#his poor paws squished into those heels...

[egg-baby-official]

BTW I’M (PREDICTABLY) OBSESSED WITH THIS RALSEI OUTFIT

[seokiloquy]

Wood of Nine - Suna Rintarou

AU: Mythical Hybrid (?)

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, uhhhhh nothing else?

Word Count: 2.4K

The men scattered, running in different directions, slight screams escaping their mouths as they sprinted away. One tripped over a root, abandoned by his friends and scrambled to his feet to follow their retreating steps.

Tall trees surround every visible stretch of land, reaching so high that it turned the sky green. The forest floor was uneven, rock and moss-covered with no discernable beaten path.

You sighed, watching the last man flee with a horrified scream of "nine" echoing behind him.

With a pinched brow, your eyes followed him through the dense trees until you couldn’t see him any longer before looking at your claws hands, nails sharp and ready for action after an unknown amount of time spent waiting.

"Nine?" You muttered, feeling your single white tail whip behind you in a swaying motion.

You had opened your eyes that morning to light chirps and rustling leaves, a welcoming atmosphere to most had you not realized that you were sitting in a dark wooden crate in the middle of nowhere. It was a quick, unwelcome conclusion that you had come to.

They shipped you off.

After years of worship and praise, people on their knees in your presence, feeding you, caring for you as they wished for good luck and fortune. Years of care for your small group of people, and they shipped you off in your sleep.

You looked up from your hands and picked your claws at the bark of a tree, wincing at the feeling of the hardwood lifting the sharpened nail from your skin. A huff pushed its way out of your chest and you bent your knees to sit back down onto the collapsed wooden crate that you were provided. You delicately patted the lightweight clothes that you had been dressed in, picking at loose threads and groaning at the poor quality.

As the sky turned dark and the air became cold, you continued to sit, back straight and chin held up as you watched the once dull now bioluminescent plants and creatures appear around you. The sight, though new and fascinating to your sheltered eyes, didn't keep you from leaving the wooden floor you sat on.

The fluffy, well-groomed ears that sat atop your head twitched with every crack and scuff you heard in the trees. You trail unconsciously moved to wrap around your side and onto your lap, where you twisted the fire between the pads of your fingers.

A sudden growl from behind you sent shivers up your spine, joining the cold air in challenging your will. Every muscle in your body tightened, making you vibrate slightly as you shut your eyes. You gripped the ends of your tail tightly as you sat still, breaths slowly accelerating. You flinched slightly as a wet, rough textured pad hitting the back of your neck, puffing out warm air before creating audible sniffs.

You listened as the creature slowly made its way around you, clawed paws clicking against the hardwood that you sat on. When you heard it’s fur fit the wooden plate, you squinted an eye open, catching sight of its proud figure sitting before you.

“Beast. What do you want?”

Wide back eyes stared directly into you, much more still than you could force yourself to be in that moment. The unfamiliar creature let out a gentle chuff and bob it’s head in your direction. 

“I apologize, but I don’t understand.” You watched the creature’s orange fur ruffled with the light breeze and it closed its eyes for a moment before staring back at you. Your tail twitched. “Well, may I ask for your purpose here?”

You waited for it to speak, give you well wishes and kind recognitions, maybe lick at your claws. It sat for a moment, before getting on all fours and walking behind you. You closed your eyes at the action, sighing, and remaining still in your makeshift seat.

You heard a growl, quickly followed by a choking hold pulling at the back of your ratty tunic. You sputtered, gasping in a gulp of air, and rose to your feet to see the black-tipped eared creature staring back at you.

“Ah, I see. You didn’t need to pull on me like a kit.”

The creature chuffed again, scoffing as it began to walk off it’s black dipped paws into the forest. You bit your tongue and scrunched your nose as you followed it deeper into the glowing woods. 

Moss squished underneath your toes and the hard texture of fallen branches and pebbles dug into the soft pads of your feet. The creature was more elegant, prancing over each piece element a few steps ahead of you as you slowly stumbled behind. You tripped, wincing as you massaged your overworked food, only to look up and find the creature burrowing itself into a small cave opening. 

You shivered as a warm breeze grazed over your shoulder. “Hey, don’t leave me behind.”

“Don’t mind her, little lagopus. She has to care for her young.” The warm air on your neck moved quicker. 

Shoulder’s hiking up, you stepped forward and spun around on a piece of soft moss. The man rose from his slight hunch, angling his head down to show you the sharp features of his face in the dim plant-light. He wore a dead expression, brow relaxed and eyelids drooped. His mouth created a shallow triangle whose points traced an invisible line to the sharp angles of his jaw. On the line of his cheekbones leading to the tip of his nose was discolouration, creating a slightly darker shade on the upper half of his face like a mask, which easily blended into his hair that swooped up into gentle points on the sides of his head that nearly made his straight furred ears blend in.

His arms around his torso to his back, where he easily lead your attention off of the draping curves of his beautifully stitched robe to the long collection of grey tails with white tips and hints of orange.

You could feel the strain in your forehead as your eyebrows tried to meet your hairline. “Nine,” you whispered, echoing the screams you heard.

His brow twitched upward and his head tilted, tails flicking curiously “You’ve heard of me? That’s surprising considering your sheltered upbringing.”

“Only in passing, only today. Upbringing?”

“Protected by the company of those filthy humans of course.”

He dropped his hands to his side before raising them up, placing one long-fingered hand onto your shoulder and the other gesturing to a small, human-shaped opening in the side of a grotesquely large tree.

“I wouldn’t say filthy, I was worshipped. Why is that tree so wide? And tall?”

“It’s in the centre of the forest. I requested for you to be sent directly here, but those humans were too fearful I’m afraid. Come in, I’ll make tea.” He gestured you through the wooden door, closing it behind him as he entered. “And as for being worshipped, they thought you a pompous feline.”

The inside of the tree was hollowed out, the same glowing plants from outside decorated the ceiling to light up the open space. You noticed a carved out staircase across from the entrance, at the back, between the kitchen and what appeared to be a mixture of a workshop, study and lounge with a variety of trinkets scattered around. 

The nine-tailed man nodded to a seat for you to occupy as he fiddled with some flint in his hands.

“Feline? You say that as if they made an incorrect assessment.”

“I am,” he said, spinning on the heel of his calloused foot, two cups of tea in hand. “But feel free to try and prove me wrong. Though I’m sure their readiness to throw you out was proof enough.” A small fang peeked out from under his top lip at the slightest twitch of visible emotion. 

“Alright. I’m no cat. Then what am I?”

“Vulpes of course, lagopus no less.”

You took the mug from his hand, claw gently dragging against the back of it. He reciprocated by teasingly flicking the rim with his own. It was warm, much warmer than the cold outside air. You felt yourself warming up as you took a sip. “Enlighten me. What is that and how did they figure it out?”

“A white fox. How they figured it out though, I’m not sure. I was told by an excited pair of travellers that the nearby village was planning to eliminate their deity. Couldn’t let that happen, now could I?” He sipped on his tea, leaning his elbows on the table as he sat across from you.

You set your mug down, a rod shooting through to your spine as you looked into his golden eyes. “Eliminate? That’s typically a kind way to say execute, murder.”

“That it is. I chose not to risk it and asked those kind travellers to use their crows to deliver a letter for me. It was kind of them to offer their service.” He took a deep breath in. “Not that they had a choice, they are walking through my forest after all.”

You studied his calculated movements, sipping on your tea. “May I ask your name, forest owner?”

He huffed through his nose in a silent chuckle. “Rintarou, last of Suna. And yours?”

“(Y/N), only. No surname was given to me. But Suna? No wonder you’re in charge of the forest, your whole lineage is made up of protectors, the reliable.”

Suna hummed, “And how are you aware of that information when you seem so oblivious to everything else.”

“I read it in a book once. Well, a small girl read it to me.”

“To you.”

“You should know that cats are seen as cunning and wise to humans. They never let me read, or even learn how to. They thought I knew everything there was to know. I suppose that led them to find out that I was not a feline, like we all believed I was,” you yawned, setting the nearly empty cup on the table. “What we all thought I was.”

Suna peered out one of his hollow windows to the darkness outside his home. “It’s rather late. I have a second cot for you to use. Let’s head upstairs.” He watched as you took a final gulp of tea before setting both mugs to the side of his kitchen counter.

The solid steps didn’t creak as he led you up them, before walking into the similarly sized room and giving you the chance to observe it all. The cots, that he has quickly gone to tidying, were pushed against one wall, pillows next to each other as the foot of them pointed in opposite directions. On the opposite end of the room, similar to the one below, was what seemed to be a round space, tall shelves lining the walls with well-handled books filling each open space.

You walked over, eyes skimming over the letters on the spines as you tried to make out their titles.

“I can teach you. To read that is. A lot of those books are informative, but quite a few are of fictional variety if you so please in the future.”

You looked over your shoulder, seeing Suna look up at you in question as he sat down on what you assumed to be his cot. Giving one last glance to the books, you walked to the empty cot, pulling the blanket over your legs and setting your head on the fluffed pillow. Suna leaned, resting a hand above your pillow, on the floor, to carry his weight. You looked up at his glowing eyes.

“Would you be so kind to do that?”

“Of course. Now rest, it’s been a stressful day.”

With the rising sun came howls of anger and metal pots smashing together. You sat up from your cot, twisting around to see Suna’s empty bed left with an unkept blanket crumpled to the side. You yawned, tail flicking as you stretched before your twitching ears picked up on the ruckus outside. You crawled to the window, squinting as the sunlight tried to burn into your eyes.

“Bring the fowl beast out!” the crowd jeered. 

You caught a glance and Suna’s slouched figure standing a few metres before the door, hands raised in a sort of mock surrender. As your eyes began to adjust and the blood began running through your ears in waves you started to put together the familiar faces in the crowd. You strangled a gasp before ducking beneath the window sill.

“Now, now. No reason to start a riot. That beast you speak of is no longer here, it was a very big meal I must say, but if you start acting up I might be so inclined to make room in my stomach for more.”

The crowd seemed to choke.

“So, if that sways you, would you be so kind to remove that blade away from my neck? It’s rusty and clashes with my fur.”

You sit silently, legs pulled as close to your chest as you were able, with your clawed hands over your mouth.

A man’s voice cracked through the silence, “Meal? You expect us to believe you ate your own kind? Preposterous!”

The lilt that poured from Suna’s voice made the smirk he wore paint the air. “What’s preposterous is that you wouldn’t believe a beast to do such a thing.” There was silence. “I suggest you run now. This is my forest after all.”

As soon as his voice stopped, a chorus of growls began to erupt from the hidden corners of the forest. You rolled onto your knees to take a look, just in time to catch the horrified faces your old people wore before they ran away, screams of ‘nine’ following them.

Suna was quick to enter his home again, greeted with an amused chuckle coming down the stairs.

“Hmm human flesh, how delectable,” you crooned before falling into another laugh, tail swishing and ears pinned back.

“Be careful there Lagopus, I still haven’t had much in terms of lunch.” He paced towards his kitchen. “Care to join me?”

You sat on the same wooden chair from the night before. “So long as I am not on the plate, yes.”

….At some point while writing this, Suna reminded me of Shrek…. I’m sorry - Bacon

Posted: 20/12/2020

[heli0s-writes]

I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

 It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

-

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.  

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

 At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

 The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

--

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

 The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

[raendown]

A commission from @officerjennie for a friend! 

Pairing: TobiramaItachi Word count: 5077 Rated: T+ Summary: Itachi and Tobirama get a cat. They didn't really mean to. They certainly weren't prepared to.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Meow and Furever

They hadn’t actually intended to get a cat. If not for their own collective lack of creativity they would never have even been inside the shop that day. Social niceties dictated they bring some sort of gift to Hashirama’s house-warming party that weekend but neither of them were any good at buying gifts for other people; such was the main reason they had a long standing agreement to the limit of one gift each during the holidays. Without any better ideas they had come to the conclusion that they would instead purchase gifts for Hashirama’s many dogs. That was just the sort of cute gesture he would adore and it came with the added bonus of not disappointing any human recipients. 

So off they went to peruse through aisle upon aisle of nonsense toys that made an entire cacophony of noises when squeezed or shaken. It was standing at the end of aisle twenty-seven with a plastic hotdog between his hands that Itachi spotted the beast who would change their lives forever. 

“Tobi,” he murmured from one corner of his mouth. When the other did not respond he reached out to nudge lightly with one elbow. Tobirama grunted, looking up from comparing two different squeaky donuts. 

“What is it?”

“Look.”

He did. And what he saw was quite possibly the ugliest cat he had ever come across in his entire life. Situated behind glass in a wall of cages designed to attract potential pet parents while also keeping the animals safe, a pair of amber eyes glared back at him in a way that spelled death. Or possibly begged for treats. It was hard to tell under the absolute explosion of ginger fur and the massive jaw. 

Almost before Tobirama could process the man had even moved Itachi was across the aisle and all but pressed against the glass barrier, fingers coming up to trace patterns in the air for the angry ball of fluff to follow with its eyes. The store employee standing nearby gave them a side glance that practically smelled like a sales pitch. She watched with dollar signs in her eyes as the giant orange cat stretched out both front legs and yawned, showing off uneven teeth sticking out in all sorts of strange directions, then pattered daintily closer to the glass where it sat and resumed staring at the brave human who dared to approach.

“What on earth happened to its face?” Tobirama wondered out loud. As though it heard him, the cat turned to look at him with both ears swiveled forward as best they could over the crumpled folds of skin. Despite its obvious feline roots one could almost mistake it for a pug with a face that squished.

“Poor genetics,” the nearby employee piped up. “He was born that way. It’s put off quite a number of potential owners.” 

“I think he’s beautiful,” Itachi breathed. 

When the cat looked back in his direction he cooed and wriggled his fingers enticingly. Tobirama sighed. After several years together he knew his partner very well and he knew the look in those dark, beloved eyes. Come hell or high water they were going to take that animal home. Oh he could put up a fuss and dig in his heels, he could come up with a dozen logical arguments why they shouldn’t or couldn’t, but when Itachi really wanted something he had ways of being quite convincing. All of them were very underhanded. None of them were the sort of thing Tobirama wanted strangers to witness in the middle of a public pet shop. 

Still, he had a reputation to maintain. With as stern of an expression as he could muster he simply growled, “No.”

“But look at him!” Itachi whipped about to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I am,” Tobirama said. “He’s as ugly as sin.”

“He’s perfect.”

“The answer is no, Itachi, we are not taking him with us. We don’t have anything for a cat at home. He would destroy the furniture we only just finished paying off!” 

Despite knowing this was a battle he would inevitably lose Tobirama folded his arms with every intention of standing his ground. 

An hour later they were trooping out the front door of the shop with half a dozen bags of assorted feline paraphernalia and a plastic carrier containing one very smug orange monster. The inside was meant to be lined with blankets for extra comfort but after the third was ruined before it could even make it halfway inside the staff decided that perhaps it was best they keep anything soft far away from those sharp claws until the thing was no longer their problem. Tobirama said a silent goodbye to the sides of his couch even as he watched Itachi settle the carrier across both knees and murmur soothingly through the grated door. Incredibly, he did not get hissed at.

For the entirety of the drive home the two new cat parents discussed their options for names. On the adoption forms Itachi had written down the first thing that came to mind simply for the sake of being able to take him home quicker but that was one thing Tobirama had successfully put his foot down on. He refused to call out ‘Butternut Squash’ whenever he inevitably got angry at the cat for something. They tossed a lot of options back and forth and by the end of the drive it was narrowed down to two different options. 

“I would have thought you’d be more excited about ‘Tang’,” Itachi mused. “It’s close enough to the word dang that you could almost feel like you’re swearing.”

“True. Unfortunately it reminds me of that awful drink powder my brothers were all obsessed with when we were young.”

“Ah yes. That would be why I rejected ‘Clifford’. I remember it a little too well from a show my own brother used to enjoy.” He frowned briefly, though it faded when his new monster gave off a sort of rumbling sound that might have been purr or growl, it was impossible to tell. 

Pulling in to the driveway, Tobirama gave a sage nod. He’d never liked that show either. “Alright so what are we going for? I’ll leave the final decision up to you; are we calling him Winston or Rohan?”

He didn’t get an answer until after they had fought their way out of the car and in to the home with their many large bags. Itachi set the carrier down on the kitchen floor and then sat beside it to coo through the door soothingly. Whether or not it worked was hard to tell. Before opening the door to let their new family member roam free he paused to crane his neck up with a smile. 

“Would you consider another option?” he asked. 

“Seriously?” Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. “We just spent half an hour narrowing this down and you want to throw in a new contender?”

“Tesla. We could call him Tesla.”

“...because all that fur makes him look like he’s been in some sort of electrical accident?” 

“Precisely.” As if to prove the point he’d already made Itachi squeezed the latch and twisted, swinging the little door open, then beamed with a parental sort of pride as their newest addition came stumping out of its carrier in a gait that reminded Tobirama very uncomfortably of his brother’s best friend. 

True to his proposed name, however, the cloud of orange fur surrounding the cat’s massive bulk stood out from his body in raggedy clumps that gave a very good impression of being recently electrocuted. After pausing to rub himself up against Itachi’s knee almost incidentally he took a few cautious steps and lifted his nose to sniff the air. His misshapen little nose wriggled in time with his ears, swiveling front and back while he tried to take in as much information as possible about this new environment. Both humans watched him take a few more steps-

Only to plop his bottom down on the linoleum and declare the whole adventure business to be too much trouble. Instead he stretched out and rolled over to put all four paws in the air. 

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean,” Tobirama murmured. 

“Maybe that he feels safe here already?” Hesitating very briefly, Itachi reached out and dared to run his fingers through the wild hair covering the belly on offer. “Oh. Oh he’s so soft!” 

“So clumpy, you mean. I wonder when he last groomed himself.” 

His partner gave him a stern look. “Quit insulting him and just tell me whether or not you like the name!” 

“Yes, I think Tesla is a good name for him,” Tobirama gave in. It wasn’t a lie, he did think it was a good name and it definitely appealed to his nerdy side, he was just a little too fond of the way Itachi’s nose wrinkled whenever he was exasperated. He was a little too fond of many things about this man. 

Tesla himself seemed to approve of the name and he showed this by rolling heavily back on to his feet and strutting away from them both with his tail held high in the air. His short hesitant footsteps were surprisingly delicate for a creature of his size. Just as Tobirama was beginning to think that perhaps adopting him wouldn’t be quite as big of a change to their lives as he had initially suspected Tesla paused to lock his gaze on to the dishes piled up by the sink. With both of their families stopping by for visits over the past week there hadn’t been much free time to wash the dishes just yet so the stacks were getting just a little wobbly. That, of course, is precisely what caught Tesla’s attention. 

Before either of them had time to do more than gasp with prophetic despair Tesla crouched down and launched himself upwards straight towards the tallest and most wobbly stack of dishes on the countertop. It was only by the grace of some god or other that all the bowls and cups he smacked in to face first were each made of plastic. A good thing, too, as they all immediately came cascading down towards the floor amid shrieking yowls of surprise. Tesla’s little claws screeched against the kitchen floor as he landed only to shoot out of the room in fright, abandoning his new parents to the task of cleaning up his very first mess. 

Tobirama felt he was being incredibly generous by waiting until after they had spent five minutes chasing waywards cups that really wanted to roll their way to freedom before turning to his partner with both eyebrows on the upper limits of his forehead. Unfortunately for the sassy remark he’d been composing in his head, Itachi beat him to the punch. 

“He lived his whole life in that shelter,” he reasoned. “A pile of dishes is probably something he’s never seen before; he couldn’t have known that would happen!” 

“Don’t think logic will save him from my wrath every time,” Tobirama muttered. 

Gathering up as much dignity as he could, he set all his gathered dishes down and swept out of the room. Now would have been a perfect time to actually wash the dirty cutlery and so on but he was much more concerned with what else their fluffy new resident could have gotten in to. Five minutes was a long time for a cat to be loose in an unfamiliar environment. All it took was a couple of visits to any of his brothers’ homes to know that pets were their own class of natural disaster.

As it turned out, his instincts were correct. Barely two steps past the kitchen Tobirama broke out in to a run as a terrible ripping sound reached his ears. When he skidded in to the living room it was to find Tesla halfway up their living room curtains, although by the look of the long rips he’d probably made it quite a bit higher before the polyester gave up its structural integrity. Granted, those curtains were ugly as ugly as he was and only remained in the window because they’d been a gift from Itachi’s younger brother at some point, but that didn’t make the prospect of replacing them any more pleasant. 

“I should leave you there,” Tobirama snapped. Tesla wriggled until he could tilt his head for a very cute and innocent meow. 

“What happ- oh! He’s stuck! Can you hold the curtains still so I can get him down?” Itachi inched around their cluttered living room to reach the window where he began stroking down the cat’s back, hoping to sooth him. 

Tesla honestly didn’t look like he needed much soothing. He purred to have such gentle affection, a sound that could be compared to a dying lawn mower, and continued to hang in place as though such had been his intentions all along. It took the two humans working together several minutes to detangle all four sets of claws so they could set the cat back on the ground, whereupon he immediately leapt on to the couch and began kneading the blanket Mito had crocheted for Itachi as a birthday present several years back. 

“You’re not going to stop him?” Tobirama asked incredulously. “He’s going to pull out all the threads and leave holes!”

“It’s crochet, it’s already full of holes. No one will notice.” 

“Mito will notice.”

Like he’d been struck with lightning Itachi launched in to action, crawling over furniture to reach for Tesla and very gently encourage him to leave the blanket alone. Evidently having his activities interrupted was grounds for declaring war in cat language. The moment his claws were once again detached Tesla hissed wetly at them both and took off down the hall to disappear in to yet another new room. Both men hurried after him.

One cat, Tobirama thought to himself as they came to a skidding halt outside the bathroom. It was only one bloody cat. If he didn’t already know the exact devastated expression his partner would give him for doing so he would give up now and toss the bloody animal outside in to the garden. Gently, of course, because he was actually pretty fond of cats himself. But he was also fond of maintaining an orderly home life and while the cat he’d taken care of growing up had been docile, almost demure, it hadn’t exactly taken him a lot of time to realize this one would not behave the same. They may have chosen his name for the way his fur stuck out at odd angles but it was becoming very clear that Tesla had lightning in his veins as well. Tobirama could already predict many nights being awoken by an attack of ‘the zoomies’ as his brother called it.

“Ah! Tesla! Don’t eat that please!” Itachi hurried forward to rescue the bowl of sweets he kept on his side of the bed for the rare occasion he got a craving. “I don’t think those are good for you.” Tesla meowed curiously and made a valiant effort to follow the bowl, determined to continue inspecting the contents. 

“Just let him sniff it and maybe he’ll leave it alone once he knows what it is,” Tobirama suggested. 

“But what if he tries to eat one?” 

With a sigh Tobirama looked down at the cat stretched up on his hind legs and shook his head. “Then I suggest putting it inside your nightstand for now. Come on, you, let's show you where your litter box and food are. Maybe that will calm you down.” 

Tesla gave a very loud protest when he was picked up without further warning. As good as he’d been in the carrier, he didn’t seem to appreciate being swung freely through the air. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t trust him to keep his claws to himself just yet and so he opted for holding the beast out in front of him like a stinky sack of potatoes rather than cuddling him up close as he would with any other cat. Considering the size of him it was no surprise that Tobirama’s arms began to feel the strain long before he finally made his way in to the laundry room where they planned to set up the litter, figuring this was the best place for any possible stinkiness. 

Only after he had arrived and found himself in the middle of the room did he remember that they hadn’t actually had time to set anything up just yet. 

“How much do you love me?” he asked in a flat voice. From behind he heard Itachi cough in a poor attempt at covering up a bit of laughter. 

“Enough to lock you in here with him while I go get everything ready.”

Tobirama sighed despondently. It was probably for the best. Leaving Tesla in here alone would probably result in some kind of disaster. Reluctantly and with much pouting, he agreed, watching the door close them in like a prisoner might watch the door to his jail cell slam shut. When they were alone he set Tesla on top of the washing machine and wrinkled his nose in irritation when the cat immediately began pawing at a stack of clean laundry. He supposed he should say goodbye now to the idea of ever being cat hair free again. Not even a lint roller was going to save him from this explosion of puff. 

By some merciful twist of fate it only took Itachi a few minutes to set up the food and water dishes in their kitchen and fill the litter box, something he did right outside the door. The sound of him pouring litter just a plank of wood away drove Tesla absolutely mad and set him to scratching at the door until finally Itachi opened it.

“Clearly he’s already decided which of us to attach himself to.”

“Well can you blame him?” Itachi carefully set the box down and buried his fingers in orange fur. “From the sounds of it I was the first person to ever give him a chance. Just look at this face, who could ever help loving a face like this?”

If not for the fact that he was overly aware he was making the exact same expression as the cat, Tobirama would have had some very different answers to that question. Instead he only darkened his scowl and turned away. Stupid animal. As soon as his partner spotted the thing he’d known they would end up taking it home but it was only now hitting him just how sleepless, fur-covered, and lonely his future was looking. The shame was probably the worst part. He was jealous of a cat. A cat. Well, more of an orange monster that was clearly plotting to steal all of Itachi’s time and affection away from him. 

Doing his best to consciously smooth his face in to something more neutral and unrelated to cat based jealousy, Tobirama cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we be showing him his litter box so he knows where it is? That’s supposed to be important.” 

“Oh, right, yeah.” 

“So maybe you should put him down, then?”

“But listen to him purring…” Itachi gave him a tiny smile that blossomed in to a full grin when he laid his head down against Tesla’s side to listen to his monstrous purrs from up close. 

With a huff Tobirama nudged the litter box. “Just put him in it.”

It was already happening. The stupid beast was already stealing Itachi’s best smiles, the really soft ones normally reserved just for him when the two of them were all alone. And he was already feeling stupid for letting it get to him. Tobirama wondered if it would be a little too childish to bury the stupid thing in litter while it was still clean just to have what petty revenge he could; it wasn’t as though Tesla would really understand, after all. Stealing Itachi away wasn’t exactly premeditated. 

Nor was it real, the man was still right there and he would no doubt still have a part of his large heart reserved for the one who shared his bed, it was just that Tobirama was already fairly sure their bed had just gained another occupant. 

“Come on little one, like this!” Itachi used the litter scoop to dig through it like he was teaching a child something new. 

“I think he knows how to bury his own shit,” Tobirama grumbled. “The store said he was box trained.”

“What if this isn’t the brand they used? Change can be confusing for anyone.” 

“Oh for- I’m going to make dinner.” 

So he did. Tobirama ignored the bemused questions that followed him out in to the hall, calling back over his shoulder that keeping up with Tesla’s explorations was Itachi’s responsibility for now as he himself stomped off to the kitchen while trying not to be obvious about said stomping. 

Irritated as he was, he chose not to make anything too complicated for dinner, not wanting to let his distraction affect how well he cared for his beloved partner. He definitely had an advantage in this arena. Tesla was great and all but his paws probably weren’t all that useful in the kitchen - not to mention he would coat anything he touched in long ginger fur. Not very tasty for humans. 

Eventually as he went about his business the familiar motions of chopping and stirring and fiddling with their faulty stove dials helped center him, calming the silly emotions he hadn’t been able to help. There was something about the simple domesticity of housework that never failed to bring him back in to himself. Probably because housework didn’t require much of his brainpower and so allowed him plenty of time to work through his thoughts without any expectations or outside pressures. Tobirama opened the dishwasher to pull out his favorite set of miso bowls and admitted silently to himself that he might have overreacted to getting a cat. Sure he usually loved cats and yes he had very much enjoyed having one as a child but he and Itachi had lived alone together for close to a decade at this point, their home had become a place where he knew that the rest of the world could fade away and he could envelope himself in nothing but the quiet man who stole his heart from the very first date. It was a little embarrassing to realize that he’d grown so attached to that concept that even as simple of an addition as a pet could make him feel threatened. Itachi would love him no less. Pay him no less attention. Really there was nothing to worry about. 

Almost as though he could sense that a bit of mental peace had been reached, Itachi came wandering in to the room just as Tobirama was pulling down some glasses. He insisted on setting the table, for which Tobirama was grateful, and in only a couple of minutes they were both seated together devouring a simple yet delicious meal. The kitchen was Tobirama’s domain and his talents in that area only grew with each year. On the other hand Itachi hadn’t learned to cook until he was nearly thirty and his talents mostly included bowling water. 

When Tesla came wandering in to the room with a plaintive yowl Tobirama found it in himself not to glare at the sight of his partner leaping up immediately to guide him towards the cat dish. He supposed the animal deserved to have dinner as well and they might as well eat at the same time. A small fragment of his mental peace was shattered when Tesla began to eat, however, and he realized the stupid thing snarfed down its food with a litany of disgusting sounds almost like he were gargling it. Just because he accepted that the beast would be living here didn’t mean he had to like the thing. 

“Thank you for agreeing to let him come home with us,” Itachi said as he slid back in to his chair. Tobirama grunted. “I can’t imagine how it must have felt to stay in that place for so long with only a tiny cage to live in and never have anyone love him.” 

Rather than answer all Tobirama could do was grunt again and stir his miso aimlessly while trying not to feel guilty for fantasizing earlier about tossing the thing out. 

Dinner was quick, the clean up after even quicker, and even though it was probably a bad idea Tobirama decided that the rest of the evening would be his own, determined to ignore any shenanigans their new addition might get up to. Several people had told him over the years that he was too uptight. He would show them. Of course he knew how to relax, how to let the small things go. How much damage could one animal do in the short span of a single evening? 

After the past couple of hours he already knew the answer to that question; he chose to ignore it. 

Never having been a large fan of most popular TV shows, he spent the rest of his evening curled up in one corner of their large couch trying not to leap up and investigate every crash or yowl or quiet scolding word. Listening to his partner follow the cat around while Tesla continued learning this new environment did make him feel slightly guilty. Not guilty enough to actually go help though, not when getting the damn thing had been all Itachi’s idea. Sometimes he could be a nice guy but he certainly wasn’t that nice. Instead he combated his helpful urges by sinking farther and farther in to the cushions with every loud noise until he was all but buried between them and tried his best not to imagine what chaos was being made of his neat and orderly home. Whatever got misplaced he was sure Itachi would at least try to clean it up. 

By the time his phone went off to tell him he should probably go to bed - a daily alarm he’d been using since college when his study habits grew wildly unhealthy - his efforts to relax hadn’t been nearly as successful as he would have liked but he wasn’t feeling quite so twisted up in knots as he had been before dinner. Tobirama called a few vague words down the hall to let his partner know he was tucking in for the night, pleased to hear Itachi call back that he would follow in a few minutes. A man of his word, he was in the bedroom getting changed when Tobirama came back out of the bathroom, teeth freshly brushed and flossed. 

Since Itachi always took so much longer to perform his nightly ablutions Tobirama had plenty of time to slip under the covers and squirm about to find a comfortable position. He didn’t often move around much in his sleep but the older he got the more prone he was to aching limbs if he didn’t fall asleep in just the right position. Just as Itachi came out and crossed the room to turn out the light Tobirama at last found the perfect spot, spread out on his side just close enough to the center of the bed that when the other man crawled under the sheets he was able to fit himself right in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips. As much as he liked to pretend that cuddling was something he only did for his partner’s benefit, it did help him sleep most days. Tobirama was grateful that slumber was such a private activity. There was no need for anyone else to know that under his gruff exterior he was nearly as sappy as his older brother. 

Like he often did, Tobirama had trouble falling asleep. Listening to the sound of Itachi’s breathing evening out relaxed him, of course, but he still found himself distressingly awake to hear the sound of their bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. A scowl touched his face when he felt the end of the mattress dip under a tiny weight. 

“Do you really have to?” he grumbled under his breath. 

As though in answer Tesla gave a low meow and trotted a full circle around the lump their bodies made together under the covers, looking for the perfect spot to lie down. No choice could have been more surprising than the one he went for. Tobirama was left blinking rapidly at the back of Itachi’s head when he felt soft fur press up against his neck; almost immediately his entire frame was practically shaken with the force of Tesla’s raucous purring. He didn’t even like the stupid thing but of course he was the one it wanted to cuddle with as they all slept through their first night together.

That, of course, was when it hit him. He understood at last why his partner had fallen so deeply in love with this creature and why it had been so important that they take him home. If ever there had existed a cat form of Tobirama himself it would be Tesla. Coarse and unrefined, prone to explorations and a curiosity that was never quite sated, he himself was exactly the sort of person many others would pass up without a second thought. He was grumpy, he was cantankerous, and he wasn't much to look at. But at the end of the day when it was only him and the ones he loved Tobirama was as soft as melted butter. If he could purr then he certainly would have every time he fitted himself around Itachi’s warm and welcoming form. 

“Alright, fine,” he murmured, shifting so Tesla could curl around his head a little more comfortably. “You can stay. Just to be clear, though, I was still here first. And don’t you forget that.”

He didn’t get much of a reply but he wasn’t really expecting one. Tesla merely continued to purr, Itachi continued to dream, and Tobirama decided that he didn’t mind expanding his family just a little bit. Of all the possible choices for a pet it did warm him inside to know that, in a way, his partner had chosen to fall in love with him all over again. 

[orwocolor]

saturday mornings with borhap boys in bed

AN: As always, the rest of the boys are under the cut. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment :)

Gwilym

a loud beeping noise startles you

your body jerks up, and with your eyes still closed, your hand shoots to an alarm clock sitting on your bedside table, snoozing the alarm as quickly as possible

you groan and burrow back into duvets

you scoot over to gwilym who’s lying right next to you

although he’s still half asleep, he opens his arms wide and let you snuggle into him

he encircles his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible

you take a deep breath through your nose, and breathe in his scent

you nuzzle the crook of his neck, his beard scratching lightly against your forehead

he starts weaving his fingers in your hair but soon enough, his arm grows heavy on you and he’s back in deep slumber

and you desire nothing else and so you soon follow him

but as it usually it, five minutes later, the sound of the alarm clock pierces through your bedroom

this time, it’s gwil who reaches over you and dismisses the alarm completely

you roll on your back and rub your eyes

“I think we should get up,” you say, sheer reluctance apparent in your groan

“er, what about no,” gwil answers and moves to lie on top of you, pressing his ear against your chest, listening to your heartbeat

and also holding you in bed, and not letting you go

“come on” you insist, and give him a weak push, since your heart’s not in it

you feel like it is you whom you try to convince to get up rather than gwilym

“five more minutes” he whispers into your skin and slides down his hand to caress your side

“what about the kids?” you ask

“they’re fast asleep, it’s middle of the night”

“it’s light outside”

“irrelevant,” he says resolutely and pulls you closer to him

you move to rise up but he holds you still “come on, stay here”

“if I stay here, will you fix the dripping tap that you said you would fix about a week ago? I mean, I can fix it myself but where’s the fun in that,” you grin, “and besides, you promised”

he hides a chuckle into your chest and places a delicate kiss there “okay, I’ll do it”

“promise? for real this time?”

he huffs and raises on his elbows to look into your eyes

he licks his fingers and lifts them up “promise, scout’s honour”

“and you’re gonna do it first thing in the morning?” you smile at him

“I’m gonna do other things first” his eyebrows wiggle and you can’t help but kiss him

“but before I’m gonna get to it,” he continues when your lips finally part “let’s go back to sleep”

Joe

you slowly open your eyes and look around your bedroom

you blink a few times, still getting accustomed to the light streaming down on you through a window

a quiet groan leaves your mouth and you stretch your body, feeling all sorts of good

you blush as you remember the last night and hide your grin into a pillow

“joe” you whisper as you turn around but his side of the bed is empty

“joe?” you say again, a bit louder and your fingers grazes the cold sheets

that’s when you hear a crash and loud “damn it!” coming from the kitchen

okay good, he’s alive and at home

he also probably just broke something but hopefully he’s not hurt

“joe?” you yell, way too reluctant to get out of the bed

his head pokes into the bedroom and he gives you a smile, looking out of breath

“good morning, love, hope you slept well” he says quickly “erm, the bowl with those little pink roses... that wasn’t, I mean isn’t precious, is it?”

“no, it wasn’t and that’s your only luck, sir” you point your finger at him in mocked annoyance

“great! stay exactly where you are, I’ll be right back!” the last words are muffled by the closed door, since he’s already gone before he can finish the sentence

you fall back and pull the duvet to your nose, trying to stay warm

it takes a few minutes before joe enters your bedroom again, a bed tray in his hands

“oh my god, that smells delicious” you start salivating from the scent only and you even haven’t had a bite

“only the best for my best” joe places the tray across your legs and you sit up properly

“that was cheesy af, but you’ve brought me food, so you’re forgiven” you plant a quick kiss on his cheek as he plops down next to you, still wearing his pyjamas, and you dive into your breakfast

there’s everything, coffee, juice, pancakes, syrup, red fruit, yoghurt, toasts, gummy bears

wait, gummy bears?

you pick up the bowl with them and raise your eyebrows, pointedly looking at joe

he just shrugs “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, it has to be as nutritious as possible”

“right” you say slowly and do not further comment on it

“hey!” you yell when joe grabs a few blueberries “you thief! that’s my breakfast”

“soon, we’re gonna share everything you know? in good times and bad, in sickness and health and all that stuff? as my wife-to-be you shouldn’t mind sharing your breakfast with me” he gives you a big goofy smile

you return it, but he doesn’t notice as you stealthily take a few gummy bears into your hand

you toss them at him a burst in laughter when you see his surprised expression

“ah, you’re so gonna pay for that!” he says and grabs a handful of gummy bears as well, with a mischievous look in his face

Ben

when you wake up, it’s still quite early as you can’t see the sun yet

but you can tell it’s almost the crack of dawn

you groan in pain the moment you straighten your leg as you stretch and you get a cramp into it from sleeping curled up in a ball the whole night

you grit your teeth and force yourself to keep it stretched, although it hurts so much

after a little while, the pain dissipates and you calm down

there’s no need to look around, since you already know that you’re alone in bed

it’s not so long ago since you moved into ben’s place

and it didn’t take you much time to realise that your mornings were going to be a solitary affair

unless he’s working, he starts his day with a morning jog, getting up when you’re still deep in slumber

at first, you were confused and worried by his absence but you got used to it by now

you grab the book on your bedside table and start browsing through it to find the part where you finished the last time

immersed in the story, you hear a key turning in the lock of the front door and barking

“quiet, girl, we don’t want to wake up y/n” he yell-whispers to frankie

you can hear her paws patting against the wooden floor in the living room as she runs around the house

“no, frankie, no!”

she barges into the bedroom and jumps on the bed, immediately coming for your face as she gives it a proper lick in greetings

“and good morning to you, too!” you scratch the area behind her ears and she grumbles appreciatively

ben’s at her heels and rushes after her

“frankie! down!”

you give her a hug, not letting her go and planting a kiss on her head

“it’s fine, I’ve been up already” you nod towards the book that’s lying open on the bed next to you

“oh, okay” ben gives you a smile which you reciprocate

you finally take him in and you like what you see

he’s out of breath, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and dripping down the sides of his head, a black t-shirt snuggly hugging his torso, earphones swinging against his chest, and his grey sweatpants sagged down on his hips

you bite your bottom lip and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed

he clears his throat and darts his eyes down to the floor "I’m gonna get a shower”

“you forgot something” you say and he looks you in the eyes, confused

“did I?”

“uh-huh” you tap your lips and give him a cheeky smile

he releases a relieved sigh and stalks over to you, covering your lips with his

“good morning, love” he whispers against your mouth

“good morning” you answer, a smile audible in your voice, happy that he’s back home

he leans further down and kisses you again, his tongue sliding against yours

“stop it!” you say with laughter when your lips part “you’re all sweaty and you’re squishing poor frankie”

she’s still nestled in your lap and gives him an annoyed look

“sorry girl” he apologises and pets her head

she licks his palm - apology accepted

“and what about me? I won’t get an apology? your sweat is everywhere!”

“I saw you ogling me, love, and well, now you’ve got a reason to join me in the shower”

Rami

you emerge from dreams slowly and gradually

first you feel the light kiss of sun on your eyelids and you smile sleepily

when you finally open your eyes, you find out the source of light is not the sun but a lamp sat on one of the bedside tables, the one on the opposite side of the bed

it takes you a moment to come back to earth and differentiate between your dreams and reality

you stir and hide a yawn into your palm

“good morning, my love”

rami’s voice is soft and tender and he leans down to kiss your temple

he sits in your bed, his back against the headboard

“morning” you respond and take a deep breath through your nose

you raise your eyes and gaze at him

he’s reading a script, always the perfectionist he is

the filming starts on monday and he wants to be prepared as much as he can be

the light coming from the lamp illuminates the other side of his face that is turned away from you

the glow makes him look almost angel-like

“what time is it?” you ask, still feeling a bit groggy

he turns to his bedside table

“half past seven” he answers

after a single beat you realise you were supposed to get up early and get your children prepared for a weekend at their grandma’s

“crap, the kids, I forgot”

you almost jump out of the bed but rami is quick to stop you

“no, no, don’t worry, all’s done, my mum’s already left with them” he explains

“wait, what?” your brain just can’t start functioning properly and you feel even more disoriented

“I woke them up, dragged them out of their beds, prepared breakfast, packed their bags, made them put their clothes on, that took as long as any other morning, which means forever, then I had to change said, since he put on his shirt the wrong side out and he put his shoes on the wrong feet” he chuckles at the last bit

“you should have woken me up” you say sincerely and lift your head to caress his face

“I know you didn’t get that much of sleep” he answers and puts the script on the bed “I heard you sneaking out of our bedroom when the storm began, I know you went to their room and stayed there for some time”

“you know how much thunders frighten them” you offer as an explanation and look down on your hands in your lap

“I know, and I love you so much for everything you do” he notices how your hands fidget, so he takes them into his and presses kisses on them

“so” you start slowly “the kids are gone?”

“uh-huh”

“and they’re not gonna return anytime soon?”

“uh-huh”

“and we’re alone?”

“uh-huh”

you cock an eyebrow and wait for the penny to drop

his face lightens up in understanding and he kisses you on your lips

and it’s a hell of a kiss

[desmondfallout]

Wereturkeys

"Heads up!"

The warning came with only seconds to react. Just long enough for Wendel to save his beer. Shame the same could not be said for the scroll he had been adamantly writing on or his vegetable stew only half-eaten. In fact, most of the picnic table rocked a good foot to the left thanks to taking on a load large enough to cover its whole fifteen-foot spread.

"Damn it, Psi! Why the flying frick did you need a...full...table?"

The other three adventurers with Wendel were equally annoyed at their lunch getting trashed. However, such hostilities were forgotten once they realized the giant boar carcass flopped into their midsts. Dang beast looked bigger than any bear or bull monster they had ever seen.

Wendel had to shimmy his way around it just to get sight of the ferret mage that had made such a deposit. His button bunny nose twitched in that agitated way that no one ever had the heart to point out was adorable. Mostly because the rogue was just as vicious with a knife as he was with their treasure earnings.

"One witches pig, delivered by sunset!" Psi stood with mage staff outstretched and chest puffed with pride. A stark contrast to the ferret's robes being torn, blooded, and generally looking like he got dragged through...really bad stuff. "I believe I just won a bet!"

"You know this town has a bounty office for a reason?" Wendel jerked his thumb to every adventurer's office for picking up quests; The Vomiting Rat tavern two buildings down.

"Ooooh no! I'm making sure YOU see it first!" Psi wagged a finger inches from Wendels scrunched up muzzle. "Not only did I purify some of the farm by myself, but I brought back dinner for everyone."

"Hang on a tic!" sputtered a ranger fox that had been at the same street table. "Are you saying you actually went to the abandoned witches farm in Northwood and slain one of her pets all alone?"

"Damn straight!" Psi gave a little bow before trying to brush back some stray head fur. This only caused a nice smear of something brown to appear across his forehead. "One lightning bolt and it went doooown!"

The other three adventurers exchanged murmurs of surprise and adulation for such an unexpected feat. Wendel would never outright admit it, but even he felt a bit of respect for his sub-par healer. Although that did not keep another thought from cropping up. "So how come you look like it dragged you through its pen on a leash?"

"Oh, that's because of the turkeys."

"....turkeys?"

"Yeah, you would not believe the giant monster animals that crazy witch left behind. A whole flock of turkeys bigger than horses were hanging around 'Big Tusks' here. I had hoped the thunder from my spell would scare them off."

The ranger gave a strange knowing grunt, breaking into a grin. "They went berserk didn't they?"

Psi tapped the little pink nose at the end of his ferret snout. Something he immediately regretted thanks to the smell of whatever was under his claws. "Thankfully I cast expeditious retreat beforehand, but the chase still ended up being rather merry. Turkeys can run surprisingly fast when they're six feet tall."

"Well, you brought back your trophy. I'd say that gives you balls of steel!" The speaker, a human barbarian decked in his own dirty animal furs, slapped Psi on the shoulder. It almost sent the scrawny ferret tumbling across the street. "This'll make a fine feast for the innkeepers to spitroast tonight. How about a round on me while we wait?"

"Thanks, but I think a little bath and disinfectant is in order first. You guys go ahead."

With that Psi snapped his fingers and was gone. No real flash or dazzling sparkles. The ferret simply went from being in front of the four citizens to being gone. Wendel almost hated the abruptness of such departures more than when mages liked showing off with sparklers.

"Well, you guys might as well earn some coppers by helping me lug this thing...hey, where you all going!?" Wendel looked around only to find the three adventurers making their way towards the Vomiting Rat for fresh drinks. Turning back towards the acclaimed giant boar, Wendel's long ears dropped across his face with a dejected sigh. Life would be so much easier if he knew magic too.

Psi himself had appeared not too far away in a blink of an eye. His currently rented apartment just happened to be one of many above the Vomiting Rat no less. They were cheap to those that could cast invaluable healing magic.

It was still nothing compared to the near-death rush of accomplishing an actual bounty for the first time. Except of course for the aftermath of cleaning up. Psi wasted no time disrobing for a good wash down and bandaging of wounds. The feeling of a sponge loaded with hot water felt divine cleansing the dirt from his fine ferret fur.

After a quick dry and changing into a bathrobe with loafers, Psi got to work cleaning his wounds. Strangely the bites were not nearly as bad as they had felt. Aside from the blood, Psi was having trouble even finding scars through his fur. Once that had been washed away it was virtually impossible to tell if he had taken damage at all. If only the same could have been said for his robes. That would take a good hour to sponge clean. At least he knew a few mending spells to fix the beak tears.

That is if his spells would actually work. Psi snapped his fingers only to be left standing awkwardly in the middle of his sparsely furnished room. Another snap barely got his robes to flutter. The open rips tugged briefly from invisible forces trying to stitch them together. Subsequent snaps accomplished absolutely nothing until the ferret was forced to collapse onto the floor heaving labored breaths. He was at a complete loss to whatever the heck was fritzing out his powers all of a sudden. The usual feeling of the worlds ether was still present in his senses, but dipping into it for spell fuel somehow became a near impossible strain. Even his strongest stuff had never left him feeling so exhausted...or feverish...or itchy.

"Wha..what the heck!?"

Sitting with legs spread on the floor made it hard for Psi to ignore the strange cramps seizing his feet. Especially with the way his shoes pulsed and bulged in very alarming ways. Both footwear warped or stretched to test the confined space of once slightly spacious coverings. They almost appeared to inflate like balloons at the toes while Psi could certainly feel things pinching until...

SHRRTTT!!

"W-what the holy hec-BWAK!"

Psi blinked in dumb bewilderment at spontaneously squawking like a common farm animal. Granted it made some sense after his feet burst out of their shoes. They had become a far cry from the delicate ferret paws he had put them in. These feet were thick and meaty, shedding fur for a complete armament of yellow scales. Black talons adorned each toe looking fit to dig through dirt. An additional toe growing out of each heel also made them super adapt for gripping.

"Bird feet? What?"

Psi’s jaw dropped watching his shoes get finished off in another growth spurt. Things began escalating from there with the attached thighs plumping up with high levels of growing fat. Itching spread over Psi’s legs that he tried to scratch only to find his hands full of shedding fur. Everything below the knee was molting to make way for shins decorated in yellow bird scales.

If only such changes had stopped there. The fur around his knees fluttered before clumping together. These little clusters would melt and puff into the beginnings of dark brown feathers across Psi’s skin. This conversion continued on up his hips without pause. Not even panicked kicks with girly screams helped halt the process. Although such harsh movements did bring attention to how his thighs were thickening out. They wobbled about with enough fatty meat to leave his shins looking like twigs. Their very girth squished harsh against each other leaving him in a permanently wide stance.

And yet those drumsticks were the smallest of Psi’s problems. It was easy to recognize those feet after spending all afternoon trying to flee a horde of turkeys. His toes had even fused into three digits, four counting the opposable ones from the heel. Looks like he had sustained dozens of wereturkey bites on his lower body to make the effects so rapid. That witch must have really liked collecting the worst beasts. If he could get to his cupboard, there might still be hope for some belladonna stored within.

"Ah...aaahh...SQUAWK!"

That became a very strong 'if’ when his butt began to inflate. Psi pulled open the bottom of his bathrobe to watch all the fur below his waist fluff into rich brown feathers. He could actually feel himself rising off the ground each time his ass cheeks swelled out again and again. Within seconds his body looked grossly disproportionate between a lanky ferret and chubby turkey. Not that he believed that would last much longer. Especially when his tail cramped and exploded into a bush of thick plumes.

"Crapcrapcrap!" Psi’s hands groped at the couch his rear had become. Its soft, plush bird feathers worked disturbingly well with the pillowed fat that held them up underneath. Using his dining table for a brace, Psi managed to slowly put one strange foot after the other on the floor to stand. His bathrobe could no longer completely cover such spacious hips. "H-help WAAK Somebody he-BWAK me! Ugh, I’m as good as the next trophy on that wall."

Well, if he was going to be a wild beast Psi was going to fight like a good, inexperienced, mage to the end. Wendel might use being transformed from an infectious bite as grounds for losing their bet.

"Wait, that’s it!" Hope washed over Psi in a torrent of warmth at such a spontaneous revelation.

That is until Psi realized it was his crotch that was collecting excessive warmth. The poor ferret's dong looked cartoonishly out of place smooshed among such blubbering thighs and hips. Even when the transformations forced arousal swelled Psi to full erection his member looked like nothing more than a party sausage between two hoagie rolls.

"Ah, haah!" Psi gasped almost crashing back onto his wobbling bird backside. Something deep inside him clenched a vice grip around his protest almost disabling all motor control. Trying to use this as a boost, he kept one hand gripped tight on the table for balance while channeling any and all magic left around him for a simple spell. If he could contact Wendel, then the bunny could fetch clerics to purify him before the curse fully set in. "We-WAAK! Wendel, I need h-h-SH-AAWK! I’m getting...getting cu..oooh GO-AAWWWKK! HELP ME PLEASE!"

That would be about all Psi could put into his message before said curse offered its own conjectures. It was hard to tell if the spell even finished being sent telepathically to Wendel. All the muscles around Psi’s prostate contracted in a hard squeeze. Again and again, this happened with no way for him to fight an increasing drizzle of fluid from his cock. It only took about a minute before the tiny member between his thickened legs tensed into a series of sharp contractions. Spurts of more cum than Psi ever thought he could produce fired off like cannon balls, decorating his dining table with thick streams of milky fluids.

And it just never seemed to stop. Psi staggered, gasping desperately for breath as his member fired off five times. Six. Twelve. His legs finally buckled around his sixteenth ejaculation. The whole floor seemed to shudder from knees hitting their expanding weight on its wooden planks. A pool of seamen already began gathering before Psi had finished falling forward onto his hands. Feathers shuddered, swishing about with each spasm of overwhelming pleasure. The ass attached to them presented itself high into the air.

"Oh...oh no!" Psi lost count of how many orgasms he had experienced, but they stopped shortly after. Shame that was no cause for relief as it became apparent there was no longer a prostate inside Psi to squeeze. That unique, male, organs purpose seemed simply milked out of existence. Far as Psi could tell only an empty space remained inside him. A space that was rapidly expanding. "OH NO!"

Psi’s muscles were too drained for anything other than helplessly looking between his legs trying to remain up on all fours. Despite all the seamen staining half his furniture, Psi’s cock remained firm and continuing to pulse as if he were still cumming. Instead, his cock was GOING right back inside the ferret's pelvis. Each hard, involuntary flex of its muscles pushed his penis a little bit deeper into the thick patch of feathers around his crotch. Its girth dwindled just as harshly until the head could barely match a pen’s nub.

"Ngggh! Haa AAWK!" One sharp tug saw the end of Psi’s cherished nut sack. The last pair of bumps that signified his manhood pulled up to vanish deep inside his feathered crotch, shortly followed by the empty bunch of skin itself. His whole butt shook in the air as Psi felt his testicles traveling up through the expanding tunnel inside him. Their purpose reshifting to suit a much larger organ at this tunnel's end.

Just when Psi thought he could not stand all his inside shifting the skin that once made up his scrotum and sac tore from the inside. A cry of alarm became lodged in his throat as surprising tingles of pleasure radiated from his new opening. The cold autumn breeze washed across his alien, yet incredibly damp, woman's vagina in just the right ways.

Psi would have stayed lost in a daze had his apartment door not chosen that time to slam open.

"God damn it, Psi! What could you have possibly done...now!?"

Wendel got two feet in the door when it registered a very large, heart-shaped, couch was blocking his path only a few feet further in. Pausing on his third step, the bunny rouge needed a few seconds to register he was actually staring at one overly bloated ass. A woman's ass no less, if the dripping pussy emitting strong musks were any indication. Needless to say, Wendel was further startled when the jiggling mass of glutes shifted so Psi’s, still ferret, face could peek over.

"W-Wendel, please, h-heeeAWWK meeeee! I...I think I’m...nggghhh! Aaah AWK!"

A loud crackling made Psi’s hands clasps on the floor. From his fingers shot out sharp talons that easily pierced through the wood. Such claws had little trouble shaving deep trenches as Psi arms jerked around in spasms. His hands themselves shedding fur off in large clumps to leave forearms covered in the same yellow scales as his bird feet.

The sleeves of his bathrobe groaned from getting stretched out around bulking arms. Many loud rips filled the apartment when they tore apart at the elbows and shoulders. Rich tufts of brown feathers blossomed out, shortly followed by the bulging hills of turkey meat they rested on. Whether it was fat or muscle predominantly filling out Psi’s rounding figure remained hard to say.

"You said those were just turkey’s that attacked you, right?" Wendel’s ears both dropped in grim dismay over his face. The bunny was already reversing his steps towards the door. Yet his legs could not find the will to break into a full run. The rooms scent was getting thick in aromas that burned his little rabbit nose, making his eyes unable to focus on anything but Psi’s enormous bird bottom. Such luscious tail feathers seemed to wave at him in an inviting dance with their butts continuous bouncing.

"Mmmh, bwk awk!" When Psi glanced over towards Wendel again, it was in a slow, deliberate display of seduction. Both were too preoccupied with the growing sense of arousal permeating off themselves to notice Psi’s ears had almost vanished into the feathers lining his head. Nor did Wendel care about the bright yellow coloration of Psi’s teeth when she spoke in a sultry voice far more pleasant than the ferret's usual squeaks. "Wendel? Baby? Awwwk. You going to stand at my door all day or you going to help stuff this turkey?"

An unexpected question, but not entirely unwelcome. Or at least Wendel thought it might not be unwelcome. He bit his lip glancing from Psi’s beckoning !stare, to her most plush backside, and then to the door behind him. Every shred of basic survival instinct said to run. Run like a mad cow with a herd of butchers behind it. And then find a place deep inside some cavernous tomb to barricade in until this crazy mess flew away.

But that pussy sure did smell tasty. It was that line of thinking that had Wendel closing the door.

"Ah, what the hell," he said with a devious chuckle. After a month of being teased by all the passing female adventurers, Wendel was eager for a bit of release anyway. Psi was at least woman enough where it counted.

Wendel had his belt buckle undone in a flash. His pants and boxers dropped around his ankles upon reaching the glorious curves of Psi’s ass. Getting this close to her dripping turkey cunny only increased his own arousal further. Hands reached almost of their own volition to rub along Psi’s hips. They were even softer than she looked as Wendel found such feathered flesh molding as dough in his grasp.

"Awk awk!"

A little expressive hip bumping helped Psi get her bunny partner back to more important matters. Namely the sensation of Wendel’s hard cock rubbing along the insides of her pillowed rear. It continued to rub up along Psi in several slow, tormenting, hip bucks. Even in a half-transformed state, Wendel would not let Psi enjoy this without a bit of chop busting.

Although it seemed to be making Psi’s insides rumble with her growing lust. His torso gurgled as it began ballooning out in all directions. The sash of her bathrobe snapped apart allowing a thick bulge of pot belly to hang out. Love handles rapidly formed along Psi’s waist causing the semi-expensive fabric to tear trying to stretch over her girth that expanded virtually with each breath.

Her stomach was not the only thing inflating under those feathers. Psi clicked her increasingly lumpy teeth at a fluttering sensation that overtook her chest. It focused firmly into pinpoints on both her nipples seconds before they popped right out of their feathery cover. They had instantly become twice their usual size and only continued to puff up thicker and wider before Psi’s eyes. The flesh behind them seemed intent on catching up to Psi’s already cannonball sized gut. Each labored pant swelled Psi’s breasts thicker, pushing her nipples into a sharp hang down towards the floor. Although they never could seem to overcome the roundness of her belly.

Curiosity had caused Psi to almost start sitting back in wanting to feel her new growths. They were becoming rather sensitive to the wind as they moved about. Tight, bloated sensations helped her realize they were also becoming rather full of milk since minute drops of moisture were forming at each nip.

Of course, Wendel chose that moment to also get a firm grip on such thick love handles to drive his shaft right into her cunt. Psi’s walls gave way with extra ease after already being intensively soaked in its own juices.

"Oooh WAAK!" Psi’s feathers fluffed up on ends, making her whole body look immensely fluffier. Wendel may have been half her size, but still excelled where it was important. That rabbit's member stretched her insides so delightfully taut as it moved testingly in and out of her. "Oh bwaaak YUSH!"

Wendel was quick to build up a rhythm to their fucking. A fancy rouge such as himself did not need brute strength when precision and endurance got a job done just fine. Once he found the right position to plow this turkey, slamming that sweet woman spot with his pulsing pink member was easy.

Their hips slapped together faster and harder, filling the room with increasingly wet splashes from between their drizzling connection. Excess juices of turkey spunk and rabbit pre pooled at their feet. Each impact from Wendel sent a violent jiggle across Psi’s fat causing her breasts to bounce off a rippling belly that almost caressed the floor.

There was almost no trace of ferret left. And what remained was losing its fight to remain prominent. When Wendel smacked his hip up against Psi’s ass, it seemed to cause her teeth to pulse forward from the momentum. Psi moaned trying to keep his lips tightly pursed. Each hump pushed hard against the thinning barrier of her muzzle. Unfortunately their fucking was not about to ease up, and before long her lips peeled back of their own accord. Her entire ferret muzzle melted away to make room for the growing turkey beak that was once her teeth. "Ugggh! Bwak awwk squawk! T-that’s...oh god, right there Wendel!"

Now a full-fledged turkey woman with the jostling body mass to rival a grizzly bear, Psi’s mind found itself in a lost haze. All thoughts could only focus on the hot dick basting her insides. Mixed juices from their grinding trickled through the feathers of her meaty drumsticks, which she tried shuffling around to grant easier access to her soft depths. Curses, bets, or even her security deposit on the floor no longer mattered. Psi just wanted to get stuffed full of warm, sweet, egg brewing fluid.

A desire that Wendel would have no trouble fulfilling. After a week of putting up with adventurers hiring him for near-death experiences, getting to smack his nutsack against such a plush ladies behind was amazingly therapeutic. Not to say anything for how wonderfully tight Psi’s new cunny was despite her size. Every inch of his pink cock got a wonderful squeezing massage as it slid along Psi's slick hot muscles. He was especially sure to grope Psi’s ass at a good angle so his shaft would rub against her clit during each hard hump. That got an especially delightful gobble of lust from the turkey.

"Oh, gods! Aha! Ngggh!" Much as Wendel wanted to enjoy riding such a pillowed birdy slut forever, he was also not in a profession well known for its stamina. Hands desperately kneaded the folds of Psi’s back. The skin of his balls tightened, pressing their treasure hard against the base of his dick in that way that instinctively caused him to pound this bird with all his remaining strength.

"Awwk! Bwaak! Haha, mah gawds!" The sudden increase in Wendel’s humping surprised Psi. Of course, she was not going to protest while it propelled her own pleasure into the heavens. It was all she could do just to remain on all fours with her fat sloshing violently to each impact on her behind. Bird claws dug desperately at the floor awaiting the sweet plateau of release. Her fresh vaginal muscles almost ran on autopilot constantly clenching down against the thick rabbit meat plunging into her, milking it for more each time Wendel withdrew.

"NGGGH!! F-FUUUUCK!"

That was about all Wendel could get out before his floodgates finally broke. The rabbit's member tightened up before pulsing hard and fast. Psi let out a series of feral squawks as she felt the warmth of Wendel's seed filling up against her cervix. Muscles worked just as hard inside her cunny to squeeze every inch out of that rabbit's member. So much wonderful warmth filled up into her womb that Psi's already bloated stomach swelled out a few more inches to accommodate Wendel's gift.

Despite Psi’s best efforts a notable amount of their excess cum still gushed out when Wendel managed to pull himself off her ass. Again, not being built for stamina Wendel’s knees buckled right after, forcing him to collapse on Psi’s back instead of her couch. Granted the feathers made her stomach a more comfortable source of bedding.

"Waak! D-dude!? You’re not as heavy as bunnies look!"

Wendel blinked through the daze of his afterglow to crane his head up. A rather angry turkey beak scowled back over the thick fat of her shoulders. "Oh hey, you’re back with us? I was starting to worry you might be going a bit wild after this."

"I’m sure you were very worried from back there," Psi said with a huff. Her gaze dropped to the scaled bird hands amid splintered wood, and then to the dangling breasts trying to wedge between her feathered biceps. With a soft coo, she reached up to gauge one of their milk-heavy weights. That simple contact was more than enough to cause a spurt of milk to further stain the floor under them "Ooooh come on. I swear if you filled me up with eggs I am totally making you buy me clothes. Waak!"

"Come on, yourself, fatass!" Wendel gave said feathered ass a smack that sent Psi jostling in a meek squawk. "You practically begged me to do it, and you still won the bet. Not my fault you had to go after some abandoned cursed magic farm."

"Bwak you!" Psi clawed a few fresh scratches into the floor. It was already as good as wrecked anyway. And her body still felt incredibly sensitive, if not embarrassingly bloated. "Yeah, well, get the waak off me already. Maybe the churches can cure a bit of wereturkey curse off me before I have to blow money on maternity clothes."

An almost mean retort started from Wendel’s lips, but a few key words of Psi’s resonated a disturbing notion. Just around the same time, a pained cramp struck his tail. "...were-turkey?!"

Wendel sent Psi face planting into the pool of their lovemaking as he pushed onto his feet in a sobered panic. Twisting around to get a view of his backside, the bunny let out a cry that cracked into the makings of a squawk. His usual fluffy little nub was starting to look sickly shriveled. What fur remained shed off to make room for the rich bush of decorative plums growing out at an alarming rate.

"Son of a...aahha...BWAAAK!"

[mysticmoneyhoney]

Mystic Messenger Heist!AU Ch4

V waited patiently for classes to be let out. He had already spoken to Yoosung's mother to find out his schedule. He expected her to start going on those motherly rants before he could hang up with her, but the phone call ended with V trying to calm a tearful woman down, listening to her concerns, and explaining how he was going to try and help the young college student. In the end he was going to have to visit for dinner in the near future.

Seeing the people starting entering the school grounds and sidewalks, V strained to find the young gamer. "Sir is that him?" A cheerful old voice spoke up. V turned his attention to Driver Kim and then to where he was pointing. "Oh, I believe so. Lets pull up to him." Rolling the window down, V pushed his head out from the car as they drove by the boy.

"Yoosung!" V gave a little wave and smiled at him as the driver slowed to a stop. The blonde haired boy glanced over to see who was calling out to him before his youthful curious face turned stone cold. Yoosung gave V a glare before greeting him with a, "What do you want?"

V felt a small shiver run down his spine. Yoosung had the same look in his eyes as Rika did when she was mad at him. All the light drained from their eyes and they both looked so intimidating and dangerous. Clearing his throat, V motioned for him to come over. "Come on into the car. We have to talk."

Yoosung stood there for a moment before turning on his heels and walking away from the car. "Yoosung wait!" V clicked the car door open and made his way out of the vehicle to catch up with Yoosung. Forgetting the cane in the car, the blue haired man tried his best to quickly catch up. However his depth perception was lost and everything was just so blurry.

Yoosung looked back, continuing to walk forward until he saw the man struggling so terribly to reach him. What was wrong with him? The boy stopped and let V catch up to him, feeling the sense of pity growing in his stomach. As the man caught up, he placed a hand on Yoosung's shoulder before retracting it immediately, feeling Yoosung's body grow ridged.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" The college student raised and eyebrow trying to see if this was some sort of pity me con V was trying to play. V removed his sunglasses and looked at Yoosung as best he could.

"I wasn't just emotionally hurt that night, Yoosung." He heaved a sigh and looked towards the ground. "Its not permanent. I'll get better but the trauma is still there." He gripped his glasses stronger than he meant to and could feel the plastic starting to give. "My eyes are just nothing but a constant blur and poor perception of where I'm going."

"She didn't really do that to you! She could never! Rika didn't betray us! Its a misunderstanding-" V cut the boy off, "Yoosung! A misunderstanding!? If it was, wouldn't she have tried to explain it to us? Tried to talk to us? She's building a damn casino!" Fishing into his pockets he pulled out the clip of newspaper and handed it to the boy. "There was no misunderstanding. She wasn't who we thought she was Yoosung. And it hurts."

Yoosung looked at the paper. Reading the article, pausing as he looked at the picture of Rika shaking the hands of the builders to mark the beginning of construction. "But why?" He could hear his voice crack as he looked at V. "Why would she put us all in danger-" Little tears started to form before he felt himself being pulled into a hug.

V held onto the boy into a small comforting hug. "I don't know. But its not our fault. Its not your fault. So trust me." He let go and gave Yoosung's head a pat. "Come with me and meet up with everyone."

"No." Yoosung pushed away from V and rubbed his eyes. "No. I'm not doing anything with you guys! I'm done with it all. I just wan to go home, in peace and play video games. I don't want to have anything to do with you or Rika, or any of your crazy schemes!" He looked V over again before turning to walk away.

"That's fine....but, I'm going to get answers. We'll be meeting at Jumin's place. You can change your mind at any time. It won't be same without you." V sighed and watched the boy run off. Dammit. He needed him. Needed him to be his eyes. The car inched closer to V and waited for the man to enter. Putting the sunglasses back on, he moved into the car and sighed. "Jumin's, please."

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

"Achoo!" The white haired man gave another sneeze as Jaehee handed him a tissue. "Why here? We ne-ne-....ne-ACHOO! need to pick somewhere without the damn furball!" Blowing his nose, Zen looked to the blue haired man with pleading red puffy eyes.

"Elly is a princess, meow!" Seven had Elizabeth the third on his lap, lifting her upper body so she was standing on his legs. He was squishing her little front paw beans before a swift slap to the back of his head caused him to release her.

"Don't disrespect Elizabeth the third. Leave her alone." Jumin snapped at Seven before gently picking Elizabeth up and putting her on his desk. He could hear 707 starting to whine as his precious Elly was once again taken away from him.

V gave a little sigh and smiled. "It's nice to have everyone together again." He could see the blur of their bodies. Each easy to distinguish with their mannerisms. Even with the handicap.

"Almost everyone." Zen corrected. "Looks like Yoosung is done." He rubbed his nose with the tissue. "What will we do about that?" V gave a shake of his head. "It is what it is." He moved to the small bar, guiding his fingers along the glasses. He poured himself a drink, listening to the ice clink inside the glass. "I'm trying to find us a better location. Jumin so graciously let us borrow his place for the moment. Try to bare with it for just tonight Zen. If it gets to much we can call it a night and try to get a hotel somewhere." He took a sip of the drink. Feeling his lips grow numb and his throat burn, V acknowledged it was whiskey.

"V, what do we know so far?" Jaehee crossed her legs on the couch and propped her notebook up on her legs. "I'll collect."

The man nodded and turned his body to them. "Rika is in full steam mode on her casino. She has construction 24 hours a night according to various noise reports. Though it looks like she's buying out any resident in the area who complains to the police. If she keeps up this pace, she can be finished in 6 months, furnished the whole thing in 3, and have her opening within a year. Its not a lot of time, but we need to have the ends and outs of that casino."

"Are we hitting her during her opening?" Jumin inquired, scratching Elizabeth's chin and enjoying her purring.

"No. I want her to be successful. I want her to make more and more money. Then I want to hit. So we hit six months after opening. I'll need employees on our side in there. That'll require recon, which Jaehee I'll need you to do. I want you in there as soon as she opens her doors."

"Of course. I'm sure I can get in without an issue. Especially with such a large notice. I appreciate it." She scribbled a few things down in her notepad before handing Zen another tissue as he sneezed again.

"There's no way I can make it into the casino. Rika will pick me out easily. Same with Jumin. We'll have to rely on all of your eyes and ears. As well as who we can recruit from the inside."

Zen gave a cheeky grin. "I could probably recruit some showgirls for...distraction purposes." He was then pushed off the couch by Seven, as the red head stood up. "I could dress up as a showgirl! Confident, Sexy, Flirty, and Coy~" Zen got up quickly and kicked Seven's legs out from under him. Causing him to fall back into the couch. "No! Don't disgrace a show girl's uniform with your body!"

"No one is going in as a showgirl. Or going to recruit showgirls. I need dealers, housekeepers, designers, you know. The workers." V tapped his finger on the glass he was holding. "I could use Yoosung to scope out the more innocent workers. His baby face would be perfect..." Damn. He couldn't see well enough to go into the casino. He needed Jumin to stay away from it as long as possible.

"Zen's looks are too noticeable. Rika knows what we all look like, what we specialize in. We have to be careful of what we're doing so we aren't caught." Jaehee spoke up and looked down at her notes. "It would make sense to have myself go in disguise. That way we can get a better layout."

"Yes, that would be ideal. I'd also like Luciel to go in disguise when they start doing electrical work in the casino. Which means, Jumin I need fake work papers for him." V glanced up to the man with the cat, who nodded confirmation.

"Zen I want you to go back to work for now. But keep your ears and eyes open for news you hear on the casino floor about anything. If anyone mentions anything about her casino, I want to know about it." V moved back to the bar to replenish his glass, stopping only once he heard the door to the room open. Turning he tried to focus on who was entering this late at night.

707 was the first to greet the stranger. His happy go lucky voice filling the room with excitement with the newest addition. "Welcome home, Yoosung!"