn’t been sure what to get exactly, so he figured the safest bet would be to get one of everything.

He found a large litter-box, enclosed like a small cave (because he sure-as-hell is not going to put up with the stray stinking up his bedroom), a heavy carton of litter that had taken Tooru an embarrassingly long amount of time to pick up, as well as some other things. The food bowls are his favorite find: two turquoise metal dishes with white fish bones imprinted along the side.

The toys are nice too. He was surprised to see the sheer variety - he’d always assumed cats were too lazy to play or do anything but sleep. A long wooden stick with a feather pokes out from amongst all the others. There is only one thing stumping him: cat food.

Dozens of brands, each with their own specific “flavors” and “specialties” line up and down the food section. Tooru isn’t sure if he should go with the one for indoor cats, or the real-meat based one, or even the natural-organic branded one. Does it even matter which one he gets? It’s just cat food. The stray should be lucky it's getting any food at all.

But then again, he doesn’t want to make it sick.

In one arm he picks up a light blue bag. It has a sweet-looking striped gray cat on the front and is labeled “Indoor formula” so it seems like a safe bet. But then again, the organic one looks nice.

He’s about to just throw both into his cart and be done with it when a deep voice rings out on his left side.

“Do you need any help?”

Tooru jumps a little, surprised, before turning to look at the owner of the voice.

It is a worker - probably about Tooru’s age - wearing an employee vest in the most hideous blue color that Tooru has ever seen. Despite that, he’s nice-looking, with spiky black hair and a mouth turned down in a slight grimace.

“Yes actually,” Tooru says after a pause that is only a second too long. He puts on his sweetest voice, the one that Makki likes to roll his eyes at. “I need a second opinion.”

The guy grunts. Tooru takes it as an ‘okay.’

“Let’s say I’m adopting a scrawny stray. Would this” he holds up the blue bag in his right arm, “or that one,” he points towards the organic bag, “be better for it?”

The guy’s eyes flicker between the two before meeting Tooru’s gaze again.

“How old is the cat?”

Tooru shrugs, not entirely sure. He puts the indoor bag back on a random open spot on a shelf. The guy frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Probably about this big,” Tooru holds his hands about a foot apart.

The guy nods, lips pursed thoughtfully. “You can probably just get the normal-“

“Wait!” Tooru says loudly, noticing but not caring about the annoyed expression that fall on the worker’s face at Tooru’s interruption. “I actually think it might be a few months old.”

He vaguely remembers seeing the cat hanging around before, back at the beginning of the school year. He never paid the creature any mind, but he is at least fifty percent sure about that at least.

“It sounds like your cat might actually be a kitten. You’ll want some of this food,” he says as he leans slightly in front of Tooru so that he can grab one to his right. Tooru takes an automatic step back to make room.

“Thank you,” Tooru says, genuinely, as the guy pulls back, setting the bag in Tooru’s cart. He takes a second glance at the guy. Raking his eyes over his toned form, appraising. Not bad.

"I'm Tooru by the way," Tooru says, injecting his voice with the syrupy sweet quality that draws people to him like flies. He expects the guy to react positively, maybe swoon or blush a little. That’s the normal response to Tooru’s flirting, and Tooru has come to expect it.

Instead the guy doesn’t react at all. He just begins walking toward the checkout counter. "I can check you out over here."

Tooru blinks, surprised. Odd. Tooru tries again, assuming the guy is just shy and needs extra attention.

"Oh, can you now?" He adds extra sweetness to his voice and even winks at the worker, just to make sure his point hits home.

"Yes. But if you keep hitting on me, I'll get my manager to help you instead."

Tooru blinks again, three times before the words finally sink in. Then he's blushing, mortified, and just nods and follows the guy to the checkout corner.

Wordlessly, the guy rings up his items. Five minutes later...

“One hundred and fifty dollars?” Tooru squeaks, voice unbelieving. “For cat supplies?”

The guy shrugs lazily, face bored and gaze directed behind Tooru’s head. “You bought a lot of stuff.”

Tooru swears under his breath, cursing the ugly cat, as he takes out his wallet and rifles through for his allowance - all of it.

The cat had better appreciate his great sacrifice.

---

The next day, Tooru springs the news on his fanclub just as they’re gathering to watch this evening’s volleyball practice.

"Hello girls~" he trills happily, “how are all of you doing today?”

There is a flurry of movement, the girls are taken off guard. Tooru usually doesn’t talk to them before practice, preferring to keep his focus on volleyball for as long as he can. They are happy for his presence though, their smiles make that clear.

The girls all start answering at once, and Tooru can only pick out a few of the responses.

“We’re good, Tooru!” “Thanks for asking!” “I’ve had a great day!”

Tooru smiles back at them and a few giggle.

“I’m glad you all are doing well. I’m feeling quite the same and I have some big news~ Can anyone guess what it is?”

The fanclub titters, none wanting to be the first to speak out.

“Have you,” one of the bolder girls, Asui, starts, “finally agreed to start modeling, Oikawa-san? We all know you got that offer a while back!”

Tooru laughs, shaking his head. “No that’s not it, dear Asui-chan.” The girl’s face lights up at her name and she steps back, nodding with a smile.

“Anyone else have an idea?”

“No, Oikawa-San,” a chorus rings out. “Please tell us!”

“I,” Tooru claps, pausing for dramatic effect. “I am going to adopt the stray that lives outside of the gym!”

There is a brief pause in which the girls absorb this new information, then chaos practically erupts. The gym fills with loud shrieks of joy, and Tooru catches his coach looking on, annoyed.

“That is so great, Oikawa-San!”

“You are the most generous person, Oikawa!”

“The cat will be so happy to live with you!”

Tooru smiles, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Thank you girls, I am excited too. There is one problem though, I don’t have a name for him.”

“Anyone have any suggestions?”

The girls fall over themselves, trying to shout out cute names for the cat. “How about Noraneko?” One asks. Tooru purses his lips, contemplating. It literally translates to “stray cat”. A little on the nose, but it’s not terrible. He writes it down on a paper list, planning to pick one of the names that his fanclub offers.

A few other names are tossed around but none seem right to Tooru. None stick.

---

Later, when Tooru, Makki and Mattsun are all scarfing down their lunch under a cherry blossom tree, Mattsun remembers the list. He leans over Makki to ask his question. Makki makes a sound of protest deep in his throat, but his mouth is so full of food that it can’t form words. His protesting just comes out as a grumble.

“Did you pick a name yet?” Matssun asks.

Tooru shakes his head, eyes focusing on the last rice grain in his bento box. It falls from his chopsticks. “No. Maybe Noraneko but,” he shrugs, looks up at Mattsun. “It’s so uninspired.”

Makki nudges Tooru with his elbow, cheeks still filled with food. “Ma Mrmhp ma nmeme,” he says, voice unintelligible and flecks of rice falling from his mouth.

Tooru jabs an elbow into Makki’s side. “Eww,” he whines, face twisting into a pout. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, or I’ll make you sit on the other side of Mattsun.”

Makki rolls his eyes and swallows a bit of the rice. His voice is only slightly more intelligible when he says, “why don’t you name him Minikui?”

Minikui? Tooru rolls the name around in his head a coupe times. It literally means ‘ugly,’ and Tooru couldn’t think of a better fit, himself. That cat is one ugly monstrosity. It’s perfect.

“You might just be a genius, Makki. Even if your grades are much lower than mine, there is hope for you yet.”

Tooru is so excited about naming the stray that he graces to ignore the flecks of rice Makki throws at his face.

---

Minikui and Tooru begin their relationship in less-than-ideal circumstances, and Tooru will take most of the blame for that, though the cat isn’t completely innocent either.

Tooru had gone after practice to collect the cat, and his fan club had followed close by his heels. After he had finally wrestled the thing into the carrier (it took about thirty minutes and what seemed like a hundred tries), Tooru had waved goodbye to his friends and fan club, optimism ringing bright in his veins. He was happy this had gone over so well, and though there may have been hiccups (who knew cats could hiss that loudly), he was sure that things would go back to normal. The monster would be locked in Tooru’s room, and the fan club would go back to adoring and supporting him no matter what. And the cat itself was the least of his worries. How hard could it be to take care of one small animal?

It was hard, as it turned out. Very, very hard and frustrating.

It had taken quite some convincing on Tooru’s part to convince his mother to let him keep Minikui. She was surprisingly against the idea, thought he had thought she would like it, but eventually she had caved, only after Tooru promised a million times over that he would take care of the cat all on his own. He would clean the litter box, buy food, and most importantly, pay for all medical bills without any help from his parents.

After all was said and done, she had smiled, patted the purring cat’s head - it was currently exploring Tooru’s room and trying to fit into every small space it could find - and left the two to their own devices.

Tooru had bounced on the bed excitedly the moment the door closed and whipped out his phone.

“Smile Minikui~” he trilled as he snapped a few pictures of the cat, adding them to his instagram with a soft pink filter.

In one, she is peeking out from behind his desk, her tail curled up around the leg and her collar a nice pop of blue against the otherwise neutral background. Another find her looking out the window - very artsy and thoughtful. He adds a few sparkles to that one. And in the last, she is on his bed, Tooru holding the camera near his face to take a selfie with the cat in the background. Under that picture, he titles the post: *Found a new best friend. Sorry, not sorry Makki!*

Within minutes, the likes and comments come flooding in. His fans are obviously overjoyed, and the comments are filled to the brim with hearts and cat emojis and a lot of exclamation points. Somewhere hidden amongst the flood of positive comments is Makki’s own: I hope the cat disfigures you in your sleep. But Tooru pays it no mind, spending the next fifteen minutes liking his fans thoughtful messages.

But after the high from positive attention wears off, Tooru isn’t quite sure what to do next.

He stares at the cat, who is curled up a few feet away, its eyes closed and seemingly sleeping peacefully. It doesn’t look that scary all curled up like that. With a tentative hand, he pats the cat on its head, lightly, just once.

Minikui does nothing, just continues sleeping as though Tooru hadn’t touched her at all. Emboldened by her lack of reaction, Tooru decides to push his luck a little farther. He puts his hand under the cat’s belly, lifts it up and sets it lightly down in his lap. The cat does nothing more than open one eye, checking Tooru out before going back to sleep.

Hmm, he thinks. Maybe this isn't such a bad deal. The cat doesn’t hate him, at least not as much as they though. Maybe this can work, Maybe—

In a flash, Mininkui’s eyes pop open and she chomps down on Tooru’s hand as he yelps. He doesn’t even have the time to blink, let alone snatch his hand away in time.

“Fine, leave,” Tooru holds his hands up above the cat’s head so the thing can get up and walk away. “No one is keeping you hostage.”

In response, Minikui jumps upward, hooking his claws into Tooru’s hand, pulling it down so he can bite into it once again. Tooru pushes the cat off his lap and he falls with a hard thud on the ground, complaining loudly. Tooru looks at his hand; it’s marked with tiny grooves from Minikui’s teeth, curved over his hand in a small arc. He holds the hand in front of its face, shakes it at the cat's uninterested stare.

“Look what you did! Now I’ll have to set with imperfect hands!”

In response, Minikui just eyes Tooru’s hands - looking as though he would like nothing more than to sink his teeth in one more time.

You have no idea what you’ve started, Minikui, Tooru thinks as he snatches his hand away, nursing the injured body part against his chest. This means war.

---

Meow ~ meow ~ meow. The string of cat noises wakes Tooru up like an alarm clock. He lifts his head from the pillow to stare at Minikui. The cat is on his chest, sitting on its haunches and staring intently down at Tooru.

“Hi, ugly,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “Are you hungry?"

Minikui dips his head in what Tooru supposes is a nod, meowing once more.

"Okay, okay," Tooru yawns, "Give me five more minutes and I’ll get your food.” He closes his eyes again, wanting just a few more minutes of sleep.

He feels Minikui move on his chest, walking closer to his head. The cat swipes a couple times at Tooru's hair. Claws get tangled in his bedhead.

“/Minikui/,” Tooru whines, batting at him halfheartedly with one hand. The cat meows again and bats back at him in response. “Five more minutes.”

Tooru turns on his side, bringing the blanket up to his chin and snuggling down further into the bed. Minikui jumps off him and lands with a dull thud on his wood floor. He can hear the cat rummaging around in his room but pays him no mind. Just five more minutes, he thinks somewhat deliriously.

Then, he hears Minikui’s voice from a few feet above him, to the right. “Meow,” and the sound holds the taunting edge that he’s come to fear.

Immediately, Tooru's eyes shoot open an he sits up straight in bed, looking for the reason for that dangerous meow. Sure enough, the demon is on his bookcase, one paw held up behind a volleyball trophy (the participation award he received at the end of elementary school.) Minikui looks disinterestedly at him, grooming a paw while still holding the other up behind the trophy.

“Minikui,” he warns, but it’s too late.

The trophy comes crashing to the floor, and Tooru can hear it splinter. From downstairs comes his mother’s muffled, “Are you okay, Tooru?”

“I’m fine, mom!”

But he's not fine, not at all.

He narrows his eyes at the cat. That’s it. This needs to end. Now.

---

Making a beeline towards the Petsmart checkout counter, Tooru is a man on a mission. Minikui tries every few moments to break free from his restraint, knocking his head against the bars of his carrier but Tooru ignores the cat's struggle.

He slams the cat carrier down on the checkout counter followed by his cracked volleyball trophy. Ming meows loudly, annoyed, and sticks one paw out of the bars to swipe at him. The cashier - the same spiky-haired guy that helped him pick out cat food on Thursday - eyes Tooru like he’s gone insane.

“Can I help y-“

“I think my cat is defective.”

---

Tooru picks the cat up, straining to do so. The stray has almost doubled in size since he first brought him home.

“Look at it.”

“Oi,” Iwaizumi starts, frowning at the cat. “How much are you feeding him?”

“How.. much?”

“Yeah, like a cup a day, a cup and a half? How much does the side of the bag say to give?”

Tooru picks up the cat food bag and sure enough, there is a chart on the side, outlining how much to feed according to their weight.

“You’re,” Tooru pauses, eyes the chart. “You’re not just supposed to feed it whenever it meows?”

Iwaizumi groans and places a finger at his temple, like he’s warding off an impending headache. “We have a lot of work to do, don’t we?”

Tooru shrugs. “Probably,” he says, setting the fat cat down onto the wood paneling.

The cat meows in protest and swats at Tooru’s leg like he’s done something wrong before disappearing under the bed. Tooru looks to Iwaizumi, gesturing toward the cat and back at himself, eyes clearly saying, ‘do you see what I have to deal with here?

Iwaizumi ignores him and takes a few steps forward until he’s in front of the bed. Slowly, he gets down on his knees and lowers his head so that he can see into the shadows.

Tooru probably should warn him about Minikui’s tendency to scratch at anyone’s face if they get too close, but Iwaizumi has been a bit awful to him. Maybe it’s best for him to learn the hard way: through experience, aka getting swiped at by feral claws.

“Minikui,” Iwaizumi calls out in a low voice.

As Iwaizumi busies himself trying to get the cat out from under the bed, Tooru bounces on top it, rolling his eyes. Turning onto his stomach, he lays half off the bed, dangling only inches away from Iwaizumi’s annoyed expression. “It won’t come out, it doesn’t matter how much you call for it. Believe me, I’d know.”

Iwaizumi lifts his head to glare at Tooru but the intimidating effect that he is going for is somewhat ruined by the way his hair is all in his eyes.

“Maybe if you’d talk to him like a living thing, you prick, and not constantly call him ‘it’, Minikui would listen to you,” Iwaizumi pops his head back under the bed so that Tooru’s view is blocked. The man starts making weird clucking noises and calling out Minikui’s name in that same low voice.

The words bubble out of Tooru’s chest as his lips curl up in amusement. “Are you a chicken, Iwa-chan? What is that noise even supposed to do?”

Tooru thinks he hears a growl from under the bed but it’s impossible to know if it comes from Iwaizumi or the cat.

Eventually, Iwaizumi reemerges with the cat in his arms. The monster is purring loudly and cuddling into Iwaizumi’s toned chest like it’s the most comfortable place in the world. Tooru tries not to feel disappointed that there’s not a single scratch marring up Iwaizumi’s handsome face.

“How’d you do that?” Tooru asks accusingly.

Iwaizumi smiles down at the cat. “You just have to be patient,” he scratches behind Minikui’s ears and the purring seems to get even louder. “Cats don’t like being told what to do. You can’t force anything with them.”

“Hmm,” Tooru hums as he watches Iwaizumi sit down beside him on the bed, still scratching behind the cat’s ears. The two look so content, and the way that the sun is shining through Tooru’s bedroom window frames the scene like it’s some sort of painting. He blames the weird flutters in his chest at the strangeness of it all.

“Stop hogging the cat, Iwa-chan. Let me try.”

With a nod, Iwaizumi holds out his arms slowly towards Tooru. The cat stays purring, eyes still closed as it is undisturbed by the movement. But the second Tooru lays a hand on top of its fur, Minikui’s eyes pop open and the cat is jumping out of Iwaizumi’s arms and meowing angrily. ‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ the cat’s eyes seem to say and its tail is puffed up angrily like it’s expecting a fight.

“Right,” Iwaizumi says after a brief pause in which both boys just stare down at the angry cat. It isn’t hissing, but the look in its eyes says that one wrong move and there will be nothing but that ugly sound. “I guess we’ll work on the trust issues first.”

---

“No, you’re petting him all wrong. Do it like this,” Iwaizumi demonstrates. He strokes his hand down the cat’s back, and Minikui purrs happily. But when Tooru tries the same thing, all he gets is an angry lunge towards his hand. Luckily, the claws don’t draw blood.

“No, idiot,” Iwaizumi sighs and shakes his head. “Still wrong.”

Tooru can’t help the way he’s growing frustrated. It’s been almost an hour and there has been little to no progress; the cat still hates Tooru and he hates the thing right back.

“Well then, Iwa-chan,“ Tooru says through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you actually tell me what I’m doing wrong instead of parroting the same word over and over again.”

Iwaizumi ignores his tone and takes Tooru hand with a roll of his eyes, placing it gently on Minikui’s soft fur. “Here,” he says, “I’ll show you.”

Tooru’s eyes widen at the skin contact and the strange feeling of Iwaizumi’s rough skin against his own is enough to melt the agitation away.

With careful movements, Iwaizumi guides Tooru’s hands so that he is petting the cat. At first, Minikui stiffens up and growls threateningly but as Tooru continues petting her, she relaxes ever so slightly.

“There,” Iwaizumi says. “Don’t rub her so roughly and you’re fine.” Then he takes his hand away and by some miracle, the cat stays relaxed. After a minute, he even starts purring. It’s surprisingly adorable.

The three sit in silence until Minikui curls in Tooru’s lap - actually, willingly gets into his lap- and falls asleep. Once that happens, Iwaizumi stands up, brushing off some of the cat hair that had settled on his jeans.

“You two look comfortable. I’ll head out.”

“Wait!” Tooru says loudly and Minikui pops an eye open, growling at him before falling back asleep. “Wait,” he says again in a hushed voice. “Can I get your help again?”

Iwaizumi pauses halfway through slipping on his coat. “I guess,” he says but he doesn’t seem very committed.

“I can bring you something in return. What would you want?”

“Money,” Iwaizumi says rather bluntly, but his face cracks into a small smile at whatever expression Tooru makes at that. The expression disappears as soon as it comes. “It’s fine, you don’t need to pay me.”

Tooru makes a pained face. “Yes I do or I’ll feel guilty.” He taps at his cheek in thought. “How about food or something.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“You’re being purposefully difficult.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, completely unconcerned. “That’s me,” he taps at his phone for a second and then looks back up to Tooru to wave goodbye. “Come by Petsmart next time you need help. I work Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Then Iwaizumi walks out and Tooru is left with an odd sense of loneliness.

---

The two end up spending much more time than Tooru had thought Iwaizumi would tolerate.

Every day Iwaizumi works, Tooru makes it a priority to keep him company, even on the days where Iwaizumi can’t help him with Minikui. He meets the manager of the Petsmart, an older woman who takes a liking to Tooru immediately. She lets him hang around whenever and even baked him cookies once for his ‘wonderful company’. “Crappy, ass-kissing personality,” Iwaizumi had taken to mumbling under his breath, but Tooru pays it no mind.

Tooru learns that Iwaizumi has endless patience for animals but next to nothing when it comes to Tooru. He sees it when Minikui hisses at Iwaizumi and the boy does nothing but smile patiently and back off to give the cat some space. Or that one time that Tooru was a couple minutes early to Petstmart and he saw Iwaizumi in his natural habitat - on one knee next to a happy dog, laughing as it smeared its nasty drool all over his face.

But the moment Tooru says something a little too flirty or makes an innocent joke at Iwa-chan’s expense, the boy is all anger issues.

“Shut up, Assikawa!” Or, “do you want me to whip this volleyball at your face, Trashykawa?” Or that one special time that Tooru had called him attractive and Iwaizumi’s face changed colors to match the red of a traffic light and he’d pushed a giggling Tooru off his own couch.

Tooru thinks that Iwaizumi is a lot like an animal himself - namely, a hedgehog: prickly on the outside but ultimately harmless.

To be truthful, he doesn’t know much about Iwaizumi, but he wants to know more. That feeling is alien to Tooru and it surprises him. Because, sure, Iwaizumi is hot, but Tooru finds himself wanting to see past that handsome face and learn what’s underneath.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he asks one day as he sits on a stack of huge dogs food bags, ones that Iwaizumi needs to stack on the shelves. Tooru may or may not have spent the last fifteen minutes ogling Iwaizumi’s arms as he lifts each one on a shoulder. Who can blame him though, those arms are gorgeous.

“Mhmmpf,” Iwaizumi grunts. It’s his primitive way of saying ‘yes.’ Sort of like a caveman or a gorilla.

“Do you have any pets?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything for a few moments and Tooru is about to retract when he finally answers. “I had a dog but she passed a few months back.”

“Oh,” Tooru blinks. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Iwaizumi shrugs off Tooru’s apology. He moves to lift another bag. “She died this summer but it feels like ages ago now.”

“Hmm,” Tooru hums, staring at Iwaizumi as he heaves the bag over his shoulder. The other boy doesn’t /seem/ like he was affected by Tooru’s question, but there is this small crinkle between his brows and he hasn’t looked Tooru in the eyes yet.

“What was her name?”

“Molly.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Tooru comments.

“Yes. My younger sister named her.”

“What kind of dog was she?”

“Golden retriever.”

“What-“ Tooru pauses, worries his lip between his teeth. He doesn’t know if it’s okay to ask but the words come out anyway. “What happened to her?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t pause in his movements. He tosses the bag onto the shelf. The metal shelves vibrate under the additional weight, and then still. Iwaizumi’s back is turned when he answers.

“Hit by a car,” he says matter-of-factly. “It sucks but that’s just what happens sometimes.”

If Tooru didn’t know any better, he’d think that Iwaizumi was unaffected. But because he has been watching the other boy so closely these last few weeks, he can spot the difference from his normal demeanor. Iwaizumi’s shoulders are just the slightest bit higher, muscles pulled taught with tension. His head is slightly down turned, his expression is likely taut, though Tooru can only guess that much because Iwaizumi still has not turned to face him. He’s /sad/, Tooru realizes. Immediately, a rush of guilt washes over him. He shouldn’t have asked the other boy so many questions.

“I’m sorry,” Tooru says, his words soft and gentle. They float between the two, and Tooru hopes that Iwaizumi takes them instead of brushing them off.

For a long moment, Iwaizumi’s shoulders inch minutely higher. The tension builds, and Tooru hopes fervently that he hasn’t made Iwaizumi so upset that he will cry. The seconds pass. Above them, the speakers is playing some sort of happy pop song. Tooru wishes a few things - that the stupid music would stop playing first of all, but he mostly just wishes Iwaizumi would turn around so Tooru would see his face.

Then, with a loud sigh, all the tension rushes out Iwaizumi’s body. His shoulders lower and he turns around to meet Tooru’s eyes. Though Tooru thought he expected it, he is still a bit surprised to see the sadness there.

“Move over,” Iwaizumi commands as he moves to sit next to Tooru on the bags of dog food. Tooru complies readily, scooting over a few inches. The plastic crinkles underneath them, the sound emphasizing their movements.

The new position is close, but not uncomfortably so. Tooru can feel the heat of Iwaizumi’s body, only a few inches away, and he feels a strong urge to move his leg out just enough that he can feel that warmth up close.

“Do you want to see a picture of her?” Iwaizumi asks, pulling out his phone from his back pocket.

Tooru nods. He waits patiently for Iwaizumi to search through his photos until he finds a suitable one of Molly.

He catches brief glimpses of Iwaizumi’s life through the scrolling photos. He sees one of Iwaizumi with his sister, their faces close and happy - a setting sun behind them. There is one of Iwaizumi’s...

[magical-gays-au-fanartfunart]

Chitty Chitty Crash Bang Bang

Summary: Superhero AU- In which Virgil worries over Roman & we get to find out what happened to Remus.

Ships: Logicality and Prinxiety

Warnings: Yelling/Arguing, Parent/family.... issues, running away, brief physical violence, pain/injury (its like a Super reoccurring theme here), death mention, concussion mention/discussion, (Ro may or may not have lasting issues), roman’s pretty good at avoiding talk of doctors or like, anything, crying, probably poorly translated Spanish...

Tell me if anything else needs a warning!

Words: lots. (I give up.)

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - ^ - 8 -

-

They were yelling. The muffled sounds hardly discernible from his room. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel it. Each shriek only made his stomach drop even more.

Stop yelling.

He should turn on his music.

Stop yelling.

He should do Something.

Stop yelling.

Shouldn’t he be down there? Playing mediator like he does far too often now.

Stop yelling stop it stop stop STOP.

A door slammed. Roman froze. Front door. Not a bedroom door. He scrambled up to look out his window. A figure with a well worn backpack and a stained, putrid green hoodie he’d always hated, stalked down the street, retreating from the house. It was like a weight was thrown on his chest.

Roman scrambled down the stairs.

“Let him go,” his mother yelled from the kitchen, voice stained with something close to tears.

Roman turned to look at her, frowning.

“He’ll come back, mijo. Let him blow off some steam.”

Roman curled his hand into a fist, shaking his head, not trusting himself to just get into a screaming match of his own. He darted out the door, slamming it behind him.

He vaguely registered his mother calling after him. She didn’t even call Remus back. She let him storm off and didn’t even- no no she was just mad. She was mad, he was mad, and people make dumb decisions when they’re mad.

His breaths slammed against his chest in time with his feet slamming against pavement. “Remus!”

Remus began to shift from a brisk walk to a full run. Roman raced to catch his brother- he was always just a bit faster than him, just enough. He had to be just fast enough. He had to. “Remus, stop!” He gripped the handle of Remus’s backpack and yanked.

His twin yelped as he was thrown backwards and narrowly missed being entirely thrown to the pavement. Roman huffed as he caught his breath, eyes wild and wide as he stared at his brother. His crying brother.

Remus ripped himself from Roman’s grasp, “Leave me the hell alone.” Remus huffed, voice scratchy and rough.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your damn business!” Remus all but screeched, shoving Roman back. “I don’t need you to play hero! I’m not the damsel in distress, get the hell out of my way!”

“I’m not trying to-” Remus’s fist collided with his jaw. Roman swore, slipping into a fighting stance out of instinct as he gingerly brushed over his tender jaw.

Remus’s breaths came in ragged and sharp. Fist curling in on itself, nails digging into his palm. “Don’t. Just. Don’t. Don’t follow me. Don’t pretend to be sorry. Don’t pretend I belong.”

He wished he’d protested.

That he’d followed him anyway.

That he’d punched that grim little smile right off his face.

Something.

Instead he just watched his brother shake his head and walk away. Instead, he stood there telling himself the same broken logic his mother had used. He’s gonna come back. He’s just gotta blow off some steam. He’ll be back. And it’ll be fine.

It’ll be fine.

-Now

2 years later.-

“Aw, you can call me Kate, no need for formalities! Hey, I’ll even take ‘Mom’ if you’d rather!”

“Mom,” Virgil hissed at the woman who looked exactly and nothing like her child with her brightly colored pink pixie cut and pastel sundress with a black punk jacket hanging on her shoulders, the shoulders and lapel adorned with a small trans flag patch, several buttons and a small gold floral pin. She shared her kind, tired eyes with her son, although she clearly had a few years of laugh lines on him. She was clearly taller than her child, and if she tugged him into a hug right then and there, Roman was sure Virgil would fit perfectly under her chin.

They fit. In their own odd way.

Roman smiled. It felt a bit easier to breathe for a moment.

Kate hummed, gaze flickering over the boy in front of her. She clicked her tongue, “Poor dear- Did anybody clean you up even a little? First thing you’re doing is taking a shower.”

Roman blinked, “Um-” He blinked a few times as Kate began to turn back towards her car.

“I hope you like pizza. Are you allergic to anything at all?”

"Um. No.”

”And what about milk?” Virgil said. There was a flicker of a glare in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by a smirk and a gentle shake of his head.

“That’s an intolerance, not an allergy.” Roman waved a hand dismissively, “Totally different!”

Mother and son made the same skeptical sound.

-

Roman really hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Really. It was just, after they settled in the car- He was exhausted. It was like a switch flipped after he sat down again. And watching the road flicker past was so calming. And Virgil was still talking to his mother, and he was already nodding off and really the only thing left was to let his heavy eyelids fall. He woke up to soft mummers and a gentle brush of a hand on his shoulder. Heavens, did everything hurt this much the first time around? His head was killing him.

“Hey,” Virgil whispered, and really, what business did he have being so gentle?

Roman’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes reluctant to open, it seemed. Or- oh wait. Never mind. He could see now. …Was that something he should like… be worried about?

“Up an’ at ‘em, Sleeping Beauty,” Virgil’s hushed voice continued, and Roman’s vaugely aware of pressure on his shoulders and a step down.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, and he wasn’t exactly sure what for yet.

“I don’t mind. You can keep sleeping once we’re inside if you need to.”

Roman took in a breath and ended up nodding somewhere along the surprisingly short walk.

The next time Roman woke up from another dreamless state, he was smothered by a blanket far too heavy to be considered normal and it really wasn’t helping the process of waking up. There was a tap of a keyboard that seemed to echo around the room. Something was cold and wet on his head. The typing stopped. Virgil was putting back on fingerless gloves when Roman finally sat up and looked at him.

Roman blearily looked down at the cloth that had fallen off his head. “Oh.”

“You ‘kay?”

“No, I’m Roman,” he mumbled, lips flickering up a little.

Virgil rolled his eyes, settling on the edge of the bed.

“It’s really dark in here,” Roman whispered, without really meaning to.

“Good, ‘cause it’s apparently helpful for concussions and stuff,” Virgil whispered back, because that’s what you do.

“Oh so I got a concussion now?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Did you put up that black-out blanket for me then, or like, have you always been allergic to daylight?”

“You’ve discovered my secret,” a smile already on his lips, “I’m a vampire.”

“Well hell, here I thought you’d sparkle.”

Roman jumped a little as a creature hopped up from under the bed to onto it. The newcomer rubbed her body against Roman’s side. He froze, suddenly tense and unsure. Virgil’s eyes flickered over the other. He smiled, deciding to focus on his cat.

“Speaking of vampires,” Virgil snapped his fingers, and the cat pranced over to him, allowing him to pet her, “This is Buttercup.”

Roman nodded, watching them.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asked. The hushed tone still lingering in his voice. “For real.”

Roman shrugged, “More tired than I thought, I guess.”

He shifted and smiled as Buttercup passed back over towards him, purring loudly. “Hey lovely lady,” he whispered, rubbing the cat’s head. He glanced up at Virgil, “Sleeping in the car probably made every single bone in my body scream in protest, though.”

Virgil swore, “You don’t have any like-”

“Bleeding? Broken bones?” Roman placed a hand on his chest, leaning back into the pillows of the bed, (the cat following him down and standing on his chest) “Oof. Ouch. My bones.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, how would you know I’m not dead?”

Virgil shoved him in a way that was so gentle Roman wasn’t sure he actually touched him.

“Seriously, do we have to like, take you to a doctor?”

Roman shook his head, “I’m okay. I promise.”

“All you need is ‘(not)’ and you’ve got my favorite song.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious!” Roman makes an effort to sound affronted, and Virgil smiles like he holds all the secrets of the universe. Buttercup chirps, and the boys giggle, because the world’s just a little steadier now.

-

“It’s fine Dee! No, I don’t- I’m fine. Estoy bien! Oh my h- Sí claro! I’m staying over at a friend’s, ok?”

Roman raised his hand to mimic the ramble from the other end of the phone. Virgil smirked in return, despite his focus being on how Roman’s movements were a little more tired and sluggish than normal. He’s tired. He gets to be tired. Heck. He should be tired. Didn’t stop Virgil from worrying about it.

“Eres un pesado, ¿sabes que, sí?” Roman snorted, “What! I’m just saying- Yeah, I hate you too.” 

Virgil nestles his head into his arms on the table.

Roman sighs in defeat, and mimics Virgil’s posture, pouting as if to make a point to the other, “Ok, I will. Don’t kill anybody over it, I’d be terribly distraught-” Roman practically freezes.

He swallows, but it doesn’t clear the waver in his voice when he utters, “¿Qué?”

“What?” Virgil whispers, brows knitting together, leaning forward.

Roman glances up at Virgil and shakes his head, “No, Re- um. No. No creo que le vi.” Roman takes in a heavy breath, “¿p- por qué?”

An uneasy smile crosses Roman’s face and he nods, “Ok. Um- I better go, V- my friend’s mom promised to get us pizza. See you later, ok? I feel like I haven’t seen you for forever. Kay. Adiós.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nada, I-” Roman let out a huff of a breath, “Dee just wanted to know if I- saw somebody. It- It doesn’t really matter.”

Virgil shifts to sit up better, nodding, “Um, okay.”

Roman leans back, rubbing the nape of his neck, "What's the emo do on days like this anyway?" Virgil knows a subject change when he sees one, and he sighs, smiling, "I mean- what do you do? I don’t usually have- People. Over." Roman grins, “What’s your opinion on Disney?”

-

The speaker crackles on the other end of the line when it answers. “Hey DeeDee! Pleasure or Business?”

“I hope you have an explanation for yourself Remus.”

“Ah, skipping the pleasure going straight to business, I see how it is.”

Dee sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Where are you?”

“Where I always am DeeDee. Hanging with Choco and Loco, between Nowhere and Noneof Yourbuismess.”

A point is made with silence.

“Fine, fine. I’m in town.” The line crackles. A vague sound of movement, like the rustle of a bag, “Did you know Mama y Papa aren’t home?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dee shifts the phone to his other ear, leaning to the side, “No idea.”

“Why you lyin!” Remus shouted into the speaker. Dee forced himself to relax his shoulders. Remus sighed exaggeratedly heavily into the phone, “Fine, don’t tell me. How long have they been out? I can’t imagine they’d leave their favorite son all by himself too long now.”

“Remus, do you know what happened?”

“Maybe,” the line crackled in a way that almost sounded like a giggle, “enlighten me.”

Dee leaned back against the door frame of his room, “That’s the clearest confession of guilt out of your mouth if I’ve ever heard it. You’re aware Roman could’ve gotten killed, yes?”

The line falls silent.

“Oh, nevermind, I’m sure you thought about it. What am I saying?” Dee glanced at his hands, checking his nails.

“Do you want to know what his new little power is or not?”

“So that’s what this was about,” Dee said, a gentle smirk crossing his face, “Please. Do inform me. It would be nice to know.”