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lightns881 · 1 month

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Summary:

Dream is the best monster hunter in the league. George is an undercover witch on the run. Their lives collide after Dream gets cursed with turning into a tiny blob creature and the only way to turn him back is a kiss from George. But being partners with a bratty know-it-all witch is Dream’s worst nightmare. And after being outed a witch, George has no choice but to stick with him and the league. Will these two ever learn to get along?

The comic-book style monster x monster hunter enemies to lovers au you didn’t know you needed.

PART I

SPELLBIND CITY, 2124.

The phantom’s ragged wings spread from hood to trunk of a 2125 Luxus Mage, which now lies in scraps. It flaps its wings and crashes from pillar to pillar inside the parking garage of a high-rise condo. A resident calls it in on a Monday morning, early enough that the streets are still lifeless and pitch-black. Thanks to their new interception technology, the League is on the scene to capture it before the Bureau even has a chance to send a monster control unit.

Dream and George are assigned the task because Bad thinks it’s simple enough that even they can’t mess it up. Or as he likes to say: “There’s no way you’ll crumble this muffin.”

It’s a joke, really. Up until George joined him, Dream had a hunter success rate of ninety-five percent. Now, it’s like he can’t even manage to catch a red-eyed bunny loose in a pet shop (to be fair, killer rabbits are so nifty there’s no way it doesn’t take anyone at least a full day of preparation).

Everything was much easier when the League’s sole purpose was to hunt and execute—none of this capturing alive nonsense that the losers in the Bureau swear by.

But whatever. If Bad wants him to bring this phantom back alive and tied up on a gold platter then that is exactly what he aims to do. He’s not going to let George get in the way this time. Much less this pesky curse that’s been plaguing his life for nearly a month now.

“Okay. Here’s the plan. I’ll advance from the left while you distract it. Then I can launch the net and you’ll cut it so we can haul it onto the van,” Dream says while he watches the monster peel the top of another car with its bony fingers. It buries his head inside, probably looking to devour whatever half-eaten lunch some idiot’s kid forgot.

“Got it?”

A moment passes before Dream turns and sees George leaning back on his seat with his arms crossed and the van’s manual covering his face. He’s also snoring.

“What the hell did I do to deserve this,” Dream mutters before he slaps George hard enough that he jumps awake. Then he wordlessly points at the monster and leaves the van with his bow and axe on his side.

George is still stretching his arms and yawning while Dream stalks behind the cars with his bow fixed on the phantom.

As Dream draws closer, he’s so focused on the phantom that he doesn’t notice when he steps on a pile of broken glass. The monster’s glowing green eyes and cutting horns are up and facing Dream in the time it takes him to catch a breath.

But just as the phantom pounces at him, Dream shoots the hook that pierces its blue scales and makes its shriek echo across the garage. Although the monster is on him now, it’s stunned for long enough that Dream scurries from under him and tightens the net around it, rendering it motionless.

“Are you just going to stand there or help me?” Dream grunts and gestures to the rope still attached to his bow that he’s unable to cut himself.

George has just finished his stretches and now sits against the van fiddling with his lapis ring. He watches Dream wrestle the phantom like he’s ready to change the channel.

“You seem to be holding up just fine,” George says with an almost smile, “and it’s not like there’s a much easier way of doing this that I could help you with.”

Magic. He’s talking about magic. The bane of his existence. The sole reason his life went from great to fucked from one day to the next.

Dream can’t believe fate’s cursed him to end up stuck with someone like him—bratty, careless, snobby. Worst of all: a witch. He’s everything Dream hates and more. It’s like fate wanted to point a finger at him and cackle. Or maybe that was just Sapnap. No, it was definitely both.

“Just cut the fucking rope.”

“Aye-aye,” George says with a salute and takes his time walking toward him.

He pulls a blade from his belt—the one Dream gave him when Bad welcomed him into the League. But someone like George was never meant to join their cause, not only because he’s a monster but also considering he was working for the Bureau just a few weeks earlier. However, as much as Dream wanted to argue with Bad on the decision, he was right. Given the circumstances of his curse, they had no option.

George kneels down and ever-so-gently begins to slice the rope. Dream glares the whole time, and it’s not until the rope is on the verge of ripping that he notices the grave mistake.

“No no no not that-” Dream says just as the rope rips. The phantom spreads its wings and breaks loose from its restraints, launching them back in different directions.

As the monster scrambles toward the balcony, Dream lunges and yanks its tail. The bone’s sharp enough that it cuts into his palm, but Dream isn’t about to let this fucker escape.

The phantom flings him around as it surges toward the end of the garage and out the balcony. Dream manages to shout George’s name, though it's only from the adrenaline. He’s left clutching knives six floors above the concrete sidewalk and rising.

As the phantom flies further and further from the garage, certainly about to get past the 100-meter limit of his curse, the only words running through his mind are shit, shit, shit. He holds his breath and thinks, here we go.

The transformation happens as quickly as the rest. His ears pop. A cloud of smoke blocks his vision. Suddenly, he can’t feel his arms and legs. He’s shapeless and holds onto the phantom’s tail with only his mouth, which now takes up twice his face.

He’s turned into a helpless blob.

And as if the situation can’t get any worse, with his beady black eyes, he sees the beams of sunlight peaking from behind the skyscrapers as dawn greets the sky.

Well, fuck.

The phantom bursts into blazes. Its body disintegrates into ashes. Now Dream’s falling three hundred meters to his death. He’s a lot more elastic and resilient in this form like a mix between a bouncy ball and a ball of clay, but he hasn’t exactly tested falling from such heights. He assumes he’ll end up splattered on the concrete like a piece of chewed-up gum.

Before he can test his theory, fabric, soft like silk, wraps around his five-inch body. All of a sudden he’s weightless—soaring through the sky on a blue cape.

The sensation of falling doesn’t leave him even after the cape drops him on George’s palms. Then the cape wraps around George’s back and morphs back into his lapis ring. Dream frankly doesn’t understand witch magic, and he surely doesn’t want to be anywhere near it. But he can’t say that it hasn’t gotten him out of a pickle once or twice. Usually thanks to George which he hates to acknowledge.

As he gazes upon the giant asshole cupping him in his palms and smiling, Dream glares (or at least tries to muster as much of a hateful look as he can in this white marshmallow form). Out of all of the curses that witch could’ve hexed him with, this one is the worst he could’ve never thought of.

“Looks like someone’s having a tough morning.”

Dream curses him out, but all that comes out is an incomprehensible pattern of squeaks. George laughs, and to get the stupid grin off his face (as well as get the situation done and over with), Dream jumps and lands a kiss on his lips.

Another cloud of smoke explodes before he can feel his limbs again, and he pats himself down to ensure he’s still intact. Meanwhile, George gags, spits, and wipes his mouth all dramatically like he’s just kissed a slimy toad. Dream can’t say he enjoys the method any more than George does, but he does laugh his ass off at the grossed-out look on his face every time.

It’s when he hears the distant echo of the Bureau’s monster control alarms that Dream wipes his mouth and says, “Come on.” He clips his bow to his back (he’s not sure how it is that he morphs with all of his clothes and items but then again he’s not sure how the physics of magic works). Then he says, “Let’s go tell Bad how bad you fucked everything up this time.”

LEAGUE OF MONSTER HUNTERS HQ. 10:37 A.M.

George sits with his legs wide and spins from side to side like a hyperactive fifth-grader during lunch detention. It’s one of the things Dream hates most about him—how kid-like he acts. Like he isn’t a full three years older than Dream with a whole engineering degree.

Then there’s the fact Bad chooses to treat him like a kid too. Never any repercussions. Never any real punishment (unless it involves punishing both Dream and George). Never any long-term consequences. George might as well be the teacher’s pet. He bats his pretty little eyelashes and sweet-chocolate eyes and suddenly everyone’s defending him.

Dream has only known him for a little over three weeks now, and he has already declared him his sworn enemy.

“I’ll be honest. I’m disappointed in you guys,” Bad says while watching them from across the table. He has that look his parents used to give Dream any time he snuck stray kittens inside his backpack when he got home from school. “I’ve given you easier and easier jobs and you still haven’t gotten us any good results. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“It’s not my fault he can’t listen to instructions,” Dream says.

George scoffs. “Yeah. Because we’re always supposed to follow your call? Even though your plan is horseshit and there are better ways to trap a phantom.”

“What? Like witchcraft?”

Bad shushes Dream. “Lower your voice,” he says and peeks through the blinds to make sure nobody’s heard. As if they’re not in a sound-proof conference room and there aren’t barely any people at HQ so early on a workday. It’s not like they get paid to do this.

“Look, George. We made an agreement that we would let you stay here only if you refrained from using any magic for your own safety. We can’t exactly have our monster hunters finding out we have a monster—” George snarls and Bad clears his throat. “— sorry, witch, living under our roof.”

“We’re in an underground bunker,” George says.

Dream laughs. That’s another thing he hates about George: that sardonic know-it-all attitude.

“Point is—we can’t have this same argument brought up again and again,” Bad says.

“I’m not even asking to use glyphs. All I’m saying is that some of my inventions would be a lot more efficient and fool-proof,” (George shoots Dream a look while he says that), “and they’re technology. Not magic.”

“Being enchanted still involves magic. How are you meant to explain to everyone how they work?” Dream replies.

George pouts, though he has no answer for Dream. He does that a lot—turns toward that cute dumb face when things aren’t going his way.

Bad sighs. “Okay, look. Just think about it this way. You guys have no choice but to be a pair so you might as well make things easier for yourselves and try to get along.”

“Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen,” Dream says at the same time that George says, “Impossible.”

Bad looks defeated. "Okay. Just go take five."

Dream doesn’t waste a second in leaving that suffocating room. He doesn’t even acknowledge Sapnap who’s been waiting in the hallway outside since Bad called them in there.

"Don't wander too far or you’ll turn into a pumpkin," George teases.

Dream doesn’t bother looking back and just sticks out his middle finger.

He walks past the brutes testing their electro-wave rifles in the shooting range. Past the kitchen where a robo-attendant is cooking a meal for someone snoring on the couch. Past the combat rooms where a class of newbies is learning the basics of hunting the undead.

"Dude, why are you in such a mood?" Sapnap calls as Dream reaches a simulation room and starts mounting his gear.

"Sleep in the hard-ass beds in this place every night and see how you feel."

He clips his headset on and readies the controllers. The Augment logo turns on just as Sapnap says, "This is clearly not about living at HQ.”

"You try being around that asshole 24/7."

He starts with a warm-up session: two zombies and a spider. The zombies come at him from the sides and the spider is supposed to be a surprise attack from any direction, but Dream’s played this scenario enough that every scenerio is second nature to him.

"Come on, Dream. You can't expect him to be all rainbows and roses after losing his job, his house, his reputation, and turning into a fugitive with the Bureau on his ass. You're not the only one who got his life turned upside down by this. I hate to say it, but it wasn't even his fault."

"So you're saying it was mine?" he says then decapitates the first zombie with a clean swoop of his fake axe and puts the other in a chokehold. This isn’t exactly the optimal strategy for capturing, but the program was never meant to train them on that. Hunters were never meant to capture.

"Of course not, dude, I'm on your side. It was that fucking witch.”

Witches. Oh, how he enjoys setting those bastards on fire in these simulations. He slices the zombie’s neck open and blood pools at his feet. The spider takes him from behind one second later.

“But also, you went against Bad's orders and walked into that fight without support. What did you think was going to happen?" Sapnap says, and it makes him waver. He misses his mark to pin the spider—that nimble little fucker. He throws it across the room instead and notices too late that he almost smacks Sapnap in the face because he can’t see him in the simulation. It’s his fault for standing around while he’s training.

"I didn't think I'd be turned into a marshmallow monster if that's what you're asking," he says and aims a slash at the spider. It misses. Since when are they this smart?

"Duh. But you can't rewind now, can you? So what are you going to do about it?"

As he dodges the spider’s attack, something takes hold of his leg and he buckles. He realizes then that he didn’t cut the second zombie’s head all the way through. His back was to him, so he didn’t see him regenerating and now he’s up against both a spider and a zombie with his head barely hanging from its neck.

"You two just gotta learn to trust each other."

"Hear yourself, Sap,” he says after decapitating the zombie, but then gets pinned by the spider and it bites him. The headset is designed to simulate the feeling of a fight with a ninety-nine percent accuracy, and he certainly feels it. His arms burn so badly that he loses strength on his arms and can’t hold the spider off.

“You're asking me to trust a witch.” He doesn’t mean to scream at Sapnap, but he’s in a tough position. The spider wraps its front legs around him and bites his neck. His body stings for a second before all feeling fades away and the screen reads ‘You died.’

He rips off the headset with a curse and slams it down a little too hard. He swipes a hand through his hair and asks, “Did they make this thing harder?”

Sapnap’s stare is dry. He says, “Are you forgetting that the witch in question saved you from being turned into marshmallow putty by another witch and then decided to stick around just so you wouldn't remain a white blob forever. At the cost of what? Becoming his maid?"

"I'm not a fucking maid, Sap.” He puts down the controllers and decides he can’t train while Sapnap’s berating him. “It's called a familiar."

"So you're admitting he helped."

"He didn't not help. But still. Why does he have to act like such an asshole?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you're both acting like assholes to each other. Bad's right. You two just need to learn to coexist. You don't have to like each other. But until we figure out a way to get rid of the curse, you're stuck together so deal with it.” Sapnap crosses his arms and looks at him the way he always does when he knows he’s won a conversation, but Dream doesn’t see it that way. “At least you know he's not trying to murder you else he'd already done it."

"I swear he's just playing the long con,” Dream grumbles.

“Just talk to him,” Sapnap says while opening the door.

“And say what?”

“I don’t know. Make amends. Kiss him for all I care. Anything to get Bad off my ass about talking sense into you. You’re not my goddamn kid, and you’re not even my partner anymore.” He mutters the last part and leaves.

Two hours later, Dream has failed two easy simulations and passed one. He decides he’ll add evening practices to his training schedule since he lives here now. While walking out of the showers, two of his colleagues stop talking when he walks by. It’s been happening more often. People think he’s fallen off, but he’s still the best hunter in the league by far. Nobody’s reached the number of kills he has. He's determined to prove he's still the best.

George is in the lobby doing whatever he’s always doing on his laptop. It’s either that or cooped up in their room tinkling with his toys. He thinks Dream doesn’t notice him hiding them in the box in his closet every time he walks in.

"What do you want? Another kiss?" George says without taking his eyes off his screen.

The guy watching TV nearby does a double take, and Dream chooses to let the comment slide so as to not satisfy George's attention-seeking habits, though he’ll be hearing rumors about it tomorrow.

"I was going to…" He has a hard time getting his words out so he clears his throat. "... say sorry for what happened earlier."

George looks up at that. “And what did happen earlier?”

Dream chews on the inside of his lip. Out of his peripheral, he notices the guy eavesdropping has not-so-subtly lowered the volume. It takes one glare for him to turn off the TV, leave the room, and let the door close behind him.

Dream shrugs. “You know.”

“Then it’s not an apology. You don’t even think you’ve done anything wrong.”

He almost replies “I haven’t” but he knows that’ll instigate another fight and they’ll end up in a worse place.

“I'll let you make more calls,” he says instead.

“You’ll let me use my ideas?”

“You know we can’t do that, George. Bad said we can’t.”

“Oh yeah, and you’re always listening to him, huh?”

It was a mistake to tell him how he got cursed in the first place. Dream’s always been good at following directions (mostly, anyway), but the one time he doesn’t he suffers the worst consequences.

“You don't trust me,” George says.

“What?”

“That's what this is about. You don't trust me. Because of what I am.”

Dream huffs. “Well, do you trust me?”

George stays silent for a second then says the most unexpected thing. "Yeah, actually."

Dream stares, unsure of how to respond. He’s been assuming George feels the same mistrust and disdain for him because of how he acts, but this puts into question everything he thinks he knows. Before he can reply, Bad bursts in and says, “Zombie attack at Paradise Plaza. You two are up.”

“But we don’t handle civilian encounters,” Dream says.

“Well, you’re handling this one. The witch who summoned them is the same one who cursed you.”

To Be Continued...

#dnf fanfic #dnf ao3 #writing #fantasy au #sci-fi au #comic-style writing

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