#gonna take a quick power nap though because i hardly got any sleep

[threnodians]

i've got an interview in a couple of hours and i'm unfortunately being absolutely racked with a ridiculous amount of anxiety and panic 🥲👍🏻

[kdtheghostwriter]

New Blade Runner Fic

And I mean Brand New!

Yes, this is one of the ideas I’ve had slamming around in my head lately. And before we go further I must must MUST give a shoutout to the righteous @future-geometries for being a source of inspiration.

You see, we both have an on-off, intermittent fascination with the 2017 film Blade Runner 2049. It has a tiny but passionate fandom that still produces content to this day. (That includes a great fic written by J.)

We were in the midst of one of our convos about this flick when they pointed out how tragic K’s arc was and how disappointed they were that we haven’t had a “satisfying, low-stakes AU” yet. Now, this was over a year ago at least and perhaps I underestimated how much people love putting K on the Whump Train because we still haven’t seen it. So, what else is the guy who rewrote Dawn of Justice to do?

This is a rare look into my process as you get to see a very skeletal first draft. The final version will be three chapters with much more detail about the characters and the issues they face in a modern-adjacent setting.

I had to get this out into the Ether because I know it will be ages before I can get back to finishing this. I still have to finish The Batman. I still have to write JL3. Between those I’ll be writing my [REDACTED] rework. And a neat idea I have for Atomic Blonde. Then maybe I can finish this.

Until that fateful day, join me under the cut if you will...

Title: Dead Slow Ahead Word Count: 2415 Category: Gen Fandom: Blade Runner Characters: K, Rick Deckard, Ana Stelline Rating: T+ (some thematic elements and Deckard’s salty language) Summary: A tragedy in the life of Officer K begins a slow spiral that leads to his resignation from the LAPD. He now finds himself in the home of another former officer named Deckard, as he begins the slow march back to stability. A snapshot of a recovery in progress.

He drops the badge and gun on her desk without a word. She doesn’t look up at first, until she notices him still standing there. He stands there in silence for several seconds longer before he takes the seat in front of her. He’s looking down and away, then up and to the left. Anywhere but ahead into her sight.

“Is that it?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Think what? I don’t read minds.”

“I think I’m done.”

She pauses at that. Not out of surprise.

“Kinda figured. Life’s put you through the shit stain recently.”

“…Yeah.”

Another pause and she opens up a drawer to drop the badge and gun into. She snaps twice to get his attention. He maintains eye contact for the first time.

“I don’t have to tell you but…this isn’t normal protocol. It’s usually a two-week notice. Two weeks that you’re still expected to show up and do your job. But I like you. We’re not friends but I like you. You’ve done good work for this department. So, I’m going to do you a favor.”

She holds up two fingers. One from each hand.

“Two days. Forty-eight hours. However you wanna think of it, I don’t care. You get two days leave to figure out whatever this is. You come back in two days and I give you your gear back. If you don’t, I clear out your desk and I don’t see you in this building again. That’s fair, right?”

“Very fair. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles very slightly. “You were always so polite. I know I’m a smartass constantly but I do appreciate that.”

“I know.”

“Hey.” She sits up straighter to cross her legs. “Before you go.”

“My baseline?”

“If it’s not any trouble.”

“Not at all.”

He’s been in her office for meetings before. He doesn’t have to see behind her desk to know her finger is hovering above a silent call button. Whether he left the precinct under his own power or under restraint depended on his performance.

He closes his eyes, swallows the emotion and looks forward to recite the words.

“And a blood-black nothingness began to spin. A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem. And dreadfully distinct, against the dark, a tall white fountain played. But in the case of my white fountain what it did replace? Perceptually was something that, I felt, could be grasped only by whoever dwelt in the strange world where I was a mere stray.”

She places both of her hands flat on her desk. She visibly relaxes. He does not.

“Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Constant K like always.”

“Always a pleasure, Madam.”

 -------------------------

 K jolts awake to slam on his brake, throwing his arm out to the seat space next to him. He expects the paper grocery bags to go flying. What he finds instead is his front bumper flush against the garage door. Asleep in the driveway. Embarrassing but not dangerous. He backs up slightly and kills the engine.

Almost a year removed from his last day finds him in the Silver Lake neighborhood of Los Angeles. He’s staying in a house for the first time since finishing high school. It shows as he drops his keys while fishing from his pockets. He grumbles as he bends down to retrieve them, hearing the door open.

“Deckard,” he says. “I know I’m late but I got some extra-“

The face in front of him isn’t who he expects. It’s much younger and the smile is still visible from behind the clinical mask.

“I suppose you aren’t wrong.”

“Ana. Hello.”

She answers with a wave. “I’m making my weekly visit. May I?”

K without protest hands over one bag and pockets his keys. Once inside, he slips both shoes off and drops into the near recliner with the bag still in his lap.

“About time, boy.” Deckard speaks gruffly while scrolling his phone.

“Kept you waiting, huh?”

“Not me.”

A scruffy Shepard mix brushes up against K’s leg and he repositions the bag to give it a petting.

“Ten years I’ve had Bo, he’s hardly ever that friendly. Good-looking stranger walks in and he acts brand new.” Deckard places his phone down and takes the bag Ana is holding. “You get everything?”

K answers non-verbally through a yawn.

“Feels that way. Oh! Look at this. Four whole bell peppers? I think Miss Consuela likes you, Joe. Joe?”

The latter man is asleep with the second bag still upright in his hold.

Deckard claps once. “Joe! Huh. New gig is doing a number on him.”

Ana pads quietly across the room and stops near the chair before reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“K?”

This perks him up. He looks back at Ana and down to the dog.

“Was I asleep just now?”

“Out cold,” Deckard responds. “You’ve got a bed, you know.”

K hands the bag to Ana. “You don’t need help with dinner?”

“I do, but that can wait until you’re rested. A stiff in the kitchen won’t do me any good. Get.”

K gives Bo another head pat, then shuffles down the hall to his room. While holding the bag, Ana joins Deckard on the sofa to help him with the groceries.

“What’s that you called him?”

“K.”

“Like the letter?”

“Like his badge number. KD6-3.7.”

Deckard scoffs, putting his reading glasses on. “The hell kind of serial is that?”

“It’s his.” Ana says this while inspecting a pack of tomato seeds. “Was his.”

“I’m not calling him by his damn serial.”

“You don’t have to, Deckard.”

“Oh yeah?” Deckard is out of his chair and she follows him into the kitchen. “Why do you?”

“He asked. And I feel like K is a bit more interesting than Joe. Don’t you?”

“Eh. Seems like a lateral move, to me.”

Deckard sits at the table with both bags before him. Ana remains standing, drawing her hands into the sleeves of her pullover.

“Will he be alright?”

“You’ve got three degrees. You tell me.”

This is meant to be a joke, but if the frown outlined by her mask is an indication, Ana does not find this funny. Deckard frowns back to remind her where she got it from.

“Don’t give me that. Physically he’s fine. Beat up maybe but fine. Mentally? Emotionally?” Deckard removes his glasses and his gaze softens slightly. “He won’t be ‘alright’ for a long time. You know that like I do.”

Ana circles the chair to embrace her father. She isn’t taller than him but while he’s sitting, she can rest her temple on his.

“It was nice of you to help him.”

“It was necessary. Kid has no family and I know what the force does to people. Wasn’t gonna let him go back there.”

Ana stands up straight when her phone sounds from the other room. She’s reading the message silently as she walks back in. Deckard is busy separating the canned goods from the perishables.

“Oh,” she says.

“Gotta go?”

“I do.”

“Fair enough. Scoot, then.”

“Very well, Detective.”

“I told you I’m not-”

Deckard is cut off by a quick peck to his cheek. He fights a smirk as she slips away.

“Hey! Mask on, you hear?”

 -------------------------

 When K wakes up his room is dark. Several hours have passed since he left Ana and Deckard in the living room. This is about when dinner gets prepped, but Deckard hasn’t come looking for him. K walks past a napping Bo in the hallway to see what the status is. Deckard is at the table, peeling potatoes.

“You started.”

“You were sleep.”

“Could have woke me up.”

“Could have. But that would be rude. You’re here now, so get started.”

He tosses a peeler in his direction that K catches easily.

“Yes, sir.”

They stay like this for several minutes, peeling in silence. K is a great help with menial tasks like this. He doesn’t complain, nor does he get distracted. After a time, though, even Deckard gets a bit antsy.

“Talked with Ana earlier today. Before you got here.”

“How is she? She usually stays to eat with us.”

“Busy, Joe. It’s always around springtime her workload gets heavy. She can manage but for a few weeks it’ll be tough.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, she told me you had your eye on a place?”

“Found one, actually. Studio in Los Feliz. I move in next month.”

“Not bad, kid. You know there wasn’t a cutoff date on this arrangement.”

“I know.”

“I mean I get it. Shacking up with an old man ain’t exactly exhilarating.”

Deckard’s teasing works as K holds up his peeler in protest.

“No, no! It’s not you. I like being here. I’ve…honestly needed to talk to you about this for a while.”

“I got nothing but time, Joe. Just keep peeling, huh?”

“Right.”

K doesn’t speak again until he’s finished peeling his current potato. He also doesn’t see Deckard roll his eyes.

“I never lost the place. I put all my stuff in storage. Been subletting for months. I just couldn’t stay there any longer. I only went back today because the office called me.”

“Is that what this is about?” Deckard reaches into the seat of a neighboring chair and pulls out a copy of the Vladimir Nabokov novel Pale Fire. “Found this under the eggs.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“You mentioned this before. Your girlfriend. What was her name?”

“Joy.”

“She was a reader, huh?”

“No, she hated that book. She liked to hear me read.”

“How long you stay after?”

“Too long but it’s not like I was ever there.”

K closes his eyes and counts before he continues.

“After Joy died… You’d think my work would suffer while I was bereaved but it was the opposite. I was more driven than I’d ever been. I was sleeping in the station barracks. I found a lot of people that didn’t wanna be found. Destroyed them. Got destroyed myself. In my storage unit, there’s a box of awards with my name on them that I got for running and fighting and kicking ass.”

K grabs another potato. He isn’t done and Deckard knows so he doesn’t interject.

“This sounds crazy now but I didn’t even consider leaving.” K drops his peeler and wipes his hand to pull out his phone. “Not until I found this up on my door.”

He passes the phone as Deckard slips on his glasses. Once he sees, he whips them off and returns the device.

“Fucking hell,” he spits out.

“Didn’t matter that my life partner was dead,” K started. “Didn’t matter to them that she was Spanish and not Mexican. It didn’t matter that she was a legal US citizen. Only thing that mattered to them was my badge and my gun, when I knocked on their door and told them exactly what would happen if they bothered me again. That is when I knew.”

“This sounds familiar.”

K exhales. “Bet it is.”

“Well, you were nice enough to share so I’ll do the same. I was with LAPD way longer than I was supposed to be.”

“I thought you quit.”

“I did! Life has a funny way of happening.”

“You too?”

“Rachel was her name. I was already one foot out the door when I met her, so there wasn’t really a decision to be made. And with the ink dry on the previous marriage I felt like the stars were lining up for once.”

“What happened?”

Deckard lays down his peeler to ruffle the fur of Bo who has joined the pair at the table.

“The good news, if you can call it that, is that we weren’t taken by surprise. I was never interested in kids. Rachel wanted one so I wanted one for her. We tried and failed and on the way to failing, we were told in fairly explicit terms that a pregnancy, should we succeed, would likely be fatal. We traveled the country after that. Maybe it was my youth but I was damn prepared to live in that RV in Vegas forever.”

“Until you weren’t.”

“She was with child, Joe. It was every fucking emotion all at once. The happiness, the relief, the fear. I took her home and was back working full time within the week. I took as many cases as I could. Maybe deep down I knew, but I never stopped long enough to think about it.”

There are three potatoes left to peel at this point. K will finish the job, of course; before that, there’s something hanging in the air between them. K goes ahead without looking up from his work.

“Did Rachel get to see her?”

If Deckard doesn’t appreciate this question, he doesn’t let it show. “You never know with that kind of thing. The nurse said she did. Could you blame her? You’re facing down a widower holding a newborn in his arms. You’d say the sky was turning pink.”

K isn’t sure how he should react to this, so he stays quiet for a long time.

“Feel better?” Deckard asks.

“Sorta.”

“Did any of that make sense?”

“Some of it.”

“Good, cause I’m not repeating it.”

The older man rises from his seat and lifts a harness off the wall. Bo takes this as the cue to follow his lead.

“Taking Bo for his night walk. When you’re done there you can get dinner started.”

“Are these for dinner?”

“Nope. They’re for tomorrow. Dinner’s in the oven. All you gotta do is press the ‘Start’ button, big guy.”

K is alone again. He had been rather sluggish and heavy for days up to that point. Moving into his own place once again obviously wouldn’t be the end of his relationship with Deckard or Ana. What it would be is the first extended time he’s had alone with his thoughts. Is he ready for that? Does he have a choice? What is his relationship with these people exactly? He feels better than he was, but there are still more questions than he’d like.

K picks up one last potato from the container. With no one to hear him, he begins to recite the lines he knows so well.

“And a blood-black nothingness began to spin. A system of cells. Interlinked within cells. Interlinked within cells. Interlinked within one stem. And dreadfully distinct, against the dark, a tall white fountain played…”

[inkstainedfanfics]

Come Back When You Can

Summary: Guilt’s a powerful emotion, one Newt has never been good at escaping.

Word Count: 2,336

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Tag List: @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @whatinbenaddiction @benniesgalaxy @studyforthreehands @thosefantasticbeast2 @malfoyyaf

Any comments/opinions on this piece, positive or negative, are welcome and encouraged

Easy. It would be easy to fix this all. Just the flourish of the wand to send the quill into motion, one knot to tie it to the owl’s foot, and one whisper to give away the address. All too easy.

Which is why, as you chew absentmindedly on the end of your quill and stare at the blank parchment in front of you, you want to scream.

The ticking of the clock is the worst, you think, as it keeps a steady pace of seconds, minutes, hours, and days spent without Newt.

Love, I could never-blame

Darling, please understand you couldn’t make me-stay

Sweetheart, I’m not angry, I promise, you can’t take fault

Sighing, you slam the quill onto the short desk. It’s a weak quill, one that snaps as soon as it hits the sturdy tabletop, and the sharp crack breaks your will.

The nurse in the corner startles at your frustrated shout.

She straightens the cap teetering on the top of her messy red hair. She’s tried to tie it back, but the curls must be near impossible to tame, and she has to hold her hat as she rushes to your side, eyes wide in alarm.

“What hurts?” Her hand’s cold as it grips your wrist, feeling for a pulse.

“Nothing.” You mutter, dropping your head against the stack of pillows she shoved on your bed an hour earlier.

“Oh please, darlin’, nobody screams for no reason. What is it? Is it your stomach?”

You fight the urge to yell again, to scream at her to go away, to find him and bring him back here. They don’t understand, none of them do. The words, you need the right words.

Her eyes drift to the small desk on your lap, to the two halves of the quill. “Oh, darlin’, is it that old thing? Don’t worry about that. We’ve got a bunch more sitting in a cup up front. Doctors break them all the time.”

She smiles, a grin that’s supposed to placate you, but all it does is make you angrier, make you want to grab the cup of quills and snap each and every one. Perhaps then you could find a way around this knot in your gut.

Fault. Blame. Such worthless words when it comes to love.

The nurse glances at her watch. “Oh, looks like it’s time for another dose of meds. Don’t want that wound causing you any pain.”

“I don’t want any.” They make you drowsy, tired, unable to focus on the paper and that paper is the most important thing in St. Mungo’s right now.

She clucks her tongue as she bustles around, gathering your medicines. “You haven’t been trouble yet. You aren’t planning on starting now, are you?”

But you are. You’d waited a full day for Newt, figuring he was with his creatures or stuck in a publisher meeting but eager to rush to your side and hold you until the burn faded enough for out-patient care. You’d waited a full day, believing in your heart that he was on his way to your side to be with you until the two of you could go home. You’d waited a full day before asking the nurse if she had seen him.

The note was short, written in Newt’s unmistakably messy script. You’d squinted to read it the first time, to make out the words. Ice creeping into your veins, you’d reread it over and over and over again, trying to find something you missed, a word that would change the meaning, a joke that would paint this as his dry humor, but there was nothing.

His fault, he said. He’s an unnecessary danger to you, one that could eventually kill and, for that, he’s leaving. You couldn’t move after you first read it, were frozen. He can’t. Newt can’t leave, not when he’s the most important person. How can he blame himself when you’d begged to go on the trip along with him?

You deserve better, love. Find someone that prioritizes you and love them.

The note’s in the drawer next to your bed now, tucked away in a journal your nurse dug out of the bag you’d had on you when they took you away, set right next to your favorite picture of Newt. You reach for the drawer, reaching for your journal. Perhaps if you have that, read the last note Newt wrote in it before everything, you’ll find the right words, find what you can say to call him back to you.

The nurse grabs your arm, shaking her head and grinning down at you with her toothy smile. “No time for writing. We’ve got to get you set up with this shot.”

“I can’t.” You tug your arm away from her. Newt needs to know that you forgive him, that you never blamed him for any of it. All you want is for him to be at your side, holding your hand, reading you stories and giving updates on the creatures. He’d know what to say to make you laugh, would charm the nurse into giving you extra pudding come meal time. Newt’s your rock; without him around, you’ll float away.

“You need to sit still, honey.” She reaches for your wrist again, but you pull it away, ignoring the searing pain in your side.

“I need to write something.”

“You can do that later.”

“Give me the meds later.”

“I can’t. We’ve got to stick on a strict schedule. Don’t want the anti-venom to stop working because we missed a dose.”

“I just need ten minutes.” You look up at her pleadingly, praying she’ll give you the time.

“I can’t do that, and you know it. Now sit still.”

There’s the frustration again, the rage. You can’t do anything but sit here and watch the world spin, giving Newt more and more time to hide his tracks, to travel far away and never be found. So, though you regret the action before you even do it, you know what needs to happen.

Grabbing your wand, you point it at the lightbulb. “Expelliarmus!”

The nurse lurches away as the bulb explodes into thousands of shards.

“Oh for high mercy’s sake…” She mutters, drawing her own wand but pointing it only at the ground. “Why would you do that?”

But you don’t answer, already pulling out your broken quill, ink bottle, and journal. Setting them on the lap desk, you open the ink bottle and set Newt’s picture to the side. The words are there, ready to flow, and as you dip the quill into the ink, you notice a sliver of hope in your emotions, a small light quickly burning away the overwhelming anger at the situation. You know what Newt needs to hear, but it’s fading quickly. You need to get it on paper now.

The light flickers back on as the nurse finishes waving her wand. “Now,” she says, turning back to you, “your medicines.”

You scramble to grab your wand from the stand next to you, but it’s gone, across the room, stolen with a simple ‘accio.’

The words. You scribble away but it’s not fast enough, won’t be.

The nurse sighs. “Honey, put that away.”

“Just a moment more.” You mutter, lip between your teeth.

She reaches toward you. “You can finish after a quick nap.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need –“

Before you can finish, she tries to grab the tip of the quill. You jerk back, and someone’s hand or perhaps it’s the quill, smacks the ink bottle.

It twirls once, twice, falls.

You stare in horror as the black ink envelopes the page of your journal, the words you’ve already forgotten because of that damned medicine, and, faster than you can think, spills over Newt’s face.

“No. No!” You scream, pulling the picture from its fate, but you’re too late. Newt’s gone, hidden under layer after layer of black ink that won’t come off. The words are gone. The picture’s gone. He’s gone.

You stare, in shock, at the lost treasure. Ink stains your fingertips black, sullies your blanket where it drips from the lap desk, seeps through the thin pages of your journal, ruining everything.

You’re hardly aware of the band the nurse ties around your bicep or the prick of the needle a few moments later. “Sorry, honey. I’ll get this mess cleaned up. Why don’t you just lie down for a bit?”

Her words are distant, muffled by the medicine and the terror. The note he wrote you is gone, the journal full of his thoughts wrecked, and he’s missing – no, hiding, from you. If there was any way to track Newt, to find where he would go to hide, it would be in that journal.

The nurse presses against your shoulders and adjusts the pillows, taking one away so you can lie fully down. “Now sleep, honey. You’ve been under some stress. If you’re gonna recover from a venomous bite like that, you need rest, understand?”

The medicine gives you no choice. Your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slows.

Tears well up in your eyes as you let them shut. If only had stepped aside or listened to Newt when he told you to duck. If you’d done that, he’d still be here, wandering the city with you hand in hand, wondering if any other dangerous creatures had taken to wandering the streets.

You wipe them away as best you can, but your arm may as well have been made of stone for how heavy it is. Still, you manage to wipe them from your eyes just before succumbing to the dreams that will plague you soon enough.

The nurse, finished cleaning your mess and setting the writing materials aside, wipes two grey streaks from your cheek before reaching for a load of paperwork to report the incident.

An ocean away, Newt sits at his desk, puddle of ink forming under the nib of his quill. It’s been set aside, forgotten in the stream of his thoughts, each one replaying the scene, analyzing it, deciding what he could have done, how he could have fixed it and gotten you out of there. Long, deep lines stretch across his forehead as he frowns.

He leans the chair on its hind legs, mind racing. He could have dived in front of you, tackled you, explained the dangers more thoroughly beforehand, could even have used petrificus totalus to knock you to the ground and protect you from the bite. But he’d done none of that. He’d just stood across the room and screamed.

Useless.

Useless, useless, useless.

He’d decided that day, as he held you in his arms and begged you to breathe, that he was right. There wasn’t a way to justify this, to justify nearly losing you for the sake of his own research, so he grabbed his suitcase and packed it before writing the note the kind nurse promised to deliver as soon as she could. He’d squeezed your hand and kissed your forehead before leaving. When he stepped out of St. Mungo’s that day, he’d shut his eyes and apparated.

It was a terrible thing, leaving you, an action that nearly tore him in two. He’d faltered many times, thought about turning around. His fingernails are bit to the quick, and the inside of his mouth’s bloody, but he’d closed his eyes every time and pictured the slack in your body as you fell, tumbled to the ground, one final desperate look at him before the venom kicked in completely.

The image still makes him shudder.

A mix of a broom and apparition led him here, to America. It’s not his final destination, he knows, but there’s nowhere to go to escape this. Their voices, the grim tones of the doctors, they haunt his dreams whenever he manages to fall asleep.

Hospitalized for one week.

Needs extensive surgery.

Chances are 50/50.

He shuts his eyes, fingers gripping the ledge of the desk so hard pain streaks through his hands.

This is his fault. He should’ve done something. This is all his fault.

Newt’s led you into dangerous situations, put you in jeopardy more times than he can count. And all for what, himself? All because he was too scared to leave you behind and let you find someone else, someone better?

His stomach turns at the thought. Selfish. He’s always been so selfish. If he’d faced the truth earlier, accepted what was obvious to everyone, you’d be perfectly healthy right now. But he’d been selfish, a coward, unwilling to accept that he���d have to choose your safety or his happiness.

Tears fill his eyes as he knows there’s no way to avoid the choice, there’s no choice he can make that offers him both. So, for the first time, he shoves his desires away.

You’re safer without him, always will be.

He lifts his quill, flipping open his notebook. It’s empty save for a few pages, pages filled with cryptic stories and scribbled ideas about a stronger anti-venom that’s more portable, written over the past two days. Build with what you know Theseus had always said. He’d not mentioned one way or another in his first note whether he’d be back, hadn’t known if he’d have the strength to stay away. Now that he knows, has decided, you deserve the truth.

Newt’s chest aches with guilt as he plans his letter. If he’d done something, you’d be here at his side, trying to read over his shoulder, teasing him for his messy handwriting, kissing his cheek and asking if he’d like tea. If he’d just told you to stay behind for the year and wait for him to return, you’d be fine. But he didn’t. He chose to bring you along all because the thought of leaving you behind was too much to bear.

And for that, Newt knows, dipping his quill in ink to write his final goodbye to you, he’ll never forgive himself.

[raendown]

Pairing: Tobirama/Kagami Soulmate au: The one where everyone can shape shift to a unique animal form at will but if your soulmate demands you change form you are forced to.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

“CHANGE BACK!”

A loud screech and a hiss follow the shout, then laughter shortly after. The figure in the tree heaves a sigh and doesn’t bother to open his eyes. He’s been having such a good nap and he refuses to disturb it unless his students actually find him and bother him personally.

“Sensei!”

Which, it appears, they intend to do. Tobirama lets a low rumble of displeasure shake the branch his large feline form is stretched out on, warning the younger pair coming toward him that it had better be good or they’ll see their training doubled on the morrow. Neither of them heed the warning.

“Sensei! Kagami is being stupid again!”

“It’s not stupid!”

“Did you really think Aiki-san was your soulmate? She’s twice as old as sensei!”

“Sensei’s not all that much older than us!”

Two teenagers land on the branch near the trunk of the tree, bickering between each other as they stick their feet to the bark with chakra and walk towards him. Tobirama opens one red eye to glare at them for disturbing his rest and when Torifu catches sight of his expression the lad stops walking to cringe. They’re both young adults now but that doesn’t stop them from fearing their teacher’s displeasure. Tobirama might be only eight years older than their nineteen but he’s been considered an adult and an expert in many fields since he was less than half their age. His displeasure is not something to be taken lightly.

His tail flicks with annoyance as Kagami continues to babble in Torifu’s ear, wanting nothing so much as to go back to his nap. It’s hardly the first time that Kagami has decided to disturb random villagers with his silly habit and it’s unlikely this will be the last. He’s long since given up interfering on the young lad’s behalf, choosing instead to leave him to the mercy of whoever the latest victim is.

“It’s not stupid! Sensei, tell him it’s not stupid!” Kagami turns wide eyes on him, his expression wounded and open. Tobirama huffs. To tell anyone anything he would need to shift back to human form and he’s feeling much too lazy to do that.

“It really is,” Torifu insists. His expansive chest puffs out as he lifts a finger to make his point. “I mean, sure, if you demand every person you meet to change their form then someday you’re statistically likely to find the right person. You’ll demand they change, they’ll be forced to, and voila! Soulmate! Except then your first impression is that of an annoying, demanding brat and I don’t think that would be a great way to start off your relationship, do you?”

“But Torifu, it’s foolproof!”

“It’s rude!”

Tobirama turns his head, laying his fluffy ears flat against his skull as he tries hard to block them out. He loves them, he really does, but he would much prefer them to go away right now. His chakra levels still aren’t recovered from that mission he’d only just gotten back from two days ago. He shouldn’t be back to training yet but, even if he vehemently denies it, he has a soft spot for his students. Taking them to the public training areas was meant to allow them to go through the exercises he set for them while also allowing him the time to rest. There are others training on the grounds below that could answer any technical questions they have.

Instead Kagami is up to his usual antics, sneaking up behind unsuspecting victims and demanding them to change their forms on the off chance they might be his soulmate. Tobirama would roll his eyes if he hadn’t frequently been tempted to follow the same pattern when he was younger. He didn’t do it, of course. He has much more dignity than that. But he was tempted.

“Sensei you don’t think its stupid do you?” Kagami entreats him. Tobirama ignores him, eyes staying closed and not even bothering to turn his head back to the bickering pair. He can hear the little sigh of annoyance that earns him and, were he in human form, it would have made him smile slightly.

“He can’t talk in animal form, Kagami,” Torifu points out.

“Oh come on sensei! Talk to me!” It takes extra chakra control for him to dance his weight back and forth but still he does it because Kagami is the type that is always moving. “I hate it when you ignore us like this! So mean, sensei!”

Tobirama pointedly allows himself to yawn, tongue curling and eyes not even bothering to flutter. Torifu laughs.

“Let him sleep.”

“No! I want him to change back and answer me!” Kagami hops around to another branch so he can press his face right up close to the older man’s furred one. “Why won’t you change sensei? Everyone else says it’s stupid but you don’t think so do you? Do you sensei? Hey, come on!”

“He’s not gonna do it, Kagami,” his companion chortles. Kagami scrunches up his nose.

“Sensei! Change back!”

Tobirama feels the pull in his gut and his eyes snap open, a startled yowl escaping him in the split second before his fur recedes and he is suddenly and forcefully stuffed back in to human form. So unprepared for the change is he that, with a yelp, he overbalances and plummets out of the tree. His landing is far from graceful; it’s probably the least graceful landing he’s suffered since he first learned how to tree-walk. He sprawls in the dirt, a tiny cloud of dust rising around him, while the handful of shinobi gathered in the public training area stare at him in wonder.

Warmth rises under his collar as everyone stares at him, dazed and spread out in a most undignified position. The sensation of being forced to change form has been described to him endless times by Hashirama yet, even though he’s still fairly young himself, he’s long since given up on experiencing it for himself. The only one able to force someone to change is their soulmate and over the years he’s managed to convince himself that he’ll never find his. It’s a big world, after all, and most of the new people he meets don’t survive to the next morning.

Slowly, with many eyes still upon him, his head tilts back to look up in to the canopy above. Torifu and Kagami stare back down at him with twin expressions of utter shock. His eyes lock with the Uchiha’s, who looks almost as if he is too scared to move.

“He doesn’t look too happy,” Torifu whispers out the side of his mouth. Kagami gulps and Tobirama narrows his eyes.

“Kagami,” he starts in a warning tone.

That’s as far as he gets. With a small squeak of fear, Kagami shifts to his own animal form. The he darts away, a tiny red fox flitting between the treetops. Tobirama scrambles to his feet and launches himself after the younger lad.

“Kagami!” he roars. “Get back here!”

Instead of listening the idiot hurls himself away at an angle, trying to use his smaller size to shake Tobirama’s pursuit by heading through gaps and places that he can’t fit. It doesn’t work, of course. The older man can follow him by sense alone and he always manages to get ahead of him when he cannot simply follow.

The pair of them cover nearly two miles of empty forest before Tobirama realizes he has the power to stop Kagami – provided the younger is quick enough to catch himself from the inevitable fall that will result. Keeping his hands at the ready in case he needs to flicker over and catch the other himself, Tobirama smirks.

“Kagami,” he drawls, his voice starting out almost singsong only to crack like a whip as calls, “chance back!”

A satisfactory yelp meets his ears as Kagami finds himself suddenly human just as he heads for a small gap that his little fox body would have only just fit through. Instead of having to catch him, Tobirama is treated to the sight of Kagami stuck between two branches, his skinny nineteen year old body wedged tightly between rough bark on both sides. The older of the two feels no guilt in stopping to enjoy the sight for a moment, smirking. Then he chuckles, hopping around so he can talk to the other face to face rather than speaking to his rump

“Perhaps next time you’ll listen when I ask you to stop.”

“Uhm, a little help?” Kagami’s whine is edged with the tones of defeat and dread.

“Are you going to stay still and listen?”

“Are you going to hit me?”

Rocking back on his heels in surprise, Tobirama blinks rapidly while exclaiming, “Why on earth would I hit you?” He’s more than startled to see Kagami break out in a mortified flush and drop his gaze as he suddenly begins to babble, body still wriggling in an attempt to get free.

“Okay so it wouldn’t be like you to hit me but I guess I was just scared because I was worried that you’d be disappointed. You’re amazing sensei, everyone knows that, and you deserve an amazing soulmate but you got me instead! I’m really sorry! I didn’t know, I promise! You can pretend it didn’t happen if you like, I would understand.” Tobirama opens his mouth to speak, only for Kagami to continue to bulldoze right over him, voice rising in pitch as he panics a little bit more with each word. “I was just afraid of your reaction. I didn’t want you to keep looking at me and show me how disappointed you were because – well because I always dreamed of finding my soulmate and being happy. And anyone would be happy to be you’re soulmate! But I’m just me!”

“For kami’s sake,” Tobirama grumbles under his breath, stomping down the branch he’s standing upon. Kagami blathers on and on – right up until Tobirama snatches a fistful of his hair, wrenches his head around for the right angle, and plants a kiss right on his still moving lips.

The younger man falls silent only after a startled moan, the one arm that isn’t trapped reaching over to fist in Tobirama’s shirt. He sucks in air desperately through his nose as Tobirama ravages his mouth without mercy, glad to force an end to the idiotic drivel the younger had been spouting. He releases Kagami only when he feels the other go lax under his hold, body languid and melting in the pleasure of the kiss.

“Just you indeed,” he grumbles. “Are you or are you not happy to find your soulmate after all the fuss you’ve kicked up about it in the past?” Kagami stares up at him, dazed.

“I’m very happy.”

“Then for sage’s sake what on earth inspired you to think I wouldn’t be?” The only response he gets is a gaping mouth as the other stares at him, dumbfounded. “What absolute nonsense.”

Kagami continues to stare at him silently as Tobirama stomps over to brace his back against the tree and use both legs to shift the branch trapping his soulmate in place. The younger has just enough time to squirm free before his foot slips and the tree snaps defiantly back in to place. Both of them stare at each other wordlessly, one nervous and the other heavily exasperated.

“Thanks…” Kagami murmurs, rubbing at his hair awkwardly.

With a sigh and another roll of his eyes, Tobirama takes hold of the younger man’s shirt and drags him in until their faces are nose to nose. “I did not spend the better part of a decade training you for you to think so little of yourself. Fur and fang, Kagami, you don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t deserve! I’d all but given up on finding my soulmate and the moment I discover you’ve been right here under my nose this whole time you tell me I should give up on you? Hogwash!”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry! Be…happy!”

“Well you don’t look happy!”

“Well I am!”

The two stare at each other with matching frowns – until Kagami wavers and bursts in to laughter. Tobirama shifts, his frown subsiding as embarrassment creeps in. Perhaps he is acting just a bit ridiculous, shouting about being happy with such an angry look on his face. He’s never been very good at expressing himself, especially not in his human form.

By the time his companion finally calms down it occurs to Tobirama, at last, what is happening. He’s found his soulmate. He is holding his soulmate in his arms and it’s not a stranger. It’s someone he knows, someone he cares about. The possibility never occurred to him. The picture he’d had in his mind was that of meeting a perfect stranger and trying to decide if it was worth getting to know them or not. In all honestly the idea has never enthused him very much. This…he likes this much more.

“Are you through with being an idiot?” he asks once Kagami is quiet once more.

“Wha-! Don’t be mean, sensei!” Kagami pouts, tilting his head back to look up at Tobirama and then pausing when he notices their faces are still quite close. The older man smirks.

“If you wish for me to kiss you again you will refrain from calling me ‘sensei’ from now on,” he drawls. The younger flushes.

“Right.”

Kagami does not call him sensei again.

-

(A very worried Torifu finds them later, comfortably ensconced in one of the trees growing just behind Tobirama’s house. The large white feline flicks its tail idly as he naps in a perfect patch of sunshine, curled protectively around the small red fox tucked into his side. Torifu stays just long enough to hear the loud rumble of a leopard’s purr before dashing away again with a smile.)

[sugacherry]

Just Say It

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3k

Summary: You and Yoongi are stuck babysitting 

A shrill scream erupted in the small apartment. Jarring and incredibly harsh, the noise pierced my ear drum and drew me away from the manuscript I was editing to find my boyfriend’s dog jetting down the hall to avoid the grabby hands of the two-year-old that was hot on his tail. She screamed happily again, two lop-sided pig tails bouncing along with her as she turned the corner into my bedroom.

“Sol! Leave Holly alone!” I ordered throwing myself out of the chair to chase after the reckless child.

In the bedroom, I found the girl struggling to crawl under the bed, her little legs kicking behind her pathetically. I reached for her and pulled her out, another scream emerging until I had her in my arms. She struggled trying to make me drop her, but I wrapped her tightly in my grip until she stopped wiggling.

“I want to play with the doggy!” she whined.

“Not under the bed,” I replied.

I carried her out of the room leaving poor Holly to cower under the bed where he often disappeared to when Sol was around. He had been more courageous early in the day because she was sick and hardly moving, but when afternoon came the poor thing had to run for his life. I only hoped he’d stay down there until his dad came home, then maybe I’d be able to get some work done.

“You’re mean to me!” she grumbled when I plopped her down on the couch where she had spent most of her morning.

Toys laid in messy heaps around her, her blanket a crumpled mess in the farthest corner. I had given her my tablet to watch cartoons on when she had woken from a fitful nap, but she had seemed to have grown bored with them. Now I scooped the tablet up and extended it to her, a mindless game set and ready for her to play. She squealed seemingly forgetting that I was the worst person in existence as she took it. I only chuckled at her change in attitude and went back to work.

She had arrived at seven in the morning nestled in her father’s arms with a low fever, a runny nose, and a painful cough. Her dad, one of my boyfriend’s closest friends and an only father, had begged me to watch her for the day while he was at work and even though I reassured him that she would be fine, I felt the same anxious worry when she slept through the morning with only small coughs to interrupt the silence.  She was strong, though, and by noon was feeling well enough to chase poor Holly around the apartment. Even though it made it harder to work, I was so grateful to see her bounding around with energy.

“Holly’s not gonna like you anymore if you keep chasing him like that,” I teased, eyeing her over my shoulder for just a moment.

Sol’s bright eyes looked at me fleetingly; her little fingers tapping tapping tapping the screen of the tablet as violently as she could, as if hurting it would hurt me. I chuckled a little, watching her face scrunch up at the sound and couldn’t help how much she reminded me of her father.

Like Hoseok, little Sol was a bright bundle of sunshine that made anyone smile just by looking at her. She laughed at almost everything and never let anyone bring her down. She had an attitude though, and an air of charisma that was hard to miss. She was the carbon copy of her father and for that I was happy. The world always needed more Hoseoks.

I decided to leave her be and returned to my work trying to remember what I was doing before Holly’s misadventure. The manuscript I was reading was a medical drama that was filled with chaos, petty fighting, and a smidge of medical terminology to remind the reader that the characters were, in fact, trained surgeons. Reading and re-reading three pages gave me no indicator of where I was and I knew I was about to lose the fragile quiet in the apartment when I heard the lock turning on the front door, aware that Sol’s favorite uncle was about to enter the room.

“Uncle Yoongi!” she screamed happily and I turned just in time to see her scramble off the couch, her tiny legs struggling to reach the floor.

Yoongi stepped into the apartment with a bright smile directed at the little girl scampering towards him as he slipped out of his shoes. He threw his arms out and crouched down just in time to catch her, her own little arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she squealed again. Yoongi’s gummy smile appeared front and center on that gorgeous face of his. He was happiest when he could come home after a long day and see his favorite niece, especially when he got to hold her in his arms.

“Who let this little mouse into the apartment?” He said in a childish tone that entertained Sol to no end.

“Uncle Yoongi I’m not a mouse!” Sol screeched.

Yoongi laughed at the little girl in his arms and scrunched up his face. “A bunny then?”

“No! That’s Uncle Kookie!” she whined. “I’m Sol!”

“Sol?” he squinted in confusion. “What’s Sol doing here? This isn’t her house!”

“My daddy brought me because I was sick.” She gave a small sniffle for effect.

The attempt made Yoongi laugh. “You don’t look sick!”

“I am! I’ve been very sick!” She declared then graced me with her stare as she demanded: “Tell him!”

“Hey,” Yoongi tapped her head with his nose, “Is that any way to speak to someone older than you?”

Sol wasn’t looking at me but I knew the pout she gave Yoongi at the scolding. I pushed myself out of my chair and approached the two, trying to keep my calm when all I wanted was to be in his arms, too. “She’s mad because I didn’t let her chase Holly under the bed.”

Yoongi mimicked Sol’s pout. “Were you being mean to Holly again?”

“I just wanted to play!” she defended.

“Play? You’re supposed to be sick!”

“I am I am I am!”

“Why don’t you look sick then?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Because you’re here, Uncle Yoongi!”

“Am I the perfect medicine then?” Sol and I both made a similar face of disgust and Sol shook her head at Yoongi’s affectionate gummy smile. He looked between the both of us as if waiting for us to get the joke, before finally scrunching up his face too. “You’re right, that was corny.”  

I laughed. “You sounded like Jin.”

Sol frowned. “You sounded like dad.”

“Last time I try to be funny,” he pouted shuffling his way towards the toy-strewn couch.

I watched him carry the small girl and hid my smirk as he complained about all the toys and seriously, Sol, why is this one doll nearly headless? The light giggle that came from her warmed my heart. The tug at Yoongi’s lips showed that it warmed his, too. He cleared a space for both and plopped down, a pleased sigh leaving his lips as his tired body sank into the cushions.

“Hoseok didn’t leave with you?” I asked making my way back to my chair.

“He was staying at the studio for a while longer,” Yoongi replied distractedly paying attention to another toy Sol had picked up to show him. “Should be here in another hour or two.”

I smiled. “Lot of work?”

Yoongi eyed me. “Not as much as you.”

“Someone’s been keeping me busy.”

He looked between me and Sol for a minute before he scooped the girl into his arms and nestled his nose into her hair. She laughed and screamed, two things she seemed to always be doing, before Yoongi pulled away.

“Sol, why don’t we watch a movie?” he asked the small girl then looked up to me with a hint of a smile. “Let’s send the meanie into the room so we aren’t bothered, ok?”

Sol happily agreed and so did I, thankful for Yoongi and his ability to distract her with colorful things.

I gathered my stuff and carried them off into the room where Holly had found himself nestled in the pillows just far enough from the door to make a quick get-away. He relaxed more comfortably when I closed the door behind me and sat next to him, his tiny body snuggling up right next to mine. I could hear Yoongi and Sol deciding what to watch from the other room.

It was adorable how quickly Yoongi softened for her. Ever since the day she was born, he had been enamored with her, often refusing to return her to her rightful father until Hoseok threatened to take away his Sol privileges. He was just as protective, too, and just as anxious and nervous when she was sick. I had to fight with both men when Sol was dropped off in the morning, encouraging them to go to work because Sol would be in good hands. Only because it was me, they said, and I teased them throughout the day for it.

Finally able to work, I managed to get through more than half of the manuscript before my eyes started aching from staring at the screen. Holly had scampered off to his bed and remained there when I opened the bedroom door. I made my way into the living room stretching and groaning and found my boyfriend passed out on the couch with Sol nestled softly against his chest. The sight gave me pause, a smile tugging at my lips as I admired them both imagining that, for just a moment, Yoongi was holding our own little girl in his arms as they both watched TV.

The thought made my heart swell anxiously, a feeling I had pushed away more than once. I wondered how Yoongi would act with a child of his own. If his interactions with Sol were any indicator, Yoongi would make an amazing and caring father. He would entertain all ideas his child had, would do anything in his power to make them happy. He would treat them like they were royalty making sure that they felt loved every day. They would be everything to him.

And they would make him so happy.

The sound of a knock made all three of us jump, Yoongi and Sol dragged from their comfortable sleep. I opened the door and found a tired Hoseok already moving his body into the apartment before I even had a chance to say hello. He didn’t even bother to kick off his shoes as he b-lined straight for his little girl who was extending her arms up to him sleepily.

“How’s my baby girl feeling?” he cooed when he finally had her in his arms.

“I was sleeping,” she murmured.

“Dad’s sorry he had to wake you up, but it’s time to go home,” he said softly.

Yoongi began gathering Sol’s stuff in the backpack she had come with and handed Hoseok her blanket for him to wrap her up in. Sol had her head nestled on her father’s shoulder comfortably falling back asleep as the two men worked. I went into the kitchen and grabbed the medicine he had brought and returned to the living room to find Hoseok nearly out the door. He returned, a sheepish smile gracing his lips as I slipped the medicine into the backpack he carried.

“Thank you so much,” he sighed as he stepped out. “Seriously, I owe you my life.”

“Lunch will work,” I laughed and waved goodbye at the sleepy girl I adored.

“Bye bye,” she murmured as Hoseok carried her away.

Shutting the door, I sighed and allowed my body to relax in the quiet peacefulness. Arms wrapped themselves around me, a nose pressed into the crook of my neck, and soft lips smoothed over the spot just below my ear. I sunk into Yoongi’s embrace.

“Hi,” he whispered.

I laughed and turned in his arms throwing my own arms around his neck to drag him closer for a proper kiss. Gently, I pressed against him happy to feel his lips eagerly moving with mine but felt an urgency when his hands slowly dipped under the hem of my shirt to run feather touches up my spine. I tilted my head just so bringing the kiss much deeper, but he pulled away just before the fun began.

“Why were you staring at us?” he questioned with a light in his heavy-lidded eyes.

“I wasn’t staring.” I tried ending the conversation with another kiss, but he backed away again.

“I saw you staring at us,” He laughed. “You were day dreaming so you didn’t notice, but I saw you.”

The blush crept up my cheeks before I could stop it. I didn’t want to tell Yoongi what I had been thinking about when I saw him holding Sol like that. We had talked about having kids, sure, but it never made it past a few jokes about how bad we would be as parents. I was embarrassed to bring it up now.

To my surprise, Yoongi kissed my reddened cheeks, one after the other while his touch returned feather light up and down my spine. “Please tell me.”

I bit my lip, his words melting my resolve, and I let my hands glide over the buttons of his white shirt to keep them from fidgeting.

“I was thinking about you holding our baby.”

His movements stammered to a halt until he dropped his arms to his sides leaving me completely open for him. I kept my head down, too nervous to look up.

“What?” his voice deepened.

The blood rushed higher until I felt it touching my hairline while my heart hammered away in my chest. I never liked talking about these things; I always felt too open, too vulnerable. But it was Yoongi. It was my Yoongi. I pressed my forehead against his chest.

“I’m sorry I just-“ I stammered through suffocating breaths. “I don’t know. You’re so sweet with Sol and you love her so much. I was just wondering what you would be like with a baby of your own.”

The lack of a response had me regretting every word. He remained perfectly still under me with his arms held tightly against his body. If it weren’t for the vicious sound of his beating heart, I would have worried he’d turned to stone.

After a minute, his hands softly wrapped around my arms and pulled me away from him. His expression was stoic, but I could tell from the energy in his eyes that he was on the verge of combusting. I just didn’t know from what.

“Really?” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

I turned my gaze to the ceiling. “I know, it’s lame.”

“It’s not lame.” Carefully, he brushed his thumb across my chin and pulled my face back down to meet his gaze. He was still on pinpricks, but his expression was warm. “Babe, you know I want kids. I want our kids. But we both need to be ready for that before we take that step.”

His silent words were still heard. I was always the one who wasn’t ready. I thought again of how happy Yoongi looked when he came home, how excited he had been to see Sol running to him with open arms. But in my mind, happy Sol was replaced with a more petite girl grinning up with the exact same mischievous smile I saw on Yoongi all the time.

“We’re financially stable, right?”

His eyes brows pulled together. “I-I think so.”

“And we love each other.” I shrugged. “I mean we’re not married, but that’s just because we don’t see the point.”

He squinted curiously. “Right.”

“But we could get married, if we needed to.”

A smile began to form.

“Sure.”

“I mean, a kid’s not a total buzz kill,” I muttered. His arms snuck around my waist. “Hoseok’s still pretty cool.”

“The coolest.” It was a full-blown grin now.

I resisted the urge to attack him with kisses again very aware that I needed to say this before I chickened out. “Our kid would be the best.”

He pressed his lips against my neck right above the frantic pulsing of my heart. He gave a soft nibble then moved to press his lips just above my ear.

“Would you please just say it.” His voice was hoarse again.

I took a minute to compose myself and pulled away from him. If I was going to say this, I was damn well going to be making eye contact while I did. The anxious feeling took over again, but I let it sit in my chest until it felt more like excitement.

I smiled and nodded. “I think I’m ready.”

“Oh, fuck, finally.”

He pushed me until my back hit the door and devoured every breath I had with his desperate mouth. My hands burned to touch every inch of his body that I could reach, my head clamoring with how right everything now felt. I was Yoongi’s and Yoongi was mine. It had been pointless to postpone this for so long.

He broke away and clawed at the hem of my shirt, but stopped himself before getting it off. Eyeing me through his bangs, his lips tugged up in an endearing smile. “I love you.”

I didn’t have to say it back, because he already knew.